If I light this candle,
Will you come, Lord?
If I throw this window open,
Invite the pine-swept frost
to calm the burn from my cheeks,
Will you meet me here,
Far from home,
By this little unmade bed,
Under the old radiator that
Gurgles and swishes
all through the night-
Or are those the sounds
of the blood pumping
through my body,
From my heart;
Moving my shirt up and down
From my chest,
There to remind me?
And all weekend,
where, aloud from others
and in my heart’s whisper,
I hear the word, “tender”?
But what is it -
Be tender. Or I’m tender. Or you are?
Oh, come Lord, Jesus and show me
Because I don’t know which it is.
And they kept saying,
“Put your hand on your heart,
Remember the embodiment.
Remember who dwells within you.
Give thanks.”
And all along I’ve resisted
Touching this tender spot.
Maybe because I can’t stand
the swishing and gurgling
of the blood beating
from my heart,
Jumping from my chest;
Maybe because the wounds
Are still too tender
And I need more time?
Time for what?
Suddenly, I am overcome,
And I know I’ve resisted
Meeting YOU there.
It is you who keep asking,
Tenderly,
“Come, precious one.
Meet me here
and allow me to heal you.”
And I respond,
through the callouses,
again and again
with resistance and fear…
Lyrics race through my mind,
“Could you be loved,
Then, be loved.”
Can I?
Won’t I?
Oh Lord, you are so
tender with me, and I continue
to resist the very thing
I know I need from you.
“Then, be loved.”
While I keep asking you
To come, Lord, meet me here,
You are already here.
And have always been.
I don’t need to keep asking.
I just need to meet you there,
Then, be loved.
Note: These photos were all taken from my weekend at the Refine Retreat.