Out of the ashes of brokenness
My phoenix of joy appears:
A long-prayed-for benefit taking flight,
Made precious by many tears.
I see now that Jesus indeed heard my prayers,
In spite of my many fears:
How skillfully He has sent blessings my way,
Though sometimes His answers took years.
June 7, 2013
You have to know the story behind this poem:
No, it did not start with a dark, stormy night.
It was instead a long, weary night
That had started out very ordinary for us,
But ended up with my daughter in the hospital
With a blood clot in her lung
(sometimes fatal – and always very scary and painful),
While my husband dropped me off at our daughter’s house
To stay with our other daughters and care for our newborn grand-daughter
So our son-in-law could stay overnight at the hospital with our daughter
And my husband could go home and care for all the dogs,
Including our grand-doggie, who, it looks like, may be staying with us for the rest of the summer until our daughter heals all the way from her painful Cesarean section. Ahh, the weariness and worries of just staying alive and helping the ones we love stay alive, too! We all prayed a lot that night (and recruited as many other pray-ers as we knew who would join us).
(Our son was in another state, visiting friends, and we decided to wait to tell him the news until we had better news to share, besides which we didn’t want to scare him and make him homesick when he couldn’t come home right away.)
I decided that I would also see if I could recruit my brother to pray.
Problem was, my brother and I had
Separated into His and Her “I’m Right!” camps
(Of course, you have to know that the one who is right here is actually me.
You probably didn’t need me to tell you that,
Thinking so kindly of me, and all.)
To make a short story long,
My brother called,
Listened attentively to the whole miserable story,
And agreed to pray.
And for a little while, at least,
I got my brother back.
Until the next occasion arises
In which I must assert my inherent rightness.
Y’all can pray for me to
Leave the changing of my brother to the Lord
And to focus my energies on just praying for him
Instead of trying to change him
(which I clearly prefer,
But also clearly am not succeeding at).
I hadn’t spoken to my brother since September,
When our uncle died,
And my brother called to tell me about it.
I was soooo glad to hear from my brother again,
That I nearly cried for joy.
But I wrote this poem instead.
And instead of waiting for a logical time to post it,
I am posting this poem now.
Because I am impatient.
Praying for God to send you your own phoenixes