Swamped

It’s “this or that” not “this and that”,
I’m finding in my little raft;
Like folks who drift out on this sea –
Titanic gone – it’s new to me.

Take photos for example now:
I shot some pix for I knew how;
I found my stuff, brushed off the dust,
Filled in the gaps, addressed the rust.

Then digital got factored in;
And Photoshop to seal the win;
Not fancy, just the normal stuff;
That’s sixteen hours – two days – enough?

(Twelve hours makes my normal day,
Another twelve for rest and play);
The other eight? for poetry,
And draft-review to errors see.

Some rest, and meals, and doing chores;
Some church, and time with wife aboard
Our little raft out on this sea;
Still lots not done – concern for me.

So I ignore the other things,
And focus on what each day brings;
I fall behind, stand back and ask,
“What’s going on amidst this task?”

Thought it was me until her quip,
“Hey picture-boy – you’d better rip,
I have a chore to do today,
Then I must be upon my way.”

I looked around – there’s been a shift
Since I was on Titanic trip;
Although the sea is calm for me,
Two-thirds are drowning in the sea.

They’re swamped – depletion’s in the air;
The climate’s changed, I’m now aware;
No time to read – it’s games, and net,
Block-buster films – fast food – and yet –

I look here at my two-day run:
I missed a lot – but was it fun?
A challenge – questions raised – I’d say,
The key for them is in their pay.

The squeeze is on – a global squeeze,
That’s got most people on their knees;
Not there in prayer – but mercy’s quest –
“Lift this, O Lord, I need a rest.”

I think about the Word last night:
“ ‘Concern’ let go of in the fight;
Essential thing for us to see
Is our ‘responsibility.’”

Venn-circles in the diagram,
Each day I do the parts I can;
But time’s a factor in my mix,
A tool in giver’s bag of tricks.

One spoke of “Gifting” – way to help
Around the church – I’ll bet they yelp:
“I’ll pray and I’ll evangelize
I’m swamped – can you not hear my cries?”

Another spoke of rooms for prayer;
(“Oh God! am I expected there?
Is that not what this building is –
An edifice for Spirit’s biz?”)

First Nations make their blarney spin
About the pickle they are in;
They don’t need help, they need a place
To share their insights, pour their grace.

I like the way You stand back, Lord;
Put in foundations; share Your Word;
You take your time; say, “It will be
For time I’ve got – eternity –

“Take up My yoke, My burden’s light;
Learn of My ways, and do things right;
If life’s a pain the way you live
Receive my gifts to help you live:

“First make the shift (which Adam spoiled)
To tree of life (from there he toiled);
Then shift from self to body-life,
Mix in your gifts – the time is right.

“Set up the boundaries on your game,
Like hockey boards – life’s not the same;
For tighter, faster, game each day,
Let Ten Commandments shape the play.

“Then find a place to feed your soul;
Gas up your tank to reach your goal;
‘Not good if you do life alone’,
So take your little rowboat home.

“There’s lots of room for you to grow;
And endless things that you can know;
Each stage of life, fresh challenge bear;
Remember that I know you’re there.

“There’s lots of other stuff for you,
But that’s some basic stuff to do;
Not ‘this or that’; not ‘this and that’;
But ‘this in that’ is what you lack.

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