Photo by Emre Kuzu
Time is not a matter here
in the midnight hour
I sing to you my love song
though it be worn and tattered
I fell the deep wells of danger
of both your Joy and Light
To such will be the way of it
beneath the looming night
Come endure the midnight hour
where language has no name
Yet Hope and Hardship mingle
with your Faithfulness and Grace
Photo by Ricardo Esquivel
Have you ever had the strange sensation of having traveled off the map of your own existence?
It is like moving in a mysterious land where you only know a smattering of words in that language and feel so far removed from your core being.
Some scholars call this some kind disorder of adjustment but I disagree.
I find this to be a time of challenge and exuberance in this journey.
A bigger lens through which to view the magnificence of this great pilgrimage, from the cradle to the grave and beyond…
then just as quietly or quickly some sound or smell or jolt of love for someone brings me back home.
I am now standing in my familiar dimension and even though I do not feel totally whole in this earth shell…
I know that I belong here for now until I know that I don’t anymore.
…And you will know the Truth, and the Truth will set you free.” John 8:32
Photo by Samantha Garrote
A mother is a 100 percent flawed human being who was allowed to have part in a unique way in another human beings life. Not every mom loved it, wanted it or succeeded at it. Some moms are sick. Some moms are wounded or abused. Some are driven by a secret or a demon. Some dreamed of being moms since they could talk, others did not. Some are natural at it (whatever that means). Some of us live, eat, and breathe it. Some of us enjoy every moment except maybe the fatigue! Some are fulfilled. Some are not. Some of us fail (ed) at it. Some are not biological Moms but are mothering anyway.
The Truth is most of us didn’t know what we were in for. For me being mom was more than I ever dreamed. It set me “right”. It makes me want to be a better person than I am. Motherhood gives me unspeakable joy and to be honest when it hurts it is the most painful experience. This holiday called Mother’s Day is not good or bad. It is a societal invention. That’s okay. If you are a mom this holiday and you enjoy it that is honorable. If this day brings you pain or grief this is honorable as well. We all must make our peace with our moms and with our children. Moms count in the billions. Moms are not a political agenda or a consumer product. Moms are people who love and want to be loved and fail or succeed depending upon the day or the moment of any given day. I am in the club. I wouldn’t change that. I have no regrets. To all the moms out there…let’s be kind to each other.
Photo by Nadi Lindsay
Wisteria vines will grow on walls, over other plants and along the weathered splintered gray fence that is long forgotten. The vine of Wisteria is thick and knarled and strong…
The fragrance of the low hanging purple clumps of flowers 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. There in lies the treasure. It is in the pleasure and the pain…if you allow it, first love leads to the Truth that we know nothing much of love.
She is older now and reflects back often on what she thought love was as a young woman or rather perhaps she was simply in love with what she thought love was. She loved but then she lived. In that living she learned that love is tough as nails. Love is knarled like the Wisteria vine. Love will grow over barriers and around obstacles still blooming and still fragrant. Love is having the strength to stay. Love is a wild and furious risk, a pouring out of all that one can from that cup and drink it. Love is rich and poor. Love is sickness and health. Love is a verb, an action word. Nothing about love is passive. Love cannot be manipulated. Love. Risks. Everything. The Holy God is Love’s name…ponder this, ponder Him…you will find Him because Love never quits and perfect Love cast out all fear and Love never ever fails.
Photo by Eternal Happiness
As I lay down my head in week six of this catastrophe I just want to say if you can fall asleep but not stay asleep that is okay. If a myriad of emotions and logic are surfing on your brain waves it’s ok. If you fall asleep and wake on a couch or a child’s room it’s ok. If you are praying more it’s ok. If you cannot find the words to pray it’s okay. If you are a conqueror one minute and not so brave the next minute it’s ok. If there are a hundred thoughts and feelings lying under the five you speak it’s ok. If you mourn for the dead and grieve for our globe it’s ok. These are where the avenues of grief and change and loss take us. It is ok. If you are active in politico or have turned all media completely off it’s okay. For it is not strength to pretend you are thriving in uncertainty and that you struggle with doubt and fear. It is in our weaknesses and doubts that God comes near. He is not limited not tethered to a cosmic heavenly throne. He is right here with us in our fragility and we are not alone. Jesus knows every cell of human bondage. He knows of courage being one heartbeat away from fear. Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us and He is with us now. So rest your weary head in his comfort when you can. I have seen His beauty and have tasted His goodness and it is a healing balm. Lay down your head and rest my friends for tomorrow we will try again. There is victory in His power over things we can’t understand. I have seen His Salvation in life and in death and He has never forgotten not one of His own since before the foundation of the world. Shalom tonight dear world. As for me I have tasted and have seen the goodness of the Lord and He is more than we can fathom and so if today you fell apart it’s okay because He never will…
Photo by João
The sun has slanted across the sky
thoughts scroll through my mind then fly
That precise sliver in time
The see-saw is tipping to the down side
I slam and am jolted by the sand in my eyes
Suddenly a week seems like a lifetime
I know I never really controlled my world
The lie in my head where I thought I was safe
but being found in Christ I am not forsaken.
Photo by Johannes Plenio
The Chinese refer the human heart as the “Emperor” of all the body organs. As some of you know I spent the largest part of my nursing career as a Cardiac Nurse. In the care of the heart I was in my element and in the technical exploration of the heart even more so. I literally loved looking at hearts and being a very minuscule part of attempting to repair them. There is much that technology’s advancements have taught us in sustaining healthy heart function. Did you know that over an average life span a human heart will beat without fail over forty million times? There is a wear and tear on such a faithful organ that works this hard and there are many physiological reasons the heart will wear out, malfunction, or fail.N
Takosubo Cardiomyopathy is a type of non-ischemic (a situation not caused by “restricted blood flow”) which is phenomenon in which a “temporary weakness of the heart muscle occurs.” In lay-people terms it is referred to as “broken heart syndrome.” A true diagnosis stating the overwhelming loss, constant anxiety, and other emotional situations can lead to a “broken heart.”
In the matters of the heart I believe we have only two options. We try to control it and it still dies or we give it over to God and it really never can die. There is no middle ground.
It is a given that after forty billion beats a heart is going to finally come to a stop. I am of course speaking tongue in cheek here as I am speaking of the Spirit of a person, their heart that does not die.
The writer Charles Martin says it this way in his book Send Down the Rain.
“Love rushes in where others won’t. Where bullet are flying. Love stands between them. Love pours out, empties itself. It scours the evil wasteland, returns the pieces that were lost, and never counts the cost.”
Photo by GEORGE DESIPRIS
I stare out my window
Like a sea wife staring out the horizon
Time moving ever so slow
I have always felt set apart
Looking outside of dreams into the indigo haze
Time capturing the beats of my heart
This is what faith is
The hope of what can’t always be seen
Time cannot define where he is
Photo by Ithalu Dominguez
Butterscotch Sunday melted away
We rode on the train down by the bay
We built little castles with dirty brown sand
We bought Colombian
heard the Stephen Stills band.
You said I was the beauty of the earth
Flowers in my hair, cigarettes in my purse.
I thought that train ride would never end
until I saw you on the bridge with my best friend.
I pack my bags on a Butterscotch Sunday
put on my pink dress and kneel down to pray.
All the dirty brown sand castles crumble down
I’m gonna board the next train out of town.
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…