Seventeen Crows

Seventeen crows.

Six on the old gray car,

Ten on the eves of the gray shuttered house,

One on the cracked light above the door.

 

Is someone dead inside?

 

Waves crash beyond a line of sea scrub.

The windows hide behind lowered shutters.

The door hides behind an overgrown shrub.

 

Is someone dead inside?

 

No crows on me,

I hope.

 

Tourists walk by,

Drive by.

Bike by.

No one really looks at the cracked gray paint

On an ugly gray house

With seventeen crows.

 

Is someone dead inside?

 

Is there a body, undiscovered, lying on the kitchen floor?

Unseen and pre-buried in a wooden gray shroud?

 

Is someone dead inside?

 

No ravens on me.

No ravens on you,

I hope.

 

Open your shutters.

Clear the door.

Cut the shrubs.

Keep up the paint.

Keep the ravens away.

Never be the house with someone dead inside.

Becoming better

I want to be better.

I want to be better because I am a Christian.  I’m a living signpost.  My life should help point to the way to Jesus.  It should be conforming to the image of Christ.  That demands better.  Not better in my own power or effort but better through the power of God working in my life.  Wiser, because ignorance won’t show the Spirit of God living in me.  More loving because I was loved when I was absolutely un-lovable.  Stronger because I’m only strong in God and the weakness from which I come shows God’s strength even more.  More loyal because God never deserts me.  More faithful because faith is my great weapon and great armor against my enemies.  More joyful because even pain holds joy when I know that the pain will end in victory.  Without doubt, every storm will end in a new morning.

Make no mistake, I’m not remotely perfect. Someday, I will be.  I’m being perfected.  I’m being restored.  I’ve been picked up and put on the path leading to better and better.  I stumble and fall but, each time, I’m picked back up and made better for the fall.

I used to want to be better for pride.  The pride was born of insecurity.  I wanted to be better to show what I was capable of and to show that I was worth loving, worth…something.

Now I know.  I am worth something.  I’m worth Jesus dying.  I’m worth infinite love.

I can be better because I’m allowed to be.

Better is the gift I’ve been given.

Better is my inheritance.

I am better.

One Step

Home.

 

The road is long and reaching on.

The desert rolls in endless dunes.

The swamp stretches on in murk and mud.

The wilderness, the wild wood, is vast and closes tight around me.

The sun scorches my face and blinds my eyes.

The mud drags at my weary legs.

The trees stretch spindly, whippy fingers

Pulling, poking and slashing at my skin.

 

The road winds on.

The path is hidden and spins for miles.

Miles and miles before I sleep.

 

 

Home is gone and far away.

 

 

One more step.

Take the step.

 

One more step.

Take the step.

 

One more step.

Take the step.

 

I cannot walk forever.

Miles and miles will break me.

 

But

 

One more step.

I can do one more step

Again

And again

And again

Until I’m home.