point of view

This is a poem says things that many other parents have said before me. I am writing it anyway because it is new and mysterious and wonderful to me.  You think my hair is meant to help you pull in close. Your wet baby kisses extend my energy, my perseverance, far beyond the limits I thought I had. There's a look when you know you have all my attention I can't put a name to it but oh, how I hope you don't outgrow it anytime soon. Please, my Father, help me to look more like you. Please, my Father, help me to trust you like he does; expressing, unhindered by any thought that You might not want to hear, content, to know that You delight in me too.

holy fire, overwhelm the whens when I hate everything that hurts when I adore my ease and comfort when I couldn't care less when everything seems tantamount except Yahweh holy fire, insert the untils until I love You fully until topsy-turvy is set right side up until I take another step in the right direction until the Day dawns holy fire, please bring the finallys finally You will come again finally my rebelliousness will be silenced finally the darkness will leave no trace finally our eyes will be opened holy fire that's burning away til God and man stand face to face image source

  I asked, ‘will you tell me your story?’ and they said yes invited me into their hearts what an honor to be welcomed into their hurt and my breath catches to realize the responsibility to feel how very much I could hurt them and the richness God has for us in this place of honesty. tell me more? heal us, Lord! what was this like for you? and I must cling to Him afraid of what sinful self can do to relationships do I really understand you? but the blood of Christ washes over and as I bumble around in a sensitive heart I could cause such destruction unless I live on incessant prayer and humility I’ve put my finger on the pulse of the Spirit’s healing oh, there’s joy throbbing through our veins and we’re washed in the sunbeams of awe I see God.

do you know how unexpected it was that you wanted to hear my story? did you know I was surprised because my stomach hurt from laughing? it took me so off guard when what you offered, gave me answers see, I've gotten used to waiting. did you guess that I'd be close to tears because you said "that makes sense"? did you know you threw me for a loop when you saw that I was down? for some reason it's hard to accept comfort. I guess I'm scared of getting used to it afraid to let myself hope what if I lose it again? ah, but pain is only tangibility the currency of value proof of richness. it'll come even if it's taken yet again it always comes.

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.

summer dawns and I'm a wanderer neither here nor there chapters closed and not yet begun but what lies between such a sweet rich freedom time to slow to savor, to enjoy I've said plenty of goodbyes in my time but you'll always be a part of who I am you've taught me how beauty and dignity mesh you've given me confidence taught me how to sing and how to weep I've let go the little hands that reached into my mourning heart and claimed my love and care when I thought I was done with loving oh, the Lord knew better and I've left them in good hands now things I'd let go of, the Lord brought them back He is sovereign over opportunity so I'll love because He loves me first first clematis image found here second clematis image found here

...But I need a little processing time before I can write something about the things that are in my head right now.  Thought for the day:   The Lord works everywhere, all the time.   Think about it.

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 Creator says "speak" and for a moment the breath catches my lungs, as it were, frozen afraid I'm afraid all that will come out will be a squeak how could dirty flesh and blood speak holy cry out fire and glory? paralyzed but there is a coal in the angel's hand blood red and praise cannot be restrained

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...

like a prairie hawk in a fowler's net my restless heart struggles angry at times other times, holy and content once in a while, both and the whole drama beautiful somehow. How strange how incomprehensible this work of Yours but this wild and dirty little gypsy girl You love her somehow I am convinced of it how else this grace, all this Grace? love more than imagination can wrap itself around intimately, deeply, oh so painfully heavy euphoria sanctification.

I wrote this a little while ago but I need to be reminded again and again! Promises... Tearing through walls of doubt melting away walls I built to protect my pain The agony of loneliness the guilt of knowing there's no reason for it knowing I am not alone The sorrow over my numbness my rebellion and envy oh, I want to be thirsty! Child Hush Others have betrayed you but I was betrayed so that you will never be forsaken I am your hope drink, though it may choke you at first no place, no heart is impervious to the gospel whether you believe it or not My grip never slackens in the blackest night or the foggiest day if you ask I will give you trust.