Sunday, May 07, 2017

The Loving Spoon (An Original Poem)

The Loving Spoon

This morning I poured honey into my favorite spoon,
the thick, heavy silver one with words engraved in the bowl.
The honey filled up the space, covering the words like a tiny
ocean or a miniature great lake washing up on shore
and covering words someone has written in the sand.
“You are loved.”

That’s what the spoon says, and my imaginary shore.
I don’t even remember who gave us the spoon, though
I have tried to narrow it down so I can send a note
of thanks. I know that it came with a meal, which came
in the middle of my ongoing cancer battle. That must
have been a hard part of the fight, though I don’t recall
because they all feel hard. But any time people start sending
food, I know I must be in an extra exhausted season.
Someone sent us a meal from a company that makes
meals for people who can’t easily make them
for themselves, and whoever ordered it also ordered
the spoon. And whoever they are, I am deeply thankful
because every time I pull the spoon from the drawer
I am confronted with an inconvertible truth, that nothing,
not even months of debilitating illness that makes me
so road-weary I could sit down and weep, can change.
“You are loved.”

I have heard of loving cups, those two-handled cups
of old that got passed around banqueting halls for
people to share the drink inside, a sort of echo
of what happens weekly at the communion rail.
But I have never owned a loving spoon,
a shining silver spoon that helps preach the gospel
daily to my heart, as does the honey I drip down
into the spoon’s curved bowl, reminding me in every
golden drop how sweet are the words of the Lord,
sweeter than the drippings of the honeycomb.
So in case you need to hear them too, I lift my spoon
that drips with honey in your direction, before I
direct the spoon towards my cup of hot tea (which,
like an enchanted ocean, sends waves over the words
but reveals them again, still intact) and then
direct the words of this poem in the hopes
that whoever reads it will throw open the windows
of their heart and hear the sweet, sweet words:
“You are loved.”

(EMP, 5/7/17)


Don said...

My heart! Thank you, Beth. It was good to be reminded today.

Beth said...

You are quite welcome! I think these are words we all need to hear...and trust...often!

Still feeling so blessed that we got to see you and Susan!