DAYS OLD, SHE SLEEPS

JWW Turner believed that poetry and painting flowered from the same fountain. I think he was correct, at least in my case. Here is the painting I completed to commemorate the birth of my granddaughter almost fourteen years ago to my much loved daughter in law Gina. The poem describes what I saw as I painted it. Composed December 2008  © Copyright by Ron Unruh

Long awaited she came, first a wife for a son

Then a daughter for them both


A sister for their boy.


She let me enter that chamber 


Where birth happens and is seen,


Not usually by fathers in law


But on this occasion I was there.


I saw Kadence come into the world 


A new sight for older eyes


Another life to love and nurture.


And now on one of those following days


The two girls sleep
Gina and her child.


'Kadence' meaning “with rhythm” 


Is rarely given
So Kadence with a K she is


A strident girl, a girl with a voice


A girl who will be heard


A girl who will sing and laugh 


And make parents proud


And give grandparents joy.


They sleep now, one only days old


But soon we will wonder where the years went.

 

DEATH IS NO STRANGER TO ME

DEATH IS NO STRANGER TO ME

 

This is not a gloomy mindfulness. End of life is on my mind more frequently than it ever was in previous decades. The proximity of death is easily apparent to me, particularly because of my age.  I am 78 years old. Furthermore, the passing of close friends and acquaintances who are my contemporaries occurs with increased frequency. Two days ago another friend’s life on planet earth ended. She was four years older than me.  

I am no stranger to dying and death. At the age of 27 I began my work as a church pastor. For forty years one of my responsibilities was spending time with dying parishioners and residents of the community. I sat with families as their loved one weakened and I comforted them when the loved one died. Many who died were close personal friends. I had my own load of grief to manage. I officiated funerals within the churches that I pastored.  I lost count of how many hundreds of funerals that is. Death is not a stranger to me.

My grandparents and parents and most uncles and aunts and some cousins have died. We have been people of faith, not just any faith, but Christian faith. Early in my life and then through concentrated linguistic and theological investigation I confirmed for my own satisfaction that my faith rests on promise based on evidence. So I am content to trust that God was telling me the truth when he inspired writers to record that eternal life awaits those who trust that Jesus was divine and resided on earth for the purpose of atoning for human sin. I believe that Jesus’ own dying words to a dying convict promising him life in paradise was true, and is true still. What this comes down to is assurance and hope and peace. 

Yes, I have bought the whole meal deal. It’s a worldview that includes a future beyond life here. Not for one moment do I believe that it is easier or more intelligent to accept that life began spontaneously in some cell somewhere or through some cataclysmic celestial explosion. I rest my trust in a transcendent pre-existing God who created this remarkable universe and chose to fashion humanity in his image, and who has prepared something for us after this. I am unafraid and I am content.   

FIDELITY AND TRUST NO MORE

FIDELITY AND TRUST NO MORE

 

Fidelity and trust could soon be obsolete. 

Fidelity is noncompulsory. Trust is hard to find. 

“I promise to be faithful.” “I don’t believe you.” 

Two assertions juxtaposed

But now they correspond.

Fidelity, once founded on a pledge

Implied continuing faithfulness to that contract,

Is now a casualty of our times.

Aberrant public mores won. 

Trust wore thin and then dissolved. 

The adhesive of relationships, gone.

 

We trust clergy, doctors, leaders and spouses;

We trust parents, and teachers until we don’t.

We don’t when we have lost faith

In the trustworthiness of a promise given,

And the promise neglected.

Our trust is lost and irrecoverable it seems. 

We believed fidelity made a promise 

That was a virtual guarantee.

Our times are known for distrust

And infidelity.

 

In our spirits we wish to regain them both,

The constancy of truthfulness

And the allegiance of trust?

Yet no one can be made to trust.

It is a choice to be made when the two feel safe.

Conceivable with open communication,

Indispensable regret and earnest apology,

Met with heartfelt forgiveness.

Only then does trust recover,

Indispensable to robust rapport

So affinity is what ex-antagonists discover.

 

© Ron Unruh, January 2021