First Sunday of Advent

“Turn to me and be gracious to

         me,

   for I am lonely and afflicted.” Psalm 25:16

in this season

of parties, families,

gifting, and joy,

may we be companions

for those walking

the paths of loneliness;

may we be comforters

who cradle the

   brokenness

around us.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

new year's eve

as we celebrate, not

with parties, fireworks,

dancing, and wine, but

by living the same old life

in the same old way,

may we sense just

the slightest tremor in the earth,

a subtle shift in the stars,

a breath of fresh hope

tingling our souls.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

bargains

just because

they are continually on sale,

doesn’t mean fear,

anger, vengeance,

are bargains we need

to snatch up before anyone else does.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

how?

God, how is it

you find it so easy

to give away so much,

when we are fearful

we won’t have enough

for our cup of coffee, if

we help someone on the street?

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

brrr

how cold is it?

it’s cold enough to break out

hope-insulated grace, to warm others

frostbitten by the frigid words

of the fear-mongers and isolationists.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

cost

when we see compassion

   as a commodity,

grace as only a tip

   for good service,

hope as a discard

   for the thrift store,

life becomes private enterprise,

not a force for good and change.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

cyber monday

building sand castles or snow people,

raking leaves or walking in woods,

reading to older folks or mentoring kids,

steer us towards all the things

we could be doing today,

offline,

O God.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

saturday grace

not in the frenzied crowds,

but the warm hand of a little child;

not in the pile of packages at the door,

but in the kitten in our lap;

not in the record-breaking sales,

but in the caring of the most vulnerable,

will we find the grace you offer.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

Grace Friday

more than a framed cross stitch,

grace is that worn soul,

patched with pieces of hope and love

gifted by those around us,

stitched together by the tensile threads

woven from the Lamb’s wool.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

fourgrace

more than just a word,

grace begins when we set down

our anger to share hope,

when we see strangers as us,

when we seat the hungry at our table

not just drop off a box at their house.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

grace3

more than just a bagpipe’s

drone, grace is a grandmother

crafting wooden toys,

children’s whispers about santa letters,

a dad humming while making a pie.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

gracetoo

more than just a hymn,

grace is amazing when kids

welcome outsiders,

when refugees start foodbanks,

when felons are offered jobs.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

grace

grace is more than just

a few words mumbled before

rushing through a meal,

it is the twinkle placed in

our hearts by the one across the table,

the smile etched on our eyes

by their welcoming soul.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

this day

may we break our fast

embracing justice;

may we share a sandwich

with hope at lunch;

may we offer peace

to neighbors and strangers

as we settle down for the night.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

sleepyheads

on mornings when the

warm bed clings tightly to us,

grab us by the hand

and pull us out to join you

serving those shaking from fear.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

whisper

too often,

we choose grumpiness

over graciousness,

whingeing over

whispers of hope.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

grateful

in this season of gratitude,

challenge us, God of hope,

to notice those who

hand us our lattes,

hang up the clothes we leave in fitting rooms,

pick up cups we toss aside in races,

deliver packages to our doors,

and so, so much more.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

baker

may justice not be like

a pretzel, twisted and with salt

rubbed into the wounds, or

a breadstick, so stale so quickly,

but a Celtic knot loaf where grace,

hope, and peace intertwine,

never ending, always beginning.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

raking

if only we could rake

worries, doubts, hates, and angers

to the curb for pick-up,

but we just turn them into

one big pile and keep jumping in,

over and over and over.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

the day after

and now,

let us turn our yard signs

into symbols of hope;

our disappointment

into caring for the broken;

our jubilation

into wiping the tears of others;

and may a wave of grace,

healing, and peace cleanse

us of all our bitterness.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

tikkun olam

when the voting is over,

let us begin to repair

our brokenness with acts

of specific kindness,

overflowing love, and

welcoming arms and hearts.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

mentors

may our role models

become those who give from

scarcity, not wealth;

who give others their warm coats;

who seat strangers at tables

and offer them the guest room.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

neighborly

if we truly love

others, we need to open

our hearts to them,

not just seek to use them as

pawns in political chess games.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

apology

worn out from trying

to win the Angrier-Than-You

sweepstakes, i don’t have

the strength to love you, God.

sorry

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

and the second is like the first

remind us, mercy’s Heart,

that we are called to love folk,

not hurl hate at them.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

help

when people look for

helpers in times of heartache,

we pray they see us

running towards them with our

arms full of hope, peace, and grace.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman  

beggars night

they stand on our souls’ porches,

clothed in poverty, fear,

hunger, homelessness; will

we trick them with empty words

or treat them to life, hope, and grace?

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

it's monday

it’s Monday . . .

shall we slip into fear’s shadows

   or walk side-by-side with faith;

shall we utter bitter rhetoric,

   or whisper of hope;

shall we tighten our fists in anger,

   or open our hands to grasp

   those of the broken?

it’s Monday . . .

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

if

if we speak words of welcome,

not rejection;

if we offer love, not hate;

if we live in faith, not fear;

if we clothe ourselves in hope,

not hubris,

we can begin to heal

your broken heart, weeping God.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

dulled

when dreich seeps into

our souls, you draw us up on

your lap, singing of

hope, wonder, and laughter

‘til we doze off in your arms

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

flawed

in a time when grace

is seen as weakness, may it

become my strongest

character flaw, rather than

hiding it behind my fears.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

rise and shine

convinced dread’s dust bunnies

are waiting to nip at our ankles,

we lie in bed quivering, then

you run Spirit’s vacuum

over every inch of the room,

reminding us, “I’ve told you

not to be afraid, ever!”

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

game on

in this hidden object game

we call life, all the foolish answers

are so obvious they can’t be missed,

while grace, hope, peace, welcome

seem to take a long, long time to

spot.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

dusty

like a dog on the back seat,

first sticking its head out

one window, then the other,

you try to show us how

to delight in the wonders around us,

but we are too focused on our devices

and roll up the windows to stop

your annoying joy.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

pick-me-up

in the bleariness

of Monday, may your Spirit

energize us more

than those foamy lattes

or gulps of 5-hour caffeine.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

seasons

whether we are drifting

like the leaves towards autumn,

or seeing spring’s new growth

bursting around us, we are

surrounded by the wonder

of your amazing creation.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

fb

remind us that the

gospel isn’t a fake account

hacking into our

lives, but the very grace, hope,

and peace we are longing for.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

purrbaby

curled up next to us.

the Spirit purrs gently ‘til

we wake up to grace.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

voice

where once i longed

to be a social butterfly, now

make me an advocate

for those society never notices.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman  

more like you

i give thanks, O God,

that you are more compassionate

then i will ever be (especially)

toward those who don’t deserve

it, (like me)

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

turning to the headlines

we turn on the news and,

once again, it is troubles,

fears, dangers, worries, anger;

so let us be the hope

   others want to find this morning;

let us be the voice of grace

   strangers long to hear;

let us be the love

   that embraces the forgotten

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

crofter

at the bazaar, you set
up the table of hand-crafted grace,
each price tag reading 'no charge'

(c) 2018 Thom M. Shuman

golden

when we are convinced

the gospel is a shaggy

dog story, your grace

comes loping across the fields

of folly to retrieve us.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

  

tbt

on throwback Thursday,

may we return to those days

when civility was not the exception,

and to those places where folks

were welcomed, not excluded.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

labels

we slap labels on

people all through the day, and

you come through each night,

peeling them off, hoping we

might see folks for who they are.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

  

shattered

in shattering moments when

dreams and hopes die,

remind us that there is

a resurrection waiting, so

give us the patience to wait,

and the courage to keep living.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

tzaddik

O God, instead of

tantrum-laced leaders,

may we listen to tzaddiks

who can lead us

into your hopes for

justice and grace.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

this day

on this day

i will not listen to the voices

of hubris, triumph, and ridicule;

but pause to hear

the tears of hungry children,

the broken souls of the ignored,

the anger of the kept down,

and the whispers of hope

swirling and swirling until they become

a whirlwind of justice scattering

those with hearts hard as nails

who stand in its path.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

  

  

pilgrim

help us to make those

pilgrimages to places

and folks that scare us,

so that we can receive the

grace we would not offer them.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

baker

it’s not the flavor

of salt we’ve lost these days, but

the yeast of kindness.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

humpty

on the day many

have trouble getting over

life’s humps, may i share

more hope than harm,

more grace than gripes,

more joy than judgment.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

let it go

keep reminding us,

Lord, that if the past looks great,

it’s because we know

how it turned out, unlike those

moments we haven’t lived yet.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

moanday, moanday

another moanday,

Lord, until i see the kids

splashing in puddles,

and wonder if they would mind

a kid at heart jumping in

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman  

saturday prayer

in this sound bite world,

give us the gift of silence,

that we may hear hearts

(especially yours);

in this spin-doctor time,
heal us with truth and hope,

that we might seek justice

(especially yours).

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

whine-os

we inherit grace and hope

from you, but pawn them

as quickly as we can

to buy another bottle of whine.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

oldie but . . .

while we joke that

60 is the new 40,

help us to remember

that many see 55

as the new 65, and

show workers the door.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

umble

when i mumble about

the rumble in the night sky

that woke me from a warm sleep,

remind me of those whose lives

grumble because of hunger

and homelessness.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

slowing down

may that creak in my knee

not mean a door shutting,

but a window opening

to let me see the people

i never noticed before

as i went rushing by.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

fears

for all the children

fearful of being homeless,

Lord, hear our prayers.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

where r u?

as your followers

walk down the red carpet

in their Armani suits and Dior gowns,

jostling for the best pose, we

hope for a glimpse of you, but

you are in the alley behind the hall,

with the dishwashers and servers

handing out meals to the homeless

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

ageless

is aging

how far i can walk,

or how wide i can care;

whether my hands tremble

or reach out in welcome;

what i did for 40 years,

or what i will do today for others;

whether i am bent over by pain

or leaning down to bandage a child’s knee?

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

shibboleth

in times such as these,

may grace, hope, civility

be our shibboleths

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

buzz

help us, God, to buzz

more fantastically over

compassion than cruel remarks,

older folks than newer rides,

feeding families than our cravings.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

false assumption

special, we assume others

need our lavishness, and so ignore

the grace offered by the charmless,

the healing given by the broken,

the welcome embrace by the vulnerable.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

daily almanac

when we print the birthdays

of teenagers who mentor little kids,

single parents who work three jobs,

and folks who spend retirement volunteering,

instead of actors, athletes, and singers,

THAT will be a day to celebrate!

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

gifted

we could reach out for grace,

but grudges are easier to hold;

we could offer hope to another,

but ridicule costs us so little;

Lord, in your mercy . . .

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

what say you?

asked the question, we

can parrot what the preacher said,

or quote theologians,

but you simply want to discover

what’s deep in our hearts.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

let those with ears . . .

when we listen, Lord,

may we not only hear words,

but the deep silence;

not just the cracking voices,

but the slowly breaking hearts.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

in the storm

you’re the dispatcher

working another double,

the back-aching nurse,

the crew loading up the boat

for more storm surge rescue trips;

that’s where you are

(in case anyone wonders)

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

empty

it’s Thursday, and we seem

to have run out of words, prayers,

thoughts (and maybe hope);

so, surround us with that peace

which does not mean apathy,

with that silence which fills

hearts running on empty with grace.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

headache

your mind knotted

from the tangled arguments

of the we’re-always-rights

and the dogma gymnasts,

do you ever sit at the kitchen table,

the Word rubbing your temples

while Spirit offers you two aspirins,

wondering if the kids will ever learn

to play nice?

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

bling

each morning, we take

our grudges out of the drawer,

polishing them ‘til

they gleam like gold, and hanging

them around our necks like bling.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

beanstalks

you hand us the seeds

of peace, justice, hope, and grace,

but too many times

we trade them for the magic

beans of fear, hate, and anger.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

reminder

all those knuckleheads,

all the slingers of bitter words,

far too many angry folk –

remind me, O Lord, that i

don’t have to let them control my emotions

or even respond in kind.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

trying

we try, Lord, we try

to treat others as we would like to be,

to love our enemies,

to welcome each person we meet –

but if you sent different folk,

it would be a whole lot easier.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

family

willingly, i would

link arms with everyone who

is so much like me,

but you would yoke me with folks

who get under my thin skin.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

eden

without creation,

we would have no place to step

or rest in silence;

never finding your garden

as we stumble through chaos.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

mean streets

asked to go along

with Meanspirited’s gang,

give us the courage

to go down a different

path, the holy road of grace.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

  

leaning

when we think faith is

standing on the promises,

you are hoping we

will stop sitting on our hands

and use them to serve others.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

  

yew grace

taking the tiny

seed of grace, we plant it, so

as it slowly grows,

we can bonsai it to fit our

lives, but you water it

until it turns into a sheltering yew.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

resume

don’t ask

how many jobs i’ve had,

   but the number of times

   i’ve forgiven;

don’t ask

about my degrees,

   but where i learned

   about hope;

don’t ask for

my phone numbers,

   but who i would call

   when everyone else hangs up;

don’t ask

who my parents were,

   but how many kids

   i have mentored.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

help? no thanks

truth be told, wealth is

the only quicksand we want to

be trapped in with

no hope for rescue.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman