Blessing

a poem by Dan Erickson

Our friend and fellow missionary Dan Erickson wrote this poem for a missions conference early in 2017 and read it at Hatfield's missions conference this afternoon. We are sharing it with his permission.

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Blessing

We are goofy, unstylish, odd. 
Most of us.

We drive the worst cars 
if we have cars. 
We wear what fits, 
we fit in, eventually, 
      almost. 
We eat what is put in front of us, 
      and find we relish it.

We speak with accents and stutters. 
Sometimes we are not understood 
even in the places we were born.

We are the weird redheaded cousins 
to our families, the black sheep, 
some of us, others the glowing saints, 
      sometimes on the same day. 
They think we’re clumsy, muddy, 
tainted, pure, scrubbed, antiseptic.

We are placed on pedestals 
or in the jumble closet, 
depending on the mood and fashion.

But when there is an explosion 
we run into the smoke 
we run towards screaming 
while others run away.

We compare scars sometimes 
matching stab wounds in our backs, 
some of us. Burns, scrapes, blisters, 
bruises in all the same places.

We have beautiful feet though. 
That’s what the old prophet said.

People who bring good news 
have lovely feet.

So I bless your feet in Jesus Name. 
      Every calloused toe, 
      you explorers, you pioneers, you aliens, 
      travelers with only one true home, 
I bless your feet.

I bless your hands in Jesus Name. 
      Your fingertips feel for the pulses 
      of your worlds, finding, God willing, 
      heads to touch, hands to squeeze, 
      brothers and sisters to embrace. 
I bless your hands.

I bless your lips in Jesus Name. 
      You speak life, peace, healing. 
      Fear is afraid of your voices 
      because they are full of the Gospel, 
      full of love. 
I bless your lips.

​I bless your hearts in Jesus Name. 
      They are overgrown, overflowing, 
      they hurt for foreigners, refugees, 
      children, for the least stylish, 
      the least influential, 
      the least. 
I bless your hearts.