Lovingkindness

I've always liked saying the word "lovingkindness."

It feels very King James; it rolls off the tongue with a hint of the exotic flavor of archaic language. Written as one word, it's quite memorable, and as a word person, I rather enjoy it.

I also have some nostalgic attachments to the word. I remember my mom teaching me to sing Pslam 63:3 - "Thy lovingkindness is better than life / Thy lovingkindness is better than life / my lips shall praise thee / thus will I bless thee / I will lift up my hands unto thy name."

But it wasn't until about a year ago that the word really started to mean something to me beyond the quaint combination of descriptor and noun. I started to see why it was written as a single word.

I wrote this poem in mid-July and early September of last year, in a time of being both convicted and comforted, when I started to understand just a little bit more of God's love and care for us, and the word "lovingkindness" began to actually mean something.

Lovingkindness

I’ve been obsessed with the silliest dreams –

            the stupidest schemes

            the most harmful things

I’ve been engrossed in the life without pattern –

            the noise and the clatter

            of things that don’t matter

But I’ve been awakening to all my excuses –

            the mythical muses

            and insincere truces

And I’ve been attempting to wait and be faithful –

            lay down what I long for

            to rest and be thankful

Now I’m finally starting to step out in blindness –

            your song in the silence

            evokes lovingkindness