It Is A Civil War

crashing waves

Photo by Ray Bilcliff 

As I sit by the ocean and hear it’s deeply powerful roar.

The waves seem so angry and crash on the shore.

Brother against brother like I have not seen before.

My heart cries at the hatred, it is a Civil War.

Everyone is talking but it is just a screaming noise.

Oh God show us mercy for all we’ve destroyed.

 

 Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. 1John4:8

John 3:16.  For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.

 

 

 

Of All the Rooms…

rain of snow in town painting

Photo by Lisa Fotios 

 

This snow takes me back to Memphis.

A little girl with a crooked smile.

Oh how magical that Christmas was.

Boot prints of Santa on a snowy blue lawn.

 

So secure in the dreams of that gospel mile.

Daddy was my hero, such warm and simple times.

Of all the rooms my life has passed through,

Memphis was the sweetest time I ever knew.

 

You thought I never noticed you

 

 

shallow focus photography of a woman

Photo by Tainá Bernard

 

You thought I never noticed you

in those hallowed halls of high school angst.

Like Breakfast Club we each played a part

and everyone said I would break your heart.

 

You thought I was a Golden lady with no scars.

You said my blue-gray eyes shined like silver stars.

Truthfully I thought no one really cared.

Only you could  see that  I was a little scared.

 

You were my best friend and always true.

I went to the parties and always looked for you.

You were too afraid to come my way

and then you faded black one day.

 

Years came and went till we met again.

We talked and laughed until the sun shined in.

We professed our love and gratitude out loud.

Friends to the end we made that vow.

 

Now I am old and you have crossed the pale.

I can see the halls of heaven prevail.

Nobody ever was or had a friend more true.

How wrong you were to think I never noticed you.

 

(this is dedicated to Tim C.)

 

 

 

In the Eyes of It All

photo of person covered with brown textile

Photo by Noelle Otto

 

I don’t know where you went when you left me.

I have to believe you were sure you had to leave.

People always seem to have to be, have to go, have to hear what someone else has said.

The Truth running away like a spool of thread.

Still, I remember it felt like drowning in a rip tide.

There is a sadness in the end, in the eyes of it all.

I am much the stronger for it but I don’t wait for your call.

Nothing about Love is passive…

purple flowers

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.

 

 

 

Everything that used to be solid

silhouette of two person

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

Emmet

green grass during sunset

Photo by Nathan Cowley

 

The daybreak drizzle has moved out to sea.

The dawning clouds are steel gray.

The wind is about 10 knots up from the Gulf Stream.

Nations have risen and fallen, two world wars, more political unrest, man has gone to the moon and the World Wide Web has come along, but nothing much has changed on this little wedge of the island.

The tide goes in and out.

The gulls and cranes still swoop and dive and the dolphin still dance. The beautiful gold sea oats continue to hold the sand dunes together…
But now you… have been born!

Your little smile, your hands and feet have changed everything.

I cannot smile without you.

There are very few words of wisdom I will give you as you grow up and let me into your world of sticks, and bugs, and rocks.

You will sleep the sleep of the blessed each night and when I get the chance I will tuck you in.

What I will do my grandson is love you. Love you unconditionally with all of my being and spirit.

Long after I am gone I will still watch over you and love you with a love that has no end.

The daybreak is clearer now, the sea breeze cleansing. The wars and internet have no meaning to me now.

The tide is a beautiful dance and all of God’s creatures perform just for you.

The sand dunes are for you to climb and my whole world is golden.

In my War Room

woman wearing black tank top leaning on table

Photo by Engin Akyurt

 

As if at forced shutter speed all life  now is slow motion.

A stealthy enemy invades War Rooms with limited detection.

At what price can we buy peace of mind and human devotion?

This peripatetic killer cares not for education or station

and will only be stopped by God’s love of our Nation.

 

 

I am still right here my neighbor.

I will pray through this long dark night with you.

Let us lift up our pleas to the One who heals.

Let us be the ones called courageous and true.

I will, I will fight in my War Room for you.

 

I have always felt set apart

big waves under cloudy sky

Photo by GEORGE DESIPRIS

 

I stare out my window

Like a sea wife staring out the horizon

Time moving ever so slow

 

 

 

I have always felt set apart

Looking outside of dreams into the  indigo haze

Time capturing the beats of my heart

 

 

This is what faith is

The hope of what can’t always be seen

Time cannot define where he is

 

Empathy…to stand for everything or nothing…

 

high angle photo of woman on ladder

Photo by Samantha Garrote

Empathy without a clear identity in Christ puts one in a position to stand for everything or for nothing. To understand empathy and to nurture that gift the Empath must always be aware of matching their empathy side by side with who we  who are “in” Christ Jesus. (As one who believes and follows Jesus as Lord or as one who is not a Believer.) It is paramount that we build our Christian lives upon our Identity in Christ Jesus, Truth of who we are in Him.

Empathy as well as all spiritual gifts must  be held close to and in direct correlation to God’s Word or we will get it wrong. Empathy is a wonderful  gift as long as we check and balance it or any gift with Truth.