Smashed to Pieces

I’ve just finished reading Jennifer Dukes Lee’s new book “Love Idol”** and am becoming more aware each day of how I fashion my own not-gods out of man made materials.
Last week I wrote and published (for less than 24 hours) a post about World Vision’s decision regarding same sex hiring practices.  I wanted to add my voice to the many out there who Had Something to Say. I also wanted to be just like those people. And I’m not.
I deleted my post, retrieved my Tweets (kind of like picking up birdseed–ever tried that?) and came back and wrote this instead.
~~~~~~~~~~

How odd (interesting?)
that we who are broken 
try to re-member our lives,
put together the pieces
by ourselves,
grab the glue and get to work
fashioning our vessels
with bits marked “Not You”
to become a container 
of our own making.
We forget there is a Master Potter,
the only Bonding Agent we’ll ever need
 who alone
knows the beauty that belongs to us
(because He fashioned us himself)
awaiting His hand to place
our broken glory into a bright gift
of His making.
** Jennifer’s book “Love Idol” is available through online sources by clicking here.

 

Similar Posts

  • Merchant Eyes

    I stroll in  for a ‘few’ groceries at The Hundred Dollar Store, stopping first for what passes for sustenance  (never shop when you’re hungry). The bright-eyed toddler tossed in the air before me while parents wait for pizza, kissed by dad, hugged by mom, she slyly smiles, curling into strong shoulders.   I push away,…

  • Spring reign

      The warm spring rain persisted Like the need for prayer, insisted I arise. A call to care, regardless of the hour, When time knows no limits, And love requires me to listen! Whose heart’s cry do I hear? My own—involved, consumed? Aware of the power, if I ask, for The Father’s hand to reach…

  • Dew Change

    The thermometer affirms our arrival at Autumn, the droplets on the deck declare in dew that the air is too cold for the water, changing it to liquid on the glassy,  warm surface. I wonder, does the Living Water perform the same miracle when it touches my heart? do change….

  • Up {a #Poem}

    “In the beginning” begs the existence of a dot, the endpoint of a line referencing time and movement, like an ant on the Golden Gate Bridge. If there is time (now) and movement (how?) why do we shun this guess the size of a galaxy, turn from the possibility of a God placing us just…

  • Mirror Me

    Words like water poured out reflect my wide world, contained in pieces, paragraphs of pain and power and the past, puzzles to put into place. I long to be known heard, seen, reflected  in the pool you hold in your heart showing me the “me” that I am. Instead of a mirror, you hand me…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *