Her eulogy stated
her faith was a gift
A gift from whom
I ask myself silently
While the adult baby Jesus
Held in Joseph’s arms
Looks at me with gentle inquiry
His delicate white hand held
In a closed peace sign
Faith constructed from
Years of repetitive memorization
Words with no meaning, amen
Knees begging forgiveness
Doubt’s persistent nagging
Duty to sin’s guilt
Invisibly eating away
Faith hope and love
The greatest is love
Faith in the unbelievable
How does that do any good
Mary looks tired, the hovering
Metal halo over her head
Reminding us virginity is rewarded
Her lonely road begun with a
Visit from an angel then
A journey on a mule
Did her faith make her weary
Stumbling in my rote litany
They’ve changed the words
Since my last genuflection
In unmotivated obedience
To all that is seen and unseen
Always doing right for others
Strength in loss and love
It couldn’t have been easy
Her grace was the gift
Breakfast with Buse 
This one may be my favorite one so far…
LikeLike
It was about Aunt Carol initially and all of our aunts eventually.
LikeLike
Jesus was black just so yo know
LikeLike
The poem has nothing to do with the race of the baby Jesus. The statue in the church depicted a white baby Jesus. It may be you missed the point of this line and probably the entire poem, but thank you for the feedback.
LikeLike
This one sucked me in and was pretty intriguing and became even more so after I read your note Leslie. Just so you know both Steve and I are reading your posts even tho we may not always reply. Great stuff!
LikeLike
Thanks for filling me in about Aunt Carol being the inspiration. Funny how when I know that and reread, there is different meaning and a different visual image in my head….Love reading your morning musings.
LikeLike