Tag: Living

Then? When? Now? It’s Just a Matter of Time

“Grass ii” by satakieli is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

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Then? When? Now? It’s Just a Matter of Time

By Jane Tawel

March 9, 2023

*

No one knows what happens.

Don’t believe them when they say they do.

They tell you there’s a Heaven out there

and so, we stop focusing;

our eyes grow bleary with the hopelessness,

of bringing Heaven to earth now.

There can be no fear if we admit

we simply never know enough.

Never enough — 

not then, not now, not whenever.

I hope to hope

mostly from now on,

to hope in what I can not know.

Let’s live in hope,

that all who seek might find,

and all might have and be at home,

here and now.

*

And no one knows the Truth

of what once happened

long ago or yesterday.

Your truth can never be mine,

nor mine yours,

but therein lies peace.

We all have inner-inter-interpretations;

and the impressions left on hearts and minds

run deeper than a chasm of doubt,

run deeper than any one can dig us out of,

run deeper than a mother’s love,

run deeper than a child’s dreams,

run deeper than a hope unborn.

The ruts are deep

and mine are mine to mine

and yours are yours to rest in if you choose.

All of us should stand ready,

above the ruts we’ve worn,

and hold out hands

to lift another up,

or perhaps just to see

if arms are really wings

and we can fly.

*

I tried to write a final verse

about living in the moment,

but instead I went out to lie in the green field,

and there I played with a blade of grass.

And I thought no more of yesterday.

And I thought no more of tomorrow.

And I thought no more of you or me.

And I thought no more,

but rested there,

and played a little with a blade of grass,

and hummed a small and meaningless tune.

*

Then? When? Now?

It’s just a matter of Time.

I have so much to un-accomplish,

and so little else to say.

Time is short, contracting in upon itself.

Only what we love will last.

Come be with me,

until our time has passed.

And of yesterday,

we will remember only love.

And as for tomorrow,

we will need know nothing,

only Love.

And as for now — 

Come, let us laugh,

and play with blades of grass.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2023

I Had Forgotten How to Live – a poem

Bird

“Bird” by CollegeRocker is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

 

I Had Forgotten How to Live

By Jane Tawel

March 12, 2020

*

 

I had, too long, forgotten how to live.

And letting Time control my thoughts,

And taking more than I could give,

I had forgotten what I aught

pay heed to more than I should not.

*

 

And then one day while waiting

And slow-drip coffee, hating,

I stood beside my own back door

And heard a bird song, me, implore,

to stop and listen, look, and find,

because to beauty, I’d been blind.

*

 

There, just there, in my back yard,

Were little birds, like crossing guards,

Directing me to safety in,

The joy that could be found within,

The world at large, and lives at small,

If I would simply sense it all.

*

 

I think I hadn’t really lived,

Or taken time to sense and breathe,

Not since I was a little kid,

And for lost years, I now did grieve.

But rather than waste one more day,

Determined I to savor,

To listen well, and learn to play,

And find a Mother’s favor.

*

 

Oh, I’d forgotten how to hear,

And how to truly see.

But though I wasted life and love,

Life still believed in me.

*

Puppets Need Laughter to Be Real Humans

 

 

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“Disneyland, Pinochio” by gigi4791 is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

 

 

Puppets Need Laughter to Be Real Humans

By Jane Tawel

November 14, 2019

 

Every once in a while I simply can’t wait around for humor to find me.  I have to manufacture some myself.  Otherwise it is all just too much, isn’t it?  Below is my latest poetic ditty in an attempt to tickle my own funny bone.

 

I wrote this little silly poem on my half hour lunch break yesterday at my latest temporary gig in an office.  I have developed a new empathy for people who spend their lives at mind-numbingly boring, dull, unfulfilling jobs because they like to eat, have a roof, and clothe their children, all by slaving for one measly, inadequate paycheck at a time.  Yesterday, the cat (boss) was away, and the “mice” began to play a bit, while still accomplishing the work they do day after day after day after day, work that has no personal fulfillment for themselves, only for other people.  A small group of those who sit in the completely silent large, sterile room, like computer chained prisoners, began to come alive. I sat at my separate temp-worker desk (temp workers are both temporary saviors and pariahs),  and I listened in wonderment to people I thought I understood after two weeks on the job. I was secretly and joyfully astounded, and felt much like Geppetto must have felt when wooden puppets became a real boys and girls. The otherwise surly or silent began to share little jokes and stories with each other. They laughed, they teased, and the otherwise meaningless, joyless, slavish work suddenly had a new meaning, because for a small moment, they had other real, live happy, caring people who were working alongside them.

 

I encourage you to find something today, if you can, that tickles you to smile, giggle and when possible laugh loud and long. If you are a little worker-bee today, find a fellow worker-bee, and share a moment – show them a picture of your silly kid, memorize a new joke, laugh at what you brought for your lunch today.  If you are a person with power, like a CEO, or manager, or teacher, or parent, I know you fear the happiness and silliness and joy of those you oversee. I know you think it will make them work less, focus less, accomplish less. All I can tell you, is, it won’t, but to believe that, you may need to learn how to do the most freeing thing of all. You may need to learn to laugh, and if you can laugh at yourself, then others will not be so tempted to laugh at you behind your back.  You may find you are laughing and enjoying your day along with all the rest of us.

 

Ode to Joy, Not by Beethoven

By Jane Tawel

A recent need to be silly,

Due to having the world-weary willies,

About what I fear

In the world far and near,

Made me get out my pen and smirk, “Really?

Oh, you silly, Jane,

You are sometimes so vain,

And you really should not gild your lily!”

But due to my sense of great sadness,

Which often leads daily to madness,

I relate, some, to you,

And the trials you go through,

As we struggle through goodness and badness.

 

So, let’s giggle and wiggle our shoe-clad, sore toes-es,

Let’s tickle our fancies and tickle our noses,

Let’s pull each one’s legs,

And eat green ham and eggs,

And when you feel low,

Well, Hey, Pal, don’t cha’ know,

We are in this together.

So, let’s fight and let’s weather

The storms of this life,

The fears, and the strife,

And down we will knuckle,

Ourselves – to just chuckle.

Let’s laugh, now and then,

And then even when,

Life seems ever so dreary,

We will promise that merely,

Not a day will go by,

When we at least do not try,

To fight all this crappiness,

With a wee bit of happiness.

 

Oh, sing, Ode to Joy!

Share a joke, make a toy,

Of the chains that enslave,

And you’ll soon feel quite brave.

 

For Goodness is not just in suffering,

But sometimes is found in the muffling,

Of the anger and sorrow,

And fears for tomorrow,

By stifling it all with hard chuckling.

Get back up, and just do it,

With panache or wry wit,

With a giggle or joke,

And throw off the hard yoke.

Oh, yes, laugh! Ode to Play!

And then, have a truly “Good” day.

Exclamatory Lives – an ode to living well

By Jane Tawel

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(Dick and Rick Hoyt Training for a Marathon)

 

Exclamatory Lives

By Jane Tawel

November 2, 2019

*

 

Take time,

Give space.

Hit the brakes,

Save Face.

Make Rhymes,

Reason, Wake.

Dreams, Climb,

Seek grace.

*

Beat the blues,

Tie up loose ends.

Hold your foes,

As close as friends.

Release worries,

Secure peace.

Subtracting anger,

Will joy, Increase.

*

 

Fix meals,

Break bread.

Find humor,

Lose your head.

Do Good,

Be Free,

All are commandments

For both you and me.

*

Exclamatory lives,

Are Actions and Verbs.

We are meant to go lightly,

Yet, with virtue and nerve.

So Be! And Do!

Embrace all that you,

Are capable of,

And in this way, you Love.

On Honeybirds and Hope

On Honeybirds and Hope

by Jane Tawel

March 28, 2016

Yesterday was my religion’s High Holy Day and what for years we called Easter but now some of us call Resurrection Sunday. On our front porch up in the ceiling on a hook that used to hold a porch swing but now doesn’t, a humming bird has made a nest. When my tall, handsome “I’m a man, Mom” son first saw the grey sack hanging there with something swarming around it, his Dad said he got scared and freaked out. Maybe he was thinking it was a bee’s nest or something. I was at work, so they had to show me the nest when I got home that day. Two days ago the bird was sitting still as a statue on the grey sack. If you have ever seen a humming bird can you imagine how hard it must be for momma bird to sit still? I thought – I know that look, you are getting ready to birth those little waiting lifes, aren’t you little momma? I don’t know how many bambinos humming birds birth or how long the gestation period is or what they look like when born, but I knew the determined expectant, fearful, hopeful look of that mamma’s every fiber.

 

This morning at 6:20 I went out to check on the nest. Momma is not there. I looked up all around the nest and didn’t see any tear -aways or holes so I’m hoping mamma bird just went out for breakfast. I hope nothing is amiss. I hope every thing is all right.

 

My children used to think humming birds were called “honey birds”. My four children were so adorable. I have said it before and I will say it again, I think Heaven might include a lot of do-overs – I get to do all the good parts over and over again. And then again.

 

I have discovered that many of my Western World Peers do not do anticipation very well. All of those great Anticipatory Church Holidays, like Advent, Lent, Good Friday – a lot of people don’t even know what they really are or mean any more and if they do, they really want to skip to the punch. Sort of like people I guess now do designer on -demand cesarean section births – I’m ready, so let’s get this over with and get to the baby part. Christianity has gotten to be where every one just wants to sing one praise chorus of “Just As I Am” and skip to the designer good baby part. New birth fast. Hallelujahs on demand, Tivo-ed every day. My husband and I see our son fighting the need to wait on things as he rushes to grow up. It is natural and it is also natural for parents who love him, so say, “Son, some things you need to wait on.” Because we all make mistakes when we get tired of waiting.

 

I wonder if Mama Honeybird got tired of waiting? I hope not. I hope she just went out for breakfast.

 

Can you imagine if God got tired of waiting?

 

One way the bible can be read is of a long, long story about centuries of people who get tired of waiting and the God who never does.

 

I think The Church is getting tired of waiting. Like Adam and Eve did. Like the Hebrew children in the Exodus did. Like Judas did.

 

And I think we daily want to skip right to the joy of Easter via the caesarian section of cheap born again life. We don’t know how important it is for that life to be born of cross carrying gestation. We want to skip Good Friday and all that it means about our sinfulness, our weightiness, our infirmities, which only Christ could carry to term at the cross. We want to shout “He is risen” on Thursday, Friday and Saturday – and so we miss what the anticipation of “Sunday’s Comin’” could mean in our lives, in the world, in Eternity. Because if we aren’t carrying our cross to term, then we can’t really love others and we certainly can not know, worship and love a holy God who wants to carry us to term into a new, re-created, perfect eternal life forever. Jesus doesn’t offer to birth us free from pain and mess, but He births us in and by the bloody placenta of the Cross. God banished Adam and Eve from a perfect world with many offerings of His grace, and the extreme pain of giving birth was one of those graces. Because without understanding that because of fallenness and sin, we must with some amount of pain birth all human creation — children, art, clean dishes, fields of fruit, microchips, vaccines, novels–birth with sweat, and toil and pain– if we didn’t have that pain, then we wouldn’t need a Savior and we would forever give up the anticipatory hope of a new creation in us and in the whole world. The very, very best part of Resurrection Sunday, is that Jesus willingly had to die to get to it.

 

If I am not dying to something in myself, daily, making every day a Friday, then I will never know the glory of being resurrected into new life on Sunday. “I am crucified with Christ”…. Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it…….

 

“NEVER THELESS I LIVE!”

 

Jesus did not skip the cross to get to the glory. And neither can I. But He carried the Lion’s share for me, for us. Christ had no idea what the end of the suffering would bring, there was no “spiritual heaven-sent sonogram” to predict the ending. But He knew the Father and He knew that He had to carry the kingdom to the end of it’s gestation period, no matter how agonizingly horrible and painful and lonely it was. He saw the pregnancy through to the bitter end, and birthed a whole new world, a whole new creation on Resurrection Sunday.  And just like I long to do with my little birthed biological children, He longs to daily offer us do-overs – He is walking along, holding our hands, carrying the heaviest parts of our crosses, warning us to be careful crossing the street, laughing and holding and snuggling, and disciplining and admonishing and guiding and investing in our futures. If we rush to grow up, we will make mistakes. If we trust in our Father,and let His Son guide us, live in us,  we will have eternal life.

 

And that is why we anticipate The Christ’s coming once more in the flesh, in person to reign in the world forever. Because that Resurrection Sunday, when Christ’s children are eternally resurrected to live with Him. That Sunday will mean the end of all anticipation – all pain, all sin, all sorrow, and all death. That Resurrection Sunday is what we are preparing for. That is the end of Good Fridays. That means Hallelujahs every day. He is risen. Indeed. Easter Morning my husband made this English nerd’s day by coming up with synonyms of the “indeed” part of that liturgical phrase.   He played around with, “He is risen also.” Nope. “He is risen in fact.” Okay. And then he hit on it. “He is risen, Kapow!”. And so we joyfully throughout the day, would proclaim, “Christ is risen! He is risen KAPOW!” It was after all, a very Kapow thing for God to do.

 

I was hoping to see Honeybird give birth. But all I saw was her waiting vigil, her anticipatory expectation. That is my world, sitting vigil on a planet of people groaning in expectation of something better, something cleaner, something more loving, and more just, and more true. A world groaning to be born again. We, Christ’s church, Christ’s body, are called to wait vigil for Christ’s return and to midwife the new birth for the whole world that He died for. However you are called to do that today, know that as Paul discovered when he turned his whole world upside down for Jesus and helped midwife Christianity in the process, know as you go about your life today, as Paul says in Romans 8: 18, “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”

 

Just like in the agony of childbirth I could never have imagined how wonderful it would be, to be the mom of such four wonder-full children, so too, do we see only vaguely how wonder-full the world will be when it is fully gestated and brought to new birth, new creation when Christ comes again to reign forever. The paradox remains that as we strive to give the world new birth, Jesus longs to be born in us. That is the glory in us He died to reveal. That is what our present sufferings mean if we live into His Story, waiting patiently for all Christ’s birth, death and resurrection mean in our lives and in the world. “But you beloved, building yourselves up in your most holy faith, praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in the love of God, waiting anxiously for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life.” (Jude 1:21)

 

Come, Lord Jesus. We wait and hope.

 

God is still waiting – with the anticipation and joy of a loving, doting father to celebrate for eternity –our birth. YHWH is the suffering God, who through His Suffering Servant Jesus, and His death and resurrection, offered each of us Life – real life, abundant life, not just 15 minutes but an eternity of all we now merely dream could be real life. This world of pain will seem like some weird Reality Show compared to our real life in Christ’s kingdom, and our souls will realize that life outside the womb of these present sufferings, is all life was always meant to be, a wonder-full reality of relationship with our Creator and Lord, an eternity of walking hand in hand in the Garden with the Father and His Son, our Savior, Jesus the Messiah.

 

Like my son, once you know the reality, then faith keeps you from freaking out. Like the Honeybird, once you take up the task of painfully gestating God’s love in you and in the world, you can live daily with anticipatory hope in the Pregnant Pause of Christ’s Kingdom. He is Risen. Kapow!

 

photo 1-16

 

Because it never gets old:

“Hope is the Thing with Feathers” By Emily Dickinson

 

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –

That perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words –

And never stops – at all –

 

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –

And sore must be the storm –

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm –

 

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –

And on the strangest Sea –

Yet – never – in Extremity,

It asked a crumb – of me.