We Called Him "Dad"

We called him “Dad” ‘cause he’s the one

who helped to teach us what

we needed to know for survival;

who stepped beyond the love

his own father knew how to express,

upping the ante for our children;

who believed in us when

we weren't sure anyone else did,

even if he struggled to express it;

who helped us learn to laugh at things

we couldn't change in self or others,

and struggle with all the rest;

who pushed us to move

out of our comfort zones and into

the places where we could see

the faint reflection of what

God has dreamed for us to become;

whose heart broke when ours did,

even if he didn't know how to let it show

through that sandpaper exterior.

We called him “Dad” ‘cause he’s the one.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Commitment

I find the Spanish translation

of "commitment" to be

quite revealing regarding 

western practice and understanding.

One way to translate it is

obligación; another is dedicación.

But when the word is used in a sentence

related to something political –

for instance, a billboard describing

a candidate's commitment to the electorate –

the word compromiso is used,

which is directly connected to

the English word "compromise".

Does this mean that the Spanish language

recognizes that being committed

to something requires the willingness

and ability to compromise?

If so, this understanding speaks volumes

to our current political situation.

When you are committed,

to a relationship, a job, a state, or nation,

there are certain ways that you

must be willing to compromise.

No compromise, no commitment.

That explains a lot.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Living Faith

What would happen if we

figured out how to slow down

and pay attention to the details,

not just in scripture,

but in our own lives,

the lives of others, and

in the created world?

What would happen if we

figured out how to stand

in the valley of the shadow of death

with courage, not confident

in our own words or abilities,

but confident in the one who lived,

died, and was raised for us all?

What would happen if we

learned how to sit in silence

with the dead and dying,

without needing to say

the “right” thing or

somehow “fix” it?

What would happen if we

figured out how to simply

be present, far beyond the casseroles,

to those who are neck-deep,

or even over their heads,

in grief and sorrow?

What would happen if we

figured out how to both

let our faith live and live our faith?

I think the living could be

brought back from the dead.

I think that’s what we’re here for.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Supra

We have had enough

of Super Heroes –

magnified personifications

of strength and power

who use glorified violence

to overwhelm evil.

It is past time to recognize

and celebrate the Supra Hero –

one who can rise above

humanity's banal obsession

with destruction by unleashing

God's ultimate power that conquers

by giving, and wins by letting go: Love. 

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Won!

If your world is constructed

on lottery tickets, scoreboards,

rankings, and competition,

literal or figurative, press the button

for the next available floor

and exit this path immediately.

Life, real and as God intended,

is about living into and through

the already-delivered jackpot of grace.

There is no finish line

toward which we sprint,

no mountain up which we hurry

against time or others.

Arrival is a moment by moment event,

only achievable in the here-and-now

with everything and

everyone else around you.

Welcome to the game

that is no game,

the race already-won,

the gift that can only be unwrapped

and enjoyed, as it expands

exponentially, when shared collectively.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Trust

I grew up with dogs as pets,

and not cats, so my opinion

may be quite skewed;

but we had a cat for eight years,

until a few months ago,

when we gifted her to friends

who had both another cat

and much more time

and territory for her to roam.

Gracie was a loving cat,

as far as cat love goes.

She could sit, when she decided

it was time, and demand preening,

purring to no end, so long as

her itch was being appropriately scratched.

Here's what I've been thinking

about for a few years now:

The middle part of life, which,

for most of us makes up

about 80-90% of the years,

is the time when we mostly

live like cats: predatory and

self-sufficient in so many ways,

with disdain, if not fear, toward

any vulnerability or relinquishment.

It is at either end of life,

as infants or the infirmed,

that we find innocence, courage,

and/or acquiesce to  become

transformed into mostly-trusting canines

capable of loving and being loved

in ways so far beyond

our middle-years feline tendencies.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Travelling

Judgment takes the interstate,

assuming that conclusion

is the prize, so the first

to arrive must win.

Eight miles over the speed limit,

he barely notices the billboards,

and exits only for necessities.

Funny thing, though;

when he reaches what he

believed to be his destination,

there is nothing there

that interests him, so

he packs up and

hits the road again.

Noticing what c(sh)ould have been,

he is quite sure that 
all the facts are in evidence.

Compassion, on the other hand,

takes a leisurely, circuitous course.

She knows that Judgment’s route

is mostly self-reflective;

that there's more to the

journey than can be seen.

Rather than stopping at

what was or wasn't done,

Compassion also sees

a fellow human being,

and is so curious about 
the rest of the story, she detours 
through another life.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins