Sunday, December 2, 2012


So when God invited me to His choir practice, I said yes.
He carried me like an infant in His enormous arms.
I usually feel like a newborn when I’m with Him, helpless and soft.

He took me to this room on the other side of town,
Mostly stone and earthy wood. A cricket chirped outside.
Dimmish lights. I could tell the acoustics would be good.

When the room filled with music, my heart inflated.
God held me against his massive chest, and sound
Thrummed through my body. I shuttered and shook.
I breathed pure song.

I’ve always liked to imagine what it would feel like to be a baby
In someone else’s strong, brave arms.
The way my daughter puts her face into the crook of my shoulder,
The way my son feigns sleep so that I will carry him in from the car.

I looked around the room at all these warm glowing faces
And bright white robes—
Robes of light and righteousness and glory,
And I wondered,
“Who does all the laundry?”