Yesterday, Sarah Bessey shared about the importance of poetry (and by extension, frivolity). Through the work of Wendell Berry, she reminded us that we should daily “do something that won’t compute.” Today, I'm taking her suggestion to heart. Here's a bit of poetry.
To my Sons #2
Some days you will race toddler tipsy, water balloon between your knees, against children more adept at the awkward waddle of boyish games.
Carry best as you may--careful, careful-- these sorts of events occasion failure, joy falling like eggs from the sky, spilling into a pool of whoops and tears.
(Is this about water balloons or the tyranny of childish pursuits? Who can say?)
There, let your father's faith be gentle, like that of a mother lifting last born from the embarrassment of empty can'ts and into the crook of forever where life's perfume lingers.
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