She felt as if she has stepped off the very edge of the earth…

 

beach calm clouds coast

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She felt as if she had stepped off the very edge of the earth

Following  the gull she tilted her head to its arc of flight

Her pocket  filled with a beachcomber’s small treasure

Fingering each curve and dash of the shells awash with sun and sea

 

In the early evening light the sea shimmered and shifted gently

The tones of lapis and turquoise dazzled her vision

while the white sand beneath her feet cushioned the touch of the earth

Taking a deep breath of the salt air she wished she could live here forever.

 

This Mess Called Life

selective focus photography of pink peony flowers

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A penny for the boy
A peony for the girl
Oh the losing and winning
The dying and living…

Cry for sorrows
Laugh for joy
Smile at the mirror
Frown at the noise…

 

I want to stay right here
In this mess called “life”
Scare it off the pages
And watch it sparkle in the light.

 

 

 

 

The Christian Conversation…

marketing man person communication

Photo by Gratisography 

It seems to me that all people who I know, even those who don’t agree with me politically or spiritually, long for redemption in some form. They want to be heard. To have  value. To redeem the things inside of us that hurt us and others. These automatic responses of “defensive behavior” which only seem to widen the gap in our ability to be relational in this world must be exposed for growth to occur.

We seem to mix up guilt and shame into a toxic cocktail that instead of leading to redemption gives us a false sense of entitlement or justice…”well, I have behaved like this because so and so was done to me…” Or, we fill up our “empty self” with something to make us think we matter…
As I grow older (63 in December) I have a passion for myself and the people around me to, as one writer puts it, “have the freedom to doubt, to have fear, to fail, to be overwhelmed, to be angry, to have passion…that is the dignity that God gives us…that comes from God living deep within me…This IS the Christian conversation.”

 
In my recent study (almost three years now) of Job’s life I am so strongly compelled by his (Job’s) conversations with God and his friends and family. Job experiences every grief, emotion, pain, failure, fear, and joy that is the human experience…He loves God, he gets angry with God. His friends support him AND forsake him…his family is taken away, his wife mourns without him. He is utterly alone and physically ill yet all the while he is aware that God is present and that THIS conversation going on is the one that all the other conversations (life) are perched upon…

 

The thing about Jesus and His cross of atoning death and his Resurrection is that it is for everyone! Anyone! Billions before us have known this is true. We are “invited” to come and see that the Lord is good. Then we are invited by his holy power to grow up an invite others. No one is not welcome at the cross. Never forget.

 
My friend, Dr. Hud McWilliams, who is a great teacher and thinker and counselor told me the most challenging part of his work is to convince adults that your largest part of growing is STILL TO COME. He said, “you should grow until death.”

 
Some deep thoughts today no doubt but this is the conversation of life that drives me…I am grateful for it and see it as a huge gift…something to think about…

Getting older…

sunset sun horizon priroda

My body is softer now. My skin has begun to drape like crepe paper. I do not have to wear glasses to read  but I do to drive. I hope to gracefully age for my daughters, although a lot of my friends have had “work done” and while it is tempting, it is not me. I was voted “most like Mary Ann on Gilligan’s island” at a class reunion once. I like that title and will keep that as a compliment (I can’t pull off Ginger for sure) but I still color  my hair. Just can not take the gray yet graceful or not.
Walking purposefully and briskly until death. I  long to finish my life well. I do not  know what lies ahead. I navigate and then I wait. I try to stay in the moment. I try to continue to grow. The alternative is death.
I know real Continue reading

The Hourglass

 

clear glass with red sand grainer

Your Mama knew I loved you boy

before you ever did see.

She said I have a poet’s soul

I thought no one could see.

 

 

I guess I always loved you boy

though I never really knew.

When we’re young and wild

It’s a wonder that we do.

 

 

Where did all the time go boy

sand through the hourglass?

Young love they say is magic

just like splendor in the grass.

My sweetest Hallelujah

woman carrying baby at beach during sunset

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These small child’s handprints on my glass backdoor
the sticky applesauce and popsicle on my kitchen floor
I wouldn’t trade for all the mansions in this world.

 
These conversations with my daughter’s
the new territories in this journey
I wouldn’t miss for all the fame this world could offer.

 
These days I count as precious gems
to the road that leads me round the bend
I will simply give my sweetest Hallelujah.

from all that is broken…

administration american flag country daylight

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I lift my eyes
from all that is broken
from the ashes of idols
from lies that are spoken

 
I lift my eyes
from this earthen vessel
from unanswered questions
from the unfulfilling morsels

 
I lift my eyes
the window of my soul
to the heaven’s Creator
to The One who has control

 
I lift my eyes
where my Faith will be made sight
at His appearing I will see
The Defender and Lover of my soul
has His eyes on me

A bloodied and battered Benediction

 

hand full of blood

A  silent prayer to the close of night

bloodied and battered in the morning light

No more walls or secret places

ashes to the wind  from trash to Grace…

 

The ribbons of sadness all broken away

Redemption’s song the melody of the day

I will  meet you at the road and the sky

over the edge I will let my spirit fly…

 

Turn my mourning into dancing

I clap my hands with the rocks and tree

The Benediction to the new day coming

a wedding feast for my Beloved and me…

 

 

 

 

 

I tried to make it Sunday…

landscape vacation people clouds

 

Well I tried to make it Sunday

but that ocean tide came calling

I stopped on the way for some Tupelo honey

just know my soul needs healing…

 

My Angels have grown older now

though they do not tire of my journey

they bring comfort to my soul

they guard me in my worry…

 

There are no words needing to be spoken

there is no darkness I cannot face

I will sit beside the ocean blue

and for a time it will be a resting place…

I know I’m not saying anything new…

art business close up decor

 

I feel I am my best self when I write. To portray life as it is as well as it should or could be. I suppose that is what a painter feels as well or a dancer, a sculptor…

Writing brings me a contentment in the moment not feeding the future or regretting the past. Sometimes when I hear or read  a string of words together my ears perk up like when the wind whispers in them.

I know that I’m not saying anything new but for me writing feels like the process of the sea’s relentless movement or the running river water as they both over time smooth the sharp edges off of broken glass or a  rock and reshape them into something beautiful to behold.

I know most things never change but to attempt to express a feeling or fragrance or a picture using words is my passion.

Here is an example of what I am saying…

Wisteria grew along the weathered splintered gray fence that had long been forgotten. The fragrance of the wisteria 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 for there-in  lies treasure in the pleasure and the pain…

I feel a story coming on…to be continued I hope.