That I Would Know Him
I have been embraced by God
With soft sweet arms
And fiercely tender, open hands.
Mom's fingers, not often manicured,
Hold tight to soothe innocence and fear, Heavy and
secure.
Dad's hands, daily clasped white
knuckled, chapped and red.
Enveloped in praying,
Typing
Dish-washing
Blow drying hair
Tickling
I have heard God's glory
Waking to large blithe hymns on Saturday mornings. Dulcet keys
playing and bowls of steaming oatmeal A fragrant
offering,
Music, her chorus of rest, And
cooking, his verse of praise.
I have been taught truth from God,
Out of narrow bedroom hallways, in the glow of night lights. In her patient
words outside my slammed, sticker-covered door, Her refrain:
"I love you"
In anticipated bedtime stories and pretty pictures of a parted sea:
"Daddy, who's Moses?"
These strongholds of affection so that I would come to know
The taste of both honeyed oats and tears
And the yearning of a victorious "The End" I could not yet read.
Even in my greenness,
Threads of assurance began their
Weaving through my instinctive worship,
For "Jesus loves me, this I know."
That I would one day, too, have calloused hands and
Fingers, not often manicured,
To hold onto little ones,
The "little ones to Him belong."