Rhoda’s story

Peter’s at the door! (Artist: C.M.B.)

My fluster undeniable
they labelled me emotional
but it was unbelievable—
Simon was at the door!

With death sentence official
our prayers were sacrificial
could answer be incredible
he with us as before?

Your hope is artificial
makes hearing prejudicial
As joke it is despicable.
He knocked and called some more.

It’s him, identifiable
a wonder inexplicable.
It’s time to end this spectacle
and let the praises soar!

My bent my be impractical
your head-shakes justifiable
but still I’m beneficial
—I let him in the door.

© 2017 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)

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Prompt – Inspiration:
This poem (written in 2013) was inspired by the story of Peter’s miraculous release from prison and Rhoda’s reaction when he arrived at Mary’s house (Acts 12:5-16).

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This April I’m celebrating National Poetry Month by posting some not-as-yet published poems from my files, along with what inspired them. If the prompt inspires you to write a poem of your own, you’re welcome to share it in comments. Whether you write or not, thanks so much for dropping by!

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Gratitude (NPM ’16-Day 13)

Join us each week at Spiritual Journey Thursday

I had a lovely experience of gratitude expressed to me last weekend.

A bit of backstory.

Years ago, it became customary for our church’s small groups to discuss Sunday’s sermon in their meetings. The church office provided sermon notes for that. In February of 2011, the pastor responsible for small groups asked me if I would write the notes, which included making up discussion questions and writing a prayer at the end.

Since only a few knew who did them, I got very little feedback. I wasn’t even sure they were being used. When we had a pastoral change in 2014 I thought that maybe the new pastors would release me from my responsibility. But no. The new pastor in charge of adult ministries wanted me to soldier on. So I did.

And I’ve been perfectly fine working in obscurity. I love Paul’s description of the church as a body where each of us plays a part, some visible, some hidden. In fact, I rather liked being a bit hidden—though I did explain to those sitting around me in church Sunday mornings why I brought my laptop and typed furiously through the sermon.

All that changed on Sunday—actually Saturday night, when I got a Direct Message on Twitter from our lead pastor, saying some nice things about those notes, asking me how long I had been doing them, and saying that he was going to encourage their use for his current sermon series. And so on Sunday morning, pastor spilled the beans on me and those notes, and I got a congregation’s worth of applause for five years of note-taking and -making.

It was lovely to get the thanks and recognition. But it also felt awkward—even dangerous (for I know how easily pride creeps in). Plus it was nice when no one knew who was responsible if there were typos or the questions were dumb. That era is over now I guess.

Because I’m writing a poem a day this month—and when you do that, everything you experience becomes potential poem material—the poem below was my piece for last Sunday. I wasn’t going to post it, but then I didn’t have anything suitable for Spiritual Journey Thursday, which seems like the right time to share it. (The form is a triolet.)

Photo: pixabay.com

Gratitude

My name was mentioned today and there was applause
I was thanked and honored for work done backstage.
I’m glad I had no part in this because

my name was mentioned today and there was applause.
Now I’ll have to watch i’s and t’s and avoid faux pas
This incident is a kind of turning the page.

My name was mentioned today and there was applause.
It was nice to get thanked for something done backstage.

© 2016 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)

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This post is linked to Spiritual Journey Thursday, hosted by Holly Mueller at Reading, Teaching, Learning.

james 4:10 1 Corinthians 12:14-26

(The notes I write are now online, in case you’re curious, on this page.)

 

 

How to look for a church

Next to the beginning of the new calendar year, the beginning of September is the time we make the most changes in our lives. The kids start a new school year. All kinds of activities from kids’ soccer to adult classes get underway. If we’ve moved, we’ll be exploring a new neighborhood. If we’ve decided to start attending church or go to a different one, chances are good we’ll make that change in September too.

For those of us who have ever church shopped, we know how crucial those first visits to a church are. When we’re new, we notice things that long time attendees have surely become nose-blind to—from the cliquish clots of people in the foyer to the way the building actually smells.

What I was most sensitive to when I was visiting a new church with the thought of maybe making it our church home was, do these people seem friendly? Would we fit in? And, do I sense God in this place?

In September it’s probably a good idea for those of us who are church old-timers to be on the lookout for new people. Let’s notice them. Let’s greet them with warm smiles and welcome handshakes. Maybe we could even invite them for lunch, remembering how we would have appreciated that when we were new.

Elora Presbyterian Church – Elora Ontario (Photo © 2015 by V. Nesdoly)

My poem is a bit of advice to those newbies:

HOW TO LOOK FOR A CHURCH

Pretend you’re visiting
a family of distant relatives.

Of course you don’t expect
to get an invitation for lunch
and all your social needs met
by a bunch of third cousins.
And it doesn’t matter
that the stairs smell of mildew
and water stains the ceiling
or that amongst themselves
they’re way too happy and loud
and hug a lot.

What may catch you by surprise
even make you want to return
is how the Father you share
meets you there
puts His gentle but persistent hand
under your chin
to raise your face
and meet His eyes.

© 2015 by Violet Nesdoly

This post is linked to “Spiritual Journey Thursday” hosted by Holly Mueller at her blog Reading, Teaching, Learning where this week’s theme is “church.” Drop by and follow the links to what others have to say about “church.”

 

The Custodian

The Custodian

The coffee cups we take into the sanctuary
she sees as spots to scrub from the carpet later.
On youth night she braces herself
for toilets plugged with paper towel
sinks clogged with toilet paper.
The inconspicuous, numberless door
in the hallway we’ve never really noticed—
she has the key to it
could find Pinesol, rolls of tissue
jugs of antibacterial soap and Windex
without stumbling over the industrial octopus
that splays its floppy hoses
all over the floor.
She knows who ambles in
bleary-eyed and tousle-headed
for prayer on Tuesday morning at 6:00
and on her 1:00 p.m. round remembers
to check between sofa cushions in the café
for crunched napkins and balls of plastic wrap.
On Alpha night she is there with her bucket
to clean up kitchen spills and bathroom floods.
After the funeral tea she appears out of nowhere
to deal with the  overflowing garbage.
She comes with her key anytime to unlock any door.
Always kind, smiling, cheerful helpful, willing
she is the servant of all.
She is the greatest of all!

– Violet Nesdoly (© 2013 – All Rights Reserved)

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So far my Poem-A-Day challenge  has been going well. The poem above was yesterday’s write, inspired by Robert Brewer’s Poetic Asides prompt for Day 6:

“For today’s prompt, write a poem from the perspective of a person who either works at and/or visits a place you like to visit (that’s not yourself). For instance, a fry chef at the Krusty Krab, a bouncer at a nightclub, waitress at a restaurant, etc.”

This post is part of Poetry Friday, hosted today by Diane Mayr at Random Noodling.