Category: parenting

God’s Choice

God’s Choice

Jesus was hanging out upside down and wet
Long before the blood and sweat
Went splintering through eternity
In hopes that we would learn to see
The value of a person through this choice,
To start the savior’s life without a voice.

Baby on the move

Baby on the Move

I might not crawl now,
But I know somehow
I’m going to make it to that Christmas tree
And pull on things not supposed to be
Pulled on by the likes of me.

Very soon you’ll find me
Scooting where I want to be,
Like moving toward the Christmas tree
Instead of my somehow
scooting backwards now.

Advent: Waiting for a Baby’s Crying

Advent: Waiting for a Baby’s Crying

Tree lights twinkle, sprinkle joy inside my eyes,
Awaiting Christmas, when their lights will be out shown.
The joy illuminated by what we’ve anticipated
In the Son who comes to love us as His own.

This specialized event of grace, renewing every year,
That allows us to displace the race for packages and hear
A baby’s cry that saves the world so we can celebrate
The birth of One who’s in the womb this advent while we wait.

Advent: Jesus Heist

Advent: Jesus Heist

Sometimes Christmas looks more like a Jesus Heist
Than a celebration of Christ.
A boy is busy wrapping arms around his presents
When he should embracing His presence,

Consuming Christ in preparation for His coming,
His entering the world and summing
Up God’s total revelation
For our endless contemplation

Of the anniversary of Christ’s birth,
Of God made man on Earth
So that we might have light again,
But instead we check off lists and then

Never have a chance to anticipate
The savior we wish to celebrate.
Christmas arrives and we give each other gifts
Never giving ourselves lifts

In our own spirituality,
Stuck in secular commonality
That makes us wonder if a present pleases,
While we never gave a thing to Jesus.

Parental Superpowers: Magic Lips

Parental Superpowers: Magic Lips

If my child has a boo boo
From random sibling violence
I draw that child close
And use these Healing Lips of Silence.

If someone thuds or falls or slips,
Or hits their head upon the table,
The problem’s solved with magic lips
Pre-pursed, ready and able

To stop the crying by release of
A parental magic potion.
A blend of spit and parent love
In super hero motion.

We Don’t Grill Babies

We Don’t Grill Babies

After stuffed animals and baby dolls were shown,
As exhibitions of my son’s playing.
It’s likely my voice contained a confused tone
At the wonder of what I was saying.

My son was grilling dinner on the ottoman, it
Took me a moment but I thought a minute
And after rationalizing “yeses”, “Nos” and “Maybes”,
I came up with, “we don’t grill babies.

You can grill animals ‘till your heart’s content
But a baby who does not consent
Cannot be cast on the flames of a grill.
To be disposed of at your will.

In fact, a baby who does consent cannot be killed
Simply because the two of you willed
It to be so.  Human life contains value.
So grill a tasty animal pal you’d
Like to eat instead
Of pretending the babies are dead.”

My wife gave me a smirkey smile from the other chair,
Loving me and the words I chose to share
With our three year-old who was grilling
Babies that no one should be killing.

Legally Killing My Son.

*I usually don’t preface poems with thoughts… but wanted to throw a couple things out there.  1). My wife is not currently pregnant.  This poem would prompt the question from some of my readers.    2). where this is coming from:  I was remembering the weirdness of this thought when Matthias (our youngest) was still in the womb.  My wife and I have had 3 kids thus far and with each one of them, it strikes me that the government gives us these “free passes” to kill our children up to a certain age.  Weirder still, if my wife and I weren’t on the same page, then she could kill my child without my permission.

Legally Killing My Son.

The government gives someone else permission to kill my child.
Isn’t that wild?
That my wife
Could go without my knowledge and take a life.
And not just any life, but that of my son.
My flesh and blood undone.
Unraveled, unwound.
Never found outside the womb by this father.
Never seen to be more than a memory
By me without a choice,
Left without a voice.

Parental Superpowers: Bending Time

Parental Superpowers: Bending Time

The manipulation of minutes, hours
And the second hand ticks
Make up one of the powers
that God placed in the mix

When He made fathers into supermen
Who can bend time and then
Pander where the time went
When their free time was spent.

I marvel when I can make time slip
With my parental super powers.
Previously when I made this trip
It was less than four hours

But it’s more like six with kids in tow.
And since my time’s now bendable,
My schedule’s now expendable,
Everywhere I go I know
This power’s what’s dependable.

Diaper Change Logic

Diaper Change Logic

I realize this might sound incredibly strange.
But at one point in my life, overwhelmingly
I’d Hold out my hand, gleefully, cup the pee
That my son had been shooting off mid diaper change.

There was a joy that was released in his fountain,
A giving-up frustration I could laugh at.
Unsure of how I could combat that
Molehill that just became a mountain.

Me and my pee-covered hand of confusion
Gave hindsight to my logical conclusion
On preventing pee from getting everywhere.
I smiled though, overwhelmed without a care.