Photo by Miri
Standing on the highest sand dune people moved back and forth on the ground below. She no longer has their youthfulness of an unlined face but she knew she finally possessed the joy of ageless Grace. The pilgrimage called her to this beautiful place. The wind and the sun an old friend on her face.
Now she is the shell seeker in the wide brimmed hat, as a child playing in the sun she’d laughed at people like that. She remembers younger days when she grew weary but now the days of peace are what linger here. Emotions don’t obey the rules they are the heartbeat in being human. Like waves reaching the shore emotions can be kept for a moment but are better when given away.
The shell seeker’ s eye remains clear and adept while watching the children play. She knows that life is not going back but more of giving it away. The Truth is, life consists in learning and loving well with Grace underneath God’s sun. To remain whole in the midst of life’s ups and downs, to surrender all secrets and lies is anointing oil to the soul. To shed insincerity and live in the present, the waves echo behind her now compelling her to go on.
Photo by Nadi Lindsay
Wisteria vines will grow on walls, over other plants and along the weathered splintered gray fence that is long forgotten. The vine of Wisteria is thick and knarled and strong…
The fragrance of the low hanging purple clumps of flowers permeated the bright spring day and it made her feel lightness in her heart that she had not experienced in a long while. She thought about how precious her memories of first love are. There in lies the treasure. It is in the pleasure and the pain…if you allow it, first love leads to the Truth that we know nothing much of love.
She is older now and reflects back often on what she thought love was as a young woman or rather perhaps she was simply in love with what she thought love was. She loved but then she lived. In that living she learned that love is tough as nails. Love is knarled like the Wisteria vine. Love will grow over barriers and around obstacles still blooming and still fragrant. Love is having the strength to stay. Love is a wild and furious risk, a pouring out of all that one can from that cup and drink it. Love is rich and poor. Love is sickness and health. Love is a verb, an action word. Nothing about love is passive. Love cannot be manipulated. Love. Risks. Everything. The Holy God is Love’s name…ponder this, ponder Him…you will find Him because Love never quits and perfect Love cast out all fear and Love never ever fails.
Photo by Joel Friend
When this young prodigal daughter wandered
It was not because You, O God changed in time.
You O blessed Savior still sought the one and left the ninety-nine.
I could not outrun your Grace even in the valley of the shadow,
I kept seeing your face in my disgrace and sorrow.
You said, “I have already won the battle”
As I lay deserted there I heard you call me Friend. .
Dying within an inch of my life I thought you must be a dream
But you Lord whispered “everyone needs to learn, from a desert comes a stream.”
I think if you were here right now we’d sit and talk about the different shades of doubt.
You would smile at my gray hair and the way things are while you sit in your old easy char…
You wouldn’t like the new technology.
It’s like Alice through the Looking Glass and all the white knights are talking backwards.
You would say, “this too shall pass.”
I miss seeing you on a Sunday and the joy you always brought to me.
Your love for us was deep and fierce, the best of your heart is what I miss…
I think if you were here right now we’d sit and talk about how it use to be.
You’d smile and say, “it’ll be alright…” while you sit in your old easy char.
Photo by Lehel Mozgai
That time you sat in the park watching the lavender sky at dawn is long gone
You said, “Everybody had to be, had to get somewhere…”
That time when you burned your house down with your own two hands
so busy advancing you lost what got you there…
You broke the glass ceiling but who really cares
Now everybody has nowhere to be and you are alone.
The love of a family the loyalty of a friend.
The road less traveled is somewhere you’ve never been.
Photo by Eternal Happiness
As I lay down my head in week six of this catastrophe I just want to say if you can fall asleep but not stay asleep that is okay. If a myriad of emotions and logic are surfing on your brain waves it’s ok. If you fall asleep and wake on a couch or a child’s room it’s ok. If you are praying more it’s ok. If you cannot find the words to pray it’s okay. If you are a conqueror one minute and not so brave the next minute it’s ok. If there are a hundred thoughts and feelings lying under the five you speak it’s ok. If you mourn for the dead and grieve for our globe it’s ok. These are where the avenues of grief and change and loss take us. It is ok. If you are active in politico or have turned all media completely off it’s okay. For it is not strength to pretend you are thriving in uncertainty and that you struggle with doubt and fear. It is in our weaknesses and doubts that God comes near. He is not limited not tethered to a cosmic heavenly throne. He is right here with us in our fragility and we are not alone. Jesus knows every cell of human bondage. He knows of courage being one heartbeat away from fear. Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us and He is with us now. So rest your weary head in his comfort when you can. I have seen His beauty and have tasted His goodness and it is a healing balm. Lay down your head and rest my friends for tomorrow we will try again. There is victory in His power over things we can’t understand. I have seen His Salvation in life and in death and He has never forgotten not one of His own since before the foundation of the world. Shalom tonight dear world. As for me I have tasted and have seen the goodness of the Lord and He is more than we can fathom and so if today you fell apart it’s okay because He never will…
Photo by Magda Ehlers
I saw fields of cotton white as snow
as blood red drops flowed down and soaked
those cotton fields and the earth below.
Yes the Blood dripped down on the cotton bolls.
As the Louisiana sun beat down that day
in June of 64 three boys came to say
we want to help you learn to vote
but they were shot down and the cotton was soaked.
Blood of black men drip down so slow
from the cottonwood tree the bodies swinging low
No one would help them, they were all alone
and the sun went down on the bloody cotton bolls.
Photo by Trung Nguyen
Everything that used to be solid is suddenly fluid.
The mid-afternoon sky the color of hammered gold
Waves of heat rising from the horizon looks like water only to find a hard rock road
I do love living where the Sky is bigger
Somehow it feels tedious to have too many trees above
If I don’t know you then I don’t know anybody
It is like waiting to touch the bottom of a bottomless well
Photo by cottonbro
I don’t know why they call it Good Friday
Beaten, naked and hung upon a tree.
No one to love you, not even God
A rejection never to be known by me.
Devastating penalty that Goodness might be.
It should be called ” the love note from God” day…
Photo by João
The sun has slanted across the sky
thoughts scroll through my mind then fly
That precise sliver in time
The see-saw is tipping to the down side
I slam and am jolted by the sand in my eyes
Suddenly a week seems like a lifetime
I know I never really controlled my world
The lie in my head where I thought I was safe
but being found in Christ I am not forsaken.