Sacramental

Where my treasure is.

Sacramental 

This is my foot washing
I think
As I stoop to tuck toes into socks, 
Socks into boots
Boots into snow pants
An act of futility effective for only a blink
When you do it unto the least of these
You do it unto me

This is my baptism
I laugh
As a tidal wave of overzealous splashing
Escapes the bath tub
The old has gone
The new has come
Washed in a chorus of gasps 
And giggles

If I believed in penance
This would be it
I grumble
As the mirror of a Hot Wheel
Pierces the bottom of my foot
He will strike your heel
Indeed
But you will crush his head

The fruit of the Spirit
Is dehydrated and gelatinous 
Individually packaged and made with 
REAL fruit (juice)
Fruit that will certainly not last 
In this house
You are the vine and we are the branches

This is my kneeling bench
I smile 
As my fingers close over miniature ones
Bedside, joints and hardwood creaking in harmony
May it be for her as it was for him:
And Jesus grew in wisdom, and stature
And favour with God and man

This is my last copper coin
I breathe
Lord, patience, please
My mouth shoves out the words
My heart resists its need for
The urge to shout slips out of my grasp 
And into the offering plate
For where your treasure is 
There your heart will be

This is my worship
I cry
As a fledgling voice drifts down the hallway
And I add mine in a shaky murmur
Jesus loves me this I know
For the Bible tells me so
Through the praise of children and infants 
You have established a stronghold
My enemy falls