Clergy used to be paid in chickens and eggs (and other such things). I*m back to figuring out what I will be when I arrive, much less where I will be when I arrive. God knows. Of course God knows. And pay? Cups of coffee and an occasional chicken. My friend says God holds up placards for me. Yep. It*s been a multi-placarded week. I*m not sure how many placards I will need. Probably a few more. Almost certainly a few more.
I*m not much for labels.
I do believe Child of God
Is plenty good enough.
Yet
Yet
I still wonder
When I will ever arrive.
If
I will ever arrive.
And
If I do,
Where will I be?
I wonder
How to market myself.
After all
I*m not much for labels.
I wonder
If anyone will ever find me
Other than
By word of mouth.
I wonder if the practice
Of offering something
Hot to drink
A discerning heart
Will net anything more
Than the occasional chicken.
I wonder if anyone
Will know me
As God does.
I wonder if God is the only one
Who needs no explanation
And I can simply rest here
Awhile,
Count the occasional chicken
And
Wait.
Simply wait.
