Tag Archives: parents

A prayer for the children of Venezuela

Creating God,

the earth split open in Venezuela

dealing destruction we struggle to comprehend,

filling us with horror and grief.

Still we turn to you.

We pray for those who died.

We pray for those who mourn.

We pray for the wounded.

We pray for the missing,

We pray for first responders.

We pray for medical personnel.

We pray for those who search amid the devastation.

We pray for survivors.

Particularly at this moment,

we pray for the children

who struggle to understand what has happened

who have difficulty sleeping

who remember the fear they felt

who worry about another earthquake.

May they know your presence.

May they experience the love of parents.

May they feel the support of friends and family.

May they receive the kindness of the community.

Guide who seek to care for their children

in this challenging time and difficult circumstance.

Grant them compassion and wisdom

to guide them so that they might care wisely and well.

We pray in Jesus’ name.

Amen.

Inspired by mi hermano Ricardo Corzo Moreno who is in Caracas.

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Life

In a world tattered and torn,
a world battered and worn;

In a world of sorrow and pain,
a world of horror and shame;

In a world where I weep for the evil we do,
a world where I grieve for what sisters and brothers endure;

In such a world,
I give thanks.

In this world,
I give thanks
for hope and faith
for love and grace.

In my world,
I give thanks
for tender mercies and boundless joy,
courage unexpected and strength unforeseen.

In our world,
I give thanks
for a baby’s first cry
and a parent’s first smile.

I give thanks
for life.

23 January 2014
New York, New York

For
Joann, Mike, and Austin
Roja, Joel, and their newborn daughter whose name I will list as soon as they tell me
And all new parents and babies

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Sad and mournful

They lose their fight to hold back tears
as they struggle for the words to say goodbye.
An awkward final embrace, then
a flight attendant gently takes the child’s hand.

At jetway entry, the child turns.
From under a mop of yellow curls,
red-rimmed eyes look where the father stands.
Brave waves exchanged,
the child continues toward the plane.

The father steps to the window,
presses his hands, leans his forehead.
To support himself?
To try to pass through the glass?
Condensate forms underneath his nose.
He stares at the plane as passengers embark.

The jetway retracts,
the plan backs away.
Until it disappears from view,
the father’s fixed gaze follows.
Then, and only then,
he slowly turns,
rubs his eyes,
and leaves the gate.
Alone.

19 July 2011
Gate C38
Denver International Airport

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