Monday, November 29, 2010

For my sisters - Faith

Okay, it has been waaaayyy too long since I posted and I have a lot of things I wanted to share with all of you. The only advantage to such a long hiatus is that likely my sisters are the only ones devoted enough to still be checking my blog. I wrote this poem yesterday. It has been a hard 10 days since the temperature dropped way below norms and the snow piled up. They say it hasn't been this cold here since 1985 and I know they haven't had this much snow in November since 1994 when Andrew turned 1 - our first year here. We were totally unprepared. It has been stressful and I have had to face my ugliest, most dramatic fears and try to let go and have faith. I would hesitate to share this poem with anyone - although obviously, I am posting it in a public space and anyone could read it.

It is true that I left the Mormon church 17 years ago and it is a decision I don't regret. And perhaps I left it in an unusual way because I am not bitter about the church. I am not into all the myriad of anti-Mormon literature. I don't need to prove Joseph Smith a fraud. In fact, I hope he's not. It just ceased to matter to me. I am grateful for my LDS upbringing. Jesus, as the Mormons conceptualize Him, continues to be very meaningful to me and the greatest comfort in my life. But it has become a very private thing. His picture hangs in my bedroom, festooned with ribbons that mean something to me. It is the LDS picture of a strong, broad shouldered Jesus with a confident, knowing, loving face. In my heart I consider myself a Christian although I would never openly declare it (although I guess I just have) because of the many connotations and judgmental-ism that have unfortunately been attached to that term. I am a Christian in the sense that I am a follower of Christ and I strive to live up to the ideals He preached. However, I don't believe that He is the only way. I believe there are other ways. But He is my way.

Anyways, this week has been a week of prayer, of contemplation, of being with myself, of fighting the demons of doubt, fear and judgment. And yesterday while I was writing in my journal, this poem emerged and I wanted to share it with my sisters because I thought they might understand and appreciate it.

Sunday, November 28

Come unto Jesus ye heavy laden
Tired and careworn, by sin oppressed

I come
I creep
I lay my burden at His feet
Down my armadillo armour
Heavy as lead

My plated armour guarding against slings and arrows, responsibility, blame,
My own shame
Leak through; pour through
And fester in my heart
Their cruel words a chant in my ears
A reverberating wound
Denying abundance, grace, faith
And love

Armour left at His feet, I uncurl from my foetal position
I open slowly, unfamiliar
Pale, soft, vulnerable
I open at His feet

I tremble, exposed
And clutch for my armour
In a frantic panic


My breath a sigh
Ahhhhh, Mmmmmm
Bless this armour
Love this armour
I uncurl at His feet
His wounds exposed
My heavy armour light upon His shoulders
For my yoke is easy and my burden is light Matt 11:31


Laura said...

thanks for sharing andrea. it's a really beautiful poem

Laura said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Beth-a-knee said...

it's a beautiful poem. you captured vulnerability so vividly. said...

I love that poem. And I also agree with you that the teachings of Jesus are kind and beautiful, and a person could do a lot worse than following his wisdom.

Andrea said...

Thanks guys!

amo said...

These days, I prefer calling myself a christian- small c.
Have you ever heard Twila Paris' "The Warrior is a Child"? If not, here it is:
That song has comforted me many times, and your poem really reminds me of it.