safe inside the white house

Isolation made me

yearn for all the undone

to be fixed and put right and so I

put up homes and perches

for the birds,

my own sort of tuppence tossed

out the back door where the wee-est search

for breadcrumbs. They plead

with their broken songs to be

heard.

And we, safe inside our white house watch,

noses pressed to the glass

as they jump from branch to branch.

And still they sing,

the sparrows. Maybe they know

His eye is truly on them.

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father.”

Matthew 10:29 ESV

Quarantine journals: April 23

I’ve always love the number three.

Three sons.

The three best things of my whole entire life.

If you know anything

about me

it’s that I adore my Dad and he is

a carpenter.

He spent the time

and helped

my three sons

make these bluebird houses a few years back.

My part of the job was to find poles to mount them.

And I failed.

At least for a time.

But

THIS TIME.

Quarantine. Social distancing. Ruminating over past and present and things to come.

Somehow it all makes me want to finish

everything.

And so I found these precious birdhouses

my dad

and my boys

made with their own hands.

And finally we mounted them and we are grateful and

we wait.

The bluebirds will come.

New life will come.

Healing and hope and seasons and gatherings and community and

LIFE

will come again.

God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out, his merciful love couldn’t have dried up. They’re created new every morning. How great your faithfulness!

Lamentations 3:22-23 TMV

small

Strongholds are hard,

risk required

to break the generations

of shame declaring the healing worse

than the barbed wire chains of pride

encircling the light-bearers like hawks

searching for the small, burrow-ers

making their way among the vines and weeds

towards truth.