Always in Motion

“This is my first time flying,” says the child, to the woman beside him.

“How exciting! How old are you?” she says.

“Five. How old are you?” he says.

“Old enough,” she says.

She takes out a set of pencils and a therapeutic coloring book.

“Would you like to color?”

The boy looks to his sister, who gives him the okay.

He colors. The plane takes off. He squims.

“I don’t like roller coasters,” he says.

The woman leans in.

“Neither do I,” she says.

The plane levels out.

“Do you have any children?” says the boy.

“Two,” she says, “my son is picking up from the airport.”

She digs through her carry-on.

“He wrote a book.”

The boy looks at the cover, which is in Greek.

“Does he speak a foreign language?” he says.

“No,” she says, “it’s from the Bible. It means masterpiece. We all are God’s masterpiece, see?”

She reads him the first page.

“Oh,” he says. “I know all about God. Mom takes us to church Wednesdays and Sundays. Dad is too busy. He has to work. We’re flying out to see him. He lives in North Carolina now.”

“I bet it will be good to see him,” says the woman, “I haven’t seen my son in some time, either.”

“Why’s that?” he says.

“Sometimes, people move away,” she says. “But we still love them anyway.”

“Yes, that’s true,” he says.

He colors. She reads. They touch down.

Moments of connect, then distance. A Universe shrinking and expanding, but always in motion.

Riding in the Car with Roger

We met outside church,

you sang those songs you wrote with an old country twang

Susan gave you her coat

Katie and I drove you to Ingles

We talked about God and Jesus and YouTube

You bought us cookies and Coca Cola

and then we dropped you off

outside Homeward Bound.

 

At the time we met,

you were thinking of driving out to California,

but I’m glad you’re thinking about staying.

The world needs more people like you.

If We Stay Open

We’re a tribal people

I get it

We preach “inclusion”

but the fact is we all do things to exclude

We have to be aware of that,

we have to be open

to humble enough to say,

“shoot, I had my back turned to so and so

this whole time.”

 

Humility, Listening, Awareness, and Action:

all necessary for growth.

 

Just the Beginning

I love that jazz does not need to resolve itself,

because, although the overarching story of our lives,

may have a beginning, middle, and end

the rest of it often doesn’t.

It bleeds into itself, informs itself

takes detours and goes unexpected ways.

Our lives are like that,

the seasons come and go erratically

and that’s okay.

We let the waves come and go as they will,

venturing forth into the unknown

until at last we find the end,

which of course only just the beginning.