Who does not cry and I cry,

Who does not have a question to try…

But the same a dozen times

Tends to make me inclined,

To refuse to be the fool another time.

I’ve learned ‘though we make look adult,

Secret hurts from the past catapult…

Their way into the present

In ways that are not pleasant

For the ones who have to field the results.

What secret hurts would prompt questioning faith,

As though the answers would make one safe…

Demanding pin-point accuracy,

An impossibility,

But the spark of God you cannot erase!

So I sit fielding questions day-by-day,

From one who always wants his own way…

He is like a teen able

To push against a stable

Person who reassures him he’s okay.

Despite the man’s laugh he hurts,

Having to give up his dreams, put family first…

I know about that summons,

We have that in common

But he is the only family member for whom it works.

So in love and ministry I stay,

He needs help with his spelling anyway…

We help each other

Remember client druthers,

But sometimes I wonder if it’s worth the pay!


—Jonathan Caswell




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