A Mother’s Psalm


Texas
Texas

Piles of dirty laundry surround me
Heaps of soiled outfits encompass me
Musty, damp cloths and sweaty, sandy socks
Spaghetti stained dress and hand wash only delicates
From which there is no escape

God, as I stain-stick, soak, rinse and repeat
I know that my striving brings only defeat
Clean today, tomorrow back in the bag
My righteousness looks just like these filthy rags
My sin, like those socks, sand-filled and sweaty
Made the whole pile stinky and gritty

But Jesus paid in blood my soiled soul to reach
His stain remover and brightest bleach
Cleansed my filth in a wash of faith
Though spun and tossed, I await
The Great Folding Day when I will be
Stainless, spotless, starched perfectly
Placed in my home so heavenly

So I sing a peppy praise hit
Hum a happy hymn . . . 
‘Til sadness seeps
Contentment sleeps
The Pity Party begins

Right now I’m so alone
Nothing is as silent as my cell phone
E-mails and texts with no reply
Blog unread. Status unliked.
Unfriended and Unfollowed
What? 
I didn’t hear you.
My children’s ears malfunction at every instruction
What?
Did you say something?
That smirking screen my constant competition

My opinions meet rejection. My thoughts are shared in vain.
I vent my frustration on a stubborn, stove-top stain
Scouring madly, scowling bitter
Unused ideas, my letters but litter

When conviction punches my gut

The God who hears, who sees, who never leaves
For my attention gently pleads
But Bible study homework sits unstudied
That missed sermon not downloaded
Prayers unsaid, books unfinished
Bible reading hit or miss

God understands the pain of being ignored

This God who knows the name 
Of every star He placed in space
Who counts the hairs left on my head
Who has written all my days
Has words of wisdom for me
Shines the light and lamp of truth
Jesus is my way. He is my life. 
I need no further proof.
Stop. Be still. Just listen.
Let the Shepherd lead.
His words are bread and honey
Containing all I need

So I sing a peppy praise hit
Hum a happy hymn
‘Til morning strikes
And little tykes
Make a dreadful din

This one got the red plate
When all he wants is blue
Three kids want a pop tart
But the cupboard’s got just two
The whining and complaining
Make me crazy as Van Gogh
Sibling squabbles rip my heart
All my patience goes
I shout and scream and bang around
Adding to the din
I grump and groan and sigh aloud

 . . . And then remember Him.

When the crowd was rough and wild
Choosing stones to hurt
He stooped down in silence
And wrote words in the dirt
To me, the mad accuser,
He says put down that rock
Every sheep’s a sinner
In my rustic, rebel flock
To me, the fallen woman,
Love divine outpoured
Forgiveness and acceptance!
I will go and sin no more

So I sing a peppy praise hit
Hum a happy hymn
‘Til sure as death
And taxes hit
It all begins again

Each day nothing happens
Cyclic. Mundane. Routine.
But each day is a miracle
If I see more of Him


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