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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Baby Steps

Sometimes, I still feel so small,

Looking up at distant height;

Sometimes, forward’s just a crawl,

When soul desires freedom’s flight.

But just as trees need lifetime’s span,

So my progress time requires;

Just as pine from seed began,

So my heart grows what’s desired.

Lord, remind your daughter small

That You delight in stages earned;

Walking comes when first I’ve crawled,

And flying after running’s turn.

Quench

Liquid refresher course, learning by osmosis, a study in cyclical science;

Draped in cloak of geometric beauty, abacus adding drip to drop.

Verbs, how I love you, let me count the ways in which

You personify perfection in your description;

Suit action to word, and call it like

It is – trickle, plop, ripple,

Dazzle, drizzle,

Quench.

What I’ve Learned in the Lagoon…

Photo source: all-creatures.org

If you’ve ever driven past a lagoon (a holding area for piggy waste) your nose knows of what I speak.

I have finally been able to come up with a good analogy describing the last year and a half of my life:

It’s as though I stumbled across a secret lagoon hidden in my own backyard.  And now that I know it’s there, it can’t be ignored, or shoved under a rock.  The smell is just too overpowering.

No, I’ve got to deal with it.  And the teaspoon I’ve been handed to shovel with sure doesn’t help much.

Here are the lessons I’ve learned in the lagoon:

1.  The clean-up job sucks.  It reeks to high heaven.  Quit expecting your problems to smell good.  Or to be easy to remedy.

2. Due to the close proximity to the edge (given the nature of your teaspoon), it is absolutely inevitable that you will fall in once in a while.  Yeah, it’s gross – but you’ll get back out again.

3.  It’s asking a LOT to expect anyone else to dig with you.  Most people, even my hand-picked ‘team’, have run.  The smell is just too much for many people to deal with, so they’ll keep their distance and cheer at you (or throw out criticism) from the sidelines.  When and if someone actually grabs a teaspoon, they are your true forever friends! (You know who you are…)

4.  Don’t look at the whole pit at once.  Setting a goal of cleaning it all will suck you in every time.  If all you could do today was 1 teaspoonful, that is one less teaspoon to deal with tomorrow.

5.  Throw away your watch.  This isn’t a gaming challenge for bragging rights – it’s your life.  Thinking it must all be dealt with now will defeat you before you begin.  Make the word ‘PROCESS‘ your new mantra.

6.  It’s okay to put down the spoon when the smell gets to you.  Go for a walk.  Call a friend.  Laugh at a joke.  When you are ready to return, you’ll be in a better frame of mind to pick up where you left off.

7. Give yourself some slack!  The world didn’t show you mercy – but that’s no reason not to lend it to yourself.

8. Don’t judge your process.  Don’t compare your shovelling style or prowess to anyone else.  This is YOUR LAGOON; they have their own.

9. Learn to appreciate and celebrate your successes.  Make much of your own progress – you are best acquainted with the level of hard work it took just to get where you are!

10. Cultivate a new attitude.  Open your eyes – and your heart!  Unseen hands carry the brunt of your load.  If your eyes are truly open, you just might catch a glimpse of God working alongside you, right in the bottom of the pit…

Bookish Beauty

Exactly!

I hear ya, Mr. Jefferson.

I love the feel of the pages.  I love the way the covers distend to display their wares.  I love the weight of them in my hands.  I love the smell of an old, leather-bound classic – musty and wise, they smell of secret reminiscences of  readers in days of yore.

And I love their words.  Thousands of them, ants scurrying for the last crumb of communication on every page.  Spilling over each other in their awareness of self-importance – each one bears the weight of its own missive in silent dignity.  Together, they tell of castles and knights and goblins and princesses.  Places and spaces and ideas and plots.  Opinions and perspectives and cultures and history.  And stories – always, amazing stories…

Stories can entertain.  They can enlarge understanding.  They can inform, encourage, energize, enlighten, inspire.  They can draw out tears.  They can provide a mirror to your soul.

They can be oh, so beautiful.

And one Book surpasses them all in its life-changing power.  No other Book can create the desire to become a better me.  No other Book can impart hope and courage in the face of terrible trouble.

“All Scripture is inspired by God and is useful to teach us what is true and to make us realize what is wrong in our lives.  It corrects us when we are wrong and teaches us to do what is right.” II Timothy 3:16 NLT

       

What do you love about books?  How does their beauty touch you?  How have you felt and experienced the beauty of The Good Book?