Remembering

From the back of the van
through the wild giggles,
squabbling and screeching
I hear:

“Know what’s most important, Mom?
You guys. You and Dad.
I mean, I love my stuffed animals
and all, but you guys are the most important.”

The house is quiet now,
and this memory floats to the top of my mind
having simmered all day
in a cool June summertime way
with outside haircuts and outside play.

It’s ready to bite into.
It’s ready to be remembered,
to make a difference tomorrow
when the sauce isn’t so sweet.

Trust (I)

I bounce a little
and sway a little
and turn myself in a slow circle;
I pat Mr. I’m-18-Months-Old-
And-I-Love-Toy-Cars on the back
and wrap his soft arm around my neck.
He rubs my shoulder with pudgy fingers.
He makes quiet ooo-ooo-ing sounds.

I bounce a little,
sway a little
and turn myself in a slow circle;
I feel his head press against my chest,
feel his weight press down on my arms,
feel his hands become still and his voice quiet.

I bounce a little
and sway a little,
turn myself in a slow circle a little more.
He has fallen,
and I have caught him.

Stir my soul,

Stir my soul,
my God, let your spirit
cover me,
wake me,
for now I fall asleep dreaming of you
only to wake bleary, and forgetful.
Send your Spirit to rest
beneath me,
beside me,
like the small child who climbs,
crawls, creates his own space
and sits atop my hip, triumphant,
as I lie resting on my side at midday;
he nudges me with his whole body,
rocks me with his bouncing,
laughs to me when I open my eyes.
Stir my soul, Lord, like that –
boundless, persistent, desperate, joyful,
for I fall asleep dreaming of you
only to wake bleary and forgetful.