We’d bicker in the car,
my brother and I,
about who was the fastest,
who was the cleverest,
who was the richest,
who was the … (insert any topic here).
We were bickering
because that’s what we did
to find our place in the pecking order,
in the hierarchy of favour,
to fill in the holes of doubt
that had been into our own self worth.
We’re grown up now
and we don’t bicker in the car,
our children do that,
and while I take on the role of patient and balanced parent,
I remember the urgency of the argument,
and though I hate to admit it,
I find remnants of my holes still exist.
Wrap your arms around me, God,
that I might feel the joy
of being gathered into your upside down grace
and fully understand the delight that comes
from being among the last and least.