A Holy Wrestling

A dear friend of mine, Marilyn, shared this poem with me yesterday. It has been her favorite "find" throughout NPM, and I agree that it is a winner. I love L'Engle's honesty and that she wasn't afraid to ask the hard questions, knowing that the answers may come only in heavenly times. I think these are questions and concerns we all have, but are afraid to speak of, and I appreciate that she presents them to God in a respectful and loving way, without accusing or grumbling with Him. This is a challenging poem, but my hope is that it will lead you to the feet of Jesus to start up your own conversation with Him. Ask Him the tough questions; He'll be there.

Pharaoh's Cross

It would be easier to be an atheist; it is the simple way out.
But each time I turn toward that wide and welcoming door
it slams in my face, and I- like my forbears- Adam, Eve--
am left outside the garden of reason and limited, chill science
and the arguments of intellect.
Who is this wild cherubim who whirls the flaming sword
'twixt the door to the house of atheism and me?

Sometime in the groping dark of my not knowing
I am exhausted with the struggle to believe in you, O God.
Your ways are not our ways. Your ways are extraordinary.
You sent evil angels to the Egyptians and killed;
you killed countless babes in order that Pharaoh,
whose heart was hardened by you (that worries me, Lord)
might be slow to let the Hebrew children go.
You turned back the waters of the Red Sea
and your Chosen People went through on dry land
and the Egyptians were drowned, men with wives and children,
young men with mothers and fathers (your ways are not our ways)
and there was much rejoicing at all this death,
and the angels laughed and sang, and you stopped then, saying,
"How can you sing when my children are drowning?"

When your people reached Mount Sinai you warned Moses
not to let any of them near you lest you break forth
on them with death in your hand.

You are Love, and you command us to love,
and yet you yourself turn men's hearts to evil,
and you wipe out nations with one sweep of the hand-
the Amorites and the Hittities and the Peruzzites-
gone, all gone. It seems that any means will do, and yet-
all these things are but stories told about you by fallen man,
part of the story (for your ways are not our ways)
but not the whole story. You are our author,
and we try to listen and set down what you say,
but we suffer from faulty hearing and loss of language
and we get the words wrong.
Listen: you came as one of us
and lived with us and died for us and descended into hell for us
and burst out into life for us:

Do you now hold Pharaoh in your arms?

- by Madeleine L'Engle (from 'A Cry Like a Bell', a collection of her poems)

Annabel Lee

We're getting into the final days of April, so I figure that I'd better start hitting some of the major poems in my life to continue the celebration of National Poetry Month. I teach English for a living, so I happen to teach a few poems throughout the year. Surprise, surprise! I have learned to fall in love with some of the "classics." Edgar Allan Poe is possibly my favorite American author, and this is my favorite poem of his. Among many other reasons I love this poem, I love how he arranged it and created a meter that reminds me of the ocean waves lapping up on the shore of the "kingdom by the sea." See if you agree...

Annabel Lee
by Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,

 In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

 By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

 Than to love and be loved by me.



I was a child and she was a child,

 In this kingdom by the sea:

But we loved with a love that was more than love--

 I and my Annabel Lee;

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven

 Coveted her and me.



And this was the reason that, long ago,

 In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

 My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsman came

 And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

 In this kingdom by the sea.



The angels, not half so happy in heaven,

 Went envying her and me--

Yes!--that was the reason (as all men know,

 In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

 Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.



But our love it was stronger by far than the love

 Of those who were older than we--

 Of many far wiser than we--

And neither the angels in heaven above,

 Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

 Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:



For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

 Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

 Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride,

 In her sepulchre there by the sea,

 In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Being a Person

Another one of my favorites by William Stafford. I was introduced to this one in college. Take some time to read, enjoy, and let it sink in. Don't get hung up on every line, just try to find your own meaning. That's the beauty of poetry.

Being a Person by William Stafford

Be a person here. Stand by the river, invoke

the owls. Invoke winter, then spring.

Let any season that wants to come here make its own

call. After that sound goes away, wait.

A slow bubble rises through the earth

and begins to include sky, stars, all space,

even the outracing, expanding thought.

Come back and hear the little sound again.

Suddenly this dream you are having matches

everyone’s dream, and the result is the world.

If a different call came there wouldn’t be any

world, or you, or the river, or the owls calling.

How you stand here is important. How you

listen for the next things to happen. How you breathe.

Baby Schaefer

That's our baby girl!

It's a ....

We had our first (and only) ultrasound today! (Our stinking doctor only does one ultrasound...can you believe that?!?) Anyway, it was wonderful and it was definite confirmation that this is actually happening!! It was amazing to see and completely exceeded my expectations! So, in honor of National Poetry Month, I tried to find a poem to use to announce the gender of our baby, but had no luck in finding something that was perfect. Instead I kind of cut and pasted together a cheesy poem I found on a random website. Forgive it's complete lack of poetic value, but you'll have to read it to find out what we're having!! (The title will be at the end!)



I know that God must love me, He showed me with His Grace
I knew just how completely when I saw my angel's face.
And in that very moment when she comes into my world,
I know that she'll be so much more than just my baby girl.

When God entrusts to you an angel, who has left her wings for you.
Encircle her with love with everything you do.
Let her know God made her, and that He trusts you with her care.
Be sure to make time for special moments with her to share.

And when at night she finally says her prayers and goes to sleep
I'll Thank Him for my angel, and ask for Him to always keep
A watchful eye and hand to protect her from this world.
Protect my little angel; protect my baby girl.

The title of the original poem is: An Angel Left Her Wings by Tina M. Marascia
I have taken out stanzas and changed some of the words to fit a little better.

WE'RE HAVING A BABY GIRL!!!!

Tread softly

When I was in college, I found this poem
in a poetry book and fell in love with it.
I love its message about the depths of love
and how risky it can be, but had no one to
share it with, yet. On our first Valentine's
day together, I made Matt a framed collage
of pictures from our engagement, a passage of
scripture we both loved, and this poem. Share
it with someone you love, and if that person
isn't in your life yet, hold on to it for later!

HE WISHES FOR THE CLOTHS OF HEAVEN
by William Butler Yeats

HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

...And that has made all the difference.

This is an oldie but a goodie! Frost is an amazing writer and
most kids are forced to read or memorize this poem in middle
or high school. If you don't know this poem, it's about time
you familiarize yourself!

"The Road Not Taken"
by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.