In Case I Die Unexpectedly
a poem
In Case I Die Unexpectedly
for Hildegaard
Always salt your pasta water.
Watch how he treats his mother.
Ask people how you can pray for them,
then stop and pray for them
right then and there,
in a crowded restaurant,
in the grocery aisle,
during donuts before or after church.
Embrace awkwardness, or else
you will miss out on so much.
Don’t chew your nails (like I do).
Don’t open everything with your teeth (like I do).
Don’t always fill the silence. It can be a gift.
Carry the pocket knife your dad will give you,
but don’t forget to take it out of your backpack
before you go to the airport.
Wash your darks and lights separately.
If you find a good peach, give thanks to God.
If you find a good mango, get down on your knees and worship.
Give things away as often as possible. Hold everything
with open hands. Nothing is our own.
Don’t fall for fad diets. Try to eat healthy, but
don’t feel guilty for going to McDonald’s.
There is no such thing as “get rich quick,”
there is only hard work. Go to bed tired.
Put your feet in the water as often as possible:
touch, taste, and see that God is good.
Wake up with hope. Jesus is the same
yesterday, today and forever.
Ive always wondered what I would say if someone asked me, "Who are your favorite writers?" I would say, "Tolkien, Andrew Peterson, Elie Weisel, and Rachel Welcher." Your writing is like sipping something warm and soothing on a sore throat, its Turkish Delight from Narnia, is the wind in the trees when everything is getting ready for bed, its the hand hold... its so so so deeply beautiful, I have no adequate words in the endless selection of words before me... but its something that reaches the soul, speaks over the heart... its a gift.
Rich words for a two year old. And the rest of us.
Don’t die, unexpectedly or otherwise.