Nothing quite gives me that moment of calm, peace and wonder of and in God’s creation and work in the world than seeing something as beautiful and amazing as this.
I have never claimed to be a poet or a good writer. I enjoy writing though, so thus I blog. A strange thing happened to me after attending a worship service yesterday though, I sat down and I started writing with a pencil on a scratch piece of paper. What came from that strange experience kind of looks like a poem (admittedly it doesn’t really follow any structural rules though). It’s not profound, and doesn’t really rhyme. But here it is. I share it here with you to see if you have any thoughts?
Strange…
Strange is how I feel
when new in community.
Strange is how I feel
when no longer in a leadership capacity.
I feel strange
when uncertainty seems a norm.
I feel strange
when in the wilderness of life.
Hope is what I feel
in spite of this uncertainty.
Hope is what I feel
in the face and space of new opportunity.
I have hope
that all will be well.
I have hope
that my ears, eyes, nose, hands, feet, heart, and head are being used and called and will be used and called.
Even though its strange for me,
I know it will be okay.
Even though its strange for me,
I know God is here.
Thoughts?
Timothy Siburg 