All Who Wonder

All who wonder are not lost
unless you count being found by God
as the total loss of control it truly is.

When fear gives way to curiosity,
all hope for individuation flies
the way of first naiveté.

But oh, the joy of life unleashed
when, held in God's mysterious palm,
we uncork life's champagne questions!

The who and how of our connection
weaves intergenerational tapestry
as universal quilt of hope.

Me and thee, thou and I
become the "us" of universe,
things used, people loved.

Grain, grape, water morph
from ordinary, daily sustenance
to sacramental grace.

World shrinks without claustrophobia,
stories blend without conflict,
love wins without suffocating.

© 2011 Todd Jenkins

Heartbeat

Somewhere a life terminates:

flatline silence, electrical neutrality.

With that ending, family, friends

bid farewell, raw grief protrudes.

How, in that cold, dark pall

can strangers ask for life,

can mourners think, feel beyond self?

Only God knows this answer.

Years of academic, clinical preparation,

teams of seamless precision

pour out methodical passion,

battling time’s incessant beat.

Who’s to say what connections weave

when one body merges with another,

one family’s loss becomes another’s gain?

Time’s passing may reveal glimpses.

Have you ever stopped to consider

how this mirrors resurrection;

just might represent the way

God intends universe to function?

© 2011 Todd Jenkins

Eradication

Prayer for Eradication

(For all whose health is threatened by infection and illness.)

Promised Land holds many gifts,

perfect health not among them.

Homeland, however distant and inadequate,

prepared our bodies to fend-off

only native strains of illness.

Exodus always exposes

the charade of our self-sufficiency,

threatens to overwhelm us with its newness,

its uniquely configured DNA,

its cornucopia of germs and viruses.

Hold us, O God of liberation,

in your strong but tender hand,

bring wisdom, love, science,

three of your holy graces,

to bear upon our small, frail bodies.

Move life-giving water to its intended place,

out of lungs and into other tissue,

hydrating us and leaving room for

your spirit-guided breath to animate,

inspire us to new life in you.

© 2011 Todd Jenkins

Into the Terror

Little band of little people,

separated, not as cream from milk,

but night from day;

angry about what is and isn’t,

fearful of what’s next,

wagering against all hope,

expecting less as victor.

Hatred on a short fuse,

mistrust fully wired,

xenophobia amped to max,

sacrificial lives dehumanized,

calculating rage’s dispersion, contagion,

betting on proliferation.

Surprised, overwhelmed, suffocated

by destruction’s carnage, intensity;

help arrives from four corners,

order, compassion begin,

Gilead’s balm overflows.

Sorting through rubble,

ferreting life’s meaning,

forced inventory of value,

prioritizing future’s map.

Defining moments like waves,

lap our shores methodically,

tumbling smooth jagged edges.

God only knows who will triumph,

terror’s disconnect or holy’s hope.

Just in: Love wins?

© September 2011 Todd Jenkins

Wildflowers

They don't blend in the garden,
rule-following not always a priority.
Tougher-than most,
with their own agenda;
blooming out of season
and often against all odds.

Those who venture into open fields
with eyes wide open
frequently glimpse their stunning glow;
colors, patterns beyond expectation,
surprising life at every turn.

Memories stronger than yesterday
persist in keeping hearts afire,
as hues long-remembered
refuse to fade into the night.

Nature has its own way
of giving us an instant replay;
sometimes it takes our breath away.

The fields are ripe with reminiscence
for those who pay attention.

Have you seen your wildflower lately?

© 2011 Todd Jenkins

“Whither Thou Goest…” (for Katie and Curtis)

Would that our speech was still

so full of color, but then

we might also be stuck with

such a worldview and

barbaric treatment for

classes and peoples deemed lower;

not that the flora of the language

has direct impact on behavior or,

for that matter, that we’re completely

(if at all) immune from such

provincial thought and behavior now.

It is a promise of the highest order,

spoken in the midst of a strange redeeming,

where land and mouths to feed

seem to be of greater import than

emotions and relationships.

Ruth, the outsider of outsiders,

Moabite that she is,

throws ethnicity to the wind

and pledges her troth to a mother-in-law

who is as good as dead.

It is really the pledge of all

who abandon self for the sake of God;

home and kin, vocation and comfort,

all tossed into the whirlwind

of God’s tempestuous travel plans.

Who knows how many times

it has been used to caulk wedding vows,

betrothed cleaving themselves one to another?

I do not claim to understand

the mystery of enduring matrimony,

but it does seem to me that when

both partners are willing to live

(not just speak) “Whither thou goest…”

first to God and then to each other,

the grace not only of longevity

but also of joy is within their reach.

Ruth 1:16 (KJV)

¹And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.

© 2011 Todd Jenkins

OCD

As a culture, we often dabble in obsessive behavior, not because we are possessed by Obsessive Compulsive Disorder or because we are capable of comprehending the enormous tragedy of this illness, but because we are so afraid of change and letting go to what God has in store for us - so devoid of trust - that we fixate on controlling everything around us. Ours is Obsessive CONTROL Dis-ease.

If you don't think it’s true, or that you don’t suffer from this malady, try this experiment of modernity and development: the next time an unexpected event or the prolonging of a scheduled one encroaches on the time, person, and place for another activity that you have planned to do, pay attention to how long and how often you are fixated and worried about missing the planned event as opposed to immersing yourself in whom and what is actually going on around you.

It is pure illusion to believe that we can control much of anything. We can control appearances, but only for a while. The thin veneer of appearance will “grow strangely dim” as the old hymn goes. About the only thing we have a chance of controlling is whether we are paying attention to the here and now.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote:
Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round and pluck blackberries.

I have a metaphorical freezer full of blackberries. I wonder how many burning bush conversations I've ignored and how many times I've missed the opportunity to sink my toes in holy humus?

© 2011 Todd Jenkins