Tag: Charity

Running Errands As A Middle Aged House WIfe

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

 Today is Day 17

Welcome to The Art of Noticing. A 31 Day series exploring what it means to notice all that God has for us as we live richly, deeply in the  folds of the everyday. We are a little over half way there. I don’t want this journey to end. If you’d like to subscribe there is a tab for that at the top and at the bottom of the home page.

Ready. Set. Go Notice

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Running Errands As A Middle Aged House Wife
A few hours ago I did not yet know

The lady at the drive thru
Missing teeth, at Bojangles
Or the man at the Rite-Aid missing one or two too
I wish I laughed harder at his attempt at humor
I stink at faking it
It is easy to look away
But kindness rested in their gaps
And I drove away feeling the need to
Breathe prayers,
Humbled am I, the one who got the full set
And as of now keeps them
And I am not handing Diet drinks through the
Drive-thru to the lady
Who is worried more about the shade of white
When  she is bound to worry about the number
Especially the ones in the front
Dental hygiene is expensive yall
Noticing comes at a cost
And it is to stop and give thanks
For things like
Teeth
Noticing reveals the least of these
The meek shall inherit the earth
And the man at Publix carried my pumpkin to the car
Almost an hour’s wages
Heck, that’s just a guess
The rest I know
And I am humbled
And wonder how to squeeze the love of Jesus
Into a drive thru window
Convo
Next time instead of have a nice day
I can say
Tell me how I  can pray
Noticing does that to you
Cold water in the face
And all that jazz
I swear if I could have given some of mine away today
Like quarters or dollars or grace
I would have given away a  tooth
Maybe two
I swear I wouldn’t miss them
These guys were kind and gentle
Just missing  a few teeth.

A Dog Named Grey: A Love Story With Fur

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 3 Comments

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A Dog Named Grey: A Love Story With Fur

When you stay on the lookout for love in life
You begin to see shades of love show up
Everyday everywhere’s
Dance on the horizon

Hoisted up on the crow’s nest
Three-hundred and sixty five degrees
Of love on the line
Sail into view in the folds of skin, flesh and fur

Wrapped in a  lean package
Of muscle and sinew
Scars and heart
These eyes of a light gray soul and a rugged man

Tell a love story
Fragile and strong, a paradox
File the sharp edges
Of a jaded heart to see

You can take measurements of
Love’s capacity
In many ways
I know the heart of the man

Mission work called us to go
A thousand miles
You can measure a man’s
Character and heart in service

Sacred everyday acts
Simply tell a  life story of loving
Best of all, so
Watch a man love his dog

The one who father’s not a child
But loves the furry child deep and wide
And stewards well the heart
Of one whose silhouette is shades of gray.

Then soak in every minute detail of the care
Invested in the one
Best friend of this man
Perfect specimen of man’s best friend.

Love explodes in the hearts of those
Whose love goes places
It is welcome
Friendships and the lives of men.

Poured out fully into
Charity and love
Tending the hearts of the church’s children
The community’s poor in need of a leg up

And into the life of a dog named Grey.

Words Replace The Boot

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

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Words Replace The Boot

I could kick myself
Literally, not figuratively, no
If I could figure out how
To put a swift quick to the rear
A boot in the hind quarters

A kick in the pants
Would remind me
When I hurt
That I have hurt
And a tangible ache
May move into action
A sedentary bum.

I have widows as neighbors
And poor in my midst
And letters to write to Peru,
To my girl.
But sin visits me
And stays awhile
Inaction is omission
I blame Eve
It is easier that way.

The last time I checked
It stings
It stung
And it stinks.

Preachers preach
And teachers teach
And poets, wax

And weave words that go places
Visiting the sick and shut-in
Takes legs and guts and heart
A body in motion.

Oh I have words, ones that rise up
And hang
Like a cartoon-ish figure
I am a  caricature of one who cares and acts
My thought bubble floats above me
Invisible to all
Seen by no one
The hazy desire to act
Stick a pin in it and pop it
I am done

Faith without works
Is settling in.

It is time for the words that hang in the air
To walk the road that leads to the widow

And mail the note that goes to Peru

And nothing is happening
While I am figuring out
How to kick myself

There is a foul odor
And it smells like guilt

Love is a verb
And a noun
And the greatest of these

Time
To love the all of these
And float the bubble of hope

Love gets off the couch
Ouch.

Words
Replace the boot
But Grace
Replaces guilt.