Uncategorized

The Silent Unseen

/ jill autrey dorman
Photo by CDC

i had no idea there was a plan to assassinate me. I had no idea rogue cells were forming and restless.

For many years the rogue cells lay dormant, multiplying in untold numbers. Patient, waiting their turn to attack and traumatize.

The enemy knows intelligence and stealth are the tried and true method. These cells also know there is One who will fight for the target’s life at all cost. It is the Assassin’s most feared foe.

This One is Creator, Healer, and Master of everything…

The assignment is do what needs doing and hopefully wear down the target relentlessly, however there will be no victory if the Unseen Savior commands healing and speaks death to the assassin.

The plan remains in place in the silent unseen to sting and stun until The Master comes.

By his wounds we are healed. Isaiah 53:5

The Knockout Punch

/ jill autrey dorman
Photo by Musa Ortau00e7

The knockout punch…

I have eaten nothing in three days.

The pain in my chest is a slow agony.

I have no memory of warmth with others of my kind.

Although fading, my longing drives my soul forward.

A primal memory of Joy beats like a captured bird in my brain.

Yet somehow I know Him and see the full Glory of God.

So she called the name of the Lord who spoke to her, “You are a God of seeing,” for she said, “Truly here I have seen him who looks after me. Genesis 16:13

Watercolor Garden

/ jill autrey dorman

Camellias are blooming stout and ruffled in oh so many rosy shades of pinks!

Azalea bushes lay a thick carpet for Gulf summer heat and rain.

The golden-green sea oats weave and spin the island’s core in an endless ballet.

All the while, the Faithful Morning Glories, pink and yellow, vine along the sand like a hodgepodge of holiday lights.

The salt sits thick upon my skin and hair.

I am baptized in a wave and the horizon melts into carnival colors of pulled taffy in my Watercolor Garden.

Trace of Sorrow

/ jill autrey dorman

It is an iridescent dragon fly purple and blue
It so cleverly hovers over the pond of your brow
It is an agile flyer and can be high or low, come and go
It has life expectancy of a week or so…

This is how I see traces of sorrow
A vivid an electric color, impossible to miss
An aviator like no other, comes from anywhere
This trace may be brief, a week or so…

or maybe no one knows…

Child Faith

/ jill autrey dorman

She remembers the smell of the pink flowers on the bushes growing along the footpath that winds down the hill to the Church. She remembers the colors of the huge domed roofed fifties cars, one in each driveway that were the size of army tank. When she would stand up on the front seat she never once thought her Daddy’s arm could not save her if they crashed. The thought never entered her young mind…child like Faith.

High School Fiction

/ jill autrey dorman / 1 Comment
Photo by Polina Zimmerman

These high school halls are not hallowed halls but they are unsurpassed in the scheme of life lessons….Truth and Fiction …

Remember that boy with the unfortunate eyebrows hurrying down the hall as if afraid or embarrassed? He was.

Remember that girl passing a note to her “steady” guy declaring her undying devotion because he said he “loved” her? He did not.

Remember when you thought a certain friend’s family seemed so perfect? They were not.

The stereo- types still linger in these tales of fiction. Fifty years later and I can name them all by heart.

We all wanted to be (well most of us) to be prettier, cuter, thinner, funnier, taller, shorter, darker, lighter, a better singer, a better dancer, the beauty queen, the sports star, the math genius, or the valedictorian.

I guess it is like the “Breakfast Club” and the “Big Chill” movie all rolled up together. (we did have the best music though). I always felt like the adults in my days of high school tried to minimize the harshness of the unspoken boundaries. There are many people that I admired from afar and would have like to have known better but there was also a nagging burden of exposure.

Ends up that about ninety-nine percent of High School Fiction left some of us hurt and even wounded and that is where reality steps in. No, we had not yet let our tender souls relax in the discovery zone of finding there is no such thing as perfect. How could we know that what lay ahead would require a lot more truth and a little less comparison?

Just saying…

Wild Heaven

/ jill autrey dorman

pexels-photo-431722.jpegTotal exposure and total relief

Unmitigated solitude and time removed

Dancing in the pre dawn indigo sky

                                           where the sun never sets

Swimming in the ocean only contained by God

To be exhilarated that you were once away

                                            but made it fully Home Again!

 to the Wild Heaven !

When Trials Come…

/ jill autrey dorman

When hardship comes your way, will you tell yourself it’s a tool of God’s grace and a sign of his love, or will you give in to doubting his goodness? Paul Tripp

Photo by James Wheeler

When the road seems shorter than before.

Wherever you turn there is no open door.

Your life is in convulsions like vomit on the floor.

All the paperwork of your life is yellowed and rotted.

Is the God’s grace of love or is it cruel?

Who do you worship and let rule you?

Will you head for the hills of Babylon?

Look for ways to numb your sorrow?

Will you turn to the One who made you?

Will you cry out and hang on to your pew?

Will you doubt God’s goodness in the dross?

Will you walk away or toward the cross?