Living Tree Poetry

And my house,
it may not even have a roof.
So that we might see
the whole expanse
of what’s above, and around.

And for the floor?
I like the feel of earth.

Will you come and live
with me in my house?
It’s not much, but it’s built
out of all the things that last.
And made of love.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
March 2013

“As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him— you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.”
1 Peter 2: 4-5

My Prayer is that we might build our houses out of love.  Often we don’t know what we are building each day as we go about our lives.  We can’t see it easily from the inside, while others see portions of it from the outside.  It can often feel like what we are building is fragile, or collapsing at the same pace as we are building.  We might look for evidence of progress, or concern ourselves over the strength of our foundations.  We might compare what we are building, with other’s constructions.  How comforting to remember that God is more interested in our inner work than our outer accomplishments.  In our sacrifices, than our achievements and possessions.    In our honesty and brokenness, than in appearances or facades.  Our house may not be the best looking in the street.  It may still be a work in progress.  But what matters is that there’s a light shining within.  Love in its restorative, redemptive, creative power brings life in all its fullness.  Always, into every circumstance.  That little candle at the window sill – it can brighten a whole room.  Today I pray that with Emily Dickinson, we might be able to say, ‘I dwell in possibility’.