was the day I lost you
more about all that later, my Beautiful
But for now…
Just know I love you
always have.
11/13/98
Reply
Category Archives: child advocacy
Already Rome.
I am not much of a pro-sports fan, although I try sometimes for the sake of my partner.
I feel less inclined to try now that the famously laconic Gregg Popovich had words for this recent election and the folk who voted red.
So many things you said worth noting Mr. P, but the one that stuck out the most? Like if I could only pick one thing you said to comment on–You are afraid we are Rome?
Long been Rome, I would say.
We have not only tolerated legalized infanticide for the last 43 years through Roe v. Wade, we now allow the concessions which provide the service of salting, vacuuming, dismembering, and dehumanizing small, voiceless humans through the months of their development in the womb both federal funds and deep privacy in order to abort and also harvest the bodies of these exploited children.
If you were to ask an ordinary person, say a woman or a disabled person–would you rather be verbally belittled or carefully vivisected for spare parts?
Belittled, thanks very much.
The latter-death by legal and medical caveat. Pretty disenfranchising.
To be clear, very clear–we, the citizens of the United States, have long been Rome. Infanticide is infanticide is infanticide, Mr. P.
How many millions of female, minority, Muslim, immigrant, disabled American voters did not vote in this election because we legalized their murder years ago?
No words will bring them back.
Minimum
He says
The least of these in the language of childhood
Neither emperors nor governors nor bards
Gather the little ones
…least of these
Army of small
Wanderers in the world
They look for a Savior
Older Brother King
Who can
Calm the storm
Speak peace to the wind
And tell all bedtime stories
With hope at the beginning and the end
Of each hard letter
INRI
The least of these-
M.
Roll the stone away
Jesus of Nazareth, King of the…
Minimum.
Sacrament
the tape is a blur of
ordinary splendor
songs sung loud in a messy
house vivid patchwork
some mention of a circus
close to the tear in the hand-made quilt
I touch your brow
tell you
take your medicine before you go out to play
Round, pink, chewable analgesic
as you lift your head to receive the pill
Eucharist in the living room,
old and beautiful
Words for “good” and “grace”
So close to your already liturgical
Beautiful like…
A rose
A ruby
A diamond
A butterfly
A boy in flight
Weighted Blanket
in a fit of unease
she has an out-of-body experience
Rising above the squalor
Imagining what it would be like
To live inside the perfect house
Instead–she dusts the counters and all the edges
with cinnamon to deter the sugar ants
Beats the air with questions
Washes and re-washes clothes, stones, teeth
Delays bodily functions
To search for
-The weighted blanket-
Surrogate mother/synthetic comforter
Lyrics/verses
of a lullaby sung softly by the
Slip of a girl
preoccupied
with the ghosts of children,
She
hammers nails into the wall
for improbable angels
they float above
small, intricate, perfect
real girls
each flicker just a moment then
Snuffed out
Because they were not…
Because they were not…
born boys.
“Hear My Voice”
I am a big fan of Jesus, even though he is a little scary.
Why? Well, there is the dying for the sins of the world thing, but there is also the stuff he idly seems to throw into his parables–weeping and gnashing of teeth, something about being salted with fire.
CS Lewis is right, he is not a tame lion. He is the only and original badass and he more than deserves to be the divisor of before and after in human history.
Years ago I cried when I read an article about a nurse who visited new and at-risk parents. She said that years later the babies she had visited would recognize her voice when they heard her in random places.
This mattered to me because I have a baby out there somewhere who might recognize my voice even though she was just 14 months old when she was taken from me.
The voice of love–that is what I hear when I read Jesus. He is, by turns, funny, deadly incisive, ironic, and passionately in love with us.
Crucifixion and resurrection kind of passionately in love.
When I lost my little foster daughter I grieved beyond what is comfortable to describe. I took my cry to God–why?
His voice was clear–if you have to choose for her to know just one of us, you or Me? Which would you choose?
Him, of course.
Always and only Him, baby girl.
Hear his voice.
John 10:2-5
Protecting the guilty?
Viola Davis has recently joined the long list of celebrities who have spoken out against sexual assault–rape, often in the context of their own victimization.
I could write a list of the men and women who have helped other victims by speaking out as sexual assault survivors. I could not give you a list of the names of the perps.
Why?
The ongoing controversy surrounding abuse allegations made by Corey Haim before his death gives us some clues–
- Victims are often related to their perps
- The perp has power in the community
- Fear of exposure
- Fear of legal action
And yet if we are honest, we all have a list–the creepy uncle, the duplicitous coach, the father who harms his own child, a neighbor, a brother-in-law, a once-beloved actor. People we know abused someone because that someone said so, maybe at great personal cost, maybe with no positive protection of the law.
Keeping silent about predators gives them freedom to continue to abuse.
So here, a name–
My adopted son is short, overweight, ginger, born February of 1994. Last I heard he worked at the automotive center at a Walmart in Kansas City, KS. His name is Charles Allen Lee.
He has sexually abused very young children. He has exhibited cruelty toward animals. He can be very persuasive and does not tell the whole truth.
And if you asked him about me? If you ask him about me he will tell you I just bring the drama.
And if you ask him about him? He will not tell you the whole truth.
…because the whole truth is…
Devastating.
Heroin Gone
Looks like deep
Sleep
Draped across the seat
across the bodies of these hungry
Children
Immobilizing poison
Shot into blood vessels, skin
I call to you, no answer
Try to warn you
This venal monster
Hunts then kills its prey
No answer, Sleeping Beauty
Already heroin gone
Who takes apples from strangers in a storm?
Do you believe in ever after?
All the tropes of fairy tales will not save us from
The story of a little girl trapped
In this worst kind
Of nightmare tries to call
for help
Nothing left
As the anatomical apparatus for sound and breath:
Lungs, rib cage, windpipe
Collapses beneath the weight,
The force of blows to this chest,
All alone,
Of the used-to-be
girl.
God of the Impossible
John 11:4 NIV[4] When he heard this, Jesus said, “This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.”
What is impossible? Is gravity? The suspension of gravity? Space flight? Sea urchins?
We live in a world filled with wonder and darkness. The wonder feels improbably miraculous until the darkness throws an extreme curve ball and bam!
Death takes all.
Or so it seems.
When Jesus says this sickness will not end in death it seems like he knows what he is talking about.
Several days later when he weeps with the mourners he seems like a total nut job. Until…
I am going to hold that until–single note sung in the dark.
Some of the untils we weep through are excoriating, catastrophic…terminal.
It is important to pause at Jesus’ pronouncement. If you know the story you might be tempted to breeze through to “the good stuff,” but in this case time takes the stage–time for Lazarus to go from well to unwell, time for Lazarus to go from unwell to fatally ill. Time for Lazarus to die. Time for Lazarus to be prepared for the grave. Time for grief. Disbelief. Sorrow. Anger.
And the apparent absence of Jesus.
But…
He is not absent. He is impossible. He is the God of the impossible.
Wait. Impossible means powerless, the opposite of able.
How can God, by his very nature omnipotent, be defined as not able.
Deliberately. He was intentionally…
“not able” in death.
“not able” on the Cross.
“not able” for us.
Jesus called Lazarus out of the grave in preparation for his own death. He gave his followers an impossible four day route through death and burial so that when it was his death they would only have to wait three days.
The three darkest days of history. Three impossible days.
Until…
Sunday morning and the God of impossible things walks back in.
When you were little your foster father would throw you in the air above him. Within one second your face would register fear, exhilaration, joy, laughter.
It has always been a picture in my head–this God of sea urchins and dwarf stars throws us high up in the air for each single looped thread in the seam of all eternity.
The fear and uncertainty only bearable when we know, know, know…
He will catch us in His arms.
As He has already caught your beautiful mama, let Him catch us too…
Forever.
Safe in the outstretched arms
of Love.
Luke 18:27 NIV
[27] Jesus replied, “What is impossible with man is possible with God.”
