Underestimating Dragons

I love them when they snake totemistically through the clouds, smoke before the storm

And when they are filigree-perfect by the pool, along the slender branches of new trees

Skin the same green as the leaves

But when it is the serpent 

Climbing vertically toward the sparrowlets,

I cannot either 

Turn, ignore 

Or observe with the objective skill of a naturalist

intervene

Knowing grace is more than words before a meal

Or a sticker you wear to church on your lapel

Grace is the Hand that

saves the sparrow

Even at the mortal expense

Of the dragon.

Rain Song

Once
There was the statue
Of a girl
Standing arms outstretched
Poised/face lifted
To reach the rain
Receiving Grace

I looked for her again
Years ago
They had taken her away
I am crying/she is missing
And all I can do is call to her

Come back
My heartbreaking daughter
Come back to the Garden
Of stones alive and flowers
Blooming now
The rain has come

Meet Mrs. Whiskers

By the time M was two she had a fully realized world of people she had created. They were and are vibrant characters.  This past year she wrote a story peopled by punctuation marks.  Also quite interesting.

I say this because she is a beautiful survivor.  She was being abused by Charles when she created her first kingdom.  These people we still love.

But she is haunted as well  knowing that Charles continued to abuse her little sister for a long time after she asked him to stop abusing her.  She assumed he would not abuse her little sister.  She was seven.

I am haunted by the abuse as well. There is a wall in my life that signifies S’s solitary hurt.  One night this week I wrote on it, first a memorial, then a Bible verse, then a picture of a cross.  Then I got an idea.  I realized that my children’s vividness overcomes evil.  Jesus brings new life.  So I painted a chalkboard over my grief wall.

First we wrote each other love notes.  Then M drew Mr. and Mrs. Whiskers.  They are English cousins of Harvey and we love their accents.

When she tells me about the Whiskers, I just hug her really tight.  It is grace to see an ordinary resurrection of something as pedestrian as a wall.

Grace.