This is life, this is His Death, this is my life

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ, just as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before Him in love, having predestined us to adoption as sons by Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the good pleasure of His will" (Eph. 1:3-5)
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27 years ago
My physician held me and peered into my eyes
with a jaded yet inquisitive disposition...
he had done this before
many times
yet to him each human life was a rolling of dice.
What would I be? He wondered
Will he die early, will he die old in peace and wealthy?
Or in jail a menace to society?
I greeted my world with a piercing scream
Vulnerable and indistinct
Uncertain

In heaven, surrounded by angels and clouds of thick smoke
and the sound of sonic thunder
God sat on His throne and told the 24 elders seated around Him
"He is one of mine. He will live for Us"
The scar in His side was sung as a hymn by the stars
above Childrens Hospital in Washington, DC Feb. 12, 1981
And from that moment forth His loved has guided me
Propelled me
Compelled me and
comforted me In nights darker and winds colder
than I had yet to experience
And His Arms have defined sanity and reality
(have become my standards, my constants)
No matter the worlds difference
Ever since

Jesus is my solace when people spit on me
my confidence when women reject me
my humor in the face of disdain
My strength in tears fomented by those stronger than me
I need Him more than anyone else
I would be faceless, nameless
He is my identity My Great Physician
with a heart more tender than any earthly doctor
Without Him I would be just a baby screaming
Randomly
And for 27 years left on his own
with no hope

(You didn't want my life to be hopeless did you?)

A Prostitute's Pardon

Luke 7:37-39
When a woman who had lived a sinful life in that town learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee's house, she brought an alabaster jar of perfume, and as she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them.----------------------------------------[The thoughts of a doleful prostitute...seeking redemption]



I cry because I know when I see you
who I ought to be
and all the things I didn't finish
that should have been
and I close my eyes and trace the footsteps
the paths trodden, sandals torn...
and remember the places I was forbidden to enter
That I entered anyway and people I should have shunned
and counsel I should have spurned
I defiantly entertained...
because I hated myself so much that I forced myself to love others
and spawned cynicism
deep within

You are the little girl hidden inside me
You are the innocence I gambled away on
my wages of sorrow

So many years
I tried to trust the streets and called
on the town square, the abstruse alleys to be my father
...wine to be my husband...
its attendant cold lifeless hands embracing me at night
while I took solace in the fact that my heart
was becoming more and more callous
(I didn’t want to feel any more pain)
so much that I prayed for my breasts to become stone too
that I would drop dead the next time money passed through my hands
because of my body defiled
the resentment that causes me to wake from horrid nightmares
constantly
is the only thing that keeps me alive

I bow down at your feet
grabbing your ankles
careful not to get them too wet with my sobbing
grabbing with the force of the last shred of dignity I own
(pouring perfume with the last penny I own)
I never meant to run away from you, Lord
I meant to finish what I started when I was young
(honestly)


[I never meant to turn my back on the synagogue]




When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner."

Sarah (with Dirty Blonde Hair) Dies Tonight

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UnqvjD7Kxs4
* dedicated to Augustana "Boston"

* dedicated to the beautiful girl with the dirty blonde hair, blue blouse and jean skirt tonight at the Recher Theater in Towson. Your memory will forever be emblazoned upon my heart. I didnt have the courage tonight to speak to you, (to tell you that our paths were destined to intertwine before the world began) and it saddens me to no end. When we met eyes I dreamed we had a life together that jointly realized the promise of God - we were like Abraham and Sarah in the span of just a few seconds. But after leaving Recher at the close of the Kill Hannah concert, I realized our departure was final...and that my hopes of us together died. God, you were so beautiful; now I will never know what could have materialized between us....like Abraham for this I weep.

If you ever read this, whoever you are, know that those few seconds we looked at each other were to me three eternities worth of euphoria. Your spirit shined a light into my heart and showed me the path of true happiness. I wish I could meet you again. I wish you'd come back...somehow...

Your eyes are a lifetime, your absence is death and sudden weeping.
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Genesis 23:1-2
Sarah lived to be a hundred and twenty-seven years old. She died at Kiriath Arba (that is, Hebron) in the land of Canaan, and Abraham went to mourn for Sarah and to weep over her.
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.....Tonight.....
You were like Sarah to me
when I first met your eyes it made me want to leave
Ur and go to Canaan
leave Towson and to go to be wherever you are
just the thought of you makes me into a great nation
and blesses me;
It makes my name great,
a blessing (to all nations)
and your beauty inspires me in my loneliness
in the darkness of the Recher concert hall
with my heart beating and crying for someone to console it
like the hand of God preserving me from hot desert winds
and
saving me from the hand of Pharaoh in Egypt
(Abimelech not long after)

And my leaving you tonight with your three friends
dancing by yourselves
and not speaking to you
not asking for your phone number
rendering you forever nameless
forever without personality
was my transgression
It was my sleeping with Hagar and bearing a child
of resentment
who will forever wreak Havoc on my soul
I wish I could have held your hand
I wish I could have hugged you
and put your phone number in my sidekick lx
but my missed opportunity will henceforth be called Ishmael
a wild and pugnacious child

Let this poem tonight be like three men
heralding a message of hope
We will have child
we will have descendants as numerous as the sand
but that is just my dream
..........in reality this poem is as close as Ill get to Isaac and you to Sarah in old age
I will go to sleep and you will die like Sarah when I wake up
and I will still be weeping



[God, please spare me from any more missed opportunities, Selah]