Poems on the journey to Hopefulness

I recently took part in a retreat entitled "How Can We Be Hopeful People in a Troubled World?"  I won't pretend that I obtained all the answers to that question during those few hours, but I also can't pretend that the question has not weighed on my mind considerably over the past year, months, weeks, even days.  Hope - it seems almost as tricky a thing as this troubled world we live in!  And while it is too much to share the many conversations and thoughts that myself and my fellow participants shared that day on this topic (let alone the many reasons why that question is a part of my heart as of late), I can share two poems that I wrote as part of my reflection time at the retreat.  There is of course plenty of back-story to each one as well; but again, that is too much for today and will have to come at another time.  For today, I leave you with these brief statements of inspiration behind each one, and my attempt at finding hope through poem... 



("Proximity" was inspired by the statement "We have to get close to the people on the margins, so we know who they are and what kind of action might help [bridge the gap]" and by my personal experience of tutoring two Hispanic women several years ago)

"Proximity"
I was a young woman, smart but scared
They were young women, smart and courageous,
Coming to a new land,
a strange language,
Babies and husbands, boyfriends and mothers,
together trying to make a place.

I was the "teacher,"
my lessons in hand each week;
They the "students,"
the real important questions on their hearts daily.
Not past perfect conjunction,
but help for job interviews and citizenship paperwork.

We seemed so different at first - 
advanced degree educator versus house-cleaner and factory line worker;
But in truth so the same - 
catholic, daughter, mother (our girls with the same name),
afraid yet courageous,
trying to pay bills and keep house and drive on snowy roads each winter.
The same, though different -
The same love of a cherishing GOD
Though different marginalization from a cruel society.

We were young women,
each smart, but trying to learn,
each scared, but working at being brave,
each a small part of each others' lives once a week,
but they becoming an unforgettable part of me each day since.  



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("A New Narrative" was inspired by the idea that we can help find hope by "Changing the stories we tell ourselves and each other" and by numerous conversations - with the likes of church workers to children, on topics from mission trips to discrimination - over the past few days)

"A New Narrative"
I'd like to tell a story,
a new story,
One we haven't been told lately.

It is a story about togetherness,
About a Kenyan priest who hugged me and helped me feel at "home" a half-a world away.
About a Bishop in Venezuela who tells me my children are growing beautifully, even when he can't feed his people.
About crossing borders just to meet someone.
And meeting someone who has crossed borders.

It is a story about mothers sharing pictures of their kids growing too fast,
and playing silly non-verbal games with kids across tired airport gates.

One in which we look around a crowded room and see
Not the person who wronged us,
the one who got the job we wanted,
the one who looks different,
the one who thinks different...
But see
the person who has buried a spouse,
who has battled cancer,
who has lost babies,
who has suffered injustice.

A story in which we see each others' hurts, and judge them not according to our own,
but judge them according to the love that all hurts require.

A story about my kids wanting to have "new food Fridays,"
and playing among hijabs, overalls, tutus and flip-flops alike at the mall playground.

I want to tell a story in which my church doesn't "preach,"
but lives,
welcomes,
loves,
forgives.
Where we are concerned less about policy and doctrine,
and more about offering hugs and getting "dirty" with the sheep.

We so often are told the tale of a "dirty" world, 
where dirt is to be avoided,
where dirt diminishes hope.
But I want to tell a new story,
in which dirt is beautiful,
real is Holy,
broken is blessed,
different is embraced,
where judgement is not,
and hopelessness is made hopeful again.