Trinity Sunday

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit ,” Matthew 28:19

today
may we realize you
are not a puzzle to solve,
but that relationship always
reaching out to embrace us.
you shaped galaxies with a lullaby
and still kneel in the muck
of our lives, planting hope
you walked on dusty roads to death
and still sit with us at gravesides,
graduations, and diner booths.
you moved upon waters breathing life
and still dance through locked doors
three voices, harmonizing as one,
three personas, one grace to hold us.
and the mystery we never need to solve—
before we ever needed
to search for you,
you were already swaddling us
in love creating us,
in love redeeming us,
in love breathing through us
now and forever.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Eve of Trinity Sunday

“Lord, you have been our dwelling place
in all generations.” Psalm 90:1

long before wiggly kids sit on floors
and ‘holy, holy’ rises to the sky,
long before preachers stammer
to unravel your tangled Mystery
and bystanders listen with glazed ears—
you are here.
home to stardust and soft breaths
abode for all who don’t know we are lost,
open door for every moment of grief and joy,
you sheltered our ancestors in grace,
held our grief through empty nights,
listened to every unformed prayer.
tonight we rest on those clues
which are scattered around us—
love which will not step aside
when hate strolls into life,
love which walks with all
who wander grief’s shadows,
love which breathes through us
to bring justice to the forgotten.
and as evening draws near,
we come home again—
not to roofs or walls or floors,
but to you.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman 

May 30th

"Let them curse, but you will bless." Psalm 109:28a

they store up their
grudges to pile them
onto my weary soul,
but you fill me with grace
so it might overflow
into the lives who need it.
they learn as many
new profanities as they
can, especially in
other languages, but
you teach me the language
of love, so each may hear it
without needing an interpreter.
they mock us, seeing others
as nothing but trash
tossed out of a car, but we
are the heirlooms of hope,
justice, and welcome
you would share with
others.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 29th

“Where can I go from your spirit?
   Or where can I flee from your presence? Psalm 139:7

in that dimly lit
pub where we hope
no one knows our name,
you hand us a pint, and
wiping down the bar,
you stand, in the silence,
just in case . . .
we sit on the bench
in the shadows of the trees
at the cemetery, so you pause
and lean on the rake, gazing
with us at our love’s marker,
just in case . . .
as we trudge down the
side of death’s dusty road,
you pull up beside us,
open the door,
and offer us a ride,
just in case . . .
whenever,
wherever,
however
we are convinced that
we can make it on our own,
you show up
just in case . . .

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 28th

“Thorns and snares are in the way of the perverse;
   the cautious will keep far from them.” Proverbs 22:5

words sharpened by snark,
headlines which never end,
promises which lose their glitter
leaving splinters in our souls,
how crowded are the avenues
of our lives, O God—
these are the thorns
we feel in our impatience.
and yet, you show us
other paths to follow—
walking just a bit slower,
taking time to listen (deeply),
taking on compassion
as our guide on this pilgrimage
while anger tries to shove us off
so keep a watch over us,
Gentle God,
opening our hearts to kindness,
making us wise enough
to recognize every pitfall,
and gracious enough to pick
the paths which lead toward
love,
justice,
hope,
peace,
you.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @ Thom-Shuman

May 27th

“The beginning of strife is like letting out water; so stop before the quarrel breaks out.” Proverbs 17:14

it is just an annoying drip
at first, not falling that often
or so loud that we can’t sleep—
but then
the off-the-cuff thought a friend
tossed in our direction,
that rudeness of a stranger
while we were waiting in line
(rather patiently, i thought),
a cold stare the lover gave
when we had hoped for passion
and suddenly
the drips start falling faster,
the noise slowly slides like
a trombone into a din,
our hearts begin to beat faster,
our blood pressure rises,
our anger is fueled by hurt
and
a friendship
a community
a love
is swept away simply
because we refused
to turn off the drip
when it first plopped
into our hearts.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @ Thom-Shuman

My 26th

“Better is a dinner of vegetables where love is than a fatted ox and hatred with it.” Proverbs 15:17

me?
i would rather share
a bowl of soup around
a scarred kitchen table
where stories and laughter
are louder than the kettle’s whistle
than sit at the head table
of a gold-trimmed ballroom
where cruelty is sharper than any knife.
because love isn’t plated on plenty
but in torn bread shared,
in the quiet ‘how are you, really?'
in the hand resting on the grief
of the silent person next to them.
which is why Wisdom advises us
to find the table where grace still is served,
to enjoy that simple meal crafted from need,
to gather with those whose kindness
outshines their imperfections,
and where mercy, inclusion, love
is more than enough
to make even the smallest portion
a banquet for those starving
for community.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @ Thom-Shuman

May 25th

“The LORD does not let the righteous go hungry, but he thwarts the craving of the wicked.” Proverbs 10:3

in this time of empty shelves
and overfull portfolios,
of news which feeds on hunger
and tables reserved by fear,
may it be enough
that you move among us
like food passed hand to hand.
you will not forget all who rise
tucking hope into weary souls,
who weave together meals and prayers
and wrap others with this faith.
you know that hunger
which lies below physical hunger—
for hope, for grace, for someone
to notice or listen or just be.
as you discomfort all
who consume without seeing,
gather without sharing,
confuse possessions for peace,
may we learn your economy of grace—
opening our hands to outsiders,
trusting that enough is holy,
believing that your abundance
was never meant only for our tables.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @ Thom-Shuman

Day of Pentecost

“you make the winds your messengers,
fire and flame your ministers.” Psalm 104:4

Spirit of the Living One—
you slip through the cracks
of our locked rooms,
not with thunder first,
but with the soft sigh
of God breathing dust into dancing.
you make your messengers winds,
the psalmist whispers;
and we know now
those winds carry names,
carry stories,
carry fragile hearts into streets
they never imagined walking.
today, fire does not consume—
it illumines.
tongues become bridges.
silence learns to sing.
and somewhere,
amid the chaos of newsfeeds, sirens,
and weary prayers folded at midnight,
your Spirit still moves over creation
like a mother smoothing
blankets over restless children.
so breathe on us again,
until our fear becomes welcome,
our bitterness becomes bread,
and our lives become small Pentecosts
set loose into the world.

Eve of Pentecost

the Spirit is my comforter;
i shall not be afraid.
she sings lullabies
as i try to go to sleep;
she puts a glass of water
on the table in case i get thirsty;
her warm breath soothes me.
she looks under the bed
and in the closet corners
so i know i am safe each night.
as i journey towards the
end of time, she is my advocate
reminding death whose i am.
she refuses to leave me alone,
her flames dancing on my heart
to melt the fears chilling my soul.
she spends all day getting
my favorite dish ready for me,
while those who never liked me,
watch in envy.
she teaches me how to braid my hair,
as we sit drinking hot chocolate
watching the sun go down.
she races ahead of me
and all my friends,
throwing open all the
windows and doors
of our new home, so we
know how welcome we are.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 23rd

"for she said to herself, 'If I only touch his cloak, I will be made well.'" Matthew 9:21

if we only touch
your heart, we might
become more loving.
if we only touch
your spirit, we might
become more inclusive.
if we only touch
your grace, we might
become more forgiving.
if we only touch
your justice, we might
be more passionate for
all the forgotten.
if we only touch
your hope, we might
heal the brokenness
consuming our world.
if we only touch
your life, ours might be different.

if only . . .

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 22nd

"Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." Ephesians 5:1-2

remember—
Jesus didn’t stand off
to the side, watching our
failures fall like snowflakes.
he stepped into our misery,
our word sharpened by fear,
our weary nights of pulling
the covers over our heads.
and with scarred hands,
he gathered us like branches
scattered after winter gusts.
so perhaps that holiness we seek
is not found by grasping, but
leaving behind that vocabulary,
walking barefoot in mercy’s fields,
becoming bouquets of grace for all
whose hands are so empty.
and as we do, God smiles,
for we are learning love
birds learn to the sky,
by following the One
who first showed the way.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 21st

"Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice," Ephesians 4:31

bitterness?
it is that rough pebble
we idly pick up on a walk
putting it into our pocket
where it keeps turning over,
like an old grudge we keep polishing
until it shines brighter than forgiveness.
anger?
it is the vocabulary book
published daily by the world
so we can become wordsmiths
in snark on glowing screens,
judgments hurled to protect
our hearts from listening to hope
and still, Christ tiptoes in—
not trying to drown out noise
but kneeling in the dust of grief
to cradle us in scarred hands.
‘put these away,’ he cautions,
as we might gather shards
of a broken glass, so a child
would step in them in the dark
stick wrath out with the bins,
let malice drift away like dandelion puffs,
let go of what calluses your soul.
for every cruel word we abandon
opens up space for mercy to breathe
and every act of grace
becomes an act of resistance
in this wrangled world.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 20th

“Suddenly they shouted, ‘What have you to do with us, Son of God? Have you come here to torment us before the time?’" Matthew 8:29

it is comfortable here
in the shadows where
we chain our assumptions
and name them as wisdom,
until you come along,
not to toss us into those tombs
carved from bitterness and noise,
but to ask why we are
so eager to settle for
being haunted, not healed.
and when we lash out,
‘what do you want us to do?’
you edge a bit closer—
through the worries and tears,
through these exhausting times
simply to touch what
we want no one else to see,
to unname the horde of demons
who consider us part of their clan,
to walk with us from
the rubble of our lives
into the enchantment
of being human once again.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 19th

"And they went and woke him up, saying, 'Lord, save us! We are perishing!'" Matthew 8:25

they know our names
all too well in these times—
those winds which whisper
despair down hospital corridors,
those storms which blow
hate across borders of nations,
those chill breezes which sit
by empty beds and emptier tables.
and still, we grasp the sides
of our frail coracles,
woven from strips of fear,
patched with words of outrage,
laden with cargos of grief.
and those frightening words
screamed by disciples ages ago,
are now echoed by weary teachers,
parents standing by gravesides,
the forgotten, the refugees, the lonely
and somewhere, from out of the chaos—
not with anger at our fear
but with hands callused by mercy,
you are there,
touching first the storm within us,
then speaking the unexpected grace
we forget too easily,
‘peace,’
and we dare rest in
the stillness of your presence.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 18th

"If it had not been the LORD who was on our side" Psalm 124:1

when the waters of chaos
come swirling around us,
we could have just become
names carried away like debris,
but you climbed into your boat,
rowing out to gather us up.
for it is not always in the lightning
nor in the easy answers we devise,
but it is your steady hand
holding our trembling hearts
as we seek to live
in these rollercoaster moments—
your breath cradling our tears,
your heart refusing to learn
the vocabulary of giving up.
into the din of the world,
you gently tip toe—
in that silence after anger,
in the welcome of strangers,
in that courage which shows up
when we thought fear
was our only companion
which is why we whisper praise
to our Shelter in every storm,
our Pilot of our fragile lives,
the Teacher of our souls.

 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 17th

"Happy are those
who do not follow the advice of the wicked
or take the path that sinners tread
or sit in the seat of scoffers,
but their delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law they meditate day and night." Psalm 1:1-2

how blessed we are
when we refuse
social media invitations
to sit at the table of outrage or
invest in cryptocontempt.
for when we step away from
the oligarchs of mockery or
when we will not learn the new
language of bitterness,
we lean towards compassion
as sunflowers to morning light.
we pull the duvet of wisdom
over us before dawn, while grace
rewrites the algorithms of hate
we let our minds drift down
the quiet rivers of God peace,
and offer shade for the fatigued,
pass out fruit for the hungry,
water the deep roots of hope
for a world desperate
to survive the storms
raging around them.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 16th

"They will still bear fruit in old age,
   they will stay fresh and green," Psalm 92:14 (NIV)

they are there in the shadows,
silent as a beam of sun
on a kitchen table in winter
their hands paper thin from
decades of laundry, making menus,
pulling on boots for children
who now do the same for theirs.
no one comes over for a selfie,
no paparazzi stalk them,
they just are there, near
the edges of our days—
and yet, like late roses
refusing the touch of frost,
love still fills their souls.
they remember birthdays,
they tuck prayers into
the hearts of visiting family,
they are the ones who knit
mercy into booties for strangers,
they are remember to water
the thirsty seeds of grace.
and God smiles at these
forgotten-by-the-world saint,
still fresh and green in holy ways,
still bearing the Spirit’s fruits,
long after the world thinks
they have withered on the vine.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 15th

"For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God – “Ephesians 2:8

we tug on your sleeve—
prayers written on napkins,
worryscrolling on our screens,
hearts determining our value
by chore jars emptied, applause,
and exhaustion’s spread sheets.
and like a cat gently making biscuits,
and God—
like rain gently curling
down the kitchen window,
whispers:
i never charge for sunsets,
when it comes to grace i
don’t look at your resume,
i take hesitant questions over
polished answers every time,
and bumping over life’s potholes
or stepping in misery’s mud
is what faith looks like, a gift
placed in hands sometimes
too weary to carry it.
so may we remember that
when the world expects us
to prove that we belong,
let us simply breathe,
for mercy found us first.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 14th (Ascension)

"As I watched," Daniel 7:9a

i wondered where God was
and then i noticed the folks
who were mowing the lawn,
cleaning the gutters, and
painting the house of the
struggling retired couple, and
i knew.
i went down the street
hoping i might bump into Jesus
and walked past the homeless
vet feeding his dog before he ate,
slipped past the kids making a game
out of picking up the litter on the grass,
and stopped dead in my tracks.
i watched the mist moving slowly
across the lake in the morning,
heard the whispers of the couple
at the next table planning a surprise
party for their mail carrier, and felt
the gentle breeze on my face
and realized the Spirit was tagging along.
so, think how much
i would have missed if
i spent all my time sky gazing,
wondering why you haven’t
returned.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 13th

"Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ." Ephesians 1:2

Grace isn’t interrupting
our favorite shows these days
or catching our devices’ attention.
instead
it is the weary checkout person
helping the widow count out coins,
it is the nurse putting another blanket
on the patient before they ask,
it is the child who chooses
the classmate who is always forgotten
to be their partner at recess
it is not just a word from
another century or place—
it still breathes in our chaos,
the gentle presence of that
Someone who walks beside us
through fear stacked like bricks
across the days of our lives,
the One leaning close to our weariness
whispering mercy not judgment,
swaddling us with tenderness
when we can barely survive,
finding those cracks where
the seeds of peace may be planted
in the rubble
of an ever-breaking world.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 12th

"I kept my faith, even when I said,
   'I am greatly afflicted';" Psalm 116:10

it was faith who
opened their arms
to let me sob my heart out
when my soulmate died.
it is faith who sits

next to me, singing

soft lullabies until i drift

off to sleep each night.

it was faith which 

held my hand when the

echoes of angry voices 

with angrier words turned

my deep sleep into nightmares.

it is faith who whispers
in my soul of how valued
i am when everyone else
mocks and rejects me.

it was faith who came

storming into my room

yelling 'no more fears

jumping on the bed!'

it is faith who has been
my most trusted counselor,
my best friend,
my cherished companion,
even when i thought
i was walking alone.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 11th

"Their idols are silver and gold,
   the work of human hands.
They have mouths, but do not speak;
   eyes, but do not see.
They have ears, but do not hear;
   noses, but do not smell.
They have hands, but do not feel;
   feet, but do not walk;
they make no sound in their throats.
   Those who make them are like them;
so are all who trust in them." Psalm 115:4-8

we have created our idols
in the images lodged in our hearts:
the angry whose words
nourish the bitterness
flowing from our lips,
the ones who claim
to see all our suffering
but are looking only
at themselves in a mirror.
those seekers of our adulation
who act as if they listen
to the brokenness within us,
but only hear the songs
of the sycophants around them.
the politicians who clap
as if applauding us but
would push us away
given every chance,
the singers whose lyrics
claim they walk in our shoes,
but drive off in limos
and climb into private jets
when the concert ended.

© Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 10th

"It is he who remembered us in our low estate,
    for his steadfast love endures forever;" Psalm 136:23

when everyone walks right
past us because they have
forgotten not just our names
but who we are, you stop
open your arms and shout,
'i know you!"
when we have fallen
about as far as possible
without hitting bedrock,
others stand at the edge
shaking their heads and
muttering to one another,
and you hand them a rope
and ask them to hold tight
as you rappel down to bring us up.
when we are not at work
or in school or sick at home
and gossip begins
to sharpen tongues
to flay our character open,
you stick up for us
every time.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 9th

'"Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it.'" Matthew 7:13

polished promises crowd walkways
seductions smooth bumpy roads,
the easy way is marketed
as the redemption millions need,
and flickering screens immerse
us in pools of distraction.
but
there is that quieter path—
as narrow as forgiveness,
as steep as truth telling,
the one too often ignored
under the din of fear,
outrage, narcissism, lust.
Jesus stands at that gate
rusted by so little use,
because the sign invites
us to leave so much behind—
that pride which wears us down,
the certainty which aches our shoulders,
that self which excludes others.
for just past the brambles
of the world, a narrow path
opens into the wide grace of God,
where outsiders become friends,
where enemies have our backs
and where weary souls
find that the hardest roads
are the surest way to find
our way home.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 8th

"'Do not judge, so that you may not be judged.'" Matthew 7:1

we flick judgments with our thumbs,
measure outsiders based on rumors,
angry voices, fragments of fear—
for we want quick and easy judgements
and Jesus reminds us to sit
with our own fractured selves
before we accuse another’s brokenness,
to remember that every soul
carries bruises no one can see,
hearts are full of silent grief,
voices choke on unfinished stories
for while judgment has become
our go-to defensive position,
mercy asks more of us—
to listen before speaking,
to walk humbly, not harshly,
to unclench our fist around certainty
so maybe the holiest thing
we can do on any day, for every person
is to simply give space
space for transformation
space for misunderstanding
space to allow grace
to slowly work in each person,
especially us.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 7th

“'When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the native-born among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.'" Leviticus 19:33-34

holes in their shoes or
soaked from leaky boats,
with stories tucked in their souls
like faded love letters,
strangers stand at our borders
while the God of dusty roads
and rooms borrowed from friends
reminds us that
once we were the folks
carried by grace through that
wilderness we would not choose.
even now, as we
put up barriers of fear,
dismiss compassion as weakness,
pretend we do not see
our ancestors’ faces staring
back at us across borders,
your voice echoes from that
dusty book we misuse too often
to remind us to love.
not tolerate, nor legislate,
and certainly, not fear—
but share bread at midnight,
offer shelter from the storm,
open the door to every person
who knocks in hope, for
they may just be bearers
of those pieces of our souls
we left behind
on our journey to privilege.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 6th

“Do not turn to idols or make cast images for yourselves: I am the LORD your God.” Leviticus 19:4

no need for gold, silver, marble, wood—
our idols are carved from pixels,
looping reels popping up endlessly,
borrowed faces gleaming
all on the altar of being noticed.
we scroll for redemption as
our thumbs offer restless prayers
through strangers dancing in
that wilderness of wanting more.
we were warned about this,
long before Claud, AI, et al,
yet every morning we worship
at those tiny, bright temples
cupped eagerly in weary hands.
and somewhere,
not trending, not trolling,
not offering clickbait or ads.
not seeking more sponsors
or caring about likes and shares—
God waits,
speaking so softly we must
so softly we must
shut down our devices
to hear the Voice we need.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 5th

“"When you are praying, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think that they will be heard because of their many words.” Matthew 6:7

bands play polished mercies,
leaders recast grief as slogans,
endless blessings nobody can touch
scroll down our screens,
and even prayer seems eager
for applause, yet you,
God of 2:00 a.m. phone calls
and kitchens serving the homeless
while the privileged sleep,
you listen to every weary breath
not well-rehearsed tongues,
you pay no attention to holy words
trying to build stairways to heaven.
you hear the mother who can
only whisper ‘help me.’
you hear the widower holding
grief’s silence like a chipped mug.
you hear children of war asking
the same fearful questions.
so, perhaps that is our lesson—
to stop filling the air with
emptiness we rehearse
until our speech is perfect
but
to let truth run barefoot,
to know that hope needs
hands, not just a pat on the back,
that love will always be heard
even if all we can do
is whisper it in our souls.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom M. Shuman

May 4th

“But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.” 1st Thessalonians 4:13

in that shadowy room of absence
we sit, our hands wrapped around
those memories which ache with warmth,
but we do not sit alone.
our tears are caught in the palms
of the One who stands beside graves
and calls love to return to the light.
for even now,
crushed by sorrow’s burden,
hope tiptoes quietly—
like dawn which refuses
the caress of the longest night.
for the ones who have crossed
to the other side of grace
are not forgotten by God,
and however loud grief echoes
in our empty souls,
it does not have the last word.
because love always remembers,
mercy keeps watch,
and the Shepherd walks gently,
resurrection cupped in scarred hands
like a candle lighting the way
through every shadowed valley.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom M. Shuman

May 3rd

"Let everything that breathes praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!" Psalm 150:6

it doesn’t require a praise band,
just some kids singing made up
songs at bath time.
we don’t need someone
with a degree in music,
just those birds who awaken us,
whether we want them to or not,
early in the morning.
it doesn’t have to be
practiced over and over again
until the notes are perfect,
just that lullaby offered
by soft breezes in the trees
on a spring evening.
we don’t need instruments
that are all in tune and played
by folks who have been doing
so for as long as they can remember,
it can be a symphony of
pots and pans and lids,
of empty boxes and spatulas,
of cats meowing and dogs howling—
for everything, and everyone,
can praise God, especially
without any inhibitions!

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 2nd

 "'You have heard that it was said, "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth" But I say to you,'" Matthew 5:38-39a

perhaps it is the
eye which sees
the other as enemy
which we need to
pluck out,
maybe it is the
tooth we would use
to bite another with
our hate which we
need to extract,
might it be the hand
we easily use to push
away those who only
want justice from us
which we need to lose.
indeed, we would do well
to listen to your words
rather than the taunts,
the boasts, the cruelty
of all around us.
what say you, Jesus?

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 1st

"But God will ransom my soul from the power of Sheol, for he will receive me." Psalm 49:15

we will sit at the table,
sharing tea together,
telling of what has
been going on in our lives,
laughing at old jokes,
fighting over the very
last sandwich, and sharing
one final scone slathered
with cream and jam.
then brushing off
the crumbs and leaving
an extra-large tip
for all the staff, we
will walk outside, standing
side by side in the light mist,
until the bus pulls up
and i board, beginning
that trip through the
falling shadows on that
road which ends at
the other side of grace,
as i turn to wave goodbye
to death.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman