Lost

The child was confused;
The prose made no sense to him.
And then he had a moment
"It's poetry!"
He understood the prophets.

And the girl was enamored,
No longer frightened
By the teacher who stole her cell phone.
The idea of kashrut seemed interesting.
"I want to try that!" she said.

The work is long, and the day short.
The work is good, so good.

The texts are hard
And filled with so much to tell.
My brain has so much to learn.
If I could only open it like a jar
With funnel atop
And pour everything inside.
But that would be too easy, too quick, too superficial.

So I'm in for the long haul.
Five years they tell me; plus a lifetime.
It's so worth it.

The work is long, and the day short.
The work is good, so good.

I believe the theology. I soak up the ideas.
The history puzzles me,
"What were they thinking?"
But I chug along.

Chug chug, chug chug.

And then I start to doubt.
I don't find a reality that fits to the theoretical.
I see apathy and superficiality all around.
I strive for excellence in action,
I don't find it.

And so I wonder. I question.
Where am I?

Comments

You're right where you should be.

Love,

Mom