The Second Act – A Guest Post: John Blase

I have invited some folks –  poets, brothers, sisters, word-weaver friends – to come here with their unique lens. Their spun- like-gold words. To visit with their art. To gather as a loose band of poets to make some music.

Today it is my honor to begin this little project with poet John Blase. I’ve marveled at his poetry for a good long while. If you aren’t familiar with John’s artful ponderings, then discover his poetry and savor his words.

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The Second Act

there were no crimes and blunders,
in his youth to finally catch up with him
because he’d lived his young years clean –
straight and narrow as an arrow.

but nobody remembers the nice guys
except God, and maybe their mothers.

so he altered mid-course and began to
decidedly miss the marks, nothing heroic,
just still small choices to daily transgress.

at first he was wobblier than a shepherd
in king’s armor but he kept at it, in time
becoming quite good at being human.

at the end the minister sighed He lost his way,
but still he’s hemmed safe in mercy’s cuff.

many from his later years came bearing
forgiveness laced sweet with affection.
a few nice allies from early on arrived
envious having followed his wayward star.

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About John – John Blase preached for over a decade but then he thought he’d go where the money is, so he started writing poetry. He’s a lucky man with a stunning wife and three kids who look like their mother. They all live in Colorado. His books include Know When To Hold ‘Em: The High Stakes Game of Fatherhood; Touching Wonder: Recapturing the Awe of Christmas; and All Is Grace: A Ragamuffin Memoir  (co-written with Brennan Manning). He ponders faithfully at www.thebeautifuldue.wordpress.com

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Joining my good friend Laura Boggess today at her lovely writing home.

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Pay Attention On The Road

Instructions for living a life.

Pay attention.

Be astonished.

Tell about it.

( Mary Oliver)




The Road

Pay attention to the road.

And the traffic.

The directions too.

You may get lost.

Wander off on a path, into the unknown.

Where Discovery waits.

To greet your heart.

Bust it wide open, into the light. Into the world. Into the bright.

Pay attention to the mom with the pain. The one on black top blank stare, hurting insides.

Pay attention to one on the platform, as the rat runs by.

The one with the words looking for a place to light, to land, to rest.

Pay attention to the the one wearing ink for clothing with sadness oozing out and over and into your arms.

Pay attention to the all, the one, the single soul with a hole to fill to make them whole.

And your words may touch and your presence may help. Might even heal. A bit. A place.

He did it well. He paid attention. To the woman at the well.

To the prostitute. To the leper.

Pay attention to even one, to the least.

Discover the joy.

In discovering the moment.

Connect with the one, the child, the mom, the man on his commute.

Let Mercy pierce your heart.And Love spill from your lips.

And stumble down that path.

The one marked well for you.

A Bubble Bursts In Brooklyn

I think there is a child in Brooklyn that is waiting to teach me how to blow bubbles and to make it art and to point others to Jesus through art, bubbles and a giant yellow school bus.  Did I mention that I do not like big yellow school buses.  Kinda like I do not like green eggs and ham.  Not at all.  Not any way.  Not here or there or anywhere.  But the Great Art Bus Adventure goes on.  I know a tree grows in Brooklyn but so does a boy who blows bubbles reallly really well and needs Jesus. wishing grace…..wynnegraceappears for Brooklyn and soon in Brooklyn from Brooklyn.

A Wink, A Blink, And A Nod From Heaven

Confusion bends the heart and warps the spirit.  And we cry for peace and we cry for understanding. And the tears like cripples crawl wobbly down the slow rocky path from the eyes  to the chin.

But oh, how His word soothes the soul.

The soothing repetition of God’s word sings sweet comfort to confusion in our world.  Over and over it speaks sweet truth.

And slowly confusion bows to peace.  And peace brings comfort and a restoration of hope.

I stare at the computer screen and try to unscramble the code that asks me if I am spam, am I human.  Confusion looks like that.  Letters warped, unrecognizable, sideways turned, oddly shaped, gross distortion.

And confusion blurs the focus, like this intentional  filter questioning before allowing you to pass go, continue on to the next step.  This code to filter out the bad, eyes strain at the distortion to make sense and attempt to get it right.  To straighten out and make it plain and clear.

Confusion rocks our word leaving a seasick queasy, lost and vulnerable uneasiness in our spirit.

I step outside and throw myself on white rope hammock, fall into the arms of the Master softly swaying on the netted bed.  He has caught me.  I am His .  My gaze goes up.

It always heals, this black lit sky presenting one ultra brilliant star, like eye wink from Him.  Winking, blinking Mercy.  Assuring me there is a way out of misunderstanding and confusion.

The looking up always restores Hope.  The gazing skyward always meets my eyes with Mercy.  In the moment of raw human need.  And raw human heart.  He stares back down to a hurting child, swaying slow and steady under His sky at night and whispers calm in the black of night.

And because He loves so deep and wide and all black sky cavernous, I speak apology.

I know the path out starts here.  So what love falls out of the sky at night to a busted heart seeking solace on the ropes of life, in the woven hammock must be extended horizontal now.  Given out as freely here as it came down from the heavenly eye wink from the Merciful one.

Confusion rocks.  But He steadies.  He gives gift of solid rock to stand firm upon.

Confusion blurs who we are, what we are, and WHOSE we are.  He loves through a lense of everlasting love, with a clear and pure abiding Love, always and everytime.

Confusion breeds pride and anger.  He gazes down with unfathomable Love and ushers in a spirit of humility, peace, and calm.

Steps from the front door of my heart and my home I run into His arms, caught in the black of night.  Tears wiped by the One who extends Grace upon Grace upon Grace.

Winking and blinking and saying from His throne, sweet words of Comfort soothing the soul.  Tender words of Mercy mending the brokeness.  Gentle words re-building Trust.

One black night, one sweet star, and one Tremendous God.

One fresh start with new Mercies leading the way.