samaritan

mugged by our foolishness,

we lie by the side of life,

until you come by, picking

us up, balming us with grace,

carrying us to Hope Inn,

where we can heal, waiting

for you to come back for us.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

breathless

we would hold our breath

until we get our own way (or

begin to turn blue),

but you simply breathe wonder,

hope, peace into all our lives.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

cohen

when hallelujahs

lie broken on the floor, you

could sweep them into

the bin, but repurpose them

as little kids’ silly songs.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

you are

when we say the worst,

   your Word continues

   to whisper kindness in our ears;

when our hearts

shrivel with meanness,

   your Spirit continues

   to fill us with peace;

when we do all those things

no one imagines in us,

   you are still God,

   transforming us with grace.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

jacks

while it stands in the yard,

yelling for me to come out

and play, i will

keep sitting on the floor,

playing jacks with grace,  

until anger gives up,

stomping away in search

of another playmate.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

loafing

all too often, we

leave the bread of heaven out

on the counters of life

until, thinking you stale and tasteless,

we throw you in the bin,

wondering what we might try next.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

doors

you open the door

to your heart, so we may come

in, but we would slam

it shut behind us, so ‘they’

dare not try to follow us.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

head and shoulders

you long for us to be yours

from the top of our heads

to the soles of our feet, but

we continue to brush you off

our shoulders like annoying dandruff.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

dive in!

why do we press on

to crawl through envy’s sewers

and jump in pride’s muck,

when we could swim forever

in your vast ocean of light?

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

first day

the fearful going to a new school

after a heart-breaking move;

the little ones with backpacks

weighing more than they do;

the teens driving their friends

early in the morning;

the kids who will stand at bus stops

with no food in their bellies:

no matter how often we forget

to look out for (or over) them,

we give thanks that you don’t

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

originally

original sin –

perhaps it is not really

a mystical curse,

but the fact that everyone

would choose to pick the apple.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

breath prayer

hopefully, (perhaps

   a little) hesitantly,

Mary breathes

out her ‘yes,’ and

with a great

   gulp of grace,

takes in your Breath

where it will be

cradled and

   nurtured

until that night

in Bethlehem.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

Sunday a.m.

soft breezes stirring leaves,

kids (not so) quietly making breakfast,

food others produce and

joys beyond imagination,

hear us as we gently

whisper, ‘thanks for everything’

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

music tells stories

the cawing of crows,

the mews of little kittens,

waves breaking on shores,

are parts of your concerto,

Composer of creation.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

hearts

in the bone weary

server who works a double

so a young mother

can see her child’s recital,

your sacrificial love shines.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

fix

addicted to us,

you continue to feed your

habit every day

with love poured out so freely,

with that hope which never ends.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

incarnation

what we see in Jesus

(the love, grace, compassion, welcome)

is not simply you being

like us for a short while,

but who you are always,

in all ways.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

mercI

unselfishly, you

pour out blessings upon us,

while we respond with

selfish gratitude, convinced

that “thanks” equals ‘quid pro quo’

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

theological question

you ever want to

stay in bed five more minutes;

use personal days;

have that second cup of tea

and put real butter on the scones;

do you, God?

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

trivial pursuits

whisper words of truth;
offer tender hearts to all;
walk with peace, not evil;
do all those trivial things
that are needed more and more.

(c) 2018 Thom M. Shuman

oh darn

when we act as if

following you is about

personal desires,

we miss your words and actions

about justice and welcome.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

heavenly host

the check-in person,
the registration helper,
the calming nurses,
the folk with hi-tech machines:
all your angels around us.

(c) 2018 Thom M. Shuman

gifted

welcome to strangers,

grace to those broken by fear,

joy to little kids,

may these be the gifts you share

through me this day, Loving God.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

travel light

behind us, we drag a

trunk full of stuff for that long

journey through life, but

all we need fits into that

pack you slip on our shoulders.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

wherever

in cold waiting rooms,

under imaging devices,

you are beside us,

teaching us deep breath prayers,

holding us close to your heart.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

crafter

when we slip and break

into a dozen fragments,

you do not sweep us

into the bin, but put us

back together with Grace Glue.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

manna

feed us, Bread of life,

with hope which frees the oppressed,

with grace which forgives,

with wonder which does cartwheels

in early morning raindrops.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

not just the 1%

keep reminding us,

God of the overlooked folk,

how much of what we

view as so necessary

is privilege in their eyes.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

strange

marking the box ‘understood,’
we begin to stuff the universe
into it, until you do
a God-strange thing like
the Pillars of Creation
and we scratch our heads
in wonder.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

droplets

like mist over lakes,

fog tiptoeing across lawns,

sprinkles tickling kids -

your Spirit comes to calm us,

embrace us, and refresh us.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

worker

pulling on your jeans

and knocking dust off your cap,

you crank the engine,

guiding the paver over

the potholes of our foolishness,

covering them with mercy’s macadam

and sealing with Spirit’s hope.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman