A pause
A choice of disconnection
An examination of a new option
An opportunity to change direction

An opening
An invitation given for heavenly interruption
A deliberate choice for a fresh listen
A much needed full-stop punctuation

A calming - a sit stilling
A waiting - a head spacing
A surrender - a release
A long deep breath
And an unexpected end-of-the-road Peace
Here on this path, walking with the Prince

Lord, save me from empty lent abstinence
Protect me from light hearted choco-resistance
And stir in me longer-lasting adherence
A dig down deeper ringing resonance
That falls in step with your quiet insistence
to follow a path of greater resilience.

Lord, save me from a temporary temperance
And lend me your eternal Spirit of endurance
That I might take lent as a growth accelerant
And so hold my head higher
in your post-Easter presence.

We watched and we listened
as He prayed.
And we wondered
what might it be like ?

to speak with Jehovah
- as He did.
-
-
So one night we gathered up our courage
and we asked,
'can WE do that?'

And then,
smiling,
He taught us.
He gave us
OUR prayer.

And, as if
for the first time,
it felt real.
It felt like we had PERMISSION,

We had an INVITATION
to call Jehovah
'our Father'

just as He did.
-
-
I couldn't help but smile
when I thought what the priests would make of all this:

What would they say?

Praying child to Father.
Having direct access. Forgiveness
Without a priest.

And oh the simplicity
of asking,
of feasting
on the generous Spirit
of OUR God

just as He did.

He saw me grin and He laughed with us.
-
-
And later,
when the others were sleeping
I walked and practised this new boldness
and shouted through my smile:
-
"Our Father
in heaven,
most holy be your Name.
Your kingdom come.
Your will be done
here on earth
just as in heaven.

Give us this day
our daily bread.
And forgive us our sins

just as we forgive those
who sin against us.

And lead us
not into temptation,
instead, deliver us from the evil one.

For Yours is the kingdom,
Yours is the power
and Yours is the glory
for-ever,
Amen."

I kept my childlike smile.
And when I slept
I slept as He did.

Closer to grace.

Know this - I am.
Know this - I can.
Know this - I will
and know this - I will, with you.
And yes, that's a promise,
Oh, I'm serious.
You can be sure of my presence,
confident of my grace.
Come and together
let's change this place
for the better.

Come
and take a double touch of His grace
on your tear stained face,
hinging on His mercy
coupled with His ability
to not assume, to not barrel past,
but to rather ask (and twice ask)
with a balm of a voice and intentional hearing
and His long compassionate waiting.

Come
and take a double touch of His grace,

Jesus wasn't one for placing His touch 'in passing',
but He placed His touch with presence -
His was an off-the-fence, no-pretence full in the face presence.

Come
and take a double touch of His grace.

He held back from the passing pack and exercised the knack of knowing to look back, going far enough to reach a truer understanding,
to reach out with both arms and so allowing
Him to encompass all previous experience of heavy handed mishandling.

Come
and take a double touch of His grace.

For He knows that truthfully the healing is secondary
to the placing of true medicinal touch,
to the reassuring brush
of acceptance,
to the knowing that you've received close hearing
and closer grasping -
a meeting of more than minds, a confidence of souls truely entwined,
standing embracing and only releasing once we have the assurance of knowing
that we've been double-touched with honesty and that we're twice as much connected fully
and gracefully with the One who truely never turned from anyone's face.

Come and take a double touch of His grace.

Not pen to paper nor digit to key,
but eye to eye and hand to hand,
with a firm grip on our reality.

With half-empty mouths and full-empty ears,
we understand that its has to be us
voicing our two converging histories.

Exploring what it is to be you,
what it is to be me
and what we two can be together
in the next chapter of our come-together
unfiltered, unashamed and unheard stories.

Compromised
between original and possible
losing the beat and a little of the rhythm
even the form
as the pulled words
fall afresh,
short of English,
far from the tree,
but cousin enough
to retain alikeness
and still echo a piece of me.