it is evening . . .

calm us, Lord!

it is evening . . .
another day
of work, of play, of retirement;
home to 'escape'
in front of the TV,
but the same weary news
threatens to swamp us:

calm us, Lord,
keep hope near
and despair afar.

it is evening . . .
and sitting on the front porch
is our old friend terror,
waiting to tell us
bedtime stories of war,
of nuclear weapons being built,
of pension plans plundered:

calm us, Lord,
keep trust near
and nightmares afar.

it is evening . . .
and the storms of life
rattle the windows
of our souls
and thunder
through our hearts:

calm us, Lord,
keep faith near
and fear afar.

calm us, Lord!

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

Seeds

it's the
word of confidence
to a 9-year-old
which one day leads to
the winning goal
in a World Cup match;

it's the
extra practice sessions
after school,
going over word after word,
which bolsters
a young girl
at the Spelling Bee Nationals;

it's the gentle touch
of a mother
in the terror of
a midnight thunderstorm
which leads a child
into nursing;

in a world
which idolizes
sucess, greatness,
biggie-sized achievements,
remind us
of those mustard seeds
planted deep within us
by so many over the years,
which help to shape us
into the people
you mean us to be,
Tender God.

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

Come, Holy Spirit

come, Holy Spirit:

doubled-over,
drenched in the
sweat
of discipleship,
you sneak up
to tickle me
with
cooling laughter;

dragged through
life
by yet
another day,
you fling open
boredom's windows
and push me
into God's energizing
arms;

cautiously
threading my way
through the darkness
of my soul,
you blow away
the shadows
so i can see
the path to the kingdom.

come, Holy Spirit:
this day,
and every day
which lies ahead.

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman