point of view

"Hormones." Kind of an ugly word to explain the flood of emotions, don't you think? So many different things to hold in my heart this twenty-eighth birthday. So many things have changed so quickly in the space between my twenty-sixth and twenty-eighth birthday - I hadn't even met the man who woke me singing "Happy Birthday" so I would hurry to open the gift he would use to make my morning coffee for me, while our child kicked his or her greeting inside me. My twenty-seventh birthday was just after our honeymoon. The newlywed stage is beautiful, but for all its thrills and despairs, treasured new things and bumbling adjustments, I don't wish to be back in that stage. How thankful I am for all we've learned, the trust we've built, the skills acquired for cheering each other on. How much more we have to learn. Each of us hold our everyday sorrows, together with the immense and humbling realizations of how much good we've been given. ...

Dear one – yes you with the pain hidden in your eyes And the shoulders slumped with the weight of it all Did you know?   Surely He has borne our griefs And carried our sorrows; I know you ask, what does that even mean? It weighs a hundred pounds Yes, but He’s carried millions Yet we esteemed Him stricken, Smitten by God, and afflicted. We belittle; mock Him as He hangs naked and suffocating We shudder; pronounce Him disgusting Not seeing – that is us But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; The bruises, the lashes, the hellfire, they were yours Come, weary one, lay your wounds in His lap He holds you in His infinite battle-scarred hands The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, Yes, peace – in this broken world it is possible Past this broken world it is sure, complete And by His stripes Ah!   The blood spurts, washes over “See how I love you.” We are healed. Isaiah 53:4-5   ...

the distant train whistle the silence of a baby who has forgotten what it was like for someone to come when she cried a token of love shattered into ceramic slivers the wild frightened glance of an adolescent trapped in their mind's tricks the scent of dying roses old letters from a love that spun apart, questions that remain the way the colours sink into the ground after the late fall rain, leaving only muck the roaring silence and the old man's dull stare it hurts, oh it hurts unexpected, a flooding whisper overwhelms the pain "This is not where the story ends, dear one. This is not where the story ends." And, setting in with the chill after the sun's set, a peace. In the dark, we wait and hope. It is enough.

it’s an unceasing weight tears bottled up my unanswered question broken telephone lines unresponsive heart love through a clogged artery how long, oh Lord? yearning for it, maybe force it but it is good that one should hope and wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. patient perseverance, submission to sovereignty until we sing again. image source  http://www.pptbackgrounds.net

you know how it is when you feel like you've left part of yourself somewhere? in a place that you loved with people you loved or someone you loved? I've had a little of that going on and it hurts, the tearing away when you leave again and again why, Lord?  I cried I feel so empty losing bits of myself will there be anything left? but a gentle smile in reply my scarred Savior opened my eyes a little to see where I thought I was empty so many little pieces of other people's hearts that they left with me so much richer, this kind of fullness and those pieces of my heart though I thought it was dying like seeds they grow planted in other lives  and He says this is the way He means us to live to love to trust isn't it beautiful?

the harvest-remains are tilled under and I find myself wondering, when did the summer night-noises hush their conversation? The soil feels barren in my fingers the warmth of life isn't there anymore and the chill in my lungs rests there in my palm, too yet the moonlit furrows stretch far beyond my view and I know this time of waiting dying clearing is beautiful too. The stars above, masked by transparent cloud they are the same and so is the Sower, the Potter. There is weeping in my heart when the Master plows deep when He clears the fields but as I sit here, hands and knees feel the earth and I know springtime, harvest and daylight will come in His good time. Sow for yourselves righteousness; Reap in mercy; Break up your fallow ground, for it is time to seek the LORD, till He comes and rains righteousness on you. -Hosea 10:12 He who continually goes forth weeping , bearing seed for sow ing, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him. -Psa...

Melany, I watched the ABC 20/20 documentary. Here are my thoughts. If I mixed up details about the story it's because I watched it all once and then couldn't find it back again =) Yay for living in Canada where American broadcasts disappear because of copyright issues! What does ABC News know of the ache in your eyes cameras roll as tears slip down you tell the world that your Indian name, Stands Against The Wind, means that you are forever strong that you will never hang yourself in the closet again because your brother found you you say you are strong but I know I know in my heart it means hard I watch through the television lens as feathers and beads spin, dancing with a little girl's giggle and my heart, well, I can feel physical pain even writing this oh, my little ones... It's hard and it hurts to remember their giggles it still hurts the boy who tells us he wants to be the first Native American President and his cousin displays burn scars from a parent who wa...

...there were water droplets from the sky, in my heart, and in my eyes too and it struck me this is what light looks like in a dry sky: Strange, the dramatic effect water droplets have on a beam of light. Coincidence? I think not.

If we never teetered to the edge of the nest if we never flew past our comfortable circle If we never did the uncomfortable the too hard the impossible I wouldn't be bleeding this way If I never knew, I'd never care It wouldn't hurt like heartstrings snapping My soul wouldn't be broken and bruised But If I never knew the sorrow of separation If I never hurt for another broken heart If I never felt the wild frustration of not being able to solve the problem I wouldn't know the wonder the elation, awe and joy The being overwhelmed to know There is a Savior There is a Solution There is a Healer I would rather love and bear the anguish By His stripes we are healed.

the initial wound gapes numb unbleeding after the shock anguish pouring pain before too long faintness clots hope after a while scabbed triggers healing in time scar numb again breathe