Poems from December 2015

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.

'Twas the Night before...

'Twas the night before the first day of school...except I'm no longer teaching at "my" school.  This time last year, I was so ready to be back into the routine of working and being out of the house and sending our oldest boys off to their school. My classroom was (mostly) set up. I was looking forward to another magical year teaching fifth grade.

And here I am. My "classroom" is no longer on display -- it's packed into loads of boxes. We're not officially starting homeschooling till after Labor Day. There have been no orientations, for me or for the boys. No back-to-school shopping with hard-to-find items on the supply lists. No teacher in-service (well, except for the "training" I'm giving myself by reading lots of books!). We're still kind of in the same stay-at-home pattern than we've been in for months on end. 

As I took an after-bedtime, before-sunset one-on-one walk with Calvin, I was struck with how much I love my life. (even all the craziness and chaos and noise and nonsense). Holding his hand until he'd get impatient and run ahead and then come back to me. Talking about all sorts of things -- how we should invent robots to do all the work for us, how we're both scared of dogs, how the sidewalk got cracked. It was nice. And this is our new reality. As my colleagues head to school tomorrow, I'll be home with my boys all day. As much as I used to want to get away, I'm becoming more content and grateful to stay.

Thinking about being in a separate reality from the frenzy of back-to-school prep reminded me of this poem I had written. I finally found it and was surprised that I wrote it exactly five years ago. My life was different then -- I was at another school I loved, teaching music and technology. Carter was 3 and coming to school with me for the 3-year-old preschool class. Calvin was 1 and home with Daddy. I was driving at least 30 minutes to and from school every day (which I considered an extension to Carter's preschool experience). 

I rarely write in rhyme -- it's hard to make it flow and sound natural. I think I just started with a rhyme and then kept going, even when it was a bit forced. Though my life was different five years ago and even one year ago, I can still relate and remember...

(poem written 8-11-15)

'Twas the night before the first day of school

        and all through my head

            are the shoulda, coulda, wouldas

                that fill me with dread

I should've packed our lunches

I could've gone to bed

    but I spent several hours

        on Facebook instead

I don't have plans for tomorrow

    but do I really need them?

Most already know me

    so it's hard to mislead them

I wish I'd printed rosters

    and made a powerpoint intro

I wish I'd decluttered

    and kept my to-do list central

It'll be hard to get to sleep

    and I'll wake up at 6

        just in time for breakfast to eat

            and lunches to fix

But I heard a voice

    as I drifted into the night

Don't worry. Be yourself.

    It will be all right.