A Dream: Indestructible

Most of the time my dreams are made up of disconnected scenes that don’t make sense and weird, sometimes scary, situations. I usually wake up and (1) am thankful that it was just a dream, and (2) wonder about those people in my dream whom I’ve never met. Fascinating. This dream “stars” my brother and me, and is another quirky one. This time, though, most of it had a meaning that was clear and wonderful to me.


The car would not start, and they were in the middle of a street that was full of men and women walking in all directions.

He tried again, but he only heard the click-click sound. So they stepped out.

People grabbed at them, saying, “I’m ready” and “Take me.”

Then, they were at her home. The sky was gray. So was the house and their skin.

They walked through the gate and saw bundles of branches on the ground. The bundles covered the lawn, all stacked three-high, neat and twined.

A path, cut deep and wide and colored black, led them to the side yard where the lavender flowers grew. She lingered there while he moved ahead.

He stopped. “Lightning!” He turned to look at her.

She went to his side and saw it, too. There, where the path ended.

The tree.

Its trunk had burst. The remaining branches were daggers, ugly and short, with splintered bark. The fruit that remained were scorched in shades of brown — except for one, untouched, a bright yellow.

“When did it happen?”

“Don’t know. It rained yesterday.”

“Did you hear it?”

“No.”

Then, a rustling sound.

They saw a book. It was thrust through from the back to the front by a branch of the tree. Its pages fluttered with a strong wind but did not tear.

They moved close to the book. It held strong on the branch, despite the wind and the wound.

Holy Bible, the cover read.

They stared at the book as it hung there. They did not speak.

Then, they walked on, past the book, past the broken tree, and into the street where the people called their names.

The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever. (Isaiah 40:8)

Image from augustachronicle.com. Rare bibles on display at the Christian Heritage Museum in Maryland.

Think of the Butterfly

Written for a friend in despair


It is amazing to me,

a wondrous endeavor.

Think of the butterfly:

Its plain beginnings,

its ragged shell,

its captured wings.

Has it gone unheard?

The lilies and the sparrows know:

He cares with a cupped hand.

He stoops down with a lift

as sure as the first Day.

He was, He is,

He will.

And so,

my love,

live your struggle while fixed to Him,

a holy silk.

And emerge,

this time,

ready

to fly.

Matthew 6:25-34

We Don’t Want Perfect Fathers

We do not want,

should not expect,

and will never have

perfect fathers.

All we want is for them

to make their God-given responsibilities a priority:

to teach, guide,

protect, provide for,

and love in His ways

the children He has given to them.

I do not think that is too much for a child to ask.

I do think that is too much for a father to carry

on his own.

God’s plan is a wife; she, his treasured helper.

But the great submission of man

is to yield to and depend on

the Heavenly Father.

A father will never be perfect,

but he can look to the One who is.

Too often, a father will finally bend

when the sweat of death lies on his brow.

I saw my father’s release at that divine exchange:

too late for a child

but a gift tearfully received

by a long-suffering me.

We don’t want perfect fathers.

We only want them.


Ephesians 6:4

Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger,

but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.

(Father’s Day is celebrated in the United States every year on the third Sunday of June.)

All The Same, All That Matters

I am working to turn this poem I wrote into a song:

Inside

there is

no offending color

All the same

All that matters

It’s the beating of the heart

the working of the brain

the moving of the blood

All the same, all the same

It’s the Spirit of God

it’s the soul that remains

tell your brother that you love him

give your sister her place

Good night

And a very good Day

when the Lord comes down

and He carries it away

He’ll bring His color

and nothing else will remain

All the same

All that matters

Ephesians 2:14-16


A Seed in the Hand of God

Throughout Spring 2020, I was too concerned about COVID and my health to walk into the local gardening center. I ached for the day when I could roam the crowded and too narrow aisles once more. Never again would I complain about the long lines. And when I finally did go in for my Spring shopping spree a few months ago, I didn’t have a single thought of discontent. Though no one could tell, I was smiling behind my mask as I swiped my card through the machine because I purchased more items than were on my list, as usual.

Gardening is my special pleasure.

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