Mommy... Where's God?

I've been working through many things lately. I don't quite know where I am, and yet I'm right here very solidly in me. Recently I went for a very tired cross country ski to get out into the wisdom of the woods. To my surprise I ended up doing a full loop of the trails. You could say I was drawn up the hill. As I slowly climbed I could feel my being settle into that familiar peace that comes in the natural world, particularly in the company of these pines.  The thought that I have been on a pilgrimage of sorts drifted into my mind followed by the sweet, warm memory that this poem is about.

 Mommy…. Where’s God?

 I sit uncomfortably
in a house of worship
that is not familiar to me,
my four year old son
in my lap.
He cranes his neck,
looks up at a large, ornate cross
hanging over an alter that
seems so very far away.
His sweet, innocent voice
reaches my ears with
a whisper,
“Mommy… where’s God?”
His wonderful father,
my soulmate,
sits next to my shoulder
holding our
two year old daughter.
He turns to me with
a knowing smile,
 blue eyes twinkling,
an unspoken question of,
“So, how will you answer that one,
my love?"
And, without missing more than
 a few beats
I hug our precious son,
his blue eyes searching my face,
and say,
“God is here, and there,
and everywhere.”
In that moment,
that answer is enough.
And we,
the four of us,
settle into the love
that binds us
just a little bit more.

Sarah Carlson
March 18, 2021

A Pandemic Year

 Shared with gratitude to MaineHealth and the staff of Franklin Memorial Hospital, along with the many others who contributed to the opportunity to receive a COVID-19 vaccine.

A Pandemic Year
Through the Heart of a Teacher

Friday, March 13, 2020.
After a tense week
trying to appease the fears
of fourth grade minds and hearts,
she walks out the door
of her beloved classroom.
Little does she know
that she will never go back
to teaching as she had known it
for 30 years.
There begins a time
of losses and gains,
 unease and sureness,
confusion and certainty,
and everything in between –
sometimes all at once.

Saturday, March 13, 2021.
After a tense few days
 appeasing the fears
of her own mind and heart,
she walks into a door opened
by science and leadership.
Emotions stirring,
she is met by volunteers
smiling behind masks,
gentle support in their eyes.
Joining a smooth flow
of veteran educators
she is ushered into a large room
staffed by compassionate medical workers.
An explanation,
a pause for questions,
a quick jab
that she hardly feels,
a time to sit and make
sure her body accepts
the vaccine.
Taking a relieved and grateful breath,
she walks out another door,
hope and appreciation
filling her heart.

Sarah Carlson
March 14, 2021

Unbounded

Unbounded

The losses and stresses
of my young life
took a seat
way in the back
as I was obscured
by the needs of others.
Still, I know love when I feel it.
The brightness,
the rightness of my light
was surrounded,
almost encapsulated,
by dense, distressing darkness.
Still, it shines.
In my past
when I was hurting
or needing help,
I ran headlong
into a wall of anger and disdain.
Still, I find my way to healing.
I lost so much on a May day in 2002.
There one minute, gone the next.
Still, here I am –
tender, radiant, lively me.
Energetic, fun-loving,
go-out-for-a-ski-
even-though-it’s-13-below-
giggle-at-frozen-eyelashes-
and-frosty-hair me.
I’m right here
learning to relax into
the dawning joy
 of being unbounded.

Sarah Carlson

March 2, 2021