If Memories Were Sparrows

If memories were sparrows they would nest in my hair, and sing in my ear their songs of deliverance.

If memories were sparrows, I would mend up their broken, and set flight the dark wing—the wild thing on bough.

If memories were sparrows, I would feed them on dreams and the seeds of my longing, shelter their offspring from rain and from fire.

And then they would flourish—guarding my journeys with song ever-present

On earth and in sky.

If memories were sparrows.


This poem, written for "The Great Poem Caper"
to see more about The Great Poem Caper
the blog of L.L. Barkat: "seedlings in stone".

The Ground is Down There

My feet dangled over the edge of my dreams for a of couple of months, as I waited to jump into my new job. It was tough sitting there, wanting to immediately leave, and I was tired of the posturing and office politics. But I waited, giving thanks that this new path had opened up, seemingly with no prompting from me.

Thinking about how great it would be to leave, I felt a long-missed sense of freedom and often found myself swinging my legs, anticipating the new adventure.

Some days I wondered if it was all true. I tried to focus on my day to day tasks as I felt feelings of relief and also some small doubts that it may not turn out. But conditions were poor and steadily getting more out of control where I was at. At no point did I wonder if I should stay. These days gave way to the reality of what I believed to be His hand leading me beside quiet waters: confirmations and re-assurances that He sees me and knows every detail.

Typing up my notice gave me goose bumps. Turning it in felt like a 1000 pounds lifting from my shoulders. My two weeks went quickly and my last evening was spent raising glasses and telling stories, getting hand shakes and hugs from friends and enemies.

I have just finished my second week at my new post and my feet haven't touched the ground. There is a sense of honor, care and humility present at my new work place that has given me wings. Even the atmosphere is ultra-creative with wide open spaces, sculptures suspended from the ceiling, space to roam, think, draw, move. No cubicles, no clock watchers.

I realize I am still honeymooning, but wow, what a honeymoon!

What I Did Over Christmas Vacation

This year I took vacation the week before and after Christmas. Time off was welcomed after putting so many rushed hours in on our last rag, (editors, take note: meet your deadlines and have happy art directors!) I dreamed about the things that I could do and the time I would have to think, create and breathe outside air. I made a list in my journal, hopeful I could accomplish each item, giving no thought to any practicalities.

I knew there were non-negotiables: Christmas shopping, my wife's birthday, and taking the kids tubing (did you know tubes on snow can go over 40 mph?) But some other things like shooting photos of my town's grand old Victorians blanketed in Christmas lights and snow, I wasn't sure I would get to—but I surprised myself.

It was hard to cut the umbilical after pushing hard to meet my deadline, and I actually snuck in some half days on to jump on next month's issue (had to drop my son off close to my office for his new job, so I could just pop in) and yes, I actually accomplished not checking my email for a few days from home...okay, two days!

Although I was used to hours in front of the computer, I tried not to spend my time there. But, I found that I missed the fellowship of the blog and I have looked forward to this post. I pray all those in my small blog community had a Christmas full of wonder. I am thankful for you and the gift of oneness you have been to me, for the encouragement, and for the inspiration of your stories. I think Kirsten echoes my heart on the matter when she said, "We all have stories. And I think we all want our stories to be validated somehow; we want to share them, we want them not to be forgotten. We use them to connect with one another in this virtual blogging space."

So I sit here, on a cloudy day with my list tucked away for now. The snow is falling and I contemplate the mystery of Immanuel, God with us. I also think of the new year and what it may hold.

Under our tree, we have a nativity that was given to us as a gift some years ago. The nativity seems so serene, but even this miraculous arrival had many tough days prior to it. Mary, a pregnant teen, unmarried, giving birth in a stable—perfection born in imperfection. She was a willing vessel to the Lord. When the angel told her that the savior would be created inside of her she responds in with some questions she would like answered, specifically on how a virgin could accomplish such a task, but also in faith: "And Mary said, Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word."

She was willing for perfection to be born in imperfection.

In the first chapter of Luke, Zehariah prophecies before Jesus is born, "Morning light is about to break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide us to the path of peace."

May we each allow His light truly break upon us—perfection born in imperfection—this year of 2008, making the shadows of death, despair, depression flee far from us, and may this light guide us, no matter what our circumstances, to the path of peace—His peace.

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."