Skip to main content

Ezra

I spent much of the day crying-- tossing around a once empty bed
that I now share with my laptop,
tablet, phone, and tomorrow's sermon--
looking for jobs--
planning post-seminary life--
trying to decide where I'll relocate to in 2019--
And daydreaming about Ezra.

Ezra--
my son.
My future.
I daydream about Ezra often, these days.
No, I'm not pregnant.
I want to be someday.
I want so badly to experience motherhood--
to watch my kid play in the backyard--
to treat the wounds he'll garner
on the multi-colored battlefield of
jungle gyms and sandboxes
with peroxide.
I daydream about Ezra--
going on mother-son dinner dates--
teaching him how to eat sushi--
how to order mommy's favorite glass of wine.
I have visions of carrying him on my chest
while teaching midweek Bible study.
I imagine looking out from the pulpit,
Sunday mornings, seeing him--
and all my children--
staring back at me in awe...
or misbehaving in the back pews
(which is the likelier scenario).
I see Ezra rocking seersucker and Sperry's
on Easter morn,
behaving like a model citizen.
And Moriah--his sibling--
fighting her way out of ribbons and bows
that are suffocating her robust personality,
running her tights and destroying hymnals.
She will be my "Pay back" child, for sure--
for all the years of trouble
I put my mother through,
I'll deserve it.
But Ezra--
my son,
the apple of my eye--
will inspire me to be kind to his younger sibling.
He will remind me of how
in the year of our Lord, 2018,
I so desperately prayed for him to
come into being--
how I spoke his name into the universe
during my weakest days,
in the weariest of hours,
between the wails and hyperventilating,
and declared victory over my life,
for his sake.
Ezra--
my son.
My future.
You are a reason to press on.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"Where Do You See Yourself in 5 Years?"

Today (December 1st, 2020), Facebook reminded me that 5 years ago, I wrapped up a 5-week run of Ain't Misbehavin' at Portland Center Stage in Oregon, and flew back to New York City to re-enter my life there. I had just applied to seminary a few days before Thanksgiving and was excited about the possibility of leaning into this strong calling I felt to deepen my theological knowledge. I was still under the illusion that I'd be able to maintain some sort of performance career, so I kept my manager, Greg, and he'd continue sending me out on auditions. I was becoming very picky about what I'd say "yes" to-- Would I go on that national tour of Hamilton that he wanted to send me on or would I go to seminary? Would I leave to do a 9-month stint in After Midnight on an international cruise ship or would I go to seminary?  That was the question over and over again. I decided that I'd still do local stuff in NYC or short stints in other cities. Even as I ente

When I Stepped Into Myself

[ Read "Way to Freedom" HERE ] I had a conversation with myself last night, re-imagining a previous conversation I had with God about 2 years ago. God was like, "I'm gonna sit here with my arms wide open, while you seek refuge in people and things that were not meant to shelter you, and I'll wait patiently for you to come back home to me." That moment with God 2 years ago was the beginning of my real relationship with God and my relationship with my purpose(s). As I watched things fall into place, in awe of the matchless moves of the universe pushing me toward my purpose (or myself), I never quite committed to the purpose; I never quite committed to God. I walked around God--around my purpose, around myself--but never stepped in. Maybe this is you. This has been your life for years...going in and out of the revolving door that is God's arms. And God still loves, even when you're outside of the door. God still loves, even when your head is pressed

Cracked Eggs, Nerf Guns, and the Murder of Karon Blake

  Cracked Eggs, Nerf Guns, and the Murder of Karon Blake At the time of my writing this, I am sitting in my big chair, staring at my front window from inside the house, looking at the drippings that have stained the glass from the eggs that some neighborhood kids hurled at my window almost two weeks ago. They were mad at me (I suppose) because they came to steal another package off my front porch in December, but they did not know that it was a package I’d planted with a note inside. I had them on camera stealing several packages on my block during the winter break, including one of mine that contained dog food (I know they were disappointed when they opened that one up ha!). Instead of calling the police or posting their faces on the many neighborhood apps, I decided to take an old amazon box, place a note inside, retape it and leave it on the porch. The note read: “God loves you. I care about you. Stop stealing packages. -Pastor Mac.” I wanted these 3 kids who look like they ar