God became a pastor
for a little church in the backwoods
of the South, nestled
somewhere in the Ozarks where
there were more squirrels
in the steeple than seats in the pews.
He rebuilt it from the ground up,
starting with the foundation He
poured with help from a member
in the construction business.
He bought nails and lumber
from the nearest hardware store;
the shopkeeper’s son painted
smoothed baseboards a pleasant
off-white while He worked
on the roof. The oldest lady
in the community brought aloe
for His chapped hands; her daughters
made sandwiches for the hungry
workers while their children planted
posies and peas in the garden.
When He was finished building,
He removed the weathered sign hanging
at the end of the road. The little ones
painted a new sign with stars and hearts
and tiny handprints pointing the way
to the Dogwood Homeless Shelter.