Nesting

At the furniture store.
Adalheid and the king
Are shopping for
Dining room chairs.
As I walk around
Looking at the couches, tables and chairs,
I am struck with sudden homesickness
For my third-floor walk-up, Brooklyn apartment.

I am unsettled, Lord God...
Unsettled and nettled
By a sensation of not belonging.
It is not external;
It is within me,
As I wrestle with that part of my nature
That longs to nest,
And the other voice within
Telling me not to nest
In Adalheid's home.

It was so easy in Brooklyn.
I lived ten houses away
From my best friend.
I could invade her house at will,
But still retreat to my apart space,
And not feel like
An interloper or burden.

It is different here,
Large, sprawling spaces,
And the closest apartments
Are three-quarters of a mile away.

Three quarters of a mile
Compared to ten houses!...
My point of view
Needs to expand
In accordance
With this state's geography...

Father,
Remove this unsettled feeling from me.
Remind me that,
At the end of the day,
It matters not
Where I lay my head,
So long as I abide
In fellowship and communion
With You...

Choir Practice

Some people crash
Weddings and parties.
Me?
I crash Wednesday night choir practice.

Singing is the second most-frequent command
In the Bible,
Superseded only by prayer.

Like a fly drawn to honey
I wander into the Music Room,
And sit in the back,
And listen.

In my head,
The lyrics conjure images...
They're singing about
The Crucifixion.

You did that for us...
What can I do
But praise You?

Did You
Bring me here tonight?

Lord...
Direct my steps, my words...
I don't know what I'm going to say
To the music director
After practice...

Emptied

Lord,
A little over a week ago,
I arrived here,
In Arizona.

I emptied my
Pantries of food...
My closets of clothes...
My apartment of
Furniture, housewares and toys...

I deposited my Pugs
On the doorstep of a friend's friends...

I packed up my workspace,
Sorted and finalized files,
And tried to make a comfortable space
For the woman You brought
To fill my position
At the newspaper.
Right now,
She and I are engaged
In a transference of power,
As I attempt to pour
The accumulated worth of six years' knowledge
Into her open and eager mind.

I have left
Family and friends,
Job and church,
All that is familiar and comfortable,
To come here.

I have never been
So bone-weary, soul-weary tired.

I keep thinking about
What Terry said
The night of the Ash Wednesday service:
"Don't be afraid to pour yourself out."

You know all about that.
You emptied Yourself
For us...

What,
O my Lord God,
Will You now fill me with?...

Morning Mist

86th Street and 18th Avenue.
The fog was so heavy this morning that,
Even now at 9 AM,
It hasn't burnt off the land.
The intersection is bathed in
An otherworldly, golden glow.
Part of me is wondering
If the 99 cent store is open
So I can buy a final roll of packing tape,
But that is suddenly eclipsed
By musings about the Heavenly City.

Does the New Jerusalem
Have that kind of Light about it?

I stop and stare at the elevated train track,
Imagining,
Willing myself to see Beyond...

Thank You, Lord,
For wandering thoughts
That draw me closer
To You...

Stuffed Animals

When I was younger,
There was a small, insistent part of me
That believed my stuffed animals,
At night,
Came to life.

With the vividness and intensity of youth
I would envision
All the named teddy bears, bunnies, and
Other assorted creatures
Awakening, arising
As soon as I fell asleep.

In my dreams,
I saw their lives before they had come to me,
Cavorting in magical castles and forests...
Dueling dragons and shoving off to sea...
Conducting tea parties and grand balls.

I would awaken,
And they'd be just where I'd left them,
But I knew better.

My father performed many sewing feats,
Or tricks with glue,
As he mimicked eye, nose, ear, and limb surgery.
He'd return the patient to me,
And then I was off and running,
Granting very little recovery time
To my fuzzy friend.

Two nights ago,
I sat in the laundromat listening to
Plastic eyes pling against the dryer's glass.
I was donating eight 13-gallon garbage bags
To the church
For their semi-annual thrift sale.

The beginning of a new adventure
For you guys! I thought.

Strange...
A year ago,
I would've taken them all to Arizona.

Now, instead of jealously clinging
To the memories these toys elicit,
I think instead about that child
Who will adopt these toys,
And play with them until they're threadbare.

Father,
Accept this small gift
From my hands,
A letting go of my childhood
So that others can have some.
Grant happy homes to these toys,
And let them bring many smiles
And hours of play
To many faces.

As for you,
Teddy bears, bunnies, and other assorted creatures,
I wish you all good, safe homes,
And children who will love you,
And parents who will fix you when you need fixing.
Make the kids happy.
That is your mission.
Perform it well.
God speed you on the next phase of your journey!

Childhood...

5:07 AM.
I am sitting in the Vegas Diner,
Alone,
Yet not alone.

Accompanying me,
Sitting across from me this morning,
Is my childhood self.

I have been avoiding my dining room
Since I moved in
Because when I moved in,
My dining room
Became the repository
Of my past.
All the items I hadn't been able
To part with -
Toys, games, puzzles, stuffed animals,
Knick-knacks, tchotchkes,
The treasures and trash of my youth -
Have been sitting in there,
Untouched,
These two and a half years.

I woke up at 2 AM,
And couldn't go back to sleep.
Just before 3,
I began cleaning.

Holidays were big in our family.
Christmas and birthdays were occasions
For many, many presents.
I relive these holidays
As I pack up
A crystal-growing kit,
A magic set,
A paper-making kit,
A Mickey Mouse gumball machine,
And countless other odds and ends.
There are many items
Kids will enjoy,
As I enjoyed them,
And I keep thinking about that
As I wipe dust off the boxes.

I was that kid who,
Because I was a pariah,
Spent alot of time at home,
Tinkering.
Microscopes and telescopes,
Magnets and erector sets,
Lego,
And more Lego...
I built,
And explored my world
From the confines of my home.
Mommie and Daddy worked hard
To fuel my brain and imagination.
They helped me retain
Remnants of my childhood
Well into my twenties,
And I am grateful for that.

My childhood self is sitting
Across from me,
Watching me eat
Scrambled eggs, hash browns,
Toast and coffee.
"You're doing the right thing,"
She reassures me.
"They gave to you in love.
Pass it along to others."

I nod, smiling.

Stuff now is merely stuff to me;
I need no further reminders
Of my parents' love,
But what about those parents
Who can't give things to their kids
Because they can't afford to?
And what about those kids
Who are have grown up too fast,
And who know better
Than to ask their parents for anything?

Lord,
Find good homes
For the toys of my youth.
Let them bring joy
To kids who urgently need it!

What is it I've been so afraid of
All this time?...
What is it I've been so possessive of?
It all seems blurry
As I think about the kids
Who will possess
Glow-in-the-dark unicorn decals,
Coloring books,
Marbles,
And teddy bears...

Birdsong

Beneath the 18th Avenue
D train station,
You can stand at dawn
And listen to
The morning songs
Of dozens and dozens of birds.

Before sunrise,
The streets are empty of
Heavy traffic and people.
It's at that point,
When night is yielding to day,
That the sparrows and pigeons and starlings
Burst into song.
It sounds the way
I imagine a tropical rain forest would,
A cacophony of language,
A symphony of avian sound!
Countless bird voices,
Sing their good mornings
To each other
And to God.

What are they saying, I wonder?
My imagination concocts
What I would sing to God
If I was a wild bird...

"O great and wonderful Creator,
Thank You for another day
To fly free in the great blue,
To eat of Your bounty
With my fellow birds,
And to nest in warm, safe places
That You provide for me!
Grant that my bird soul
Beholds Your Beauty
In the World to Come!"

I stand,
And listen,
And think about
Lillies...
And sparrows...