March 24: Being a Parent, Total Trust, "A Penny Saved"

You know, being a parent has taught me a lot of things.  Patience.  Selfless love.  Patience,  Trust.  Did I mention patience?

In times of great upheaval in my life, I always come back to how much trust my kids place in me.  Trust in God is sort of the same thing.  This past week, my daughter had car problems at school.  She called me, looking for advice and love and calm.  That's what I gave her.

I understand why many of the metaphors in the Bible revolve around the idea of God being a parent and we being children.  It's that complete and total trust that children place in their mothers and fathers.  It's beautiful and frightening at the same time.

I like being the first person my daughter calls in a crisis.

It means Saint Marty has done his job well.

A Penny Saved

by:  Martin Achatz

My daughter hands me the penny,

Says, Put it in your pocket,

Pressing it into my fingers.

It’s hot, feels like it’s sweating.

Lincoln looks newly elected,

Before Chancelorsville and Shiloh,

Second Manassas and Antietam.

I put it in my pocket, with keys,

A rosary, black-beaded and broken,

Christ’s arm snapped, dangling

From the branch of the crucifix

Like a maple leaf in autumn.

She won’t ask for the penny back,

Trusts me to keep it precious and shiny,

The way she trusts me at night

When I lie beside her in bed,

My hand on her chest, feeling her

Rabbit heart against my fingertips.

Before she was born, in the swell

Of my wife’s belly, those beats sounded

Like gunshots underwater, the steady

Explosion of a cannon miles distant.

When Lincoln’s son Willie died of typhoid,

Lincoln held his shell hand,

Whispered over and over, My poor boy,

As if calling Willie back, begging

Willie’s still heart to return to battle.

Holding the broken and bloody Christ

In her arms, Mary, I’m sure,

Wanted to press her lips to His,

Breathe life into His mouth,

Hold His hand and feel His fingers

Tap like fat drops of rain

On the continent of her palm.

I want to give my daughter’s penny

To Mary, point to the alphabetical halo

Above Lincoln’s head, to the words

“In God We Trust,” remind

Her of those moments with her child,

When He slept beside her

In the dark, trusting her arms

The way a sparrow trusts the sky.