Windows

What if the door I believed

   I was escorted through

      with engraved priority invitation

turns out to actually be the same

   jagged-glass-rimmed basement window

      that I've been zealously guarding

   all this time, as if my job

was to keep out the unchosen?

What if I found out

   the mansion was larger

   than I could even imagine,

and the party has already started?

What if grace really is Grace?

© 2016 Todd Jenkins

Depressbyterians

I don’t mean to exclude any of you who faith from a different place. I just couldn’t resist the word-play. My phone’s autocorrect changed the title to "depress uterine." I don't even know how to respond to that, except to laugh, which is seldom a bad thing, when it’s genuine and about yourself.

The other day, a friend reminded me

that creativity – in writing or otherwise –

doesn’t come from the darkness itself,

but from the power to struggle

against the clouds,

whether that power comes

from within or without.

   That resonates with me,

   like the lowest note

   from an organ pipe,

   vibrating floor, wall, furniture,

   and everyone in the room.

      I suspect we’re all a little more

      acquainted with depression

      than we'd like to be.

         I know that my writing is therapy

         for just such deeps.

         Some of what I write will probably

         never be seen by others.

      Those would be

      the darker pieces that seem

      to blow out life’s brief candle.

But even some of those go out

to you on occasion,

as echoes in the dark;

tappings on the cell wall,

just to let you know that,

even though I've yet

to find a candle to light,

at least we're not alone.

   We have each other and,

   I am certain at the deepest level –

   even if not always on the surface –

   the sacred is also always here,

   even when all tapping fades,

   and all we sense is the beating

   of our own hearts.

      You are here. I am here.

      The holy one is here.

      Gathered or not,

      the three of us form

         our own trinity,

         our own incarnation,

         out of which life, light, and

         grace will surely take root.

“And now faith, hope, 

and love abide, these three; 

and the greatest of these is love.” 

(1 Corinthians 13:13)

© 2016 Todd Jenkins

Love's Path

Did he wait for you 

as a long-lost friend 

with his tail a-wag

and his eyes aglow? 

Did he bear your pain 

time and time again? 

Your hands in his fur, 

that was grace, you know? 

Canine scent will linger, 

not just in your house, 

but will fill your heart also. 

You'll hear sounds 

that remind you of him; 

see bits and pieces 

still hanging around. 

My prayer is that the tears 

these memories evoke 

are made of both 

the water of sorrow 

and the salt of joy, 

that you may be buoyed 

across the ocean of love. 

Grass gave way on the path he trod, 

faithfully marking a trail, 

of the unconditional love of God 

that cannot and will not fail. 

© 2016 Todd Jenkins

Follow

Photo by Lee Lindsey McKinney

"Where is the church?"

I asked, not to a particular person,

but to my heart.

   After listening for

   what seemed like forever,

   I started feeling answers in my marrow.

      "You can find it anywhere;

      sometimes hidden under layers

      of institutional ought, or

      floating free and simple

      in any group that knows

      it's on the way."

      "Wait," I interrupt

      the orthopedic oracle,

      "what do you mean by

      'on the way'?"

   "When people get tired

   of living empty lives –

   tired of filling their existential ache

   with things and rules –  

   they often feel a narrative

   deep in their bones;

a story inviting them not

to moral or conclusion,

but to journey;

not so much to convert the world

as to practice surfing

grace’s tide upon its beaches. 

© 2016 Todd Jenkins

Reduction

Photo by Jennie Roberts Jenkins

Grace is a compassionate combustion 

of love and hope, 

providing a constant warmth, 

evaporating the fear,

anxiety, and condemnation—

both of self and other – 

by which our individual selves, 

our interpersonal relationships, 

and our whole world  

have been diluted and polluted. 

Its gentle flame awakens spices

and scents interwoven

throughout our spiritual DNA,

freeing us to a life of rich reduction,

infusing the world around us

with essence of the divine. 

© 2016 Todd Jenkins

Explosion

Hate is a loaded dye-bomb

in the satchel of all we treasure.

         Each time we carry it,

         we stain ourselves and our stuff

         with its destructive vitriol. 

      Our only hope of survival,

      personally and collectively,

   is in offloading it to the One

   whose heart can safely hold all pain,

   and in taking on palettes of grace.

© 2016 Todd Jenkins

Dove-Speak Love-Speak

Photo by Ben Padgett

In baptism's cleansing water, 

and voice of the dove, 

God declares emphatically 

unconditional love.

Hear the words drifting down,

heed the gospel's true call;

this gift and this promise

made through one, for all.

"...You are my beloved child; 

with you I am well pleased." 

(Luke3:22) 

© 2016 Todd Jenkins

Always

The older I get,

the more I realize

how important words are

   for re-connecting us

   to who we were

   before we were born,

      who we're meant

      to be in this life,

      who we're meant

      to be to one another,

   and who we'll be

   in the end,

   all of whom

   are the same.

© 2016 Todd Jenkins

New Year?

Somewhere, way back when,

somebodies decided

this day in the circuit

of mother earth's cyclical journey

'round the big warm ball of fire

would be the beginning.

   It doesn't really matter

   which day it is,

   but it's helpful

   to have such a day;

      one to pause at a self-imposed

      chronological threshold

      glancing into the revolution ahead

      as well as over our shoulder

      at another concluding orbit.

      It's a temporal junction

      of sorts, reminding us

      that we, like time,

      have past, future, and now.

   Here's my intersecting

   hope for us all:

   that yesterday's lessons learned

   don't become tomorrow's

   fear or anger burned;

that the days and years ahead 

don't succumb 

to anxiety and dread;

that today's light is savored

for its sheer joy and beauty,

breath by breath,

word by word,

smile by smile,

selfless act of love

by selfless act of love,

hope by hope.

© 2016 Todd Jenkins