Time enough to take a break.

Time enough to allow a servant husband to take care of two children

and hit the sidewalk pavement hard with sneakers

pounding, pounding, pounding out

with each step the pent up emotions

and fragmented thoughts of a day

running into a week,

a month,

a year and

even more years.

Time enough to allow the Spirit to speak

into a crowded, over-worked mind.

Time enough to breathe out the tension

of neverending mommy demands

and breathe in the freedom of being loved.

Time enough to confess

the silly distractions

you crave

and plead for higher, deeper desires

to see a broken world made whole–

new lives for old.

Time enough to reflect on the journey…

days past and places risen to

and fallen from.

Time enough to recognize the passion

that once consumed life’s work–

that longing to be loved.

Truly loved.

Time enough to see the flower of self

blooming before unworthy spectators

who were believed to be the tender of the soil.

Time enough to remember

the wilting of the petals

of a brightly blooming being

pleading for affirmation of its beauty.

Time enough to Praise.

Praise for falling petals

and crumbling stems

and all of the shattered hopes of former days.

Time enough to warm in innermost heart

upon the greatest of lessons learned.

Before the flower was a bud

or shoot or seed,

even without form,

only a thought–

there was Love.

Love itself to create all that is.

Seen outwardly.

Known inwardly.

Love to see the deepest ugliness

of the misshapen,

the roots that fail to spring up,

the stems that fail to stand,

the buds that do not open

and the petals that wilt before fully spread.

Love to defy the opinions

of all the unworthy ones

who were foolishly allowed

to behold.

To touch.

To know.

Love to have and to hold.

Love that is the source of life–

not the manipulator of it.

Twenty minutes is time enough

to know and be known.

Time Enough to love and be loved.

Time Enough to come back

with the same old sneakers,

and waiting needs of little ones,

but to have pounded

the pavement of memory

and to have the Spirit

touch His fingers

on the deep of the soul.

Time Enough to have a heart renewed

and a love re-kindled

because twenty sacred minutes

are a gift to the one who is loved

by Love itself.

AWA 5/2010 

Re-post for thehighcalling.org,

although not really a poem,

or a catalog one,

something like it. 

If you stumble upon,

hope you enjoy:)