Amy Boucher Pye

Tag: waiting

  • Holy Saturday: A day of waiting

    The alleluias are still buried, and Christ isn’t yet risen. We wait. We stand with others who are living in a dark tunnel of pain and questions, all the while hoping, praying, and loving.

    We wait.

    Come, Lord Jesus.

  • Waiting – a poem

    Waiting. We all do it, like it or not. Sometimes the waiting is tinged with celebratory anticipation, such as for the birth of a baby. Often it’s surrounded in heartache, with echoes of, “How long, Lord?” Sometimes it surrounds the mundane, such as being stuck in a stifling Tube carriage waiting to exhale.

    What are you waiting for?

    The sweat
    I can feel
    Dribbling
    Down my back

    I can do
    Nothing
    Can’t dab it
    Can’t swab it
    Have to let it slide
    Trickle
    Dribble
    Down my neck
    And my back

    I hold myself in
    Trying
    Wishing
    To make myself smaller

    One arm above me
    Clutching the handrail
    The other hanging
    Laden with bags

    I suck in my breath
    Waiting
    Counting the stops
    Feeling the sweat

    Closed in around me
    To the left
    To the right
    In front of
    And behind me
    People

    One tall and foreboding
    One behind me, unseen
    But pressing against me
    In the crush
    The mass of humanity
    In this metal container

    How long, I wonder
    How long
    The stops come
    And they go
    And finally
    A few leave
    At Green Park

    Some space
    To air out
    To breathe
    To exhale

    And at last I exit
    At last I leave
    The final walk home
    I suck in the air
    London air
    How fresh,
    I know not
    But sweet
    To me

    © 2016 by Amy Boucher Pye

     

    This is part of the synchroblog on waiting, to celebrate the release of Those Who Wait: Finding God in Disappointment, Doubt and Delay by Tanya Marlow – out now. See more here and link up to the synchroblog here.

  • An Advent Poem

    Photo by iProzac found on flickr
    Photo by iProzac found on flickr

    Regular followers of this blog (love ya, Dad!) will note that I’ve been silent since Thanksgiving. Advent can be a shockingly busy time, which is ironic I know. Regular service here will resume in January, but here’s an Advent poem I recently came across, which I wrote in 1997. It’s admittedly on the twee side, but written with heartfelt devotion.

    A young virgin years ago
    Looked up and beheld a sight:
    An angel, clothed in white
    Resplendent to view; cloaked in light.
     
    With greetings this angel came
    With blessing to bestow on Mary.
    But troubled and fearful was she
    O what can this angel verily mean?
     
    Fear not, dear Mary, said he,
    For the Lord is truly with you.
    You will be with child and bear a son,
    And the name you are to call him is Jesus.
     
    This son will be great indeed
    He will be called the Son of the Most High.
    Taking the throne of his father David,
    He will reign forever; his kingdom will not end.
     
    Mary listened and pondered anew.
    How could what the angel said be true?
    For a young virgin, so pure, she remained;
    Though betrothed, no man knew she.
     
    With grace these concerns were answered:
    The Holy Spirit, Gabriel said, will come upon you;
    And the power of the Most High will overshadow you.
    You will bear a child who is holy.
     
    O Mary, Gabriel cried, believe me!
    Your child the son of God will be.
    And he will reign over the house of Jacob
    For with God, nothing impossible can be.
     
    With humble heart Mary believed and knew,
    That what the angel said must certainly be true.
    The Lord’s servant I am, said she,
    May it be to me as you have said.
     
    O blessed are they who believe
    That what the Lord has said will be.
    Come, rejoice in the Lord with me;
    Leap for joy and glorify our Savior!
     
    © 1997 Amy Boucher Pye