It was the brightest sky in a hundred years

 

amazing astronomy background bright

Photo by Luck Galindo

It was the brightest sky in a hundred years

an ancient song that drew me here

There is no burden that these stars will fall

I know you will answer when I call

 

Like a dazzling topaz you fill my sky

as you drift from me to that Holy high

I knew that you were glad to go

though selfishly I did not want it so

 

Then you spoke to me in that gentle way

There are worse things then dying you said that day

I cried and agreed but did not want you leave

but we both know the One in whom we believe

 

For He holds all our days and all our joys

although I can no longer hear your voice

Today I know you’re both watching over us

The family that you love so much

 

 

 

 

 

 

My writing is a dialogue with my self…that might spill over into your life…

I have come to see that most of this need to write is a dialogue with my self in which I sort out, define, and narrate my beliefs, my perceptions, and my life…

When my Mom recently passed away I used writing as a tool to grieve, mourn, and rejoice. I use words to give Praise to God who, by faith I believe in and trust. I use writing to rail against injustice and to also humble my self that I don’t have a right to judge anyone. I have always loved The written word.

scribbles on wall

Photo by Jimmy Chan

The power of The Word that put on flesh are the words that I hold most dear. This Word lives and moves and creates and forgives and heals…

I recently have been thinking about the divide in the Church regarding the inerrant Word of God and how each believer must make their stand regarding the Bible being wholly literal or not. I know it is literal and inerrant…

In our flesh we can use the Bible and make it say something it doesn’t. For example taking the word “submission” and turning it into a way to manipulate and control others but in the context of the whole character of God and His Word Jesus clearly examples for us that submission to His Father  was based on honor and glory with humility. What a difference context makes.

Sometimes there are no words for me to express the profound treasures of life but I like the challenge of attempting to anyway.  Perhaps in heaven I will be allowed to write Psalms and poems to worship Jesus with…

My motivation and passion is to connect with others by something I see or have experienced and put such descriptive words on paper the the reader will feel that they are not alone in their story…

So whether it really matters in the big picture I don’t know but using words to speak life is exactly what Jesus did… ” and the  Word became flesh and dwelt among us! My word for that is Hallelujah! ”

 

 

 

 

Summer Sun

selective focus photography of grass

Photo by Jens Mahnke 

 

The summer sun is baking the side walks and streets.
The Texas horizon looks like a melting mirage.
Summer solstice has arrived and a few things never change.
Even in the shade it is one hundred degrees.
My grandchildren have begun their love affair with the sprinkler and popsicles.
In the backyard with their parents.
And wonderful cool sheets for an afternoon nap.
And all is right with my world today and I am grateful.

The Pedestal

abstract angelic art blast

Photo by Sebastian Voortman

He said I was too good to be true

but of course there were obvious clues

 

He said your eyes are like pools of mystery

but of course he couldn’t see my history

 

The pedestal was so lovely for a season

but of course in time it crumbled all to pieces

 

He said the crumbled ruins were better 

of course no one can love a stone cold pedestal

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lover’s Curtains

photo of beaded accessories

Photo by Artem Bali

It doesn’t really matter when

I pull back the curtains and see you again

It will be two-sided loving

like it’s always been

Come on in my lover and friend

 

There is a wonderful wildness in a true loves heart

once it starts the rhythm won’t stop

do you feel it baby,

do you still feel it too

When I pull back the curtains and come visit you?

 

 

On either side of Him stood two beings…

silhouette of person s hand touching water during sunset

Photo by Emre Kuzu

His face sparkled like a multi-faceted diamond. A face that blazed like the sun yet different. A pure white light with flashes of blue, silver, and gold. It hurt my eyes so badly to look at Him but I could not, would not turn my face away. I did not care if I went blind. This face is the One I’d been waiting to see all of my life. His face was all I could look at as if in a trance; like when starting a fire in the Old World. Mesmerizing doesn’t begin to describe it. The blaze was so bright that I could not see anything of His other features at all.

On either side of Him stood two beings, they were a coll alabaster white, not bright white, not shining in any way but pure and cool looking. They each stood facing Him never moving their face from His. They did not speak. They were powerful creatures, I could tell, they were strong and sure of their purpose. They were creatures with a human face that I could recognize and at least seven feet tall and had wings that were about six feet tall and four feet in width. Each feather gently folded into the next. Once for just a second I saw their feathers slightly ruffle from top to bottom and could see these were strong wings. Wings that never faltered  when they flew or fought in a battle or stood at attention. I was afraid.

I was so afraid that my legs could no longer hold me. I was eager to kneel down. It felt good to kneel before Him because in the Old World with decaying knee joints I could no longer kneel in His presence. All the while my eyes were burning severely from His brightness. I felt strong in the kneeling as if I, like the two creatures, am created for this very thing.

Then the most incredible thing happened…He knelt down on His knees too and when He did it was the face I knew it would be. His face. The face of softness and kindness. The face of antiquity yet new and fresh. His eyes were not like our eyes. His eyes were not blue, brown, green, or hazel or gray or any of those colors…they were simply Light.

He took his hand and palmed my cheek and spoke to me. The words he spoke I will not share with anyone ever. They were words just between us. Words I had thirsted for since I was formed in my Mother’s womb by my Father’s sinful Adam’s seed. They were words beyond redeeming love, words of My Story with Him, of understanding with healing and further instruction of what is to come. They were words I had never heard spoken before, another language if you will. They were Peace and oh what joy did flood my soul.

At that moment the same blazing light that came from Him entered into me and my eyes no longer burned at all. My sight was inconceivably and brilliantly clear. I belonged there with Him…every “longing” I had ever known in my Eternal Life and even before in the Dead Life stood right there in front of me. Each one of them actually existed before my eyes and each one was finally satiated beyond measure. He smiled at me and pulled me up from my knees and that is when I felt the scars in His hands. Those beautiful wounded hands took mine and we walked among my life, my dreams. As He held my hand in His I knew I would never have to be separated from Him again.

He said, “let’s walk along the place you loved the most in the Old World.”

Gently without fanfare or fear I heard that beautiful love song of waves washing upon the shore. The smell of salt water and life teemed all around me. There was no stench of dead sea life or decay of any kind just the scent of cleanness. The colors of the water was too wonderful for words. Again, I want to keep this precious moment private…this was our beach, just His and mine. We stayed there and looked for shell and other jewels that were of a beauty and colors I have never seen. We waded into the water and even though it was Ocean water we could drink it and it tasted sweet beyond honey. We picked some living anemone flowers and held them and then put them back unscathed into the water. They swam around His feet as if to love on Him. Oh it is a glorious place We sat down in the sand as white and soft as a cloud and we held hands and rested…

 

 

“The human affair requires a miraculous solution…” (my nursing memories)

 

abandoned architecture auschwitz auschwitz concentration camp

Photo by Pixabay

She said, “the “human affair” requires a miraculous solution.  She shared how her mind would grow wings and soar in the great blue beyond. That is how she knew she was different…her mind would discover life’s secrets as it dipped and glided on the winds and over the Milky Way.  She said “I just never knew that most people did not seem to care to go where their mind would take them if they let it…”

She knew in order to please others her mind must stay tethered to her body but it seldom obeyed itself in this endeavor. She said,  “when people judged her she simply put them away like old worn out shoes because they could not help that they were worn out and would most likely never be able to take wings and fly with her.  It is a choice we each must make.  Most people think it childish to soar above the Milky Way or ride upon a raindrop.”  She said her fondest memory was when she made snow angels in her own snow globe because Winter was her favorite season and she like to remember the angels…

She spent two years in a German concentration camp when she was eighteen years old and she never saw her family again. She would watch the birds fly overhead mingling with the ashes of the dead and let her mind  go with the birds so that she would not become the ashes. Many years after the war she came to America and stayed with a distant Aunt who had also survived. She was put through many psychiatric test and told she was what we now call Bipolar but she never believed the doctors. She wrote beautiful poetry that lifted people up among the hopelessness of the aftermath of such a devastating time in human history. She had a tattoo on her arm and a limp due to a hip fracture she received in a beating in the camp because she did not stand up fast enough for one of the guards.

One evening as I was preparing her for bed I asked her if she believed in God. She looked at me without speaking for a minute or two and then she said with her chocolate brown eyes glimmering with tears, “who do you think let my mind grow wings and soar and still does? Who do you think slept by me every night in that camp and protected me from rape and disease and starvation? Who do you think I rode to the Milky Way with?”

“Oh child, she whispered, our God is bigger than all the evil, the most heinous deed man can dream up.”  As she lay her head upon her pillow and I tucked her in for the night she said calmly, “tomorrow I will be going beyond and will never be tethered to this old body again and when I go please don’t let anyone try to bring me back. I have waited long enough to meet my poet. It is God who writes the poetry of our lives and no one can take that away from you.”

I turned out the overhead light of her hospital room and I walked out into the night air and I stared up at the Milky Way and I cried. I cried and smiled at the same time. I knew I had been given a great gift. I would never forget that the “human affair” requires a miraculous solution and The Holy God is the poet of that solution. 

Where shall I go from your Spirit?
    Or where shall I flee from your presence?
 If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
    If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
 If I take the wings of the morning
    and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
 even there your hand shall lead me,
    and your right hand shall hold me.
 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
    and the light about me be night,”
 even the darkness is not dark to you;
    the night is bright as the day,
    for darkness is as light with you.

Psalm 139: 7-12

 

 

 

 

Lost Boys…

silhouette group of people standing on grass field

Photo by Afta Putta Gunawan

 

I always tried to save the Lost Boy…

I could pick Him out in a crowd

His eyes look sad as if they wanted to be found

He is hurt deep  inside but never makes a sound…

 

I always tried to save the Lost Boy…

he will never dance to someone else’s tune

he talks tough to his friends and howls at the moon

he takes care of others and will grow up too soon…

 

Oh the Lost Boys are blue, some are bound to lose

I pray to The One who can right all wrongs to sing His song

and fill the boy with sweet light and soul

because I know now I cannot save The Lost Boys…