A well-lived year is like well-worn boots Filled up with memories grounded in roots Sprouting, growing in all the right places Changing, evolving, transforming spaces
Boots worn laid in waste Till nature took ‘em over Unexpectedly
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‘Twas the night before Christmas that Jesus returned All through the universe, not a sound was heard Not a creature stirred, not even a mouse There was half-an-hour’s silence in the Father’s house (Revelation 8:1)
My children reluctantly crawled into bed I tucked them in snugly with a kiss on each head No one said a prayer, and no one was aware That the second coming of Jesus was awfully near
I sat on the sofa, exhausted and tired My favorite show I must watch before I retire As soon as it’s finished, I’ll read the Bible And say a quick prayer, if I’m still able
When out from the east arose such a clatter I sprang to my feet to see what was the matter I raced to the window in a lightning flash Tore open the louvers, and lifted the sash
When what to my wondering eyes should appear But ten thousands of angels proclaiming: “Jesus is here!” Jesus is here? In spite of myself, fear drove me away I wasn’t prepared for this to be the day
Jesus had the Book of Life held in His hand With a thundering voice He called the name of every redeemed one: “Now Mary … now Joseph … now Ruth … where’s Esther? And David … and Dorcas … come on John …where’s Peter?”
No! That can’t all be You still haven’t called me I cried, and wept, and pleaded with Him “Look again—please—my name must be within”
I looked into His eyes, how they narrowed with pain and sorrow As His nail-pierced hand pointed me to my darkest tomorrow “Depart from me, I know you not”, I heard Him sadly say Condemned. No more time to seek forgiveness, I sadly walked away
Then I saw the condemned running to and fro To hide from Him seated upon the majestic throne Their horrid screams penetrate the hollow night They were caught in a dreadful, inescapable fright
Had I not been told, I would not believe The looming, ghastly and frightful scene The whole earth began to heave and shake Great mountains moved by a mighty quake
The bowels of the sea moaned and groaned Sending shivers through an already petrified crowd The lost continued to curse their plight As one by one they were slain by the radiant light
They slept engulfed in death’s deep slumber Undisturbed by the trumpets and a voice so tender It was the voice of Jesus as He summoned the just: “Awake! Arise My children! Time to shake off the dust!”
Into their tombs glorious beams find their way Awaking each with a gentle touch and a sway And one by one they came up from the grave Standing face to face with their Savior of Grace
As quickly as a wink they were all changed Up, up and away they swiftly flew out of range Then I heard Jesus exclaimed ere He rose out of sight: “I’m taking My children home where there’ll be no more night!”
His children. His children did not include me For I had practiced “religion” to a T Squandering salvation gift He gave on the cross And now my soul was eternally lost
I cried in despair as Christ disappeared from my sight If only I knew this would have been the night I would have let go of religious obsessions And brought before the Lord all my sins in confession
If nothing else from this poem fell on your ear Believe me Jesus’ coming is quite near NOW is the time for you to walk in His way Not sooner or later, but right now—today!
Though this poem was a dream, soon it will be The day when Jesus’ return we’ll see Repentance then will be too late Won’t you enter now through mercy’s gate?
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Let everything Let everything that has Let everything that has breath
Breathe Breathe in gratitude Exhale praise
Life Life can play hard sometimes Sucker punches of sickness, hurt Pain that cannot be covered with bandaid or fixed with poetry And just when you think you’re in the game of better plays Life knocks the wind out of you leaving you gasping Making your lungs appreciate the taste of air And it’s precisely on those days when you should
Breathe Breathe in gratitude Exhale praise
So Come along with me on a high climb Up the limbs of life’s “poetree” Sit high upon its lofty branches See above the strife See life See life the way the Creator intended
For He could have painted our home black and white and we’d have never known A shack for a home would have been just fine Instead He gave us a mansion—a globe—wrapped in splendor
With just the bat of His eyelashes, nature jumped in place He suspended the sky like a curtain, secured stars in their sockets, ignited the sun like a fire-ball and told the ocean you can only come this far
Did He have to give the flowers fragrance and the mountains lofty peaks? Was He required to put stripes on the zebra, hump on the camel or make the parrots speak?
No But He did it So my heart stops My jaw drops in awe And my soul erupts like a volcano Lava of praise cascades from within Release Flow Let go, and
Breathe Breathe in gratitude Exhale praise
True There aren’t enough words I can recite to heal all the pain you feel But welcome the rain of surrender, it will wash away every pain, every hurt, if you let it Then bask—bask in the sunshine of God’s favor Sing aloud His praise Raise high His beautiful name
And The next time a sunrise steals your breath or a meadow of flowers leaves you speechless Remain that way Say nothing Listen as He whispers: “Do you like it? I did it just for you”
So Come along with me on a high climb Up the limbs of life’s “poetree” In gratitude let the depth of your soul rings the refrain
And Let everything Let everything that has Let everything that has breath
Breathe Breathe in gratitude Exhale praise
Afterword: My church commissioned a “thankful” piece for thanksgiving service and this was what I wrote and recited. It’s a miracle that we BREATHE!
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There’s a popular TV ad in the US for the campaign of an accounting network, BDO, which has a tagline: “People who know, know BDO”.
Catchy, isn’t it?
This may be true for being in the know about accounting. But, if you want to be in the know about LIFE, where do you go!?
Where do you go in this age of distressing global events, reactive media conversations, alternative facts, misinformation, and gaslighting?
Where do you go when lies are elaborate while truth is disputed—being bracketed and experienced in questioning “air quotes”.
Where do you go when lies trump facts?
Through it all you may be left cynical. You may be wondering what and who can be trusted to guide your life’s course.
There is a book that is specifically designed to provide basic, yet essential, instructions for living life in-the-know, life in-the-now, and life-in-the-forever.
Yes, there is such a book!
It’s written in love, by Love—a love letter from a Lover to His beloved.
It’s a compilation that contains promises for every situation we may encounter as we do life.
It’s also a guide, and a treasure trove of hope, love, and comfort.
It’s relevant in every season, in every century, in every generation—it never gets old, it’s always trending.
It’s been tested, tried and proven to be history’s most powerful, relevant and life-changing collection—66 books, yet all interlinked as one.
It’s a world-best-seller filled with intriguing miracles, scary prophecies, and real-life compelling stories of soulmate love, redemption, deception, family drama, civil unrest, war, reconciliation, world leaders’ rise and world leaders’ fall.
It’s classified in two periods marked by the life and death of its protagonist who just happens to also be its mastermind—it was all by design—divided in the Old Testament, that’s the period before Christ; and the New Testament, the period after Christ.
Its basis is to reveal His character—God—the Way, the Truth, the Life.
Its raison d’être is to give us Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth.
It’s God’s Word—the B.I.B.L.E.!
If you are seeking to distinguish what is truth and what is true—what is true about you, true about people, true about the world, true about the past/the present/the future, and true about God—give the Bible a chance or another chance.
It will reveal that truth is not “what” but “Who”.
And Truth/God is immutable—He’s neither susceptible to or capable of change. (Malachi 3:6) You can trust the never changing God to guide your life course, and you can get to know Him and His life instructions through His word—the Bible.
So, along the lines of BDO’s tagline: The people who know God, know life!
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As a kid, did you ever hurl these words at a bully or some kid who was being mean to you: “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words shall never hurt me”.
It was like your form of retaliation, wasn’t it? But, did saying those words help you feel any better? Did saying those words help you avoid physical retaliation? Did saying those words take away the sting of the hurtful words?
Probably not!!
How about this age-old advice on anger management: “when angry, count to 10 before you speak”. Does that work!?
Probably not!!
Sticks and stones … and the slap that was heard around the world!!!
Now, I do not condone or tolerate violence in any of its form. So, let me be clear—Will Smith slapping Chris Rock was wrong. Period!!
That widely publicized slap had me thinking more about the old rhyme “sticks and stones” and the power of words.
Something in the words Chris Rock used in that joke—a joke made in poor taste, I’d say—triggered Will Smith and angered him to the point that he apparently lost all sense of reasoning. There was no counting to 10 and beyond. There was no reciting of a rhyme. Those words were like sticks and stones and apparently they hurt.
Words are powerful.
In this case they were cloaked in a joke, wielded like a weapon and when they reached their intended target they cut real deep. They hurt. It’s like the Bible says:
A brother who has been insulted is harder to win back than a walled city, and arguments separate people like the barred gates of a palace.
It’s a little member of the body but boy is it mighty—it’s taken down nobles, it’s taken down countrymen, and it’s taken down celebrities.
The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body, sets the whole course of one’s life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.
Whether tears are as a consequence of joy or sorrow, they speak volumes—even more than words can say.
As I mentioned in last week’s Shabbat Shalom post, I was writing it from my own heart experience. What I didn’t say was that it was written with tears.
(You may read that post, “Shabbat Shalom: comma-but-God” 👉here.)
Yes, I do mean to say “with” tears.
The many reactions that last week’s Shabbat Shalom post evoked is testimony to this—tears have the power to trigger human connection. And God uses tears to connect human experiences for healing and restoration.
Humans are the only species born totally incapable of helping ourselves. At birth and in the early stages of life we are vulnerable and physically unequipped to deal with anything on our own. Instead, we cry to signal our need for help.
As adults, we oft times face issues and problems that are beyond our ability to cope, at least temporarily. And, in those instances it’s as if we’re babies again. And, we cry. Emotional tears say: “I’m vulnerable. In this moment I’m beyond my own capacity to help myself. I need help. I need you.”
Tears have a voice.
The very essence of being human, is the ability to cry emotionally, and on the other hand being able to respond to the emotional tears of another.
In writing last week’s post with tears, though I didn’t say it, the tears actually spoke through. It triggered connection and generated the most deeply personal responses which came not only through the website but to me, personally, as SMSes and voice notes as well.
Before last week’s Shabbat Shalom post, I had written over 350 other posts on this blog. But never one written with tears.
So the reactions to this post made me realize that tears when shed from intense emotions, will not return empty, but will reap a harvest.
Tears have a harvest.
The Psalmist David says it this way—God collects our tears and bottles them.
David didn’t pull the concept of bottling tears from thin air. No. It was a tradition of his time and one which dates back to almost 3,000 years. A tear bottle, or a lachrymatory, (from the Latin lacrima, ‘tear’) is a small vessel in which mourners are said to have collected their tears.
Going back to the concept of God bottling our tears—as I mulled over all the responses from last week’s post, and contemplated on the reference to God bottling our tears, two object lessons stood out for me which I’d like to share with you today.
Lesson I: Tears cannot be collected from a distance.
God is deeply concerned about us. When we hurt, when we cry, He takes note of every hurt and collects and bottles every drop of tear. And I think it’s because our tears take our Father—our DaddyGod—back to the point of our deepest vulnerability. He sees us in a state of baby-like-ness which evokes that God-to-human connection, and He draws near.
Now, I don’t think God actually has a collection of bottles. But, what I think David was alluding to when he wrote this, was the remembrance of God. And in His recollection, God redistributes our tears to water the heart-soil of others who are hurting from a similar pain. And He then opens opportunities for us to share from our point of pain to the point of restoration in others.
Whether it be that He influences the mind of a blogger to write from her heart-pain or He directs a reader to share, starting a chain reaction of heart restoration—whatever it is, God uses tears to trigger the human-to-human connection.
Tears, in deed, cannot be collected from a distance.
Lesson II: Tears beget harvests.
The bottling process has one very clear objective. In the case of wine (which was the first example that came to mind), the objective of bottling is primarily to protect the wine from oxidation for as long as possible. In simple terms, oxidation iswhen oxygen combines with an element and changes its appearance.
The central theme in all the responses to last week’s Shabbat Shalom post was this: the message came at just the right time. Each person from a different experience, yet each connected to the post to the extent to which it spoke to their specific need.
No tear is lost. They are bottled—being protected by God from oxidation until it’s time for them to reap a harvest.
Every tear is a story—big, small, or in-between—that God takes note of and that He remembers. And He releases them on the wings of oxygen. Oxygen is the life-supporting component of air. When God releases your story, the process of oxidation changes the appearance of your story to mirror the need of the intended recipient. And in so doing, the tears of your one story can speak to the hurt of so many others. Why? Because tears beget harvests.
I believe that when tears “speak”, that’s God!
For us there is no way to number the myriad things that cause us to shed tears. Not so for God. He knows every cause and He is the cure.
Not only does God sing and dance over us in the upbeat times. But, because of the caring loving parent that He is, He keeps track of our downbeat times, and He finds creative ways to ensure our tears reap their harvest.
Reflection
Last week I wrote to you with tears from a “comma” moment—a pause at a juxtaposition between the angst I was feeling and the “but God” intervening that’s in the unfolding.
Having experienced how my tears spoke to and watered the heart-soul of so many others, today I write to you still from a “comma-but-God” life-place, but with these assurances from God:
Shabbat Shalom. May you find your own assurances that God is intimately concerned with every aspect of your life. He’s equally involved in your joy-times as He is in your sorrow-times. It may be hard to see it sometimes, but trust that He extends His graciousness and compassion by intervening against the challenges of your life at just the right times.
When your tears speak from sorrow, hurt or pain—it doesn’t matter how big or small, how trivial or important—God listens and He wants to intervene. I hope you’ll let Him.
A collection of writing by Dominic Riccitello — intimate conversations, personal essays, and poetic reflections on relationships, loss, and self-discovery.
Poems & More 