Enough

I never called you enough
For me
Never found enough time
For all the words I needed to give you
Or glean from you
Little treasures
To tuck into my pockets
And cherish later, when I was alone.

You gave me the glimpse of angels
Of God himself
Yet I have not filled myself enough with you
To cast away all doubt
To believe
To know
With all my heart
What you know all too well.

Yet we are out of time
I am out of chances
To share my little self with you.
And though I do not doubt
The place your sweetness leads you to
The joy I feel for your sake
Is not enough to heal my heart
Torn open by the loss of you.

Time falls too fast
And you must leave the world behind
Quietly
The same beautiful way you lived your life
And I must wait
Until I venture to the timeless lands myself
And you smile, and wave,
And sit down next to me.

Only then will I have enough
Of you.

God bless you on your journey, dearest Joyce.

Step Back

Put down the list of things to do

Save it

For a moment when your jaw

Isn't clenched

When the words

Don't blear together

From the throbbing behind your eyes

The floor needs sweeping

So put on some soft socks

To mask the feeling

Tuck the dishes into the sink

And cover them with a towel

The laundry can wait until tomorrow

Now is not the time for stress

Your brain can't handle much more

Without committing suicide

So let go...

Open the shutters wide

And soften your eyes with the green of trees

Drift along with the music

Of the turning of the earth

Feel it rumble under your toes

And echo with your own heart beat

God didn't create while panicked

He made it all slowly

Step by step

Looking over each little plant

To say,

Yes, that is good.

The Voice of God?

Yesterday's blog was full of promises... I was going to redirect my energies towards a certain piece of writing, use what time I had to do something real with my talents... 

But then the day happened, and when the sun had set, and I looked back on it, I hadn't written anything except my blog. That made me wonder. If I had a gift but never used it, would it be taken from me? I imagined God, looking down at me, at my wasted day, filled with nothing but chores. He looked back over the last month, where I'd accomplished pretty much nothing of note at all... and he decided he'd had enough.

"Cheryl," he intoned down to me, his voice resonating, "you've been a bad little girl."

"Yes, God." (What was I supposed to do, deny it? He was right.)

"Since you can't seem to make any time to write, I've decided to take your talent from you."

"No, please," I'd beg. "I don't paint much, either, but when it do it turns out pretty good still."

God thinks that one over. "Maybe I should take that one away, too."

"Please, no!" I whine. "All I'll have is my piano and my sewing."

"But you haven't done enough with those either. Or that theatre thing you do."

"But--"

"Now, no arguing. You know you don't deserve any of it."

And I don't. I don't have a comeback for that one. I just rub my toe into the dirt, dejected.

"Okay, now, don't cry," God says. "I'll let you have them a while longer. But do something with them, okay?" Sounds just like me begging my son to behave for once at preschool. Does God know he's likely to reap the same level of effort from me as I do from my son? Surely, if he is real, God knows this already.

I nod, hoping I can make the next few years different from the last few. I hope I can write more, write every day, write stuff that's really worthwhile, ignore the online games, get the chores done faster so that I have more time for what's really important, and not fritter away what little time I have on useless, stupid things. 

I hope, I hope, I hope. Will I change, though? Only time will tell. If you have any advice for how I can do this better, I'd love to hear it.