In Need of Reminders

The oak bead board glows in the morning sun.
Remnants of Sunday Schools past set on the cabinets.
Arched doors, gothic and warm both sit open.
It is the day after Sunday.

God lives here. That is what we are told.
God lives here. The rest of us have fled,
afraid too much holiness might break us, remake us,
make us know too well

who and what we are. Just how weak and broken
and imperfect. But here you are, needing less the reminder
of what you are not, but the reminder of what you are,
loved.

About this poem. 

One of the amazing things about the past few weeks with cancer surgery and recovery, has been all the notes, cards, calls, emails, comments and expressions of love and care. Humbled is not the word. Surely there is a word that goes beyond humbleness, that mixes the amazement and gratitude I feel. God has been in all your well wishes and prayers and I have felt them in a powerful way.

Thank you,

Tom

PS: The picture is from the church I serve. Rupert United Methodist Church.