The Big Idea

Tag: poetry

  • “To Have and to Hold”

    Today, I was listening to a podcast about Knowing and Being Known by Erin Moniz (one day I’ll read the book, I’m sure it will get a post, too). I kept hearing themes about generations and how the Church does community. My mind immediately thought about how we ask questions. I am fortunate to be friends with many great question askers— people who use their words to invite people into closer community. And, I am fortunate to be living at home and get to observe my grandmother ask questions. I’m amazed by her consistency in remembering the right questions to ask to make sure she’s checking in on people. Yet I was hearing in this podcast how many people do not experience these good questions, especially in church. “Community is inconvenient,” my friend Bethany has said, and we are so eager not to inconvenience others. I think I have cited my sources well enough here. I will not try to further force my thoughts into prose, they need room to breathe in poetry. I hope this poem finds you well 🙂 

    “To Have and to Hold”

    I belong to a grandmother,

    A lifelong church-woman;

    A Georgian for all her years;

    Someone who knows how to ask questions.

    She asks many.

    “How’s your mom doing?”

    “How’s he doing in school?”

    “How’s she liking it in Florida?”

    “What are they doing for work now?”

    Belonging to a church who knows what it means to have,

    An older generation who inquires about what they know is important.

    I belong to a younger generation,

    One skeptical of the church;

    Of people in general.

    Often isolated.

    Afraid to answer too truthfully.

    I wonder

    Do we let people in enough?

    Are we too afraid to share?

    Perhaps we are not letting people have us

    Because we are afraid of what will be found

    By others and ourselves,

    And how we’ll react.

    I belong to a younger generation,

    One who loves to hold.

    We insist on a seat at the table for all.

    We insist on everyone being welcomed

    Because who they are is good.

    I wonder

    Do we ask enough about people?

    Do we dismiss them as good

    Without taking the time to ask 

    And learn about their beauty?

    Insufficient parts

    One generation has

    They know others

    They want to hear all about them

    The other holds

    They welcome others

    So that all are accounted for.

    They need one another.

    To have: necessary;

    It lays the groundwork for being known

    Yet it’s insufficient

    Nor is it to hold;

    Everyone wants to be accepted

    But none can be accepted without first being known.

    The delicate balancing act of questions,

    Knocking on the door of others’ lives

    Too soft— too vague

    One will never be known.

    Too loud— too direct

    One is intruded upon.

    Can we forgive?

    The cost of community.

    Being asked too much of and being hurt.

    Reconciling and restoring relationship.

    I belong to a grandmother,

    An example.

    One who asks every time

    Because she wants to know.

    “How’s your mom doing?”

    “How’s he doing in school?”

    “How’s she liking it in Florida?”

    “What are they doing for work now?”

    I pray my generation learns to have and to hold.

    The example I’ve been given.

    That we may be the bride of Christ.

    Song of the day: Welcome by The Arcadian Wild (in fact, much of that album is on theme for this post).

  • Poetry on Childhood, Home, and Cats

    Recently, I’ve been writing poetry as a way to condense reflections of themes in my life or recent experiences. I thought of the idea for this first one, “What Do you See?” when I was thinking about the small number of images I can clearly see from my childhood. I very rarely see images in my mind, so to be able to see something, I must have spent a lot of time in a specific place or thinking about a specific memory. 

    “What Do you See?”

    What does childhood look like?

    What does it sound like?

    Taste

    Smell

    Feel;

    –

    I see a track with too many sticks on it.

    The storm has passed;

    I still can’t ride the neighbor’s scooter.

    Like the shiny spot on Pawpaw’s head

    A hole dug deep into the Georgia clay

    Just to see where it would go.

    –

    I hear a gentle southern drawl.

    Mammy answering trivia questions from the other room.

    A kitchen with a song to dance to.

    Clicking of a mouse;

    Solitaire on a desktop.

    –

    I taste hoecakes

    Soft and buttery, fresh from the cast iron.

    Graham crackers and milk

    Soaked for a tad too long.

    The raisins out of the bran;

    Flakes left for the adults.

    –

    I smell honeysuckle

    Too apprehensive to taste;

    And mildew

    A couch too comfy to waste.

    Mom burns incense to drown out

    Puffs of a cigar,

    –

    Headache brought on by conflicting smells

    Warmth of a hot meal

    Sore stomach from laughing

    Heavy eyes lying awake

    Pieces held together in this body.

    ————————————————–

    I’m thankful to have traveled much more than ever before in the past few years. Each place I’ve visited, I’ve loved speaking to different folks and learning how they extend hospitality to visitors. I wanted to capture the little moments I experienced in each place while celebrating the joy of returning home. 

    “Beating Around the Bush”

    Los Angeles, California

    2 churros please

    You know, I played here once

    Koufax was incredible

    Best I’ve ever seen

    I hope things work out with her.

    –

    Osaka, Japan

    Teachers change classes here

    Not students

    Here’s your map

    Sensei will be here if you have any questions

    Japan’s best friend.

    –

    Baltimore, Maryland

    If I buy tickets, can we sit anywhere?

    Here’s your pitcher

    You’ll need it 

    It’s a shame you don’t drink

    Thanks for having us.

    –

    Atlanta, Georgia

    Come on in

    Can I get you something to drink?

    How’s your grandma doing?

    That room sleeps hot

    There’s a fan if you need it.

    –

    We beat around the bush. 

    There’s a script

    Tried and true

    For people to be known.

    ————————————————–

    Finally, my friend Hannah and I wanted to write poetry one day, so we gave each other a title and 8 minutes to write a poem. This one is a tribute to my goofy orange cat who dips his paw into a water fountain in order to drink.

    “Cat Water Fountains”

    Flick flick flick

    He swats 

    And licks

    And repeats;

    An orange ball of fur

    Quenching his thirst

    –

    Why does he do this?

    Does it serve survival?

    Is it necessary?

    Perhaps the wrong questions.

    He is safe;

    Free to choose

    His own methods of drinking water.

    –

    A fountain is provided;

    No fear for survival.

    He gets to be silly.

    Both questioned and loved for his behavior

    –

    What wonderous things one does when they are comfortable

    Am I not the same?

    ————————————————–

    If you’ve gotten one music recommendation from me in the past year, it’s probably been The Orchardist. Today’s recommendation is their song “All of Me” (or “Sentimental Man,” if you have Apple Music access… I think that song is only streaming there).