world on a platter

born into

the Pepsi Generation

taught to Just Do It

Be all that I can be

I was told 

I could have the whole 

world on a platter

but so many 

choices can paralyse

What are you hungry for

when you don't know what

you're hungry for?

undisciplined, glutted

with too much 

that was never

 enough

now my constant 

prayer is

bleed me dry

to desire more of You

thanks to Pepsi, Nike, U.S. Army and Ritz Crackers
hanging out with Brian and the poets slinging slogans

 

in the still of the night

In the still of the night

As I gaze from my window

At the moon in its flight

My thoughts all stray to you

Cole Porter

This song may have been written to a lover

but I pray it to the lover of my soul

my God and my King

 

finding the quiet with Sandy

 

what August taught

The days of August end tomorrow 

and I am joining Emily 

in recounting some of the things the hot month had to teach me:

So, in no particular order, I learned that:

God cares about every detail in our lives in nothing too small

old bows to new in opening doors

things are not always what they seem in broken promise 

alone doesn't mean lonely in loneliness or solitude

I must trust His timing not my own in at this moment

God loves each of us best in chosen first

I have no time for regret in birthday thoughts

grief lingers in notes to Mom

there is beauty to be found in all things in even in dying

linking up with Emily at Chatting at the Sky

 

come and die

When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Yes, I have heard the call

my heart swells, trembles, breaks

and agrees but flesh

being flesh, resists

and the small self cries out:

what about me?

the answers comes

swift, certain:

it isn't about you

yet in everything you think you lose

more will be found in me

you hear My whisper

come and die

so that you might truly live

If you don’t go all the way with me, through thick and thin, you don’t deserve me. If your first concern is to look after yourself, you’ll never find yourself. But if you forget about yourself and look to me, you’ll find both yourself and me.  Matthew 10:38-39 The Message



walking with Emily and the broken redeemed


 

opening doors

I never would have

dared to swing wide

the door, exposing

private messes better left

unseen

but as change 

draws near

old will bow 

to new

and freely now

I display before

dirty, cracked

faded sad

all the better

to reveal the glory

after

letting truth hang out at the bar with the poets

 

this is the way

Your own ears will hear him.

    Right behind you a voice will say,

“This is the way you should go,”

    whether to the right or to the left

Isaiah 30:21 NLT

 

singing with Deidra and the Sunday choir

 

just for the love of Him

Men invent means and methods 

of coming at God's love, 

they learn rules and set up devices 

to remind them of that love, 

and it seems like a world of trouble 

to bring oneself into 

the consciousness of God's presence. 

Yet it might be so simple. 

Is it not quicker and easier 

just to do our common business 

wholly for the love of him? 

Brother Lawrence

 

in the stillness with Sandy

abiding with Cheryl

 

chosen first

It isn't that I needed to be first

waiting to be chosen for teams, projects, friendships

I always recognized that there were others who were

smarter

prettier

more agile 

with talents I would never possess

I didn't have to be number one

so I would wait

not even knowing I was holding all that expectation

like air I wasn't breathing

its okay to not be first

but please, oh please

don't let me be last

the worst of the worst

the icon, the idol of ridicule

the one forced upon 

unwanted

just let me be in the middle somewhere

not sticking out like a untold joke

as another school year resumes

take a moment to remember those days

pray for the unwelcome

for the bullied

and the brutal

may they know

they are each and all
chosen first

in the eyes of Him Who created us all

linking with Lisa-Jo today where the word is last

 

in the clearing

the twisted road finds dark corners

twigs snapping beneath 

the softest of

footfalls, fear 

creeps damp, cold 

the sense of not being 

quite alone, like sweat clinging close 

but this is no

horror story, not

a journey of fear

listen, follow step into the space

around the bend

where light bursts forth

according to plan

at the pub telling stories
in exactly 55 words
 

notes to Mom

four months, or days

or years my tears have fallen 

hard and fast this week

small seeds of ache

sprouting and swollen

fill me with memories

hard and sweet

so much of you lives on in me

the sharp impatience, the need to be

right at any cost

the stiff and painful joints

but also the curiosity, playfullness

and the love, above all

the heart filled with love

and the need to care for

life is picking up speed

down here, where you no longer

have your being

so much I would share

and wonder if you know

somehow

and if you miss me too

walking with Emily, broken, redeemed and thankful
 

hot days growing shorter

a large moon is rising as day's light begins to fade

earlier and earlier each day

the pattern speaks of Autumn

but temperatures sizzle 

finally announcing Summer

If I listen, I think I hear the corn plants

singing as their ears grow

they have waited long for this

as have I

so even as sweat drips

and heat prickles my skin

I will rejoice and not complain

soaking in the warmth

knowing the long dark months

are soon to come

 

prepare the way

A voice cries:

“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,

    Make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

 Every valley shall be lifted up,

    and every mountain and hill be made low;

the uneven ground shall become level,

    and the rough places a plain.

 And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,

    and all flesh shall see it together,

    for the mouth of the Lord has spoken."

Isaiah 40:3-5 RSV

 

celebrating another Sunday with Deidra

 

the hidden life

If indeed the spiritual life is essentially a hidden life, 

how do we protect this hiddenness in the midst of a very public life?   

The two most important ways to protect our hiddenness are solitude and poverty.  

Solitude allows us to be alone with God.  

There we experience that we belong not to people, 

not even to those who love us and care for us, but to God and God alone.  

Poverty is where we experience our own and other people's weakness, 

limitations, and need for support.  

To be poor is to be without success, without fame, and without power.  

But there God chooses to show us God's love.

Both solitude and poverty protect the hiddenness of our lives.

Henri Nowen

in the hiding and abiding place with Sandy

 

nothing too small

we have had dreams, my husband and I

that God would choose to work through our lives

that we would be blessed to be a part of seeing His Kingdom come

here on earth as it is in heaven

we have had dreams both vast in scope

and detailed in tiny ways

we have walked through seasons of learning to surrender

and trust and leave the small things in His hands

for the good of the great

but God, as only God can

weaves the small into the big

we have had dreams, my husband and I

that are budding now 

ready to burst forth

I will explain more

 as soon as I can

God can do anything, you know—

far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! 

He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, 

his Spirit deeply and gently within us. 

Ephesans 3:20 The Message

joining Lisa-Jo where we're writing about small
 

on a breeze

see

in the deep

of a mid August night

summer has finally come on a breeze

after days and weeks far too cold delicate petals unfold

delicate petals unfold landscape ablaze bright colours bold

and tender pastels with whispering tease

let their fragrance delight

while we sleep

free

Today's Form For All was to write to a  mathematical series.  

I chose the challenge of Pascal's triangle

1,3,6,10,15

linking at the pub where mathematics doesn't scare us into silence