Streams of Comfort

This poem takes a look at how some times our families are not what we completely hope them to be. It is easy to be paralyzed by the past and not move forward while addressing it. I pray that you are encouraged to rely on the Holy Spirit in all of your family relationships.

“You left the window open,”
My mother’s head shifts ever so slightly,
At the sound of my voice.
The only acknowledgment she gives that she heard me.
“I wanted to see if I could catch it,” she says softly,
Looking forlornly through the open window,
And up at the blue sky,
“Catch what?” I inquire,
Taking a step into the dark room,
The only light a small stream of sunlight pouring through the open window,
I step through the stream as I approach her chair.
When I reach her,
A bluebird lands on the lattice of the window,
“Were you trying to catch a bird?”
I study the small bird with its light blue feathers,
And soft yellow underbelly that fades into white.
She smiles softly,
“No the wind,”
And as if waiting for those very words to be spoken,
A breeze rushes into the room,
Ruffling the feathers of the small bluebird.
I shift my gaze back toward my mother but she is no longer there,
And I let out a sigh,
It seems that the wind ended up catching her instead.
This happens from time to time when I visit our old home,
I encounter the echoes of my family members,
Visions of whom they once were when we lived here,
And visions of who I wished they had been.
We all live in different places now,
But as I walk through each of these rooms,
My mind often wanders to how life could have been better,
If we had all been different,
If the mistakes of the older generation did not affect the younger,
If we all could have somehow been perfectly kind, humble and strong.
But when I see the visions of my perfect family members,
Sitting at the table,
Reading, eating or playing games,
Smiling and completely at peace,
The wind always whisks them away.
Why does the wind always take away my visions of happiness?
Soft chirping interrupts my thoughts,
And I focus back on the bird,
Meeting its gaze.
Another breeze enters the room,
And this time the bluebird takes flight,
Flying up into the bright blue sky.
As I watch it fly away,
I wonder what would happen if I too let the wind catch me up and away,
What would it look like if I followed the Holy Spirit,
Into a redeemed vision of family,
Not the perfection that I wanted,
But a slow journey into becoming perfect,
Embracing what and who my family currently is and is becoming.
I step up to the window,
Leaning out to search for the breeze.
It comes as I know it will,
Rustling my hair with its movement,
I know that this is a difficult journey ahead,
Because to follow the Holy Spirit in this way,
Begins with forgiveness.