I've spent several weeks writing poems in my Jesus in today's world series: menopausal Jesus, Jesus gets a Fitbit, and Jesus getting a dog. I've been doing a lot of thinking about what it means to worship a God who takes on human form to get to know us better, to show how much we are loved, to show us how to make the most of this human life.
This morning, as I wrote this post on my theology blog, I explored, albeit incompletely, what it might mean to worship a God who ages. From that pondering, I expect to develop a new poem: the arthritis in the feet of Jesus--or maybe Jesus who needs to go to the assisted living home.
The week has been full of poetry inspirations. Last week we walked a labyrinth in our neighborhood, and my South Carolina friend said, "How romantic!" I thought about that reaction as the basis of a poem, all the layers of perception and reality in that gesture. We're not on a first date walking the labyrinth, and it's not exactly a spiritual experience either. I wondered if any of the motorists going by even saw us, and I know the pedestrian and the cyclist saw us--but what did people think? Do they even know there's a labyrinth and why we might walk it?
I'm not sure I can do much with this other nugget that I learned. Earlier this week, I heard that the price of vanilla is 4 times the price of silver.
This morning, we are off to the Yellow Green Market. I remember when it used to be fairly deserted in the first years of opening, with stalls unrented. Then a few years later, 15 months ago, it was astounding crowded and had expanded a bit, with eateries. I'll be interested to see what it's like now. It's a mix of garage sale, farmer's market, specialty stores, eateries, all in a warehouse type space.
Maybe I'll write a Jesus at the Yellow Green Market poem . . .
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