Thanks, Lord,
my heartfelt thanks, and great relief
To hear you say:
“But it’s All Right, you know!”
Alright – you’re growing old,
Forgetful, muddled, dim
(Embarrassing, frustrating though it is)
Alright to need, and take, more time,
More space perhaps,
To admit: “I don’t cope well.
I can’t keep up.”
You went there first, our good and sorrowful Lord.
You touched the depths in dark Gethsemane,
Were crowned with pain and meek humility,
Carried the tears, the sharp sin of the world
So no-one, now, need think herself bereft.
You give to us, you give to me, your freedom:
Permission to be helpless, tired and weak.
You would not have us envious of others
When they are brave or bright or persevering.
You rock us in your reassuring arms,
Accepting us the way you made us: small,
And loving us that way….
….For you to grow in us,
We must be empty,
leaving space for you.
And then you’ll say: “That’s right!
What you thought wrong,
Amiss and lacking, is my chance.
All right!”
A Poem by Sister Kate Holmstrom,
a Sister of the Holy Child Jesus.
