The drums of lies touting of a merry hell

 

broken drumstick close up dark dirty

Photo by abednego ago

The drums of lies beating through the night city swells.

The lies touting of a merry Hell.

Hardened  in heart pursuing only self, dancing to the tune of gaining  wealth.

When day dawns over the city’s night all will be blinded by the Holy Light.

The drums are lying, darkness takes your life.

For Hell can’t be merry and is not the tale of fairies!

 

 

 

 

 

Home

people sitting on the edge of a cliff

Photo by Angelo Duranti

Her passion is tender.

Her pain is massive.

Her mind is lithe and quick.

Her body is no longer as swift.

 

Her temple once was a house of cards,

built by her birth, her fear, and her works.

Now she stands on the rock called Jesus

careful to follow him with her cross.

 

A new temple foundation built,

she is sure of this The Holy One.

He makes all things new with his Holy breath,

and will lead her in both life and death…

Home.

Fear and Faith

man walking on the empty street

Photo by Alex Fu

Even in the darkness I cannot hide from you…

When my fear whispers that I will not be able to cope

that I will never make it out of this hole…

Faith tells me my Father knows what I need

The Father who keeps filling me with his strength

and just in time He supplies all the Holy Light

that I need to battle through this dark night…

I raise my head from my prayer and I see Jesus kneeling there 

The Light of the world has prevailed and no earthly power can keep me from His care…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inner City Poet

photography of person walking on road

Photo by Leo Cardelli

I heard a story ’bout a poet who gave himself away

The inner city was his canvas with no color in his dreams

He was a wanderin’ grifter but no one knows for sure

It is said he still wanders ’round downtown at local bars

 

This City is a hard place and it stings when North winds blow

It shows no mercy to the poor child with no where else to go

I heard a story ’bout a poet who sang his songs for all the lost

Then he set himself on fire to warm them from the chillin’ frost

 

The  children who roam the Night Streets tell the story of a man

called the Inner City Poet who comes each night to tuck them in

Inside their cardboard boxes they lay there heads upon the ground

and the wanderer sings them lullabies ’til morning comes around

Just between you and me

vintage black windmill during sunset

Photo by Tom Swinnen

 

What I’m trying to say is we could not have known

The life we made, the trials we have and will face

Nobody else can say they know because they don’t.

 

A step down a path, an opened door is the mystery future and past

A sorrow, a joy, a mistake, a right of choice or not

Between us we live it, two people together alone

 

Like an ancient windmill, a sentry watching it all unfold

Lying down in a field of tulips in the country side

Just between you and me it’s a beautiful work of art

You mistook my illness as my identity

silhouette of bird above clouds

Photo by Flo Maderebner

 

You may think you know me but you best beware,

 I am stronger than any thing so You best take care

You mistook my illness as my identity

but the Healer came to me and set my spirit free!

 

I won’t run from haters or keep quiet your lies

The Spirit teaches  me the Truth and why

You mistook my smallness as fragility

But my Maker gave Eagle’s wings to me!

 

I soar, I speak up, and I tell the Truth,

lies make you sick and bitterness takes root

Your Pharisee bondage is a con artist scam

I will listen and obey the great I AM!

You said I have become a grown up girl

person standing in pathway

Photo by Lisa Fotios

 

I remember that sweet lavender dawn

                      you looked at me across the room

you were thinking I was still that little girl

                      who cried over all the pain and gloom

Ah yes that sweet little girl is still here

                      but she is not afraid and her heart is free

By God’s grace she has grown into a woman

                       and can face each path with eyes that clearly see…

 

 

We have traveled far, that little girl and I

                       We have danced and died, laughed and cried

We have known romance and reality

                       We remember and forget, we dream and sigh…

I love that little girl and the woman she became

                        she could always spot a faker and call a spade a spade

She is me and I am she woven and spun by God

                       We travel well together upon this earthly sod…

 

 

You said I had become a grown up girl

                        and what you say is true

This grown up girl is a woman now

                        and has no need of you…

 

 

Magen veLo Yera’e (Defender that shall not be seen.)

switched beige table lamp

Photo by 祝 鹤槐

Like silver liquid the moonlight poured over my head spilling down my back renewing my eyes and my mind…

I had stepped outside the hospital to get a breath of fresh air. It had been a long shift and my body, mind, and spirit had grown weary…

As often happens to nurses, I often received words, tokens and notes of thanks and appreciation throughout my career from patients and families, and each one is so very meaningful…

Loss is hopefully made a bit more endurable by compassion and kindness. It is perhaps the truest calling of a nurse, for inside of me lives “Magen veLo Yera’e” which in Hebrew means “Defender that shall not be seen.” Of course, that Defender is not me but the Spirit of Jesus abiding in me. For there is no one good but God as Jesus said, so I know it isn’t me doing it, but I digress…

As I look back over the past forty years my memory runs to the many wonderful people, I have had the privilege to care for and their families. For some there is a reluctance to embrace the future and losing meaning of the past. For some they linger in the pre-dawn haze digesting an outcome they perhaps always knew was coming.

The greatest gift these people have given me is the privilege and opportunity to see that God’s design of our longing to live is not a fragile thing. It is in fact the very strongest thing about us. Yes, our physical bodies wear out with time or disease. Ah, but the soul, the spirit of a person, it fights for life! We were designed for life not death and that is why the “Unseen One who defends us” is the Holy Spirit who lives within those who believe.

Jesus told his follower that He would send us the exact essence of himself in the person of the Holy Spirit to comfort us, to guide, and teach us about Him. It is the transforming phase of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus that He sent us the Holy Spirit, who is unseen but defends us all the way into eternal life.

This is one of the many gifts that nursing has been to me for I have seen, I have witnessed the presence of the Magen veLo Yera’e. He is faithful. He is comfort. He is Peace. He is Jesus the Christ, the presence of the Holy God himself. Jesus is the gift of eternal life and the forever Defender of our Faith and there is a day coming for each of us when we will see Him face to face and we will know Him in Spirit and in Truth. So, when the night is long and dark and grief comes and hope seems so silent I remember the “thank you” from my patients, other human beings just like me with whom I am allowed to care for, hold a hand, say a prayer, shed a tear, and talk of our loved ones we will miss and already miss. Oh yes, there is much physical  technical data in taking of lab work, blood pressures, procedures, surgeries, and various myriads of daily physical care. But the expressions of “thank you” and the bittersweet outcomes are more than a gift.  I have been gifted with the precious sight of a Child of God being carried home in the arms of the Magen veLo Yera’e, the unseen shield, the Holy Defender of God’s precious people.

Seven months ago, my own Mother who was not acutely ill but was called home from this body while all alone was in fact not alone at all,  the unseen defender was present to the very end.
In this season of giving gifts I am like the little drummer boy…I have no gift to bring before my King but the thanksgiving of letting me know some of His children in this intimate way and being an eye witness to the presence of Magen veLo Yera’e, The unseen miraculous presence of The Holy.
So, you see there is much more to our Christmas celebration of the Jesus Child for with Him he brought all we need for life and godliness.

Truth, like the wind, slips through the smallest cracks

abandoned ancient antique architecture

Photo by Pixabay 

 

Truth,  like the wind, slips through the smallest cracks

invading the rules of order

Truth seeps through the cloistered religious dust

annihilating that which splits us asunder

Rumour and counter rumour that Grace is truly free

 

The darkness of the lie gives way to Hope

Challenging clear-cut rules that divides

Our Salvation is clearly ours to receive

Showing  us the way to the path of brilliant  light

 

Sweetest Hallelujah

 

 

photo of child s hand playing clay

Photo by Kate Romeo

These small child’s hand prints 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 daughters

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 found the bend

I will simply give my sweetest Hallelujah