The Hunt

seagull egg

My heart was born,

an embryo, a pale and speckled thing;  I

painted it with childish dreams, in rainbow shades of spring.

I thought it was a masterpiece, its shell Venetian glass; I put my gift upon

display, in Easter basket grass. When no one stopped or noticed it, I gazed about

in tears; I noted how the others looked, and painted mine like theirs. But ev’ry layer

colored in just added extra weight; its overburdened, hard-boiled shell soon learned

to hibernate. One day someone gathered it and leaned in for a peep; in his haste he

scrambled it, and tossed it in a heap. Hurt, it hid, and hidden, hurt, and nursed its

deviled thoughts; broken, beaten, in despair, pain fried its yolk in knots. Gentle eyes

began a search, intent upon a quest; Hunter, restless, overlooked the paint-by-number

nests. Gentle hands with kid-glove care collected, cracks and all;  Humpty’s horses’

kingly men had no luck by his wall, but Hunter’s love was kingly glue, and whisked

the shattered shell back into its birthday state, and realigned each cell. Gentle

pressure peeled the paint, revealed its truest shade – Seeker sought and found

his prize, and put it on display. He tells me now he loves me true, though

still my cracks survive; but, incubated by his warmth,

my heart has come alive.

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Then You Walked By

march-iceHe was desert.

I, so thirsty, swallowed sand

Until I mummified.

He was iceberg.

I, so frozen, craved his warmth

Til all was numb inside.

Then You walked by –

Waterfalls and rip-tide seas

That made these cracked lips burn.

Summer Sunburst

Melted rivers, carved new clefts,

Uncovered long-dead urns.

And oh! the pain

As figments of sandcastles

Collapsed beneath my toes.

And oh! the ache

As Light revealed the chaos

I’d buried deep with snow.

You are water.

I, so thirsty, drink You in,

Til my cup overflows.

You are Sunshine.

I, so frozen, snuggle deep,

And Your arms hold me close.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Time is Dressed in Bridal White

burdenedsundial

Time is dressed in bridal white,

ticking items off her list –

righteousness in sparkling light

with holy raiment wholly kissed.

Not yet grasping married state,

waiting for the Bridal Hall;

ever-changing while she waits

as glories stream to Royal Ball.

*

The Bride waits, changing from glory to glory, for the day of her final blessing…

Wherever Faith is Found

Snow in clusters,

each  flake a perfect God-thought,

drifting down from heaven’s storehouses,

piling up in drifts

wherever faith

is found.

*

“How precious to me are Your thoughts, O God; how vast is the sum of them…”

A Beautiful Stillness

Hurry – your bus is here!  Quick – brush your teeth so we can get to hockey practice.  Don’t be a slowpoke – you’ll make us late.

I cant’ right now, honey – my boss is expecting this presentation -like, yesterday.  Sorry – I can’t be there for your sister’s funeral.  My schedule is packed.

I’m just so busy…

We wear the ‘busy badge’ like it is a modern triumph proving how very valuable, how very indispensable, how very important we are.

And the badge clogs our heart’s arteries and disturbs our compassionate halos and diminishes our God-given function.  And as our dreams lie dying in the dust, we wake up one morning to realize that all has been vanity, and wonder why our children won’t visit and our friends don’t call.

Jesus offers a delicious antidote to the bitter pill of the busy timetable.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28 NLT)

There is a distinct beauty, then, in learning to rest.  Learning to relax.  Taking the time to just be, rather than do.

Here are some of the images that speak rest into my weary spirit.

Tranquil  tranquil Tranquil

Tranquil  Tranquil!  tranquil.

What do you do to rest your spirit?  How do you recharge?