eyewitness

sounding out story
unlikely glory found
on a street disrepute

where fists pounded rage
provoking blade and thrown
bloodied shirt to the dirt

i saw the hand hold the piece
cracks unleashed
nonchalant to the air
and i saw the Hand choke back
with resolve any harm
meant for here

more of the story
finds you next day
clearing dross from
the derelict lot down the way
your hands became four
became six and then eight
ten or twelve took the space for clean
fun being missed

next day came force
with another ten, twelve
stretching out weapons in charge
charged with offenses a few
put away but root-stretched
abides the illicit

i still witness hands
bent lawless and listen
to voices hurl hate
and i still expect the Hand
that is boundless to heal
and to heave away pain

sounding out story
soon coming glory found
on a street wholly new

- c. l. atkinson

startled by peace

we are exhausted this week. last week brought these separate incidences to our block: a stabbing and shooting, a productive visit from the U.S. Marshals, a drug raid, and multiple, minor, unrelated arrests. all directly followed my post about the good gift of home i have here. interesting? that'd be a gross understatement.

do you know isaiah 43:1-2? it is part of a passage of scripture that i first remember reading at a time when fear had filled my being like i'd never imagined it could. these words of promise washed me then, and over the years i've looked back on that gift of peace through easy and difficult times alike. this week, after the occurrences mentioned above, two or three people mentioned these verses to me. through the bit of shock, i am realizing i have never felt so close to the kind of overwhelming danger described in isaiah, even as i recall other moments in the past where i truly have escaped peril. what may be the most risky place i have ever lived is likely among a thousand other places i have been where destruction or death was at my door but i was simply unaware.


But now, this is what the LORD says—
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.


oh, praise God, who has named me! i am his and he is ever my Savior! bullets were fired in front of my porch, more than grazing my car. neighbors witnessed me giving information to the police. a drug raid happened right outside my window. i 've seen many frightening events, yet my kids have missed them all. and through the course of these events, among other merry things, we as a family have played on our sidewalks, met new neighbors, put plants in our yard and welcomed more first-time visitors to our home.

i may be tired and a little disoriented, but the Hand of peace guards me. my sheltered heart can live with joy and find rest in the midst of this torrent.

an anniversary with God

i love my new house.
no, we haven't moved, the entire exterior has been rehabbed through a grant from our city. (the photo at left shows our old porch steps.) this 19th century home, with its shady history and deteriorating shell, now has all new windows, doors, roofs and gutters, plus a very nice shade of paint. we are put at ease by these major repairs we could not afford to do ourselves, and our neighbors are celebrating with us this tremendous gift.

i love our neighborhood.
oh, it's no utopia! gunfire, drug deals and domestic brawls are fairly common. blaring, obscene music and foul language are the norm, plus folks of every age have little respect for private or public property. in fact, someone kindly shot about two dozen BBs through our newly painted siding this week. however, the constant presence of people sure makes me feel alive. the good is right up alongside the bad and the really ugly, and it makes life pretty palpable.

the slightest bit of hope is tangible, too. people are not afraid to admit that hope is needed. the shamelessness and in-your-face manner create a receptiveness to relationship that's harder to find in "upstanding" communities. sadly, those are often places of well-kept secrets necessitating strong walls that curb any form of hospitality or true brotherhood. doesn't sound superior nor desirable to me.

today i celebrate the 3-year anniversary of God's promise to us: a house. i hadn't asked him for one, but he knew my desires. i longed to live immersed in diversity. it'd be a place where we'd know all our neighbors, sharing ourselves and our space with them. a throng of kids would be of necessity. and we would live so close to others that they would see, and one day know themselves, the life we've found in Jesus' other Kingdom. the promise was about all he'd provide both in and about that home.

two years ago, he gave us the house. if you have journeyed long with us, you know the road here wasn't easy. now and then, i get physically shaken by simply recalling the valleys we walked through in the first days here. and the daily stressors on our street are innumerable, as i mentioned. living well in this place requires sacrifice, humility, endurance . . . and more. yet this is God's promised gift to us. he has given it in the shape he's designed and we are faithfully letting him shape how we use it. it is here where i increasingly find that what i dreamed of simply cannot rival the marvelous gift he's given. nearly every longing i had for a house has already been fulfilled, in extra measure!

when God said, "ask me for a house," i was astonished. "isn't that trivial, so temporal, God?" then, i realized he was serious and that i was questioning his intimate love for me. i like that "receiving" isn't only defined as getting or collecting. to receive also means to welcome and meet with, to listen to and respond to. as he always does, God wanted to give something of eternal worth. i am so glad i didn't miss it, and i pray we all keep growing up in recognizing what God desires to give and in welcoming what he chooses for us.

i am in love with a Good God.

the monsters to fear

i saw the photos and read the story of our vandalized walking path. here's what most "burns me up," as my dad would say. the destructive act? the fire starters themselves? no, i think it's the foolish insolence of online responders. (note to self, once again: it is best to avoid reading such comments!)


cross over

found out the bridge was burned
real bridge, real fire
some one dared destroy
some thing we all enjoyed
public property
how uncivil

how uncivil
public commentary
slander pointing fingers
to find imagined solace
in eluding inner vandals
whose bridges we've tried to burn


*poem written by c. l. atkinson for random acts of poetry

why not?

i haven't included any poems here. however, poetry is summoning again because i've been neglectful. again. this month is national poetry month, so why not include one now? it's a little one i wrote in response to someone else's prodding. (thanks, l.l. and RAP!) i think i need to set up another blog for this kind of thing. that, or change "ours" a bit. so far it's only seen entries from me and doesn't have the exact shape i imagined. hmm.

join me. inhale and exhale some more sweet lines this month.


because it's april

why write a poem
words to share
to dare spill what's within
like the clutter on the desk
seem unrelated worthless
yet have their place
tape measure, hole puncher, dollar bill
and the camera's back is turned
as if to say
none of you matter

- c. l. atkinson

sometimes God answers fast

i was struggling with something today, wrestling a little with God but mostly with my own mind. i reached the point of decision: tonight, after the kids are in bed, i must read my Bible and pray. i just need to be with my Father. i just need him. it gave me some peace to simply hope for that time.

immediately after o. was tucked in, i closed myself in another room, took out my journal and got out some thoughts. then i read and started to pray about one chapter in particular. while i conversed with Jesus about leaning on him like a brother (consider hebrews 2), i got a new picture of faith.

that wasn't the only new picture. i had answers to the very thing i'd been struggling over earlier in the day. i had barely broached the subject with God, and CLICK! on went a switch, and he answered my confusion. i found him and i found what i needed.

praise the Lord of life! he hears us when we call and is found when we search for him unreservedly. and even reservedly.

try him.

paul and us, for you

"now i rejoice in what was suffered for you, and i fill up in my flesh what is still lacking in regard to Christ's afflictions, for the sake of his body, which is the church. i have become its servant by the commission God gave me to present to you the word of God in its fullness -- the mystery that has been kept hidden for ages and generations, but is now disclosed to the saints. to them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. we proclaim him, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone perfect in Christ. to this end i labor, struggling with all his energy, which so powerfully works in me."

everything under the sun

took a lovely walk around the neighborhood with the littles today. R and i chatted. A relaxed in her stroller. we stopped at a park for a while.

taking in all the sights, you can't help but notice the spring paradox. fresh greenery and budding trees with newness in the air, all mingled with burned out, boarded up homes strewn with rubbish and left to decay. what was once pristine and grand lies in wait for exploitation. R and i talked about one house with its gorgeous brick porch. he suggested buying it. i said i wish someone would . . . make it all new.

though the mess is commonplace here, it doesn't feel natural. only disheartening to a heart where eternity has been placed, as Ecclesiates says. the building up and tearing down, the keeping and throwing away, it's a mystery to me. a mystery to be embraced as i look toward the One whose works will endure, like a tapestry not worn.

among other things new, i do get to take part in a little home rebuilding. recently, a contractor began the city's rehab project on the exterior of our house. and i have many hopes for the inside that are bit by bit being fulfilled. the house has surely had its own seasons. i am thrilled to be part of this mending, laughing, planting, healing and gathering time!

design in me

the little ones fed and occupied, two loads of laundry down, dishes cleaned, dinner planned. i was mopping floors while pondering this recent fixation on remaking the rooms in my house. we've lived here nearly two years but the renovations and decorating and other processes have been, well, a process. most of my walls are still bare, poor walls. however, i've been given new license to jump in. i've gotten in over my head and i'm LOVING it! even though it's still ninety-nine percent in my head...

i am a "closet" designer. there's vivid recollection of dreaming up outfits for myself - in my head - as a preteen. and i can spend hours and days exploring color or texture with absolutely no goal in mind. did anyone else have one of those groovy drafting kits for home interiors as a kid? i pulled mine out many years later, wishing i had an adult version. in fact, my favorite part of playing in the woods as a child was designing imaginary houses from the tree limbs and roots, shrubs and fallen sticks. as deeply satisfying as creating lovely spaces for my family with a near-imaginary pocketbook!

these kinds of pleasures energize me. ask kenn. i am a different person after looking through photos of beautiful things. and that's what i asked God about while cleaning the floors - vibrantly fueled by the images of what my living room could look like one day. the question pains the artist and it hardly matters that countless have asked and answered it before. we all dance around the subject in our own way. isn't this just frivolous?

so while mopping, God reminded me. he's [a] Designer. i hadn't really forgotten, i just hadn't heard it from him lately. he said something like, "you know that word about the lilies, right? i clothe them on purpose. and what about every other masterpiece of mine? i know you don't think all that beauty is a waste. night and day you find me there, in created things. what would this planet, this life be without the splendor i've shown? or even without the treasures man has fashioned?"

when will my little heart learn? God has made me like himself. and creating is somehow my way of sharing my Beautiful with others. that is never a trivial, frivolous thing.

like snow in summer...

"like snow in summer 
or rain in harvest, 
honor is not fitting for a fool."

snowing yet again! you won't hear a complaint from me. i asked for it. i even thought it was funny today when i read that first verse from proverbs 26. it wasn't so amusing to realize shortly after: i'd been a fool. a fool a bit like haman, that is. he's the man from the biblical story of esther who enjoyed vast wealth and high position and grand favor but had one complaint: all this gives me no satisfaction as long as i see that jew mordecai sitting at the king's gate.

no, i don't know anyone named mordecai and i enjoy very little money and power. but a bit like haman's, my own dreams have come true. the picture of life that i'd hoped for just a few years back is now a reality. how many people can say that? still, i had chosen haman's response when not long ago i'd said, God, i am just not satisfied with that!

you see, there was a situation i found myself in (to no blame of my own) from which God had released me. instead of accepting freedom, i chose to hold onto it like the stubborn child i am learning i am. there was just one outcome of which i wanted more control. i built my own gallows.

at the end of chapter five in esther, haman shares this one gripe with his wife and friends. i wonder if  they weren't drunk or at least half-joking, but they tell him to have a gallows built and get the king to hang mordecai. then it'll all be great, they imply. it actually sounds like a plan to haman.

do you know what happens the next day?! it's what alarmed me when i realized how i'd been clutching just one thing, one grievance, dissastisfied. that one complaint could have been my own death! and my dreams would have died with me. like haman.

thank my Redeemer, he rescued me. as he always does and promises he will, he saved me by showing me how i'd been the fool. yes, just like that fool i only read about in proverbs. he said it was not fitting for me, his redeemed.

and that's where i'm not like haman.

it's okay: a work in progress

i think i'm learning a little bit more about ambiguity and unanswered questions, about striving and settling.

like this weekend. i was six hours away from home and my babies, and my sweet 3-year-old ended up in the hospital. it was likely he'd be just fine, but i really did fear i might lose him. now i look back on it and think, was there more to take away from that experience? should my reaction to his healing have been as intense as my fear of his failing? did i miss something?

yes, i'm learning.
it's okay to not know how to respond.
it's okay to wonder what's going on and not come up with an answer.
it's okay to revel in the glimpse of something without jumping to seize the whole picture.
it's okay to speak what i sense is utterly true, even when it's depths i cannot grasp nor wholly express.
it's okay to stay put when divergence enters the room.
it's okay to feel less than inspired after a conversation.
it's okay to start something i may not finish today.
it's okay to try something, not knowing where it'll take me.

it's more than okay.

i am learning a little bit more about my compulsion to get everything just right. mind, matter, me, you.

i'll probably pursue more insight into the crazy weekend, but i think i'll be okay if i don't.

worth the wait

i had the feeling (read hope) that we would get a "real" winter this year.
and more is yet to come! yahoo!

a story about hospitality

it was dark, it must have been late, dinner had not yet been served. in fact, i was busy trying to prepare it when i heard a quiet tapping on the back door. our backyard is enclosed with a fence which  the neighborhood kids know to enter only after they've asked permission. it's a general rule when we aren't in the yard.

earlier, the knocking at the front door had begun to get out of hand - kids being kids and being silly but wearing on us hungry and tired adults. so when the knock at the back door was heard, i was irked. i left my cooking to peer out a window, to catch a little pest in action. sure enough, someone was standing on my fence. the darkness hid who it was, so i just banged on the window and motioned a command to get down. whoever it was tried to gesture their explanation to me, which i assumed was unwarranted. i turned to the back door to get down to the bottom of this interruption.

let me not forget, the tap i'd heard had turned to two or three knocks and then a call of my name - Miss Cheri?! - but i still refused to answer. my task of making dinner i had determined to complete.

to my surprise and near horror when i opened the door, sweet d. was standing there cowering with tears in his eyes, explaining how some kids were threatening him.

oh my God, what have i done? i love this dear boy, small of stature yet so tall of heart. he has come to my door to find refuge. literally. and i've refused him. to offer a place for any one to be at home and find what they need for the journey was the hope-filled intention of my heart, and it had been realized. in an instant, i locked that door.

thank God for his mercy and justice. over us all. d.'s tears broke me and i offered my deep regret in apology. he came inside and wiped away his tears with a bit of shame. not long after, his cousins and siblings came to walk him home and a piece of myself walked away with him. i think it won't return.

i am so broken. jesus still comes to my house. let me not miss him again.

gifts (these and those)

i am trying to wrap my heart round a certain concept. if God is my God, what room is there for concern for things, namely the stuff we buy and give and collect and design and hope to add to our other things?

i am struggling again with the christmastime rule: you give nice things to the ones you love. give me permission to break it! please! such demands make me tense. yet i wrestle just the same and more often with the gifts inside me - they dream of color and shape and design, to furbish, enhance and arrange, using hands and mind to create pleasing spaces and nonessentials. be sure, i've understood the good advice and firm arguments for each conflict. i still find myself here, conflicted.

it is tonight i think i've reached the end of this maze, realizing the end should have been my start. i shall begin with the knowledge - i mean a full grasp - that what lies within me is by God's design of grace. it will be freedom to abide by his rules and pursue the privilege of sharing my gifts. if he chooses to grace me with such opportunity, i pray i will joyously bestow them. whether family, friend, neighbor or stranger, those i love will then possess something of another Rule.

this start is not the desire to gain, achieve, impress, appease. start is in profound thankfulness, revelling in the undeserved and mysterious favor received. this is logic leaving no room for anxiety.

now to wrap up my heart with it. . .
what are you wrapped up in?

first

God is good all the time