Modern Magnificat Musings

Modern Magnificat Musings 

Written by Rev. Debra McKnight

 

My Soul magnifies the Lord and dances in the dream of God’s great Love,

     opens eyes to the vulnerable and sets the oppressed at liberty,

          for God looks with favor on the lowly.

 

My soul dreams for a day when a mother’s great worry is getting kids to school on time, 

       scheduling dance class or 

       deadlines for what ever summer camp sets her sweet ones heart on fire. 

                 rather than tear gas, gangs and genocide

                          without one thought to the old echos of poverty, 

                          without one worry about where the next night will be or 

                                 if the food will be enough to nourish a hungry tummy. 

 

My soul dreams for a day when fathers weigh heavy under his words 

          of encouragement and growth, 

          rather than the burden of the ransom they might have to pay 

                  or the risks of a long road to safely or the paper work they need

                          or legal systems build for privilege of some other race, 

                                  some other face, some other religion.  

 

My soul dreams of grandmas who dance and tell stories of peace and prosperity

       Grandmas who breathe grit and whisper, “you can be anything you want to be”

               without one thought to the news of the next school shooting 

                       or brown face gunned down with tax payer dollars or 

                               transgendered teen left broken, battered and abused. 

 

My soul dreams of grandpas who build swing sets and bake good bread, 

         setting out the seeds for the birds of the air, 

                saying, “look close to the wisdom of God’s green earth” 

                         without one moment of worry to the polluted air or 

                                500 year storms coming every five or ten.

 

My soul dreams of aunties and uncles and families made out of friends, 

        gathered to share in hope and in good faith when the health of one is uncertain 

               without one moment spent raising funds, 

                    without one hour lost arguing with insurance or 

                          minute squandered debating a fee.

 

My soul dreams of children crying only for forgotten toys, spilt milk or skinned knees, 

        asking, “Are we there yet” when the travel is by choice and not fear

               and pleading only for another piece of candy or one more book or 

                       one more hug before bed.

 

My soul dreams of earth as it is in heaven, lowly lifted and hungry filled

        My soul sings Mary’s song that the proud, haughty, arrogant and rude

                the selfish and small that looms large in this present hell we make 

                       be transformed, utterly changed, 

                               God’s Love making all things new and 

                                       our hearts making earth as it is in heaven.