“I believe that, rightly embraced, no more subversive or prophetic idiom can be uttered than the practice of doxology, which sets us before the reality of God, of God right at the center of a scene from which we presumed God had fled.”
– W. Brueggemann
Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
Praise God for the desk that held creation,
the chairs that harbored visitors,
the computers that carried me to world beyond,
the counters that held piles waiting (im)patiently.
Praise God for the bulletin board that carried old memories,
the walls that held wise words and heavy pieces of paper,
the faces that lined my “graduated classes” wall,
the basket of toys and crayons that entertained children.
Praise God for resources that filled bookshelves and window sills,
the windows that shared the cries and laughter of refugee children just outside,
the history compiled in one single office,
the notes scribbled on posters and dry-erase boards that focused my efforts.
Praise God for the door that led out to the community of co-workers,
the voices that rang out in solidarity of our shared heart for Highland,
the volunteers that sat just beyond and brought new life each day,
the bodies that came in our front doors seeking mercy.
Praise God for all the Love made flesh through
typing fingers, spoken words, wrestled thoughts,
looming deadlines, broken things, repairing hands.
Praise God all creatures here below,
present or gone, knowingly or unknowing.
Our song spills out the corner of Grinstead and Cherokee,
onto the sidewalks and the streets,
wafting heavenward as gift received and given back.