Blog | Pat Durmon, Poet

Welcoming Strangers

I did not put on makeup today. Just didn’t waste the time or makeup. I have a self-imposed deadline. Focused. Busy. Putting a manuscript together. And it’s not going well. My house, a mess. Not my priority. My husband calls from two doors down the road. “Well, I met the guy who is cleaning the pond tomorrow. He worked all day in Central Arkansas, then drove up here, pulling big equipment. He is worn out. Can you make a meal for him? Will you feed him?” I know I should welcome strangers, so I say, “Okaaaay. When will you guys be here?” “In about five minutes.” We get off the phone, I bite my lip, roll my eyes. Inconvenient. I create stress inside myself by how I think. I recognize this, and s

Whatever Happens

We are in the middle of the story. What is is, but we are not at the end of the story. No more than the hummingbird I’m watching. What triggered this thought was a pileup of people in need of prayers: a friend’s call about an upcoming procedure, a mom puzzling over her daughter’s situation, another friend moving away, a man concerned about money. Worries and suffering. It’s everywhere and logically complicated. No rewind button to make it disappear. Oh my goodness, there were definitely times I’d have pushed such a button to rewind time, go back and do things better, smarter, make everything okay for everybody. So what does it come down to? We are moving forward. Forever forward. We have tod

Seeking Safety

I live in the Ozarks of Arkansas, but my thoughts and prayers have been in Montana and Florida this week. Before that, they were in Texas and Louisiana. It feels like an aching song I cannot get out of my head. Can anyone identify? I know, it’s grief. I am familiar with the feeling. Always like something is broken. To fix it, I have to sit with Jesus. I must remind myself of who I am: blessed child of God, beloved friend of Christ. I look at the computer and see an exodus from Florida, traffic on interstates going north and Irma following. My heart is heavy as I read the posts of people in those long lines. Hurricane Irma looks like a beast, approaching slowly. Probably set on creating chaos

Butterflies Flutter By

I have been intoxicated all summer by wonder-winged butterflies. They bring me so much happiness. What grabs me first is how gorgeous their stained-glass wings are. And I am simply charmed by their swerving and curving in flight. I stand in awe of them. What do I gain from noticing them? Perhaps a bit of solace, a bit of beauty as they float and flutter by in my hurried life. They are real. Through them I can see grace. Their perfectly patterned wings flutter by as they dance drunkenly in a gentle breeze which seems to use them as playpretties. Still, they ballerina. Such ease. Butterflies only live a short life span, but their lives are as full as they can be. To us, they seem to have no wo

The Heart of the Educational System

It's a Sure Sign

Heroes

Welcoming Strangers

Whatever Happens

Seeking Safety

Butterflies Flutter By