The Advent God is Brown

Kittens tumble under the Christmas tree,
Black, white, gray or orange
Born to a calico mother.
Cats see no difference because of hue.
Why are we not more like these furry creatures
And see only the humanness of others
Not the skin tint passed by generations?
What color were you, Lord?
Not the pale hue of northern climes.
In a land scorched by the sun
You were neither white nor black.
We cannot choose the color of our skin,
But you could.
Why do we forget?

Photo by adrigu

The Danger Outside

My cats are confined within my home because the house next door has been sprayed for termites. Poison is all around. The cats stare in longing out the window, then pace and plead with me for freedom. I know that such freedom would be dangerous, perhaps fatal.

Are we like my cats,
Uncomprehending of the dangers outside,
Outside of God's commands?
Do we tread God's will with impatience,
Sure that life would be better if we were released?
I believe that I must answer yes.
What seems like freedom
Leads to death.
The poison of the world
Steals our soul
Little by little
Until we are dead inside,
Until there is no love for others,
Only for ourselves.
Our prayers are pleas
For what seems to us the best.
God knows to answer as we want
Would place danger in our path through life.
Let me act as one made in the image of God.
Let me understand God's will.

Photo by Vieux bandit