The Winter Widow

While it is true
I have a new life
and new love
that I am happy, content and fulfilled

I am also still a widow
draped by all that has come before
I process this mantle every single day
like remembering to pick up my winter

coat from the dry cleaners
and put it on when I walk past the place
where I spilled wine on the hem
at supper that last week

I pull the fur
lined hood over my head
as his favorite song rumbles
through the playlist

The elbow snags when I bump
into his former employee at the game
and she adds the scarf of her arm
around my neck, chatters on

about how excited he would be
that we are in the cup run,
how he regretted not opting
for playoff tickets in '04.

I take the coat in again
ask if they can remove the stain
repair the snag, box it up
like the wedding dress of '81

I use the coat less now
it's getting tattered
no longer a go-to choice
and while it was

very helpful for three winters
and I will never get rid of it
the weight is more than I
need for this spring

Picture 1: depositphotos.com #5278483, standard license

Picture 2: depositphotos.com #14069717, standard license

Bully Bag-o-Bones

You stood at the head of the beach

counting down from ten

to get us to come.

Dad was busy

so you got the job

keeping us in line

His confidant, best friend,

you did as he bid

honoured, served

Obeyed.

Always the faithful son.

The first brother.

The responsible one.

Trustworthy.

Mature. Leader.

Punster.

You stood at the back of the pack,

hum the right pitch

to start us singing

picked the right hymn

to keep us singing

knew the right words

to keep the program flowing

researched the right roads

to keep us driving

contacted the churches

that kept us traveling

Put off your life

to corral ours, support Dad’s

and there you are still:

pastor of his church.

praying for his people.

Your Father’s son.

My hero.

Surrender to Love

In the weeks following the traumatic event that left me a widow in December of 2012, I picked up a book, recommended several years earlier by a trusted friend: "Surrender to Love" by Dr. David Benner. It grounded me during the initial maelstrom of grief and prepared my heart and mind for venturing into a new life, knowing this unshakeable truth: I am carried by a God whose essence is unconditional Love and there is no fear in this Love.

Earlier in 2015, I was asked to write a poem on the same theme for the Good Friday service at my church. The video which follows is the end result. I am deeply grateful to have been a part of this, and my admiration and thanks go to the creative staff and volunteers at First Alliance Church who produced such a powerful video.

May you find this Love.

Good Friday at FAC - Surrendered to Love - #FACdefiningmoments
Posted by First Alliance Church Calgary on Friday, 3 April 2015

The Mystery of Yes

I have seen too much death.
Most of it much too soon.

Friends,
two nephews, two nieces,
parents, sister-in-law,
brother, husband.

But this is why I celebrate Easter.
The mystery of resurrection.
The wonder that God became man
to pay the price for me
to defeat the death that comes by sin

Came alive again, Hallelujah!
to restore the original design
of open and complete connection
with the One Who Is Life.

Love came to me in such a tangible way
after Brent's death
A presence of light so real,
a comfort so inexpressibly deep,
all my doubt about God's love
GONE!

Jesus was mocked.
Some of you still do.
I invite you to hear my story,
hear His heart.

Only Jesus has the words of eternal life.
and he has his arms open to you.
right now.
say yes.
just yes.

Comparison is the Eighth Deadly Sin

I used to be friends with a dental hygienist

who judged people by their teeth

and so my mind begins to wonder

about the condition of my bicuspids and molars

so much that we eventually drift apart.

If this is true for teeth, says Perfectionist,

then surely other experts cultivate

similar measures for acceptance?

And so, the professions of various acquaintances

begin a long march across the field of comparison.

The merchandising manager at the dress shop

had to know about my threadbare closet

(how the floral blouse always shows up on Wednesdays)

and thus my limited wardrobe would invariably

have to circumvent that friendship

A psychologist raises my lingering suspicion

that he has X-ray vision into my psyche;

the nurse knows instinctively about that small goiter

the fireman discerns the smoke detector battery must be dead

and a pastor knows the hidden depths of my soul

Expert knowledge becomes a smile killer,

beauty competition, mental or physical health exam

home safety evaluation and a spiritual assessment

if everyone can see me the way I see myself

All those not-so-hidden little faults on parade

And it crushes me then that my life as a poet

could possibly discourage others as they read my words

quash so many, if they think I look at their writing

with some measure of carefully crafted eloquence

and find them wanting.

Comparison kills.

On the other hand, connection grows

if we set aside the rulers

human measures of success

better-than, less-than subjectivity

then, we are grateful to learn from friends 

the life-giving principles of collaboration,

share knowledge like a library loans books

our own personal Wikipedia

downloaded from one to another

Expertise to build a life:

that caring for teeth improves overall health

certain clothing can minimize body flaws

that no, it’s not just me

who feels inadequate at times

If we only compare notes about life. love. longing.
put down one-upmanship, then
home can be safe, goiters can be treated
and redemption is possible, 

even for a judgmental hygienist
or a renegade poet.



Picture: depositphotos.com #5431243, standard license