Absent

today he floated across my desk

a piece of paper

absent the eye color

smile, and sound of his voice

labeled by diagnosis

age and address

twenty one years

loved and nurtured

nowhere on the paper

did it mention

his parents’ hearts

lay dying too

patricia spreng

Sisterhood

And so this weekend

she is coming home

like any other weekend

except this time

every cell in her breasts and lungs and bones

cry out dependently

for independence

and healing

free to live

another day, another year

to hold her grandbabies

and watch them grow

joyfully laughing at them

with her kids

But for now

we will gather in strength and numbers

to pray, and laugh and cry

we will feel the warmth

of faith, hope and love

Holding fast

to the sisterhood

of childhood

that has bonded us for life

We’ll dip our toes in the water

of our skinny dipping years

and after it’s dark and

we have licked the salt from our last margarita

I will raise a toast to life, laughter and love

and in the true spirit of embracing the ridiculous

I will dare seven middle aged sisters in the moonlight

to don our birthday suits

because we can

Patricia Spreng

(If it comes to mind, please pray for my sister, Mary Sue... she has just begun her battle with breast, lung and bone cancer... we will be gathering this weekend at a secluded cottage that has been in our family for years... we spent our summers here... and yes, when Dad and brother were gone and the boys from the camp across the lake were back in their cabins... skinny dipping was a regular practice and glorious reprieve from the night time heat.)

Barlow Lake 1955... Mary Sue is the third oldest
and there were three more sisters yet to come!  

MARY SUE

Oh, Swallowtail...

I may not understand exactly why I feel

immense compassion for this battered, beaten butterfly

or why I took her in...

the one who survived the storm, the windshield, the predator…

who crawled through rain to safety,

with no wings to speak of, and never quit... 

unless I somehow see myself, 

and choose to believe like her...

because I know she did not come to this by choice

and her life remains (though quivering) 

within her storm wracked frame,

a picture of something much greater...

Patricia Spreng

2 Corinthians 4: 7-18

We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.

We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies. Yes, we live under constant danger of death because we serve Jesus, so that the life of Jesus will be evident in our dying bodies. So we live in the face of death, but this has resulted in eternal life for you.

But we continue to preach because we have the same kind of faith the psalmist had when he said, “I believed in God, so I spoke.” We know that God, who raised the Lord Jesus, will also raise us with Jesus and present us to himself together with you. All of this is for your benefit. And as God’s grace reaches more and more people, there will be great thanksgiving, and God will receive more and more glory.

That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day. For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever.

This is the Word of the Lord.  Thanks be to God.

It's Time to Write

It’s time to write…

but the house groans with ‘fix me’ sighs

and inspiration wanes…

It’s time to write

but reality keeps waving

a little white flag in my face...

It’s time to write

but children call from far and near

and birthing pains continue into the night...

It’s time to write

and I thank God for his

ever present gift of words...

He’s already written everything down.

Patricia Spreng