Like a message in a bottle bobbing in the water
Sun bleached and salty skinned I washed upon the shore
I am made from stronger stuff than it appeared
being born an old soul, competent and sure
I wished for middle ground, something I could manage
But grief always takes sides in things that really matter
The literal peeling of my skin and raw down to the marrow
I wanted to die and be done with the making of this sorrow
Then a warm hand put a cup of water to my mouth
I lapped it up as if water wasn’t all around me
A voice said, ” I am grief and I am not here to take you under
But you must take a side in things that really matter.”
Hours and ions will bend
as words pour on to paper
A long day’s journey
salty is the flavor
White sails billow
the gull cries for favor
I think I’d like to be alone
but pain can turn the tables
A wild joy takes me over
pure substance hovers just inside
A wild joy is my lover
ever changing with the tide
Let me take you to my beach
where the sand is sugar white
The water blue as a daydream
laps the shore in three-quarter time
At night I’ll take you to the stars
where the sailing ships all go
Where salt water heals your skin
like a lullaby heals your soul.
All of the tourists have gone away
there is no more t-shirts for sale today
The rest of the locals are raising a toast
back to the quiet and the pull of the moon
No footprints in the sand, no hurrying to do
There is no other sky like October blue
the deep green waves call out to you
My heart is captured by the lure of the Sea
that autumn wind still carries me
I want to walk on the beach in my old sweatshirt
Just looking for shells and listening to the surf
The ocean’s wind catches each regret, each sin, and sorrow throwing it into the eternity of a perfect God to be forever forgotten. In the light of the moon a young woman, who thought the stars would stop shining above her found the Maker of the stars and the freedom and love and the lullaby He sang washing over her in waves. So now I am drifting, sailing free in the light of summer love and I know that I am saved. I know that I was lost and you came to find me.
On that day when the sun tipped over the edge of the earth and spilled colors like buckets of orange, pink, and violet as a reminder of the power of Holy light. The young woman once ravaged and scarred by guilt and shame found joy in the warmth of The Son. Lifted from the darkness you came for me . I was lost and you lifted me in your arms and by your own wounds, scars, and stripes you healed me.
It is always worth mending that which is broken. This is the heartbeat of God’s love. The fractures, wounds, and scars are remarkably purified like gold after the pain of repentance has done its work making every broken piece precious in His sight transforming those that are broken into the Holy wholeness of the Holy One whose image we bear.
In the end are not the scars part of the beauty? Oh yes! I think Jesus, when we meet him will show us his perfectly mended scars in his human-ness even though He is now glorified. He is always perfect. I think he will say “yes, these scars represent each of you and they are beautiful.”
It’s the root that lead to fruit. When you dig down about two knuckles deep under a fruit bearing tree you will expose the gnarled bumps on the bark. That is where all the nutrients and energy are. The thicker the branch the older the tree. Ah, there is a metaphor in there somewhere. The more foliage to wood ratio means the tree produces less fruit than their offspring but the older tree produces larger, heavier fruit with more strength, oil, and taste in it.
Being grounded and rooted like the Bible talks about does have to do with maturity as in age. Psychologist and author Dr. Hud McWilliams states, “Maturing is the weakest link in the Christian walk. You can spot immaturity by how much gratitude, joy, and dimension the believer has. God is NOT one dimensional.” In other words, God is not just into let’s say “healing” people. He is about the whole person.
“The infinite dimensions of God are what marks His being as different as ours.” Yes we are made in his image but we are human. We are finite. We are created to be finite but our spirits are what goes on into those other dimensions that man cannot fathom. We were created to bear the mark of His image which is love, joy, peace, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, patience, and self-control. These are the fruits of being image bearer.
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.
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.
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…
(“Rachmones”:this is a Hebrew word for womb…It is the definition of a compassion as deep and as undeniable as what a mother feels for her child). A little set up for the journal essay below…love you and your family.
I got up very early on Sunday morning and sat on a bench in the park…I wondered what it would be like to leave my Christian self and shrug off the garment of My Lord’s bloody cloak. I remember standing up and bowing to my knees. The stillness and holiness of that place brought to my mind the word’s “Lord have mercy… “Chrieste eleison.” Then I thought of the former life I had shed because of Christ and how he had withheld his anger from me and has shown me His Mercy. The Yiddish word for Mercy is “rachmones”, whose root is “rechem” the Hebrew word for womb.
Myself being a mother and now a grandmother I am sure once again that God is my father and my mother, the silent mother of mercy, if you will. In his transcendence He is not limited in any way. I know that I could no sooner cease being a Christian then I can cease being me…So I picked up my bloody cloak of Jesus Christ and put it back on gladly. I pray that if anyone sees anything at all the rest of my life it will be God, the silent mother of Mercy, Rachmones.