Thursday, 1 November 2012

All Saints


For all saints 
Really, God? 
We're all in that communion of saints? 
All belonging to that unbroken line? 
All bound together? 
Seriously? 
So, my great grandfather, with his collarless shirts 
and starched collars that he wore on a Sunday 
and my great Uncle Charlie with the brylcreamed hair  
who wore braces on his trousers 
and my great aunt Nancy with the brown lace ups 
who always smelled of mothballs 
and wee auntie Annie who always wore a pinny 
with a duster in the pocket 
and a hairnet over her curlers 
except on a Sunday 
they're all saints 
along with old Mrs Brown 
who sits at the back now 
always with a wee sweetie  
to keep the wee ones quiet 
and young Kylie who takes the youth group 
and is the height of fashion 
and even old grumpy Bob who's always complaining 
and that wee devil Ross 
who winds up all the other kids 
you're telling me that they 
are all saints? 
How can we ever worship you 
when this sanctuary must be filled  
with such a babble 
of voices 
all worshipping you through the ages 
And even more scary 
you're telling me 
that I have to love them 
because they're all part 
of your one, big, happy family? 
Come on, God - give us break. 
Please! 

2 comments:

Beth said...

Allow me to be presumptuous:

"That's right." --God

:-)

liz said...

God is infuriatingly predictable at times! ;
:)

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