This time of year (well, really, all the time), I enjoy reflecting by looking back at old poems and journal entries. These are all from December 2015. So much has changed, so much is the same...
(poem written 12-1-15. Ah, four-year-old Carter! We still have a birthday party with cake for Jesus, but He still hasn't come in person to His party yet.)
Your Cupcake
Mom-Mom, dis is a present!
...For someone special!
....Whose birthday is coming!
...It's Jesus!
Dis is for when He comes
to His birthday
Don't let Calvin touch it
because it's for Jesus
I'm sure Your heart smiled,
like mine did,
at Your plastic cupcake present.
I'm sure You love Your gift.
And I'm sure Carter thinks
that You're coming soon,
and we're counting down the days
to Your party
(and who's not at their own party?)
I hope I haven't set him up for disappointment
I hope he always lives in eager expectation
O come, O come, Emmanuel
God, be with us once again
Come ransom Your captive bride
And when You do,
don't forget Carter's gift waiting for You
(poem written 12-1-15)
Your Cupcake (Part 2)
Carter has insisted
that the plastic cupcake
is a gift for You
when You come
And I got the craziest picture
that I might see
that plastic cupcake
in heaven someday
That when You come in the sky
You might pause our gathering
for just a moment
to go receive Your gift
from my boy
You honor childlike faith
and boy, does my boy have it!
May he always look to Your coming.
(poem written on 12-19-15. A Covid Christmas is a little different -- less rushing, fewer gatherings with fewer people. We've limited gift-giving, but it can still be stressful to me)
The Holiday Treadmill
Party-planning and gift-giving
are now consuming my brain
Good things
can be twisted into bad
when pushed to the extreme
How did I let myself get carried away like this?
How can I stop this treadmill?
How do I calm my mind?
O come, Emmanuel
You came for the frazzled and the busy
You speak peace to the world and to my heart
You cut away the excess and simplify what is needed
You can be found, not in a city or palace, but in a manger
Quiet my mind
so I can hear Your whispers
in this season
(poem written 12-19-15. 2020 would've been the year that Carter started receiving the traditional letter grades. Another reason I'm glad we're homeschooling.)
The Four-Year-Old's Report Card
It's what I've been wanting
and requesting
but when I finally got it
I didn't know how to respond.
Carter's first "report card"
I was overwhelmingly pleased
with all he knows and how he has grown
and yet I had this strong desire
to want to move all his 1's to 2's
and 2's to 3's
as if I'm already
trying to get him aboard the "all A's" pursuit
that has driven me most of my life
He's 4! Chill! Relax!
It's okay if he hasn't mastered scissor cutting
and doesn't show much interest in writing
Why do I fixate on the "needs improvement"
instead of celebrating the areas of mastery?
Thankfully, this inner battle
didn't spill out into words of "not enough"
but man, here we go!
Help me learn the balance
of improvement and celebration
and to speak the right words over my son
in these formative years.
(poem written 12-19-15. Strikingly similar now as I'm at my parents' house. One difference is the whole "everyone else is asleep" part. There are four boys now, and they're all awake at that hour.)
His Language of Love
It's 6:41 a.m.
Everyone else in the house is asleep
except for my dad
washing dishes and prepping breakfast.
Really, is there any doubt
that his love language is
acts of service?
He serves tirelessly
out of love for his family
Cooking and cleaning as I grew up
and cooking and cleaning now
This is how he speaks love
but the question is, how does he receive love?
Because if it's acts of service,
we haven't been loving him very well
in his language
Father, bring healing and wholeness
and let this be a family
where we give and receive love fluently
in many languages.
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