And then the Lamb invited me to look,
and I beheld a faithful flowing steed
with one glorious hoof atop the Book
my life faithfully kept in word and deed.
My ears perceived a gentle rising call
emitted from a distant room beyond
my sight, and all those lost to me were tall
and gathered locked in bright eyes wet and strong.
In life I rode in boughs the wooden frame
painted to color life but pulseless ran
amidst the kingdoms, rivers, stones, by name
I called them mine; yet now I rein my plan.
Gesturing to the stable my mother
stands before my sisters and my brothers.
I wrote this in honor of my grandfather, H. H. Sims. He is transitioning from this life to the next, the last of 10 children raised in Fayette County, West Virginia. Lopaz is the name they gave their rocking horse; he’s really more of a gliding horse. He has served many children through the generations!
I always liked St. Francis the best.
Readers of Esse Diem may be interested in this excerpt of my essay for A Spiritual Life: Perspectives from Poets, Prophets, and Preachers featured today on Jana Riess’s fabulous blog, Flunking Sainthood. (I could swear she named that for me, but she says no.)
As we continue with our Thursday Spirituality series for May, we draw from what I thought was one of the most powerful essays in Allan Cole’s anthology A Spiritual Life. I had not heard of Elizabeth Damewood Gaucher before, but her compelling account of being diagnosed with MS at the tender age of 30 had me spellbound.
Where is God when you’re sitting across from the doctor and he tells you that your health and life will get progressively worse with little hope of a cure? How does that knowledge then change the way you live the time you have left?
Click here to read a portion of the essay: Where Is God in Chronic Illness? – Flunking Sainthood
Image credit: The Legend of St. Francis and the Wolf