Today was one of those days when I had something in mind to write, but instead of writing it, I went looking for something I thought I remembered, and found a poem I wrote a quarter of a century ago... It has nothing to do with what I was writing.  I can save that for another day; but today is son David's birthday, and Son-in-Law David's birthday is next week, so I'm sure I will find my way back to the few lines I wrote this morning thinking of them and feeling grateful for them and for the good work they do in a crazy world.  I've put the poem here.  I don't remember the name of the preacher, but I remember the morning and how uncomfortable I was to see him hold up a box for the congregation to behold and to hear him say what was in the box was a most priceless gift. I remember the children clustered around him looking at the box.  They really wanted to see the priceless gift.  They expected something and they, of course, didn't know what they thought was in the box..., but they thought there was something in it, perhaps candy or something they could take away with them on their walk to Sunday School.  I sat wondering what he would produce, fearing the worst.  The worst came... and I have never forgotten it. He opened the big box and took out little boxes and gave each child one. He told them they could open the boxes, and they did, and they found them empty.

THE GIFT

The eager preacher told the children a lie,

that the empty box he gave each of them 

was filled to overflowing with love.

They sat clustered below the high pulpit

where truth is supposed to originate,

and they were expectant, waiting, quiet.

“I told you I would give you a present,”

he said in the voice he keeps for children,

“and in the box a wonderful, priceless gift.”

It’s not just that there was nothiing in the boxes

or that he shouldn’t have tried to simplify something so complicated

that even the Good Shepherd in the stained glass window died trying.

Doesn’t he worry that these little ones may now think they know

or, just as bad, that they can explain what love is 

by saying it’s something that you can put in a box?

Does even one of them think he now knows what love is

and will go out into the world to act on what he believes

getting into trouble of the most complex and painful kind?

It’s enough to say to children that love is worthwhile

and beautiful and associated with as much pain as glory

and let them go out believing it’s easy to find and hard to keep.

Sunday, December 9, 1990