Evergreen

Today I want to share a poem by one of my favorite poets who doesn't happen to be T.S. Eliot, but Luci Shaw.

We're on the cusp of the rainy season here in Guatemala. Last week, a thick, smoky haze settled over the sky from the pre-harvest burning of sugar cane fields over on the coast. Some days, the clouds roll in and spit out a little water, but the real downpours, the real rain-everyday-until-everything-you-own-is-moldy season hasn't started yet. But it's coming, it's definitely coming.

We've just planted new flowers in our garden, confident that they'll thrive and bloom with the rains to come. I think of the seeds I want to sow in my own life--the seeds of friendship and growth and hope--and ache to be confident that they will bloom into full-fledged flowers, too.And I was reminded of this poem, Evergreen, by Luci Shaw. It's actually a Christmas poem, about a tinsel-strewn Christmas tree and piney-scented evergreens. But she writes a phrase that rings through me here on the cusp of planting season: planted with purpose. I've done a lot of work with an organization called Plant With Purpose. In fact, I was a part of the team that helped come up with the name. I've punned and alliterated the heck out of that phrase. But I had never once thought of myself as the object being planted with purpose.I'd never thought of the phrase in the context of Jeremiah 17:8:"They are like trees planted along a riverbank, with roots that reach deep into the water. Such trees are not bothered by the heat or worried by long months of drought. Their leaves stay green, and they never stop producing fruit."Or Psalm 1:3"That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither-- whatever they do prospers."Without further ado, here's the poem and an invitation to ponder what it would mean for you to be planted with purpose, tapping in to the water of life, and bearing the Spirit's sweetest fruits. Enjoy.Evergreen

Toppedwith an earthbound angel,burdenedwith man-made stars,tinsel-draped,but touched with notrue gold,cropped, girdledwith electricity—why be a temporary tree,glass-fruited, dry,uprooted?When you may beplanted with purposein a flowered field,and where,living in clean light,strong air,crowned with goldof every eveningevery nightreal stars may nestin your elbow,restbe found in your shade,healingin your perennial green,and from deep springs your rootsmay suck enough to swellwithin youthe Spirit’s sweetest fruits.Taken from Luci Shaw's, Accompanied by Angels: Poems of the Incarnation.

T.S. Tuesday: A New Verse

I recently searched for every T.S. Eliot quote or poem having to do with the New Year or new beginnings. My new search brought me to an old favorite: Ash Wednesday, and this stanza in particular:"The new years walk, restoringThrough a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoringWith a new verse the ancient rhyme. RedeemThe time. RedeemThe unread vision in the higher dream" T.S. Eliot, Ash WednesdayFor one, I like the idea of taking a new year's walk. Of meandering along a forest or a river or the ocean and allowing a bright cloud of tears wet with regrets and hopes and joys and sorrows to wash over you. This past weekend I hiked to the top of a hill that overlooks the town of Antigua in hopes of inducing my own bright and shiny new year's cloud of tears and restoration. Turns out I can't cry on demand and my sweat shone brighter than any tears. But this is beside the point.I wanted tears and emotion and a literal mountain top experience. But as I heaved and panted and stared out across the valley, the next line in Eliot's poem echoed in my head,"restoring with a new verse the ancient rhyme."A new year, a new verse. But what new verse? Of what ancient rhyme?The only ancient rhyme that matters; the call that echoes from deep to deep:

You are loved you are loved you are loved.

The new verse:You are loved in Guatemala. You are loved when your Spanish sucks. You are loved when you confuse verb tenses and gender agreement and take forever to spit out a sentence. You are loved when you mix up salsa steps. You are loved when don't Skype your mom as much as you should. You are loved when you don't have much work to do. You are loved when you procrastinate even the little amount of work you have. You are loved when you're sad. You are loved when you're lonely. You are loved when you don't understand how exactly you fit in here.You are loved.How could I forget that I need to hear it write it shout scream say it every day:

Aly, you are loved. Endlessly. Wonderfully.

Wholly.

Come and See

A New Year's Poem

A new year is upon us, a soft blanket of fresh snow.The last year passed so quickly,filled with moments sweet and moments low.A book club with dear sistersseeking to know You and Your truth. A writing class, a journey,our stories Your living proof.Weddings of forever friendswith forever vows of love.A bucket list, a choice to leaveStacking joys sent from above.A new culture, a new starta beginning and an end.Missing friends and meeting new oneswatching worlds start to blend.I know not what the next year holdswhat path will beckon me.I only know your words exhort, Come, follow me and see.