Love | pictured words

March 26, 2018

FAVORITES OF THE HEART (for Uncle Ray)

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Years ago, Dad called me. “Did you get the news from Niles?” Those seven words made my breath quicken. No, I hadn’t. “You didn’t hear from Judy?” I gasped. I heard my choking voice say, “Oh no! Not Uncle Ray! Not Uncle Ray!”

No. Not Uncle Ray. Someone completely unexpected. Someone else I cared about.

God, forgive me. What was I feeling, in the wake of an unexpected family death? Relief? To my embarrassment and dismay, yes. Relief. I actually sighed long and hard with that relief, and immediately confessed to Dad what I was feeling. I don’t remember his response. I remember not feeling judged for my human heart. I remember believing this would remain between Dad and me and my God. But it didn’t. I’ve confessed it to a few others I love and trust. To this day, I still feel the guilt well up on remembrance. But, God …

Oh, the human heart
Which beat in Jesus, himself
For John, whom He loved.

UPDATE: This event I wrote about last year took place 5 years ago. Today, Uncle Ray actually passed from this life to the next. 09/10/19.

❤

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March 21, 2018

FINAL ACT OF FATHERHOOD (a sonnet filled with love for my dad)

James F. Fagnano
January 7, 1932 – March 15, 2018

As you declined in health, we traded roles.
You, once a leader, now deferred to me.
Our switched positions jolted and left holes.
An altered beat, but how it had to be.

Your mind became confused, and body, frail.
I know you mourned your slipping stance as dad.
But in the end, your core was what prevailed –
Your father-teacher heart was ironclad.

I wanted terribly to be with you
When your heart halted beat, and breathed its last.
I told you I’d be back in “just a few.”
That short time I was gone, was when you passed.

It wasn’t happenstance. I think in fact,
It was a father’s final loving act.

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March 4, 2018

MOM

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Patricia A. Fagnano: March 16, 1931 – February 9, 2018

You walk into a room full of people and you ask

who has the best mother

and you can’t see faces in the crowd

for all the raised hands

but mine isn’t raised

it is grasping for Mom’s.

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January 15, 2018

IS JESUS’ DADDY MEAN?

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At three years old,
She loves.
She loves her family.
She loves the children who come to her home
To be cared for.
She loves dolls,
And coloring
And tea parties
And chocolate kisses.
She loves Jesus …

But the nativity drawing
On a card from Cameroon
Gave her pause.
“Is Jesus’ daddy mean?”
‘No, honey. Does he look mean?”

“Kinda” slips out from under her wrinkled nose.

“He has a black face.”

At three years old,
She loves.
She loves her white family.
She loves the little white children, who come
To her home to be cared for.
She loves her white dolls,
And sister’s brown doll.
She loves her little brown neighbor.
She sees few black people in her world.

“Honey, Jesus had very dark skin.
So did his mommy and step daddy.
It’s just a color. It doesn’t make us mean,
Or nice.
It’s just a color.
Some people who are black are nice,
And some are not.
Some people who are white,
Like you,
Are nice,
Like you,
And some are not.”

With an incredulous look,
She declares,

“I am not white!”

She plays pretend a while,
Then comes to me.

“Nonna?”
“Yes?”

“I like black people.”

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November 29, 2017

My Favorite Christmas Things (to the tune of My Favorite Things)

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Banister greenery, tied with red ribbon.
Moonlit iced tree branches sparkle and glisten.
Carolers harmonize laughter with song.
Uplifting lyrics ring all season long.

Silver-belled streetlamps are charmingly pretty,
Casting their glow on the streets of the city.
Life-sized nativity graces a lawn.
Warmth from a hay bale entices a fawn.

Crystal-like snowflakes that shimmer and twinkle.
Enchanted children, with noses that crinkle.
Scents of warm sugar that waft through the air.
Sense of the kindness of folks everywhere.

Children’s wonder
Peaceful slumber
‘neath a silent snow

The best of the season
all point to the reason –
the birth of a Babe I know.

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September 25, 2017

THIS I KEEP ON DOING (a sinner’s sonnet)

Photo by Deanna Marie Metts

“For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do –
this I keep on doing.” ~ Romans 7:19

Like Paul, I do what I don’t want to do.
The best in me is shallow as a shoal,
That barely covers that which is askew.
An ugliness lies deep within my soul.

Too quick am I to judge and criticize.
This goes against my core belief; my creed.
I want to see my fellow man with eyes
That focus on their value and their need.

I give to Christ my own besetting sin
And ask Him to unseat its hiding place.
I beg of Him to change me from within –
Remove what doesn’t bolster love and grace.

For He alone can break through this façade
To commandeer the part that’s deeply flawed.

4 Comments

June 26, 2017

A Mile is Nothing

do not judge

Don’t judge anyone
Until you’ve walked in their shoes
As long as they have.

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May 4, 2017

Photo credit: Wildschuetz at pixabay.com

May we learn by heart
that live is three quarters love
and one quarter “I.”

#seventeensyllablesfortwentyseventeen

April 30, 2017

THE GOD I KNOW (a sonnet to my Savior)

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Bleeding Heart Photo by Deanna Marie Metts

I used to think I knew the God I know.
But over time, I’ve come to know Him more.
More intimately close than long ago,
I’ve learned more of this Heart I can’t ignore.

In part, I’ve come to recognize my sin
As more egregious than I had before.
This veil of righteousness is wispy thin,
For I am but a sinner at my core.

The realization of the heart of God,
Whose love spilled blood for even such as I
(A seemingly good woman, deeply flawed),
Just makes me long to praise and glorify

The One who drew me to Him as a child,
In whom I’ve grown remarkably beguiled.

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April 16, 2017

No Longer Under the System of Law

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Amazing grace
complete, profound.
Enslaved in sin, set free.
How great the cost
that shook the ground.
Defining love for me.

(Inspired, of course, by John Newton’s “Amazing Grace”)

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Tag: Love