join us in thanking our God
for that deep, rich soil of love
in which we are planted
join us, believers and bumblers,
insiders and outsiders,
faithful and foolish, who God
gathers into families, groups,
communities from everywhere.
some go through each day
from the time they struggle
to get up and get going
to finally lying down at night,
living and working and walking
with pain they can never describe
and if they could, no one would believe.
yet, they can whisper words
of gentle gratitude to God
who has massaged their pain,
rubbed their shoulders and backs,
wrapped them in balm’s shawl.
some live in quiet moments
of loneliness, ignored at the wayside
as friends gather across a room,
as colleagues go out for lunch,
as neighbors host a picnic,
watching, listening, hoping for
that simple invitation of inclusion
which never seems to come.
yet, they can whisper grace as God
pulls up the chair on the
other side of the table, cup
cradled in hopeful hands, ready
to listen to the heart’s silence.
some cringe every time a
celebrity, a comedian, a politician
uses words which are like bricks
thrown through the windows
of their too-often replaced souls.
some keep to the edges of crowds
at sporting events, or concerts, or
simply walking through stores so
people won’t notice and stare
because they are seen as different
for whatever reason others have.
yet, they can whisper thanks
for the One who is always
accepts them, always affirms them,
never rejects them, because they
mirror God’s weaknesses, God’s
foolishness, God’s imperfections.
may the rest of us pay attention
to what God is doing in our midst
which we all too often ignore,
so that we are reminded there
are no weeds in that deep, rich
soil of love in God’s garden.
© 2024 Thom M. Shuman
Venmo: @Thom-Shuman
in which we are planted
join us, believers and bumblers,
insiders and outsiders,
faithful and foolish, who God
gathers into families, groups,
communities from everywhere.
some go through each day
from the time they struggle
to get up and get going
to finally lying down at night,
living and working and walking
with pain they can never describe
and if they could, no one would believe.
yet, they can whisper words
of gentle gratitude to God
who has massaged their pain,
rubbed their shoulders and backs,
wrapped them in balm’s shawl.
some live in quiet moments
of loneliness, ignored at the wayside
as friends gather across a room,
as colleagues go out for lunch,
as neighbors host a picnic,
watching, listening, hoping for
that simple invitation of inclusion
which never seems to come.
yet, they can whisper grace as God
pulls up the chair on the
other side of the table, cup
cradled in hopeful hands, ready
to listen to the heart’s silence.
some cringe every time a
celebrity, a comedian, a politician
uses words which are like bricks
thrown through the windows
of their too-often replaced souls.
some keep to the edges of crowds
at sporting events, or concerts, or
simply walking through stores so
people won’t notice and stare
because they are seen as different
for whatever reason others have.
yet, they can whisper thanks
for the One who is always
accepts them, always affirms them,
never rejects them, because they
mirror God’s weaknesses, God’s
foolishness, God’s imperfections.
may the rest of us pay attention
to what God is doing in our midst
which we all too often ignore,
so that we are reminded there
are no weeds in that deep, rich
soil of love in God’s garden.
© 2024 Thom M. Shuman
Venmo: @Thom-Shuman
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