a poem for Lent

[2 March, 2008.  South Sudan]


there is this space in me
just small enough
that i cannot reach or
understand or
destroy

barely, but it is
and just warm enough
just soft enough
just small enough

and when i feel like this:
my doubt and fear are tossing
and swallowing and stealing
and slapping my face with wave
after wave and my eyes are
captured by the high places
I clung to before and my words
to myself are that He couldn't possibly
save
or Love
and I have given myself to my drowning

still there is a space in me
just warm enough
just soft enough
just small enough

and He sees.

and as I choke on salty waves
and tears and disbelief
and my hair is tangled and
matted with hopelessness

that small space calls to Him
and waits

In His heart is a seed
and this space in me is
just warm enough
just soft enough
just small enough.

He calls me 'steadfast'
(though I am not)
and plants a seed,
just small enough for me.
just small enough that I cannot reach
or understand
or destroy.

but sometimes I can feel it grow.