Wednesday, July 01, 2015

Such hands you have

Small one, don't you know
How much you're loved? Don't you know
I cry when you should?

I've struck bargains for
your life, raged, deprived myself too.
You count all this cheap.

You run, when you should
be still. You crumble, when you
should be tall and proud.

No matter where you go,
what you do, who you pretend
to be, you are known.

I felt your tiny
feet from within the womb, kick
hard-- I loved you then.

I lost you, more than
once-- so small a boy, so great
my fear-- I, too, small.

But now, I have lost
you again-- you have gone where
I cannot follow.

No longer is it
a matter of physical
space-- but of the heart.

Your eyes, unready;
your ears, stopped up; your lips, made
sticky and clumsy.

Ah, sweet boy-- I long
for your return. I never
knew grief until now.

You left because you
wanted love-- didn't you know
He was always here?

Maybe, I think, the
great sin was not yours, but mine.
I held you too long.

He chided me for
clinging-- what can I do but
obey and let go?

So here I go-- you
are free to go where you want,
do as you think best.

You always have been free,
did you know? Believe it, child,
and act in it now!

I know for now, you
think "freedom" means "comfort."
Someday, you will see.

But for now, know you
have no one to answer to
except Love Himself.

And this I know-- for
it is written in your name--
that you are chosen.

So I am still-- for 
all my grief, rage, sacrifice,
are no match for His.

One day, the Lion
will roar, and you will hear, you
will see, you will live!

Your mouth will proclaim
what your heart will know, and all
fear will die-- be gone!

You will come home-- not,
maybe, to me, but to the
One Who loves you best.

When you return, know
this-- I will kill the fattened
calf for you, my love.

I will dance for your
return, and I will laugh as I
have been afraid to.

You will finally
know that Love cannot forget,
He followed you out.

You may have fled Him,
but you never outran Him.
He never grew tired.

This is truth, small one.
He has loved, has called, has chased
you since time began.

You have never been
forgotten, pushed aside, or
diminished by Him.

He has always known
just who you are. And He has
loved that man-- fiercely.

He has always been
your true home, the place your heart
cries for when homesick.

So come home, dear one--
isn't it cold and hard and huge
out there, where you ran?

Such hands you have, and
how ragged they are from the
things you choose to clutch.

Let go. And fall. And
know that underneath are the
everlasting arms.

Begged-for sweet laughter--
you are marked. You cannot flee
Him, I hate to fret.

You will come home-- or,
you'll squander time, wondering
"is this really all?"

Come home. You're loved. Come
home. You will never find rest
outside His arms. Come.

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