01

Project 01

Be There

Weekend Facebook paints a tender portrait 

Mid-life adults and snaps of absent fathers

Not many captions

No matter

“I miss you, Daddy” is etched in air

Work and wars and women

Drink and drugs and death

All conspire to steal away

Our heroes and hippies and healers

Our crooners, cowboys, coaches

But you are the ones who show us how

To stand up tall and do what’s right

You chase away the boogie man

From you we learn when to run and when to fight

Like Superman and Robin Hood

You make the world a better place

We find the courage to dream and dare

Within the circle of your warm embrace

Don’t know what to say? That’s okay!

What you do and how you do it

Is what we’ll remember anyway.

Pink carnations on recital nights

Rides to school on your motorbike

Checking to see if the homework is right

Walking the aisle with a girl in white

You teach us what real love looks like

When words of praise and assurance stall

And all we hear is “Keep your eyes on the ball!”

Don’t fret it

We get it

Because you are there

On the bleachers

In the stands

Even in the umpire’s face

At every tournament

Whether we lose or place

You are there at the end of every race

You’re on our side

You’ve got our back

When our strength runs out

You pick up the slack

That tells us more than words ever could

And perhaps even more than you thought it would

If you can love us when we argue, stomp and scream

And wreck the car

And dye our hair green

And run away with the boy next door

And call you crying at half past four

Then maybe, just maybe, we can learn to love ourselves

If you can love us

It is easy to believe

That others can too

Even a God we cannot see

There is so much we can learn from you

If you are in the bleachers

In the stands

On recital night

In the aisle with a girl in white

So be there, Dads.

Be there.

 — Jolinne Balentine-Downey

Father’s Day 2013

 Copyright @ 2013

02

Project 02

 I See You

As Jesus walked the city streets

People gathered ‘round

Preachers, teachers, even fishers

And those who work the ground

He made his way through Galilee

And passing by the sea

He called a few to follow him, let’s save

Humanity from deep depravity

Come now and follow me.

Honored and intrigued

They left behind their nets

And what did Jesus do?

He went and healed a man on the Sabbath

This was only the first of many upsets

But Jesus had a job to do

God’s kingdom had come near

The Righteous need no Savior

They have nothing to fear

I seek the ones who suffer

Whom the Righteous overlook

In their quest for prominence and purity

But it’s not about a rule book

It’s about relationship

I see you, Jesus said

The ones deemed an impediment

Something to be fixed, not

Valued as essential complement

I see battered wives and harried mothers

Childless women and day laborers

I see the burdens that you carry

Hear your cries for simple favors

I see single moms who can’t get exes

To pay their child support

Scraping up your last few pennies

Just getting by is a monumental effort

I feel your anger and your fear

I know you question God’s great plan

Why must life be so unfair? But

I know that you are doing the very best you can

I see you who need to be seen

Those ignored and pushed aside

Used, abused and transgressed

I, the Lord, am on your side.

I see the kids living in garbage dumps

And the ones under care of DHS

Kids whose parents use them as pawns

And the ones who are valued even less

I see the nerdy kids at school,

The ones nobody dare befriend

Lest they be called a loser too

And their popularity end

I see the rulebreakers in youth court

And others gaining fame on the ball court

Babes who struggle just to breathe

Others seek release in the junk they snort.

I see you, the hungry and the hurting

The lonely and the lame

The tried and tormented

I know you all by name

I see you, too, the “lucky ones”

Blessed with fortune, face and fame

I look behind the masks you wear

To hide secret sins and shame

I see the dealer on the street corner

Panhandlers, prostitutes and pimps

Aged women pushing shopping carts

Unwanted children others never glimpse

I look beyond their tattered clothes

Body odors and clenched fists

I see the tear they dare not cry

And the scars upon their wrists

I see how others look away

Cross streets and shut their doors

They whisper and pass judgment

They are always keeping score

I see the ones who try to help

But never stop to look or listen

The only needs they meet, their own

These would-be saviors on a mission

I see the wise and the arrogant

I can tell the two apart

By your willingness to question

And open up your heart

I see those open to discomfort

Offer kindness to all they meet

Sit and share a cup of coffee

With the beggar on the street

I see the nameless volunteers

They never win citations

They do what’s right because it’s right

Not for praise or adulation

I see all the colors on the spectrum

Young, old and in between

Rich, poor, black, white

Woven together, a glorious scene

I see the faithless child

And the faithful too

Don’t run from me

Come close you’ll see

I’ve love enough for everyone.

Yes, even for the likes of you.

I’ve love enough for everyone.

Yes, even for the likes of you.

I’ve love enough for everyone.

Yes, even for the likes of you.

— Jolinne Balentine-Downey

Inspired by Mark 5:21-43

June 27, 2021

03

Project 03

“MasterChef Junior” contestant Ben Watkins died of cancer in December 2020 at the Lurie Children’s Hospital of Chicago. He was 14. A few years earlier, both his parents were killed in a murder/suicide. What follows is what I imagine Ben would have told the people of the world.

Here’s the truth. Sometimes, life sucks. Like, really sucks. Not “I got a zit on the tip of my nose” sucks. Or “My controller died just before I beat this level” sucks. Or even “I got a D on my math test” sucks. None of that is good, but, most of the time, it’s not the end of life as you know it. Even if it feels like it at the time. Those things are an inconvenience or maybe a challenge to overcome. But there are a lot worse things in life. Trust me. I know.

What really sucks is losing someone you love for no good reason. It’s bad enough when there’s a reason. Like, they were old, and their bodies wore out. Or they drowned trying to rescue a kid who fell into the lake. It still sucks to lose the people you love, but at least their death makes sense. Sort of.

But what really sucks is when someone dies and they didn’t have to. If someone had just worn a damn mask. Or that kid hadn’t carried a gun to the game. Or some guy hadn’t taken that first hit of smack. That really sucks.

And I have to be honest… another thing that really sucks is cancer. Because it can happen to anybody any time. Doesn’t matter how old or young or strong or healthy or talented or smart or rich or good or amazing you might be. Doesn’t matter what you had planned for tomorrow. Cancer can still get you. And it’s never a good time.

But here’s what doesn’t suck. Friends. Community. People coming together to help each other out. And make your dreams come true. Basketball games. Making angels in the snow. And licking BBQ sauce off your fingers. Living. Life! Getting up and falling down. Dreaming big. Dreaming really big! And making it. Or maybe not, but at least you tried! You gave it a shot. You lived. And that doesn’t suck at all.

So. My advice. Go. Live. Have a Big Ben Bodacious life.

— Jolinne Balentine-Downey

December 2020

04

Project 04

Step to the side

Step to the side, Momma

Step to the side

Slip gently through the veil

Leave behind the pain and tears

You carried bravely

All your years

Step to the side, Momma

Step to the side

Slip gently through the veil

To a land of cloudless days

Where the sun never rests

And blooms ever stay

Step to the side, Momma

Step to the side

Slip gently through the veil

It’s time to skip among the lilies

Dance with butterflies

And sing with honeybees

Step to the side, Momma

Step to the side

Slip gently through the veil

Your days of labor are through

Time now to reap the harvest

There’s nothing more to do

Step to the side, Momma

Step to the side

Slip gently through the veil

You loved so many, so much, so well

A joyous reunion is almost in sight

You have so many stories to tell

Step to the side, Momma

Step to the side

Slip gently through the veil

You sing while we weep

How I wonder

When next we’ll meet

— Jolinne Balentine-Downey

July 2016

05

Project 05

Muddled memories of Mammy

When I look in the mirror now, I see Mammy’s face. Square. Plain. Lined by age and effort.  Tired eyes that once sparkled with life glowed then with a kind warmth. Pretty blue eyes melted to melancholy puddles. She died when I was 3. Or 4.

Every memory of Mammy is a wash of brownish gray. Like old, weathered barn wood. Like the sagging boards of her sloping front porch. Or the swing where we used to sit and play pat-a-cake.

Birds had the run of the yard. Chickens mostly. But others, bigger. Much, much bigger. All I really remember are tail feathers. Spreading wide. Baby Me mistook them for peacocks. Brown peacocks. The birds ran wild. Jo did not. Jo sat with Mammy.

There was one front room, but I do not remember it. All I remember is the kitchen. Wooden table covered with a cloth sewn from flour sacks. Cook stove in the corner. Enamel cabinet held flour and the cookie jar.

Cookie jar so big, when I reached in, my whole arm disappeared. I pulled out a lemon cookie as big my baby face.

Mammy grinned at me above the earthen ware jar. Take another, she said. So I did.

I was 10 or so when my mother bought a bag of Jumbo Lemon Cookies. I was shocked to discover how small jumbo had become. My mom gently teased. “I don’t think they shrunk the cookie. It is you who grew.”

And the brown peacocks…? They were turkeys.

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Project 06

07

Project 07

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Project 08