Birthday Letter to My Little Girl

My little girl just turned ten and I see her teenage years come barreling around the bend like a runaway freight train: those growing pain, testing her boundaries, rebellious years.

During my time as a youth group leader, I often encountered teenage kids who were afraid to go home because they thought that they had done something so unforgivable their parents would not take them back and they would rather stay away from home than to face that painful rejection.  Not knowing how desperately their parents wanted them back despite anything they may have done, they stayed away, digging themselves into a deeper hole.

So, I wrote the following birthday letter to my little girl in advance of her teenage years.


Birthday Letter to My Little Girl

Soon, you will reach the years of your teen
When you'll test the waters in between
What is right and what is wrong.

Both the winds from the east and the west
Will fill your sail and heart with unrest
Like the call of the sirens' song.

When that that time comes, I will trust in you
To discern the markers in your field of view
And know where to point your bow.

If you take a wrong turn on a dare
And a squall catches you unaware,
Remember what I tell you now.

Despite anything you do or say,
An egregious offense along the way,
There'll never be a time when it's too late.

Come home, no trouble can be outrun.
Like the father of the prodigal son,
For you, I shall daily wait at the gate.

Always, I will be your harbor of grace.

The Triumph of My Day

Fridays, after I pick her up from school, is the time that I reserved just for my little girl. It's the best part of my week.


The Triumph of My Day

Tired and empty,

I may be,
from the day's fight
to keep the world at bay,

And no decisive

victory
with which

to earn a hero's pay,

But heaven's grace
binds to me;
of which I don't
deserve in any way,

My little girl's joy,
when she sees me,
that sunshine is
the triumph of my day.

Dream House

Before Amanda so unexpectedly passed, we were planning our future. I wrote the following for her but didn't get a chance to give it to her.

Dream House

I dream of a house where we can live
Where we can fall in love again;
Where there's no mistake we can't forgive
Where time has erased all our pain.

I dream of a house where we can live
With no fear of an encroaching past;
Where our hopes are once again naive,
Where good times won't slip by so fast.

We'd be brave enough to take a chance;
And be, forever, man and wife.
In this house, our little girl would dance;
And we'd remember the meaning of life.

New Year's Eve With My Mom

For the last several months, my mom has become more and more weak. As I sit by my mom's bed this New Year’s Eve, unlike everyone else, I was not looking forward to the new year. Instead, I was remembering the past with my mom. When my mom fell asleep I wrote the following.


Mom, I Love You

If I can have back all those years,
More often would I tell you, "I love you."
Erase your heartaches and dry your tears,
Find more joy in the days we knew.

If I can have back all those years,
I'd not squander the love you gave
Thirst for your wisdom with my ears
Find sweet the moments that you saved.

If I can have back all those years,
I'd thank you for each sacrifice made
For your faith when our fortune veers
For when I wouldn't believe and you prayed.

If I can have back all those years,
More often would I tell you, "I love you."

Running Wild

The last time I saw Lori and her little daughter Grace, I took them down to Baltimore's inner harbor. Grace had a ball. Everything down there fascinated her and she ran after everything that caught her sight. I started to write this piece about Grace, but as usually it turned into a retrospective of my own life.

Running Wild

Hey, child, running towards tomorrow,

Looking back, are you being followed?

Mamma tend to worry about that boy.

Hey, child, somebody's calling you.

Running on, who are you listening to?

Hope you don't loose yourself on the way.

Walking up right on your own,

Within the year you were born,

Strong willed child, running wild.

Hey, child, looking for who you are,

Working hard, will you be a shining star?

Gonna have to catch your breath some day.

Hey, child, Jesus is calling you.

Turning back, who will you listen to?

Will you find your way back home?

Strong willed child, running wild.

The Light from Behind My Grandma's Door

My grandma was the godliest person I know. Every day, she would get up super early in the morning (while it's still dark) to pray and worship the Lord to begin the day. Every evening, she would stay up way late to do it again to end the day. I'm convinced that her time with the Lord were two-way conversations. In fact, I'm sure it was her prayers that caused God to hold an umbrella of protection over our family. I remember when I was really little, I was afraid of the dark. My mom would keep the light on until I had fallen asleep. However, there would be times when I would wake up during the night. Luckily, my grandma's light would be on as she prays for the family and I would fall asleep in the comfort of her light. God, I miss her since she'd passed away. So, here's one for you, grandma:

The Light from Behind My Grandma's Door

The Light spills into the night,

From behind my grandma's door.

Its glow scatters the shadows

Upon the living room floor.

Her prayers climb up Jacob's stairs,

Up beyond the evening sky,

To where the Light shines, through the night.

Her songs take me to where I belong,

In His sight.

Keep the Light burning in my heart.

Keep her life's yearning in my heart.

A Chest of Hope and A Chest of Burden

As a single person, I'm never comfortable about giving marriage advice to friends. But sometimes, it's hard keep silent as I watch a relationship blows apart. So I wrote the following for a very special couple.

A Chest of Hope and A Chest of Burden

A chest of hope and a chest of burden

Are the same chest then and now.

The same package with the same contents,

Through the years, has changed somehow.

A gift from God to a parcel from hell,

How quickly their views have turned.

They wanted true love and intimacy,

But freedom their hearts now yearn.

When and how did the load become heavy?

Were more added in the night?

Who was responsible? Was it he or was it she?

Now, begins the final fight.

He lifts his end of the load higher,

Shifting the weight towards her.

She lifts her end of the load higher,

Beyond the point they once were.

How will the story end?  I don't know.

Where do relationships land?

Will they return the load to where it belongs,

In the Father's secure hand?

A chest of hope and a chest of burden

Are the same chest then and now.

The difference is who supports the weight.

The question is who not how.

The same package with the same contents,

Through the years, has changed somehow.