The Question

Out of the blue, whilst playing cards and being frivolous,
You surprise with me with your question-
Am I different, Mummy?
Such a serious question
Tossed in the middle of a light-hearted moment-
Like stepping on a land-mine
During a carefree walk across a field.
Huge. That’s what it is.
And complicated too.
I stop maneuvering my cards
And realize I have stopped breathing too.
Four words. Four ordinary words in that question of yours, child.
And yet I, articulate adult that I am, cannot find even one word
With which to furnish you an answer.
Yes- breath and game have paused whilst I think hard about how to answer
The question that presses down on my chest, stealing my voice and humor.
Where did it come from, that question? Why now?
Then I notice you are still playing the game; you are still breathing
And you have lost none of the good humor you had when the game began.
And then it hits me. You are ok with yourself.
You accept yourself. You even like yourself
(How many of us can say that?)
You are just trying to make sense of it all
And need to know, as a matter of fact,
Am I different?
And in that moment, the answer flows joyously, freely from my heart
Yes son- you are different…….thank God.
(copyright Jane Grant-Abban2009)

Him and Me

Fragile and tough, smooth and rough, whisper and shout, tender and gruff,
Chalk and cheese, hot and cold, noisy and quiet, timid and bold,
Night and day, circle and square, this and that, here and there,
Short and long, tame and wild, trust and doubt, adult and child,
Hit and miss, cry and laugh, cash and check, shower and bath
Dusk and dawn, second and hour, peace and war, sweet and sour,
Big and small, fire and water, soft and hard, son and daughter,
Angry and calm, lost and found, leg and arm, sky and ground
Then and now, high and low, stop and go, fast and slow
Different…so different……so very different
But- together?
More……....much more……….So much more …………than apart.
(Copyright Jane Grant-Abban2009)

Tears In A Bottle

Dedicated to my painter-friend Sandie Swenson
(Psalm 56:8)


You said
“I’ll catch your tears in a bottle
And number each one.”
I reply-

Is there room for such a flood?
Will each tear be understood?
Will each one explain the pain,
Or will it just return again?
Will I walk and will I stand
If I reach out and take Your hand?
Will my giving tears to you
Restore the joy that I once knew?
Do you know and understand
The tear-filled bottle in Your hand?
You surely do, for you see all,
And understand my wordless call.

Copyright Jane Grant-Abban, Jan 09

Light On Long Lake

This is Long Lake at the back of our home. We share it with many others, yet it is 'our lake.' The frozen expanse covered with snow is stunning. Somehow it becomes even more 'ours' when we can walk on it! In doing so, we get to see it from different perspectives, and explore it more fully. Life's like that. A change of season can seem harsh, and we may not always embrace it at first. But when we yield to the season of life we are in, we find ourselves 'walking on water' - doing and seeing things in new and different ways.

Around The Next Bend