Standing There

by Blue Heron 

For all these years
Jesus has been standing
near the marsh;
with arms outstretched in ever welcome.

You would think He would get tired 
of waiting;
or at least his arms would be worn out by now;
but he keeps waiting
and extending himself 
through the seasons of our lives.
Algae is growing in the lines of His face
and rain has deepened the folds of His robe.
His left foot extending past the hem 
has a deep nail hole;
His toes are delicate, almost feminine.
such pain.
You would think one would feel sadness at this remembrance
but strangely
I feel joy.
In my day I carry this image of Him
standing there;
His deep receiving of me
which I find nowhere else.
This entry was posted in Faith, Jesus, Joy, Love, Monastery, Poem, Reflections, Seasons by Blue Heron. Bookmark the permalink.

About Blue Heron

My wife and I became members of the Community in 1975. We had come to the Community prior to that time on various retreats from our church in Connecticut. I landed an elementary teaching career in 1976 and taught in that same school until 1999. We raised two sons (now married) who are both now professed members of the Community. We have three grandchildren and three granddogs. I continue to work in the public school teaching science on a part time basis, and also serve as advisor and part time teacher for a group of parents who homeschool in the Community. My wife works as a dental assistant. Life in the Community has expanded my borders far beyond what I would have imagined. Over the years I have sung with the choir, participated in Gregorian Chant, served as chalice bearer, made stained glass, been part of a writing group, built sets for Gilbert and Sullivan productions and sung in them. The list goes on. I cannot think of a better environment to raise a child. And I cannot think of any place that would have challenged more, and kept me moving forward as a Christian father and husband. I have been over my head and lifted above the waters. I am looking back in gratitude, and forward in hope.

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