If the night is dark, I know the light.
If the world seems to be pressing hard on my shoulders, I know the one who holds it the palm of His hand.
When all seems wrong, I lean in and trust.
I have a defender and He carries me.
If I am His then what is there to fear?
Walk on weary one…walk on!
poetry
The End of the Day
At the end of the day, I can rest knowing that I did all I could to stand when the daylight and dusk collided. When the sound of feet on pavement pushed resistance against my longing…when the straggler dreams long into the twilight and the voices fade, deep and gnawing at the heart of me…I hold this hope assured in love. As the conquerer’s hands grasp tight to mine, lifting my head higher to behold the place his glory dwells. Ah, rest is found there. When his voice blares loudly the song of the ages and I find arms willing to wrap me up in grace. Comforter covering me whole.
Tonight as my eyes burn to close, I will remember that in Him I live and move and have my being and that tomorrow is another opportunity for greatness. Now I rest assured, confident and safe in the embrace of the ultimate comforter. And the world turns on and the play continues. I am found here where today gives way to tomorrow.
Hope
Steady rain pelts, swift and monotonous, on the roof above me
I feel the water purify, washing away the old, carrying with it the promise of hope
Standing singularly like a monument on the horizon
Lingering long enough for me to reach
Long enough for me to believe
Hope, that droplet swiftly coming near
Waiting for me to see it
Impact, as it falls to form in my soul a place where ignition can take effect
As lightning follows the particle to the earth
A blaze begins with a solitary moment
Hope springs from the cleansing of past colliding with the promise of now.
Mine
Your blazing gaze,
Eyes of fire staring back at me
While I look forward toward the mark
High calling when all is lost but the pursuit of things bigger than me
All at once, undone, the treasure of earthen man, dust before the burning pillar that is your love.
Expansive and wild sweeping through the brush of my past
Making new the wasted
Giants from ashes
All I once was, bowing at the feet of the holy one
Until “mine” falls from my vocabulary
And you are all that matters
Bitterness
Breech
When trust dies
Wrung out like laundry
Hung on lines of self-pronounced justice
Vindicated
When we feel the right is ours
Stretched on racks of ethics
Thin like lines that mark the face of the worn
Tired
When forgiveness takes a backseat to rightness
Dripping like oil down the beard of the judge
Anointing poured out missing its target
Who can stand when the finger points back?
Life Beyond Comfort
When the comfortable numb ceases to be comfortable, we can choose to escape and join the living or we can choose to delve deeper into denial. It is possible to stuff feelings into caverns we visit only when useful for some advantage. We can justify the remnant with clever notions about self preservation. But to truly feel is an adventure for the bravest of souls. To live deeply unafraid of the breaking takes resolve and courage.
We continue steadfast into the fray while the waves of life beat us hard into jagged edges of rock and earth. We continue to focus on prizes unseen though our eyes flinch to blink at offenses hurled at us headlong.
We will not be silenced when the night begs for songs of praise. We will not grimace at the need set before us as we offer more than what logic compels us to bring to the table of the hurt and lonely or sick and tired.
We will look past the present to the hope of glory when all seems stacked against us…when the walls we’ve built crumble to dust around us…when our towers of achievement turn to pillars of salt good only to season us with grace.
We will fight passed normal to the place where life begins, where we end. The place where our plans give way to his purpose.
There we will find the fullness of joy.
Sweet Tea
This is a guest post from my daughter. I couldn’t resist sharing. She is fourteen and a lot like her mama.
Sweet Tea
Cut me open and what will you see? An entire gallon of sweet tea.
When I’m at a restaurant in despair I know that sweet tea will be there
When I’m old dying all I need is an IV filled with sweet tea
Why am I writing this poem you ask? Because sweet tea will always last.
While divorces go through
And love fades away
A path, sweet tea, will pave.
I know this is crazy and slightly obsessive but hey sweet tea’s a blessing
With sugar so sweet and lemon so sour it’s in sweet tea that I will shower.
With my heart filled with glee, sweet tea is bæ, don’t judge me, okay?
-Rachel Woodland
Cranky baby
I love my cranky baby in the morning even though he pulls my hair and wails, fussy, fidgety.
I love his smile that sneaks past his facade and lights the morning.
I love his voice, expressing his frustration in a symphony of “da-da’s,” ba-ba-na’s and mum-num’s”
I love that I love him the same when he’s happy and that nothing will change the way I feel about him.
No amount of sickness, runny noses, goofy coughs, sore ears or crying will cause my love to waiver. In fact, they raise my compassion towards him.
He needs me and all I want to do is be there, to comfort him, to show him how loved he is
Even in the sadness and frustration. Even when he whines and screams and bites and kicks.
Love isn’t effected by such things, love endures all, forgives all, love never fails.
I love when he settles on my breast, leans close and lets go, drifting off to sleep reminding me of the dream that it is to be his mother.
And I realize that I am the child of a king and His love surpasses mine.
I’m so thankful that he too loves a cranky baby in the morning.
Today
When the waves crash hard and my toes grip the sand and I wobble at the weight of the blow,
I remember that to keep standing I’m going to have to move,
Adjust to the shifting of the earth beneath me and trust that the waves will reside and in their place something new will emerge.
Today, I will be awake.
Today, I will stand on the shore of my life, look to the horizon and be what I was purposed to be.
Tomorrow will take care of itself if I remember to care for today.
Peace
I’ve been looking for you all week. My souls been craving that moment of still when all is right and the soul is breathing as it listens to creation singing softly songs of praise.
Today, I found you in the rhythm of the waves.
INSPIRED BY THE COMFORTER 