Born of Blood

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Born of blood, in labour’s pain,

life contracts, and breathes again;

true love’s sacrificial start

is pregnant with a bleeding heart.

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True love bleeds – first, to give life, then, to sustain it. To love means heartache and pain just as surely as joy. It is entering into another’s world, accepting the call to stand with another through joy and pain, sun and rain. It is choosing to give up comfort to carry another’s burdens. It is accepting the highest calling, to lay aside part of one’s own agenda to champion someone else’s. Isn’t this what God did in setting aside His divinity to become like us, to bleed on our behalf? It is a deep privilege to be called a mother, to copy in some small way the sacrificial love of our greatest Hero. Happy Mother’s Day to each of you…

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Significance

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Small progress, to be sure,

overlooked by all casual observers,

but don’t miss its significance. It is

profundity in prose,

a missive spelling out

constitutional reform,

 emancipation of slaves. It is

a palette of life to starving artists,

Monet painting van Gogh

in the round.

A Master Chef’s confection

to a parched refugee,

it teases taste buds

and tastes of freedom. It is

story choreographed,

bringing tears unbidden in

 a dark theater,

goosebumps on arms

beneath evening dress.

Beethoven’s ears opening to

Moonlight Sonata

for the first time

and dancing with the pulse of

a thousand known notes

are contained in its single song.

Galaxies are formed in its confinement,

hope carved in foliar flare;

life lives here.

See it

with

new eyes.

Taste it.

Feel it in the way your chest moves in and out,

how your brow contracts in the thinking.

Small progress, to be sure –

but don’t .

Miss.

Its.

Significance.

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For a devotional on this theme, visit Growing with God in my Garden

When Snow Falls Thick

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When snow falls thick and clogs the Spring

whose thawing work has set you free,

when blizzard winds whirl in your ears,

demand your dismal company –

remember Winter is a lie,

a setback only, set in snow;

He cannot rob you of your joy,

nor murder Spring with killing blow.

To Catch the Sun

To catch the sun, you lay a trap

of steel in dark of deadly night.

 Add some bait, perhaps a scrap

of lightning from a stormy flight;

as she mounts horizon’s hill,

the sun will spy allurement there,

cunningly, of her free will,

she’ll glow with joy and trip the snare.

Jump for Joy, Johnny

Jump for joy, Johnny,

jump for joy –

your days are numbered,

come-lately boy.

The frost approaches,

so seize the day,

and count each moment

before it fades.

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These tiny violets spring up in cool weather during the spring and fall.  We call them ‘Johnny-jump-ups’!