Home by Another Way

Even when home is not exactly

the thing for which we hope,

it is a place of consolation,

though its comforts be comprised

mostly of old wounds

from which we gained our limp.

Years may have passed;

journey still has a vague familiarity;

its shortening rewinds the projector,

returning us to a child’s cameo role,

subject to whatever parenting came

from the garden of our adolescence.

Going back by the path on which we left,

straining for individuality with every breath,

seeking differentiation from all genetics,

can be painful, breathtaking.

There is another road;

one with neither nostalgic Photo-Shopping,

nor anesthetic memory-wipe.

G₂ is the highway’s name;

Gratitude for all that has shaped us

as creatures of both habit and hope;

Grace for the ways we learned,

letting ourselves be unshaped, reshaped.

This the way that allows new baggage,

giving Homeland Security new meaning

as wrinkled, misshapen garments

from our past are Goodwilled,

and repurposed to a safe place;

the wardrobe of now

is modeled with genuine humility.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Sumptuous

I’m sure I never looked finer today,

rolling into church in my purple shirt,

fresh off a Saturday evening

of sumptuous grilled chicken, rich onion pie,

and flavorful bacon ranch potato salad,

along with the beverage of my choice.

And then I had to listen to Jesus

get all-up-in the Pharisees’ face

about a rich guy, whose name we’ll never know,

and an oozing-scabbed beggar

at his gate whose name means “God is with me.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not rich!”

I thought, as I measured myself

against Forbes’ list.

That’s when I noticed God’s gaze.

It was a lot broader, and maybe

even deeper, than mine.

I was looking at Gates and God

was looking at Guatemala and Ghana.

I was seeing Buffet and God

was seeing Belize and Botswana.

I was imaging the Kochs and God

could clearly see Kenya and Kandahar.

I was looking up at the “Haves” and God

was looking over at Honduras and Haiti.

Lazarus: “We are not alone.”

So when we feel estranged,

isolated, gated, and afraid,

perhaps it is a loss of central vision –

a failure to recognize our raison d'être –

and a focus on the peripheral.

Perhaps it is time to get back

to the heart of the matter;

back to the table where all are welcome.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Person of Interest

Once we consume, co-opt, or subdue

all our imagined external enemies,

two new ones will emerge:

the children of all former foes,

who understand neither why

their DNA defines them as combatants,

nor why they must spend their lives

gasping for every breath

beneath the boot of dominance;

and the very machine of victory itself,

with its pervasive and probing

hand that knows no limits.

The conquering beast, once awakened,

will not be denied; its appetite

both insatiable and indiscriminate.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Flake

Grief is an emotional snowflake;

each piece of your life's story

a unique crystal, suspended in place,

yet attached to and floating

through space and time

with all the others.

Its shape, and yours, formed

by how and when each event arrives,

as well as how much time and space –

exterior and interior – you find

to process them, layering one

upon another, in a form as likely

to be malignant and atrophying

as artistic and cathartic,

depending on grace’s arrival. 

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Knot's End

The knot’s at the end

of the rope for a reason;

your story touches lives

you don’t know.

Remember that hope

is not just a season;

it's the breath and the plot

of the whole damn show.

(from the greatest song never written)

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

The 1

And those who owned the 99

were so surprised that

they were also the 1.

Of course, we are capable

of participating in the search

for another 1; on those occasions

when our own 1-ness  has been

woven into the fold once more

by the shepherd who

never ceases searching

and is always ready to weave

our exhausted, broken selves

back into the fabric of community.

Being the 1 always catches us

by surprise, when we realize that,

no matter how much we have,

how much we've done,

how great we are, we are still the 1;

the 1 who has convinced himself

that he’s invincible; the 1 who is sure

she has more of life figured out

than anyone else; the 1 whose words

say, “We’re all in this together.”

but whose attitudes and actions scream,

“I’m better than the rest of you!”;

as well as the 1 who

is sure that no matter how much

he does for others, the deep truth

of his own self is not worthy

of being found and celebrated;

neither by God nor anyone else.

Here’s the catch: the shepherd

will never give-up on us;

will pursue us to the ends of the earth;

to the end of our life and beyond;

because he’s the one who knows our true worth –

who knows why we were made

and what we’re created for.

We’re all priceless coins in God’s eyes.

So, the question is really

whether we're going to join

in the celebration when

God finds us again today,

or whether we're going to insist

that we've never been lost,

because we own the 99.

No matter how much we have,

no matter how many other

lost ones we’re helping search for,

we still need to let ourselves be found,

again, today, and every day.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Skin

For all the days when we

are train wrecks with skin on,

O God, we pray for the courage

and patience to let you gently gather

the widely scattered debris,

shift the track ahead with the tender but firm

fire of your Holy Spirit, and redirect

the engine and cargo of our lives toward

a destination of your choosing. 

For the few times when our own baggage

happens to have been recently secured,

our own cars uprighted and track-steadied,

give us compassion and courage

to offer all whom you've formed us into

and all with which you have gifted us

toward those whose own flesh

barely contains their current derailment.

Remind us that life is not a race

to the end of the track,

but a many-charactered story

whose mystic healer gave grace away

at every crossing; whose end came,

not when everyone had been convinced

or conquered, but when unconditional love

had been blessed, broken, poured out,

and shared with all who accepted

an invitation to table; invited,

not because of who they were

or what they'd amassed or accomplished,

but because they recognized,

if only for an instant, the freedom and power

in no longer pretending that their own lives

are a well-deserved, scenic tour of utopia.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins