A Penny for Your Thoughts

"A penny for your thoughts,"
He said, leaning into that
Intimate space across the table.

"I--" she started, thinking
This one really expected
Her intelligent response.

"What I meant," he corrected,
Looking her in the eye,
"Is I want to purchase your thoughts."

"Whaaat?" She countered,
Confused by his icy stare
(Had she misread him after all?)

"I want to buy your thoughts,"
He said again, nonchalantly,
"All of them."

"All of them?" she repeated,
Attempting to process this
Turn of table event.

"Yes, of course, all of them,"
He said, "For a penny."
As if that were more than enough.

"I don't know who you think you are,
Or what right you have to ask,
But there is no way in hell--"

"Look," he said, put out with her
Objection, "I'm paying more than
The asking price for them all.

"What need have you of them?"
He pushed an envelope forward.
"Here, two pennies then.

"You really can't do better than that,"
He said. "I've heard enough of yours
To know there'd be no market."

She stared at the envelope;
Wondering when the price
Of a person's thought was so--

"I will not sell out." She said.
"You will," He countered,
"To me or someone else

"Only they may not pay
Such a high price
For your meager thoughts."

"You cannot buy my thoughts,"
She said. "You cannot have them."
And she slid the envelope forward.

"Fine," he said, standing up.
"Your loss, my dear."
He threw a bill on the table.

She stared at his retreating form,
Tore into the abandoned envelope
And gripped tightly two dull pennies.

Caution: Falling Boulder!

By definition, detached--
Feeling no longer a part
Of what had held it before,
Nothing binding it anymore,
Only momentary incidents
Of impact these days.

A falling boulder.

Some would call this Free Fall
A cosmic inspiration of Hope;
Misguidedly waving as the weighty
Mass succumbs to Gravity.
There is only a hard surface
Awaiting to Break the Fall.

Someone needs to warn them.

Far below, they idealistically
Celebrate what they deem to be
An intellectual phenomenon.
A band plays, someone blows a
Trump and another cries in glee.
Fair maidens dance in Time.

But this rock is worn.

They cannot see the deep crevices
Or the scars of impacts made long ago;
They cannot imagine the density
Of this rock which has fallen,
Finally, after long years of foggy
Contemplations on a mountain top.

This rock is large.

She's no pebble, this one;
Rather a planet of swirling,
Unnamed disappointments;
There is no combination of words
To describe what lies within
Her damaged surface.

Alas, the hard earth at last.


Boulder: A detached and rounded or worn rock, especially a large one (dictionary.com)

Pondering The Walls

What happens when the walls that were originally designed, constructed, erected to keep out pain or memory or loss become permanent fixtures, a constant, part of the design?

What if walls have been there so long that no one remembers what it was like before they existed--therefore, in the minds of all, those walls have always existed?

Self-protection was the motive for these walls--to keep out anything and anyone who attempts to get in, get through to that place--where we are most vulnerable?

Self-preservation is the reason we allow the walls to settle in, downward, ensuring the strength of the foundation of fear which created them in the first place.

No one is getting in these walls. Not now, not ever.

These walls are strong, they will hold.
I can allow whomever I wish to enter and be safely contained with me.

These walls are sturdy, they will last forever.
I will allow them to put down roots; no one will question their existence, presence.

These walls are infallible, because I will it to be so.
I can ensure their existence by believing they will never be infiltrated or destroyed.

These walls are my walls, and I own them.
I will maintain ownership until I breathe my last--they are wholly mine.

No one is getting in these walls. Not now, not ever.

Within these walls, I make the rules.
Within these walls, I am in control of the emotional atmosphere.
Within these walls, I am safer than I would be without them.
Within these walls, it's only me. And sometimes you.

-------------------------------------

This oddly constructed prosaic poetry was written after contemplation about "wall building"--a psychological questioning about how we create walls and reconstruct reality via the building of walls.

Yes, it was inspired by a true story.

How to Help a Sad Girl

She used to sing and dance
And wave her hands and heart
Freely.

Now she hums and hops
And starts to wave but
Stops.

Something has happened
To this girl who used to
Live and Laugh and Love.

She is sad now.

These days, she doesn't eat;
Flashes dark eyes in response
To questions or correction.

She has distanced herself
At just eleven now--
Something has changed her.

Her eyes are sad.

This once-bubbly girl
Sparkled in sequined light,
A walking ray of sunshine.

This, too, has changed.

Oh, how to help a sad girl--
Is there a way to unlock
The fear or pain within her?

From whence cometh this sadness?

Who can peel back the layers
Of self-defense to reveal
The little girl we once knew?

Sad girl, please take my hand.

Here, in my heart, is joy.
You can share it with me.
Here, in my hands, is peace--
I give it freely.
Here, take this song--
I wrote it for you.

Listen to my prayer for you,
Free spirit to spirit,
Feel my love for you;
It is full and there is plenty;
You don't have to perform
To receive it...

I bless you with my love.
I pray for your peace.
I speak renewal and joy restored:
You are beautiful, creative,
You are special, unique,
Perfect in every way.

There is no one like you
And He deemed it to be so.
Can't you see it?
I pray that you can see it,
For if you can catch a glimpse
Of YOU, you will be aware.

No more sad girl.

The Christmas Aisle!

It's September 20th today, and as I was shopping for basics at the Dollar Store, I stumbled across the CHRISTMAS aisle!!! Yes, I said it!!!! CHRISTMAS!!! I was literally trying to contain my sheer JOY!!!

Have I mentioned how much I LOVE LOVE LOVE CHRISTmas?!?! Seriously!!!

I nearly bought a CHRISTmas tree tonight!!! And it's not even Halloween. And it's not even Thanksgiving. But I very nearly bought a tree to put up tonight!!! I'm feeling the NEED for CHRISTmas lights!!!

*smiling*

Bucket List Thoughts: September

Thinking today of my
Bucket List.
All the Things I'd like to do
In the time remaining:

I'd like to publish a book--
A non-fiction motivational
AND a juvenile fiction novel
AND a children's book.

I'd like to be interviewed on TV--
Something that inspires people
To love themselves and others
More than they've ever loved before.

I'd like to travel to foreign lands:
Spain and France and Israel,
Ireland and England (again),
Maybe even China or Australia!

I'd like to visit every continent,
Go scuba diving, parasailing,
Meet Joel and Victoria Osteen,
Collaborate on a produced screenplay.

I'd like to get a celebrity-style makeover,
Lose weight, take a ballet class,
Learn to play guitar, write music,
Perform in a coffee shop.

These are just a few of the things
I would like to do in my life:
But most of all, and above all,
My heart's desire is to please The Lord.

Dream Chasing

This Great Slowing Down
I've been experiencing
Has made me wonder
About the time I have left:

Is it time to abandon
The Dream Chasing?

Many things are vying
For the time I have
And I only have
So much to give...

Have I past my prime
For Dream Chasing?

There are days I try
To convince myself
That dreaming dreams
Is for the young.

But is there such a thing
As Old Dream Chasers?

In my quiet moments,
I am inspired to believe
That everything I have
Envisioned could happen.

Might I then engage
In this Dream Chasing?

What have I to lose
For trying?--If I fail,
At least I've tried, and
If I achieve it, I achieve it.

Move over for This Girl:
I'm still Dream Chasing!

Not Enough Time

There's not enough time in the world
To do what is on my heart to do.
When I dare to dream of what could be,
I remind myself that I need to be up
Doing something about it.

When I consider all there is to accomplish,
I find myself struggling to hold it all
In the fragile basket I carry in my hands--
And I realize there are only so many things
That I will be able to carry in my lifetime.

There's just not enough time--
And when I sit and think about it,
Part of me wants to shut down,
Close the doors to my energy,
Take a siesta...

But there's not enough time for that, either--
Trying to convince myself that I can
Somehow slow time is a delusion
That I cannot afford to adopt:
This is it--and it's got to be enough.

This is all I get.

Wasting Time

I worry about nights spent
Doing nothing in particular;
On one hand, necessary
To let my mind wander;
But on the other hand,
I wonder what I could have
Accomplished in the minutes
I will never get back.

But this is what they call
Wasting Time.

While I'm sitting, feeling numb,
Lazily placated by mindless
Chatter, shows and songs
That I'll never remember,
There are moments when
I hear the precious tick tock
Within me, trying to rouse me:
I know there is only so much left.

This is what I call
Wasting Time.

New Things

I love it when God brings
New Things
Seemingly out of nowhere
Into our lives.

Always so exciting,
New Things--
Failing not to
Renew the spirit.

Never an end to the
New Things:
This walk with God
Anything but boring.

Renewing our minds--
New Things
He brings into our lives
To Encourage us.

Been awhile since your
New Things?
You're one moment
Closer to your Promise!

Americana: I Never Said Good-bye

Just a kid playing in her bedroom,
Surrounded by dolls and books,
Listening to the Grown Ups
Laughing and Reminiscing
In the Family Room.

When they call for supper,
I leave my private oasis
And journey into the kitchen
To enjoy the fruits of labor
To which I never contributed.

But, oh, how I enjoyed the company!
The stories, the laughter, the joy;
These were survivor stories,
These were people whose Faith
Had carried them through dark streets.

And I would grin widely, cramming
A last biscuit or piece of toast
Into my mouth before I excused
Myself and left for the comfort
Of my own universe.

Still, I could hear them, their voices
Ricocheting off of interior walls,
Walls where family photos and
Mirrors and cande-sticks made us
Believe we were LIVING a good life!

Somehow, absorbed in my room,
I failed to notice when they all departed;
When the laughter finally died out
And silence sat like a heavy load
On empty furniture.

"Where had they gone?" I wondered,
With a sense of growing desperation
When I called and no one answered.
"Mom?" I whispered. And again.
Not a sound. Not a movement.

"Mom..." I said frantically,
Leaving dolls and dreams,
Racing into the hallway
Where all the photos had been.
They were missing.

This wasn't my house! Not really!
Though I recognized what was left
To be something of mine,
I couldn't see the rest of them.
They weren't here.

I looked for empty cups and mess
But that, too, was just a memory.
There was nothing left here now.
Nothing that I remembered.
"Where are you, Momma?" I cried.

Collapsing in a chair in the eerily
Quiet living room, I resist
The inclination to panick.
My heart, my body, my muscles
Seizing at the Realization:

They're gone. It's all gone.
Everything that really mattered to me:
Love and laughter, family, faith.
If I close my eyes, I can still see it.
Now all a distant memory.

"I never said good-bye."

Ripped from the Headlines

Most folks don't even spend much time
Reading over headlines news
Or watching glammed up spokesmodels
Reading script scrolling before
High-tech camera lenses.
Not anymore, anyway.

Most folks don't even want to know
What the headlines say today--
Because beyond the Entertainment
And Travel sections lie a gritty
Cesspool of a Reality
No one cares to see.

Most folks don't realize that
Everything they once knew--
And still hold in their hearts to be true--
Does not exist as it once did.
Maybe the DO suspect it, deep down, but
No one wants to believe it.

Most folks read over headlines
But avoid reading the fine print
Because it is in all the tedious reading
That one might "read between the lines"
And realize that something is amiss.
(No one wants to admit it.)

Most folks live day-to-day, blissfully
Oblivious to the stirring winds
Breezing past them, beneath them;
And I wonder, when the quake
Causes earth to swallow them if
"No one will notice it."

There's "Most Folks" and then there's "Me";
I wonder the responsibility in SEEING
Yet being utterly POWERLESS to do
Or say anything to Right the Wrongs.
What can this girl do, please? Can
No one can tell me?

----------------------------------------------------------

This poem was written in the a.m., after reading news headlines only, online.

Cobble-Stone Streets

These days, I am walking
On Cobble-Stone Streets.
Uneven, unmeasured, these stones
Take some serious concentration
To navigate without falling Down.

I remember seeing this path
From several paces back,
Remember the longing I had
To embark on such an exciting endeavor.
And I remember that first step.

With two extra inches, heeled
To coordinate with the bright dress
I donned that day, the color of the sun,
I remember putting my full weight
Onto that first stone..

I dared to believe it would hold me--
As it had held so many before me;
And it did--hold me--though I
Caught my heel, only slightly,
On the crevice directly beneath my feet.

Though only a minor mishap--
My body tipped, off-balance,
Launching me forward, arms out.
I found myself wondering
If every step would be as humbling.

I stood then, on the cobble stone,
Stopped for a moment to smoothe
Hair and dress and breathe a breath
Of gratefulness for my recovery.
And readied for the next step.

I've been down this street now,
For quite some time, it seems.
There have been many paces,
And I've learned to take my time,
Assess carefully before I move.

Oh, yes, I've stumbled, and may
Again--in the time it takes to write this--
But I will make my way forward,
By the inch, if necessary, face
Smiling toward the heavens.

No, these streets are not Easy--
Though they certainly seem to be
To all those stationed with high-end,
Extraordinary life-capturing cameras
Or to all those standing still.

I know there are those who
Question my choice, misunderstand
My motivations--but I know why
I'm here, making every effort to succeed.
This is my destiny: Cobble-Stone Streets.

Underneath Her Mask

Underneath her mask
Is a little girl, wide-eyed
With wonder at this life--
The pains, the gains,
The discolorations.

Underneath her mask
Is a woman who Thinks,
A woman who Prays,
A woman who Believes:
No matter what "They" say.

Underneath her mask
Is a Soul yearning for
What IS beyond this,
What WILL BE beyond this:
She is "One of Those."

Underneath her mask
You may hear her gasping for air:
She is fighting for every moment,
For the oxygen and energy to absorb
And enjoy this Precious Opportunity.

Underneath

Underneath lie ancient roads
Traveled long ago by those
Moving from one place to another,
One foot in front of the other.

Countless people,
Countless generations
Living from day-to-day,
Face to the sun,
Carrying burdens,
Relieved to sleep.

Underneath lie ancient paths
Taken by young and old alike,
The oblivious, the brilliant,
Moms and Dads, children, too.

Their faces I see dimly now,
Traveling to and fro,
The jovial, the unhappy,
Those with peace,
And those without.
All on their way to something.

Underneath lie now defunct roads:
Unable to meet the demands of time,
Incapable of century invincibility,
Long-forgotten opportunities.

Now, centuries later,
We dig around in search of something
Our Today has been unable to provide.
So, with trowel in hand, we disrupt
What has been left to us,
Looking for what Has Been.

Underneath.



-------------------------
Inspired by the Twitter headline on 06-27-13: @Israel: "Section of an 1,800 year old Roman road exposed in Jerusalem"

The Book of Revelations and Eschatology

This weekend, we are taking a test at the Oklahoma School of Ministry over the course book called "Eschatology." I'm kind of nervous for a couple of reasons:

(1) I've always avoided topics dealing with anything more than a skimming reference to Revelations prophecies of the End Times. The Letters to the Churches and "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last," have been my most referenced verses from that book. When it comes to all of the details of the End Times, the Trumpets, Horsemen and Bowls of Judgment, I've got to admit, I just feel helpless, like I can't swim, like I'm sinking in the most horrific images of all time. And I try with all my might not to let the images of those chapters haunt my mind--especially at night! (Have I mentioned my nightmare issues? Night terrors? Screaming in my sleep?!!? I avoid ANY movies that could give me nightmares. This book of the Bible has many things in it which could haunt me in my dreams.)

I remember basically "ignoring" any message or sermon on doctrines concerning the Tribulation. There were people in the church, when I was growing up, who talked non-stop about it, preached about it. And I remember, around 12 or 13, saying to my mother, "How is this helping anyone live their lives TODAY? Right now? How does this help anyone live for Christ NOW?" And I suppose, because of that mentality, I have tuned out most all of the teaching I was supposed to learn about it.

...Which is coming back to haunt me now, when I'm taking a class to earn my ministry credentials...

(2) My mind isn't left-brained enough in memory and fact retention to keep all of the details straight. For me, the End Times prophecies all run together; I can't make out heads or tails about it, other than for brief facts--body sores, hail storms, comets hitting the earth, blood in the water, land destroyed, water poisoned, darkened sky...And then I think of all the "apocalyptic" films out there where the world freezes, or the volcanoes explode all over the earth, a meteor hits...and I just go into freak out mode again.

I'm just too visual. My mind's eye gets crowded quickly with the images summoned by a reading of this text. It's like an information overload for me.

And then I think, as fear and anxiety press in my mind while I'm trying to comprehend everything, "Lord, why is all of this included in the Bible? Why did you tell us all of this? Do I need to really KNOW this? Like, me? Shirley Harrod Yandell?"

----------------------------------------

Tendon Stretch

My mind feels like a tendon
Stretched beyond its limits;
Struggling to find balance
Without over-reaction.

Dull ache molasses
Moving through my skull
Limited mobility:
There's nowhere to go.

Cloudy thoughts trapped
Inside thick syrup channels--
This wayfarer struggles
To see where she's going.

"This too shall pass," I think,
And so goes my mind--
The Tendon Stretch--
Reliant upon that final cliche.

"Beer with Jesus"

Stephen directed my attention to this song last night. A Good Ole Boy he knew had told him about it, expressing how it somehow captured his own heart and feelings toward Christ.

At first, I wasn't really interested in it. I heard the title and the twang and figured it wasn't something that I would really "get" or appreciate--the title did seem a little rebellious in nature, right?

Wrong.

Today, thinking about The Lord, what kind of devotion I would do here, I pulled up the song on YouTube to listen to it...

INCREDIBLE.

I loved the song, and what's more, I loved the idea.

What IF I--or anyone--got the opportunity to sit down with my Savior and talk to Him? What would I do? What would I say, if anything? What if I had the time it takes to play two or three songs on the juke box? And what if I had the evening?

This song makes you think about that. And it makes you think about the fact that Jesus did just this in the scriptures which record his life of ministry. He DID sit down with weary travelers, seekers, believers, and ate and drank with them--and he was criticized for it.

Without getting into a discussion that would bring my own convictions under fire, I will conclude by saying this:

We mustn't forget the HEART of CHRIST: to connect with every living, breathing individual on this planet. To seek and save those who are lost, those who need Him, those who are imperfect.

Thank God.

Scarecrow Face

This evening I'm wearing the Scarecrow Face.
[It's been a long day.]

[Dot Dot Dot]

Ellipsis points--
Nobody knows what's missing
Except the one who typed them:
The dot, the dot, the dot.
Or maybe they don't know, either.

But someone said something,
There was SOMETHING there
That got omitted because
It's not supposed to be important
In the Grand Scheme of Things.

But I'm not sure I believe that...

There's something in them, isn't there?
Something even in the way one dot
Follows another, and then another.
There's some kind of Morse Code
No one can seem to figure out.

Something's missing in them,
Someone said that something
Wasn't worth telling, It wasn't
Something of Importance:
But I'd like to be the judge of that.

I don't trust just anybody...

I'd like to know a lot more
About where I am right now
And where it is I'm heading;
But all I seem to get when I ask
Is another Dot Dot Dot or Silence.

And THAT's fun--Silence--
Because then you can't even imagine
The sound of the keystrokes:
It's just Nothing and Nothing and Nothing
[And you think you're abandoned completely]:

[Dot Dot Dot].

Better than You Think It Is

"Success doesn't feel like you think it will," said Bishop Jakes in one of his messages on Living your Purpose.

He says we seldom know when we are in the middle of our own harvest.

"Your life is better than you think it is. Your ministry is better than you think it is. Your marriage is better than you think it is. Your man is better than you think he is. Your kids are better than you think they are....

"But you only know how good things are in retrospect. You only know when you can look back and say, 'Gosh, that's a great kid.'"

Prayer this a.m.: Lord, help me to realize that my best days are NOW. Help me to understand that the Harvest is NOW and that I can't wait because there's no better time than today! Help me to be a better Mom, Employee, Teacher, Follower of Christ, Discipler, Wife, Servant. Help me to rightly divide the Word of Truth and to not get caught up in Religious Thinking that wastes time, energy, and opportunity. I know you're working on me, Lord. Help me to be patient, to realize the process, to understand that I need to be working the Harvest NOW.

Your Best Days Are Now

I was watching a year old sermon by Bishop Jakes yesterday that I had seen over a year ago, in person, at The Potter's House in Dallas, Texas.

It was kind of surreal, listening to a sermon I'd heard before, remembering specific lines from the message, remembering, even, how we felt in when we heard it the first time.

I even caught glimpses of me, Stephen, and Psalm in the audience as the camera swept past us.

But what stood out to me, and what I've awoken early this a.m. being reminded of, was the phrase: "Your best days are NOW."

Bishop Jakes was talking about our PURPOSE and how the harvest is white, but sometimes we can't see how ripe it is when we're standing in it.

"Why did Jesus have to tell them the harvest is ripe?" asked Bishop Jakes. "If they could tell that, he wouldn't have had to state the obvious. It's because they couldn't see it themselves."

He told us that we look and feel better now than we ever will. That we think, "I'll wait until THIS and THIS happen before I jump in..." But the time is now!"

Messages like this make me worry sometimes, because I know that time is swiftly flying by. I try not to think too often about how old I am this year, think about what may lie ahead, and whether I choose to think about it or not--my time is limited.

My BEST days are now. Now. And I need to stop giving excuses and just LIVE them to the best of my ability in Christ. Today, this day. With all my heart.

The Stage: In Retrospect

I miss that part of my life sometimes:
The Stage.

I miss those first audition jitters,
Familiarizing self with script;
I miss the turmoil, book to off book,
The repeating of lines and scenes
Until, finally, the curtain rises.

Nervous pacing backstage,
Waiting for the Cue to be delivered;
Racing heart, Wringing hands,
Rehearsing first words and steps,
And then, one step in front of the other.

I miss the pressure, the intensity,
The costumes, the bonding,
The sharing of moments by
A Select Few, For a Select Time:
And, of course, I miss the Crowds.

Laughter, tears, applause,
Wiped eyes, Kleenexes strewn
Across chairs and carpet--
Proof that Something Special
Happened in this place.

Some days, I sorely miss that time in my life,
When youth and passion were inextricably
Linked to character and cause;
When nothing else mattered but being TRUE
To self and script and scribe--

And that cold dark floor where stories breathe:
The Stage.

Decisions, Decisions

There is this knowledge that is ever-presently in my thoughts:
Things are about to change.
"What? What do you mean? What will change?"
And my most honest response is "I don't know which;
I just know things, that they will change."

We have decisions to make--and not like in years past;
These decisions are greater than us,
The effects could be far-reaching, into generations, even:
I take decision-making very seriously--
Heart, mind, and soul must agree.

The potential and impact of this decision
Weighs heavily upon my mind.
Once the move is made, nothing is the same.
That's why we must wait on God; HIs time
Is the right time, He knows what is best.

I've no idea what lies ahead, and sometimes I wish I did;
There are days I'd like to know what I'm preparing for;
But this is another time when there is no instructor's manual,
And to wish for one is wasting precious energy that could
Be utilized elsewhere--I must focus.

This way or that way...Which way shall we turn?
Lord, which way would you like for us to turn?
We don't want to go anywhere apart from your presence.
We don't want to live a day outside of your will.
Every day is too important, too valuable to us.

Lord, help us not to make human mistakes here;
Please lead us through your Holy Spirit;
Help us to discern your will for our lives.
Too many people depend upon the outcome--
We will do anything to hear your voice.

We are told that there are "Multitudes, Multitudes,
In the Valley of Decsion." And that's where you'll find us, Lord:
Still waiting, still believing, still trusting you and your timing.
I know we're waiting for a reason, Lord. Your timing is impeccable,
and I know you love us too much to let us go off-course.

Malaise

Some days are harder than others.
Brain baggage crowding, pressure
Building like an already strained balloon.
On these days, nothing feels right.

Searing pain in my temple,
Incomplete thoughts to accompany
A panic I feel coming on,
"This, too, shall pass," I say, carefully.

World spinning, dark mental
Clouds obscuring the sun,
I feel the melancholy cadence
Beating time marks on my skull.

It's difficult to discern the cause,
Impossible to think about a solution;
Something is off-balance here now,
I feel quite alone.

Is this End of the World, then?
The End of an Age of Reason?
This State of Malaise?
I close my eyes, hopeful...

What IS it about a day?

What is it about a day that starts out like any other day and then, somehow, somewhere, manages to take a sharp, nasty turn, in seemingly a moment, and completely turn into something other than goodly?

What is it about a day that makes it GOOD or BAD, anyway?

Today, I woke up, fairly rested, but with an achy back.

No biggie.

The house was a wreck from a culmination of three people living in it and no one cleaning all weekend.

Ticking time bomb.

The clothes dryer suddenly decided to stop working all together--the START button apparently "burned up" or something or other.

This is it.

Work is now piling up, and I now have an even MESSIER laundry room.

It's now I realize that the day is definitely going to go down as "one of THOSE days"...

And at the same time, I keep praying that it won't get any worse.

Should I hole up in the house, under a blanket and not come out until TOMORROW?

As I attempt to gather my resolve and push forward, making the best of it, I summon the energy to hurl myself at my daughter's messy room next.

But before I do, I pour myself a tall cup of coffee and sit down to blog at least the surface of my thoughts...

"We Need You, God"

We need you, God,
Every Man, Woman, and Child,
Every home and every heart.
Despite what we say, despite what we do,
We need you.

We need you in this country, God,
More than ever before...
These are desperate days,
And no matter what we say or do,
We need you.

Without you, our minds, our spirits,
Our homes, our villages, our country,
Lack substance, foundation, and
All our Man-Made brilliance shatters
Ingloriously on abandoned floors.

Oh, save us, Lord, and hear our cries,
The cries of our spirits, the cries of our hearts--
There is a numbness creeping through
Night windows, affecting the very air we breathe...
Save us, though not all know the need.

My heart screams with an intensity,
Something welling up from deep within:
"We Need You, Almighty God,
Maker of Heaven and Earth!"
[Please do not be long in coming.]

"Rage, Rage against the Dying of the Light"

"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

...

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. ..."

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I have long loved this poem by the poet Dylan Thomas, but it has been on my mind quite a lot lately, and I'm not sure why. Maybe on some unconscious level it's because one of my close church friends is having a severe health crisis right now and we are all worried about her and her life.

Yes, we know God is in control. He is, after all, the Master of our Hearts and the Universe itself.

But, He's given us a "fight" within, a desire to live life as long as we can, to love this life He's given us with every ounce of energy within us...And when it comes to crises in our lives, we have to choose whether we are going to sit down and let life do what it will...or fight.

My friend is a fighter. She's always been a fighter and is known for saying, in circumstances of duress, "You better step back. I ain't always been saved." And though she says it with a smile and half-laugh, no one who knows her at all believes she's even remotely joking.

Because she is someone with a natural fight in her. She's an oldest child and she's had to fight for everything she's attained and accomplished in her life. It hasn't always been easy for her. Maybe that's why she knows the value of throwing a good fist.

While we can't literally "throw a fist" at the devil, my dear friend is someone who would spiritually throw as many punches as possible. When someone is sick, or in a crisis, she will quote the Word over them and immediately or stop and start praying--even sometimes in her prayer language. Honestly, my friend is one of those people who would come out swinging if and when she or someone she loved was put in a ring with the devil.

I admire the fight in her.

Yet even as I write this, she is no doubt in a hospital bed, probably finishing her evening meal, staring her thoughts and the enemy itself straight in the eye. I know she must feel all alone, though she knows people are praying all around the world for her...I know she would like nothing more than to get up and throw a few punches herself...and then looks at her body and realizes that the enemy of our souls does not play fair--and the enemy is out to kill us, piece by piece, snatch away the best of us.

It's always scary when it looks like the enemy is up a few points.

John 10:10 tells us what the enemy of our souls is all about. To steal (level one), kill (level two), and destroy (level three). It's a series of stages. He wants us all obliterated.

But the second part of this verse tells us about our Lord. What He is all about. "I came that they might have life, and have it more abundantly." That's the life and living our Lord came to deliver to ALL of us who have given our hearts and lives to Him.

It's clear in John 10:10 what the enemy's about--and his desire for every single Child of God. And we all have a choice. As children of God, we can sit there and take what the enemy dishes out...or we can RAGE against it, claiming the Promises of God over our lives.

Yes, the enemy is battling for her life. And, yes, he appears to have a point or two up on her.

But she's a fighter. She's not looking at the score, anyway. She's Promised. She's a Child of the King. He called her "just as she was"--with the kind of fight inside of her that it takes to meet the enemy square on.

And so she has a choice. To Rage or Not to Rage.

My guess? She'll RAGE.

"When I Have Fears That I May Cease to Be"

There's a great poem by the Romantic poet, John Keats, called, "When I Have Fears That I May Cease to Be," and it's a title that was forever imprinted in my brain from the first second I heard it.

As life goes on, there are moments that we encounter that are very sobering. Moments that remind us that we are not going to live forever, that we only have so much time to be on this earth.

These days, "when I have fears that I may cease to be," they center around my daughter, Psalm. I want to see her grow up, help guide her, teach her the Bible, to pray, to lean on God, to do what's right and trust God for EVERY area of her life--including school, jobs, men, etc. I just want to be there for her, when she needs me.

One of my dear friends from church is struggling with her health right now, and it's in these moments that we are challenged to pray more, believe more--and it's also a moment to do inventory and realize that life can change drastically at any moment. We just don't know what the future holds...

"But we know Who holds our future."

And I thank God for that! There is so much I want to do, have yet to do, for God, my family, myself. But no matter what, I totally trust God. There's SO MUCH I want to experience yet in my life, but I know that He will take me when it's my time--and not a second before.

That's what gives me great comfort "when I have fears." And that's what keeps me reaching, taking bigger steps when I feel like I can't reach out anymore, take one more step...

I am so thankful to be a child of God.