Kecks in Paradise

Kecks in Paradise

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Day 24: Wordsmith Wednesday

Don't fear a poem, y'all!

I used to shy away from poetry because it seemed like the point of it was to be inscrutable, but no longer. First off, I learned how to read a poem--I learned I didn't have to make a full stop because a line ends. I learned I could read a line or a whole poem over and over when I couldn't grasp it on the first go. And most importantly, I learned you don't have to fully understand something to know that it is beautiful and you love it.

Secondly, I read so MUCH poetry after learning those simple keys and it strengthened my love.

I watched this little message not long ago that tells a story from Hugh B. Brown about a little currant bush. Bro. Brown had purchased this run-down farm in Canada and went about fixing it up, when he came upon an overgrown currant bush that was producing no fruit. He cut it back drastically until it was basically just stumps, and he saw little water droplets form at the end of each stump that looked like tears. Bro. Brown imagined the currant bush crying, saying, "How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful progress?" And he imagined himself responding, "Listen, here little currant bush, I am the gardener here and I know what I want you to be. I don't want you to be fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush. And one day, when you are laden with fruit, you will say, 'Thank you, Mr. Gardener.'"

Years later Bro. Brown was up for a military promotion and was denied it because of his religion. He was bitter and angry and shook his fist at the heavens, calling out, "How could you do this to me? After I have tried to do everything I was supposed to do?"

Then he heard a voice, his own voice, saying, "I am the gardener here. I know what I want you to do."

I had that in the back of my head when I wrote this little poem.

        The Gardener and the Stone

        He took two stones and wrote on one
        and let them bake in the morning sun.

        Then He called, "I have need of Thee."
        And the stones replied, "Here am I, send me."

        And He replied, "I'll send the first.
        I have loved this stone the best since birth."

        He picked me up with gentle hand,
        then crushed me till I turned to sand.

        He mixed my body with the dirt
        and stabbed my surface with a hook.

        He punctured holes down deep through me
        Then filled them up with tiny seeds.

        Wrapped inside my warm embrace,
        the seeds grew roots, then stems, then leaves.

        I nourished them and helped them grow.
        I saw the gardener loved them so.

        With love and kindness in His eyes,
        he trimmed them, cut them down to size.

        Holding close my little leafs,
        I'd feel them shudder and I'd weep.

        They tried to grow, and then would lack,
        So the gardener covered them in chicken crap.

        And though they wouldn't understand,
        the leaves would flower by His hands.

        Their roots would grow down deep in me
        And soon they'd tower into trees. 

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