Being friends with poetry

Poetry and I have not been friends since I was 9 years old. When I was very young, I fancied myself an accomplished writer as was evident in the silly rhyming poems I created. No, I don't know what happened to my poetry. Somewhere along the way I lost all of my understanding for poetry. Most of it is so metaphorical and, well, weird that I just don't get it.

Until I transferred to CSU Fullerton and took a Literary Analysis class.

My professor was very patient while he answered all of my "I don't get it" questions. I was introduced to Andrew Marvel and William Blake and, of course, William Shakespeare. Gorgeous poetry. Poetry and I are slowly becoming friends.

Until this semester.

I am taking a writing for teachers class and last week's assignment was to write a poem. "You have got to be kidding!" Yep, that's what I said to the professor, who has also been very patient and helpful. I wrote a poem. I decided to write about my concern about my new job. No one, except the professor, has seen it. 

Until now:

As I walk through the Gate…

Dare I go to my happy place

Is the magic still there?

Streams of shooting beams at night

Notable memories and magic

Ever still the black ears promise

Your dreams will come true

Like magic I am transformed 

And I am a little girl again

Now, though, is the magic still there?

Dare I go, all grown up

Just as I was, is it still the same?

Overjoyed with opportunity

Believing in magic is still possible

Says the black ears.

Go ahead and tell me what you think-I can take it. I don't think I'll make a career out of being a poet, but I am learning to be friends with poetry.

Automatic

You already know that I love to cook. It is one thing I can do for me, my family, and my friends just because I love doing it. Cooking brings me joy. And I'm usually the one who's thankful that I get to cook.

Practically every time I cook dinner my boys will say, "Good dinner mom. Thanks!" It always takes me by surprise when they say it. I don't know why it does. After all, I've cooked dinner for my family for their entire lives. Although now that the boys are grown and we're all in college, I don't get to cook every night...well...ok...I cook dinner at least 3 nights a week.  And they still make a point to say "Thanks mom." Every time.

I have my dad to thank for that. He always thanked me every time I cooked dinner-a habit the boys picked up from him. It's automatic. It doesn't seem flippant, though. You know, that just automatic-flippant-thing-we-say-without-thinking-and-everyone-just-takes-for-granted kinda' thing?

You can hear the difference between flippant and genuine...usually. Anyway, they truly seem to be automatically thankful for the dinner I made them. This could be attributed to my great cooking skills (Yes, I am a great cook-no modesty here), but they even thank me when I make hamburger helper!

Yes! I know! Hamburger helper!

Boys are so easy to please.

My point is, I think they are thanking me because they are genuinely grateful that I cooked dinner. They recognize this loving thing I do for them and they appreciate it and want to thank me for it. And yes, that gesture just comes automatically to them. And yes, I am still surprised and touched every time they say it.

This idea of the automatic thank you got me thinking. When do I automatically thank God? I mean the genuine-from-the-bottom-of-my-heart totally thank God? I bet you can answer that as easily as I can:

When something horrible happens and then everything works out ok.

Like the time I got a phone call that my youngest son, Ethan (who was 15 at the time) was hit by a car just 2 blocks from home as he was skateboarding. The guy on the phone told me he was alive and coherent and I thanked God as I bolted out of work to get to Ethan. I thanked God through my tears of relief when I saw him in the emergency room. I thanked God profusely when we realized the only major injury he sustained was a broken arm. I was continually, and non-stop automatically, thanking God for taking care of my son.

A few days ago, I started a new job. I can't begin to describe to you how excited, nervous and thankful I am for this job. After not having a steady job for 3 years and 9 months and hundreds (thousands, maybe) of applications and futile interviews, this job just fell in my lap. Out of the blue.

But when I got the job offer, I did not automatically thank God. Why not? I should have. It was a total God thing! He placed this job right into my lap! In fact, the last few years of my life (ok, ok, my entire life, but you know what I mean) have been about opportunities falling into my lap.

Going to school full time: in my lap.
Providing financial needs: in my lap.
Going on a mission trip: Yep, God put it in my lap and said, "here, you need to do this."
Being a camp counselor: God says, "You need to do this too."
8-week stint as an after school paid tutor: in my lap.
Dare I repeat myself: College has been the smoothest, open, most wonderful thing God has put in my lap!!! And He puts these things in my lap because He loves me. Period. 

Did I ever automatically thank God for any of these wonderful things He's given to me? I have to say...probably not. And these things matter just as much as the horrible things that turn out ok.

By the way, I did thank God for this job. I have been thanking God like crazy ever since I began my new job. It gets me every time. Every time God just provides. He just places something in my lap.

Automatically.