What do you do with the gifts I give you
The blue flags and the cardinal view? ￼￼
Do you heal, whilst you love
Do you leave legacy?
Do you fly￼
Do you let Me guide you?￼￼
What do you do with the Fall Equinox
The waned moon and the amber days too?￼￼
Do you stir, undeterred
Do you walk with purpose?
Do you rise
Do you see My True Hue?
I have a loved one who introduced me to Jesus when I was 19. Where would I be without that fact, I shudder to think. If you know and love and have faith in the God of the Bible, the Creator of the Universe, I’m asking…please pray for the person God put in my path all those years ago.
I often do a prayer-filled writing meditation where I sit down and without a goal, simply watch and listen to what God literally sets in front of me. Today it was all of these things:
•lavender from my garden
•my son’s school notebook and science book
•the blue prayer flags in my window
•a cardinal landing in the tree inches in front of my face
•golden tall grasses around the edge of my yard
And then, God asked me to ask all of us this: What do you *do*with it all?
Be that lightning bolt
God may damn a lesser volt
Come out from the cloud
Realigned my soul
So the sour, pale strawberry
Still was a blessing
The far out there we strive to delve into
The mired-down terra here we call home
Be brave, if you will
Act to master the wherefore
Despite arms never long enough
Lousy, camera-fumbling hands
Fingers that can’t match the shutter speed
To touch what the eyes so beautifully see
To hold that light reflecting
From the Universe Orator
Still, we of mortal’s strength
With small or great faith
Must reach celestial-ward
Original Thought Credit: “If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”
-2 Chronicles 7:14
See that small farm right there
See those young and old kids
Mine and his
Toys and mischief, solemnity and instruments strewn about
All things with strings — what heaven these things
Animals, there’s no choice
Alpacas, needing to wake us at dawn but, agreeable, settle in for the night before our dinnertime
Ebony dogs and snowy white chickens
No cows, but a cowboy
Keeps his white hat far back in our closet on a shelf and never puts my heart on a shelf
Comes home from work on time and Saturdays are his and mine
We get greasy together under the cover of some good old American steel
In the polebarn back there, muscle-bound memories we rebuild
Sundays are God’s, he says — how he leads the way, putting all striving aside for the day
On his knees each night in prayer
No need to prove himself to me ever again since he put me on a pedestal there in his heart of gold
Our house on a hill, our kids and our farm
His eyes and his time and his life
His gifts to me, Amen and Amen
This man I’ve not met
Wielding a wellspring of hope
Bring him to me, God
Were I God, I’d think to define, “win”
When creatures, injured, question lover’s sin
“Do hollow smiles somehow qualify?
Or emptiness so plain behind those eyes?”
“A hardened heart, absent a joy-filled beat
Make clear to me he re-mains incomplete”
“Your love, be sure it lingers on his soul
He dreads the days without you he grows old”
“He tallies daily losing you again
Discarded Darling, You were his sole “win””
(America has a birthday coming up.
I’m never one to want to miss a birthday — but how to offer celebratory wishes, given our current state of disunity?
The child of God in me has the utmost hope that Our Nation will heal and become unified. And, the child of God in me sees, too, that what America is holding right now is an over-rated, wrinkly, old flag.
But, Happy Birthday, America.
I love you.
Photo Credit: Lisa Rosier;
American flag flying aboard the USS Lexington when Japan surrendered in 1945; On display at the National Naval Aviation Museum, Alabama)
I see you tucked away, there in the corner of this epic adventure.
A stowaway undermining, under the guise of love and concern.
I come for inspection, to work, and for respite every couple of days and we lock eyes.
With your back to me, and a mirror before you, I watch you watch me plead hello.
There’s a reason you do not respond to my greetings until the awkwardness becomes too thick to ignore me anymore.
You’re stealing and hoarding and leveraging me and what’s mine.
The awesome view from on high.
The space I’ve created to just be.
The aura I emit.
My ample supply of lust and cinnamon breakfast cereal.
My apathy in attending properly to it all.
Until yesterday, when the doorman warned me, so gracefully, you must go.
More precisely that I must say to you.
When you’re here, you’re not yourself, thus this means it’s time.
The Welcome sign at my doorstep you’ve taken far too far, my friend….
It was never meant for you, you know, I see.
Sin and God told me.