Steady My Gaze: Poetry for the Anxious Soul by Mary Folkerts

 

I did not expect that the first book I would write would be a book of poetry. Though I have written poems since childhood, I never thought it would translate into a book. Lately, though, I’ve come to realize that poetry can plumb the depths of the soul and put emotions into words that sometimes are difficult to voice.

When our fourth child was born with Down syndrome, things within me began to shift. I had been keenly aware of my struggle with anxiety and melancholy previous to her birth, but now it felt like any perceived sense of control I may have possessed was effectively removed, leaving me grasping for footing. The shock of the diagnosis and the struggle that came with learning to navigate this new world of doctors and therapist appointments, health concerns, surgeries, and the unknown sent me spiraling into depression. This began my journey of searching for help and healing from past wounds, shame, and a scarcity mindset, exposing them layer by layer.

I don’t believe that the diagnosis of my daughter’s disability was the basis for my depression, but it widened the cracks of deep need that had been there long before. It revealed my own disabilities and took me on a lifelong journey of healing and revelation.

The book I am writing is part of that healing process. I am learning that joy does not come through circumstances, but from the presence of God with us. His presence is what sustains us even when life is difficult. My prayer for Steady My Gaze; Poetry for the Anxious Soul is that readers sojourn with me from lament to praise of a faithful God who holds us in the palm of His hand no matter how deep the valley.

I did not boast innate yearnings
for horticulturist’s hands—
only that rudbeckia
and cone flower grow,
and that weeds
be shorn shorter
than the wildflower’s
brilliant petals,
hiding the uncomely
beneath.

Content to have a garden
like others,
sufficient beauty
with relative ease.

Truth be told, I demanded
a simple garden,
one that heeded
my lack of patience
and fortitude.
I was not a girl made for
plucking and digging,
nurturing and persevering.
God would duly note
my deficiencies.

But instead,
the Master Gardener
planted an exquisite rose
in my unyielding soil,
when all I desired
were daisies.

My arguments emerged—
defiance, resistance
and indignation at such
lack of consultation,
such disregard
for my insufficiencies—
I with unskilled
hands,
could not tend the tender
flower,
I bore no capacity
for thorns.

My cries of offense
He met,
with gentle reassurance
that mine was to surrender
my paltry plans,
and rely on His qualifications
to do more
with my piece of dirt
than I could have
dreamed.

Unearthing
the hidden dross
beneath wilted wildflowers,
the Gardener cultivated
my skill,
for the flourishing
and rejuvenation of my soil,
tending the rose
with infinite tenderness,
and I, in the process.

So here I plunge the blade
into resistant loam,
excavating a tangle
of tap roots
twisted and deep,
generations old.

I’m learning to plow
the fallow ground,
grasping the gravity
of fertile soil,
not only the perception
thereof.

Sometimes,
the Master Gardener
plants a rose,
when all we wanted
were daisies.

Mary Folkerts is mom to four kids and wife to a farmer, living on the southern prairies of Alberta, where the skies are large and the sunsets stunning. She is a member of Proverbs 31 Ministries' COMPEL Writers Training, involved in church ministries and music. Mary’s blog aims to encourage and inspire women and advocate for those with Down Syndrome, as their youngest child introduced them to this extraordinary new world. For more inspiration, check out Joy in the Small Things https://maryfolkerts.com/ or connect on Instagram  https://www.instagram.com/maryfolkerts/