Quest

Since my parents moved across the country, I have been coming to new understandings of what home is to me. God has come with me in this journey, carrying me through with His love, and in doing so, showing me to my answers. In your quests for home, may He do the same.

God bless,
Morgan
(If you are interested in other reflections on how God has worked in my life during the journey of my family’s move last year, see my 15-poem collection starting here: Wings Will Come: Journey)

“Quest”

home is a question mark
I am chasing with new wings,
seeking to know what it cradles
within its comfort and what hand I have in
shaping it. peace is its quiet sister
in flight beside it, elusive as a gray moth
in morning mist, alighting with a secret
but fading into motion again before I
can scoop it into my palm. a current moves
beneath all of us in the journey, and I know
it is the answer to the question mark and
the resting place for the moth. For me,
it is the push and pull from one understanding
into the next, the beat of my wings
in flight.

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Quest by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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Lighthouse Path

This is a poem to those who are grieving, and the many who surround and support them. Together, we will walk our way to God’s peace.
 
God bless,
Morgan
 

“Lighthouse Path”
 
You tuck your pain behind brave smiles
      like a shattered window behind a curtain.
I’ve been looking, but I haven’t found words for you.
      I stand nearby feeling like a lighthouse
with a broken lamp. Meanwhile, you’re
         out in the black bay where I can’t reach.
You will make it to shore in time, and I will
         meet you on the sand. I still won’t have words,
but I saw the path through the wilderness from up
          in the lighthouse, and I can walk
beside you on the way home.

 
 
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Lighthouse Path by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Reminders

This is a poem for my mom, who taught me so much about what love is. This was written for Mother’s Day the year she moved to Arizona.
God bless,
Morgan
 
“Reminders”
 
as you step onto the desert way,
you leave lessons
like painted handmade beads
I string into deepest memory.
 
They are reminders:
to love all the people around me,
no matter what they look like
or who they are,
to keep an open home,
dig deep roots of faith,
fear no doubts,
always ask questions
and know where
to look up the answers,
to ask forgiveness
and to give it,
find good stories
and live them,
be myself,
strive for my dreams,
seek adventure,
keep learning, and
to stand up,
stand strong.
 
The spun threads through each
reminder gleam timeless silver:
your pride in me
your welcoming arms
your overflowing love
 
 
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Reminders by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Wings Will Come: Journey – Part 14 “The house will fill again”

This poem is about the first day my brother and I were alone in the family house, which we would be renting from our parents as they moved to Arizona. It was a surreal day, but we promised ourselves that however empty the house felt now, we would work to fill it with the same love and hospitality that our parents had in their many years there. Sometimes God asks us to stay behind to be the new light.
 
Next week, I conclude the story of my family’s move and God’s goodness in the change in the fifteenth poem of my collection, “Wings Will Come: Journey.”
 
God bless,
Morgan
 
“The house will fill again”
The first day
 
hello, empty house.
we do not want to face you yet
but here we are.
 
we come back from the airport
confused, just waiting
to see Dad at his office desk
working too early already
or Mom bent over her sewing machine.
every hour is another rain shower,
but we push through.
 
we build and move,
and pray and learn.
 
the house will fill again.
 
together, brother to sister,
we promise that we will
keep the invisible spirit of the house
alive: open doors and safe haven,
a legacy of hospitality our family
embedded into the foundation
of our house and our hearts.
 
Come to the nest
where we keep safe
as we learn our wings.
 
 
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The house will fill again by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Wings Will Come: Journey – Part 11 “Just Us”

My brother drove west with my father to help him get settled in my parents’ new house in Arizona. After a few weeks, I flew out to meet my brother for our friends’ wedding in New Mexico, after which he and I flew home together. It had been almost a month since we’d seen each other, and the weekend trip in New Mexico was full of catching up and then looking ahead at the last steps of the move. One thing I know for certain is that my brother was one of the greatest blessings God gave me throughout this time. Without his calm, wisdom, faith, and support, I don’t know I would have gotten through. This poem is for Duncan, brother and friend.
 
Next week, I continue the story of my family’s move and God’s goodness in the change in the twelfth poem of my collection, “Wings Will Come: Journey.”
 
God bless,
Morgan
 
 
“Just Us “
To Duncan
 
sandy-bright glare of
New Mexico highway flashes by
while brother and sister
fill the rental car with stories
from East and West,
swapping tales like trading cards.
 
it is just us out here,
rolling on to celebrate
the new beginnings
of our friends in the mountains.
 
it is just us going back.
we don’t feel ready.
we don’t have answers.
in the pitch-black drive
winding out of the mountains
to a morning flight out
we figure one thing:
we are going home.
what that is has changed
and will change.
we are half of our family,
East to their West.
 
Even unready, I
am at least not alone.
we won’t have the answers,
but we will have enough.
We say to each other:
we have gotten this far.
 
brother and sister
take flight home.
what that is has changed
and will change
into new beginnings.
 
 
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Just Us by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Wings Will Come: Journey – Part 4 “For now”

My mom started packing as soon as my dad accepted the job offer that would take my parents and my grandfather across the country to Arizona. The transition from the old status quo of the house to “Box World” was a constant reminder of the change happening around me, and it retaught me a lesson I thought I’d known: the home with which God blessed me is not in the building, but in the people by whom I have always been surrounded with love and grace.
 
Next week, I continue the story of my family’s move and God’s goodness in the change in the fifth poem of my collection, “Wings Will Come: Journey.”
 
God bless,
Morgan
 
“For now”
To Mom
 
each time I step
into another room of the house,
another familiar piece is
missing. your hands move quickly,
snatching the clutter of knick-knacks
off shelves and tabletops. When I blink,
the statues and ornaments and little
pictures have vanished into packing paper
and cardboard boxes.
 
it is this piecemeal transition that tricks me.
I prop up yet on
my heart in an open locket I know
I’ll have to give away someday.
 
as the boxes pile higher over the furniture,
shadowing windows and the old ways,
I realize no knick-knack matters,
the boxes become the new familiar
because it is you and your love and
generosity that fill the house,
covering boxes and empty shelves.
you are still home
for now.
 
 
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For now by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Bakerwoman God

This poem was inspired by a list of “Images of God” from Schaffran and Kozak’s book “More Than Words” and my pastor, Rev. Palmer’s, insights on the image.

God bless,
Morgan
 
“Bakerwoman God”
 
the bakerwoman knows
it’s work to make what’s good
on earth
 
it’s a long afternoon baking
in the kitchen heat to fill the house
with warm scents of fresh
bread like a welcome-home hug
when you walk through the door
 
it wears out arms and cramps wrists
to knead flour and eggs and yeast
together, and it takes
long-practiced hands to know when
dough is right for its transformation
 
it takes patience and good eyes
to see a sticky mix through the baking
to the golden conclusion
 
it’s wisdom to know where to send
the bread and to know who needs
its energy and comfort
 
it’s abundant love to give it
away and abundant joy to watch
the loaf feed love to thousands
 
it’s work to make what’s good
on earth,
the bakerwoman knows
 
 
Reference:
Schaffran J, Kozak P. Images of God in: Schaffran J, Kozak P. More than words: prayer and ritual for inclusive communities. Meyer Stone Books: Oak Park, IL; 1998. p27.
 
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Bakerwoman God by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.