The Care and Feeding of Windows
The windows grow with age.
With understanding and time.
They grow as you foster the repairs caused
by other people’s blindness.
They grow in grace,
yours and his,
in the listening to truths that were there all the time
but covered with vines of fear and neglect.
As you do the work and cut the vines to their roots.
as you paint the shutters and Windex the windows.
About this poem.
For most of my youth, my father and I had a love-hate relationship. As we both aged, there was more love than hate.
For a time after my divorce, my kids didn’t think much of me. Today our love is strong. I am blessed by them more than I can express.
The change in both instances came because truth was discovered, on all sides. And more than that, because all of us allowed ourselves to believe that truth and understand the other. Our windows grew and light grew brighter. Not perfect, but always brighter.
Happy Father’s Day,