Poem~These Things~AF~14

When I think Philippians 4:8, 

I meditate on many things, 

For many things are noble and true. 

But there is one memory in particular. 

I think about your big pretty house,

With the elevator, I mean uhh the “service lift.” 

And that view of the lake, I swear I marked the spot where heaven met earth. 

I think of your family, 

With your parents that made me want to believe that happily ever after was still a thing, 

And your very protective dad that didn’t want our twenty-something-year-old selves to get lost in the maze at the pumpkin patch. 

And the mom who pulled him aside to convince him to let us go. 

At nine o clock each night, your father would call us all down and read scripture to us. 

Made sure everyone understood it. 

Introduced his kids to the God he worshiped himself. 

Waited for no one else to do that. 

Before I arrived there, I resolved to never get married. 

The single life was fine, make my own decisions all by myself, 

Told myself, independence was my calling. 

Told myself, I might get lonely, but never lonely enough to give a man the power to break me like…. 

I starred at the spot where heaven met earth while everyone was napping after our joyous feast and cried. 

Because when you get a glimpse of a love that’s drastically more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen you just… 

Because when you hear God say, in his own way of speaking that this is kind of family your children will know you just…

Because when you think happily ever after was a story mom told you so reality didn’t give you nightmares and then you see it in real life, you just… 

There in front of where heaven meets earth, 

I threw my decision made in the midst of trauma into the lake and watched it drown. 

I took the promise God gave me and put it in the safest place inside me, 

In the same little pouch where my mustard seed lies. 

So when I think about these things, 

These things that are true, noble, and right. 

These things that are pure, lovely, and admirable 

These things that are excellent or praiseworthy, 

I ponder many things. 

Of course, I think of my five-year-old nephew’s wiggle when he hears a dance-worthy song. 

Of course, I think of my mother’s drive to always make sure her babies are taken care of. 

Of course, I think of my big brother who loves me, but I’m not allowed to tell anyone. 

But meditating on this, Family, like God intended it… 

Taking hold of the promise you were trying to give me… 

Seeing it so clearly after I forgot what it looked like… 

Hope. 

Hope is praiseworthy. 

Hope is pure.

By:Acacia Faye