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I am sorting, editing, and reformatting older posts and images. Please forgive the broken links, in the meantime. The result will be worth it.

Friday, April 30, 2010

I Only Draw Stick Figures


Pet Peeve Alert! "I only draw stick figures," is not the way to react to my art. It makes me want to tie you to a chair and talk art to you till you make an effort ... even with stick figures.See? I draw with stick figures too!

Oh, and this is what I've been doing "professionally" during the past couple weeks. This is actually a compilation of three separate sketch pages, moving from quick ideas for layout to more complete drawings.

Enjoy the rabbits! Sketching my bunny was my favorite part of this task. Here are some photos of him posing....

Tomorrow I'll post the final rendition of the logo for the business David is currently developing, selling music and books on Amazon.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Drawing in Books ... of poetry 2

Normally, "We don't draw in books," is the rule, but this is an exception for me. I'm enjoying a new way of participating in poetry, allowing the thoughts begun by a poem to rule the lines that flow from my pen. L.L. Barkat's InsideOut: Poems is a new gift, page by page, and now also full of the mystery pen and ink always bring me, an interactive discovery of beauty.

This drawing developed with much laughter on my part, thinking of the monstrous aspect we give mosquitoes when they buzz around. I think this comes through rather well.


"Stayed" begged for a more literal interpretation.

 ---

If you're interested, Wreck this Journal is a book found in the art section of Barnes and Noble and over which I giggled for half an hour before putting it back on the shelf, having decided that if I were to do something similar, it would be on my own terms, and in a book of more personal interest. I've also looked through "make your book into a work of art" craft articles many times, so the idea of disobeying the Laws of Book Protection isn't particularly new.

But ... I prefer to view this as complimenting the book, rather than destroying it. *laugh*

Photographed poetry from L.L. Barkat's book, InsideOut:  Poems posted with permission.

(And thank you so much for the features at the International Arts Movement Blog and Seedlings in Stone!)

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Drawing in Books ... of poetry

I have been given permission to post photos of what I drew in L.L. Barkat's book InsideOut.

Yay!... Okay, intro. over....

Poetry lends itself to this sort of art, I think. A mood, rather than an image ... Although, I did actually illustrate one this evening, to some extent, since the imagery called to me.

I haven't taken a photo of that particular drawing yet. Nor of the mosquito poem, which made me laugh. Should I post more of them? (There will be many more. I shan't post them all.)

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

InsideOut - gifted and received

Gift

Holding the unexpected
in my hand
just being ...
randomly selected
for this gift
and
considering how
God's blessings come,
noticing his unlimited
ways to give
one.

---

Creative Response

Page by page
the poems cry
within their empty spaces
begging for the tracings
of line for thought.
And
even as mother's voice
whispers from the past
Not
to draw on good books
Already
my fingers are full
of the smooth slope
of pen
as I wonder
if the color will bleed through
the paper.

---

Already I have tumbled through the pages of L.L. Barkat's InsideOut:  Poems and upon exiting the other end, turned 'round to dive back in, determined to take my pen along with me, not to illustrate, but to dream responsively onto the page. But I'll have to find some more colors among the ordinary sort of pen, since my usual inks would sink deep through the pages to tint the words of the other side, unintentionally.

I've been wanting to try this art process for some time, ever since finding a journal at the bookstore, filled with all sorts of destructive ideas meant to be applied to the pages therein. However, I wanted to do my own thing, to be less than destructive and more than a copy-cat, but still wrap a book in creative ownership. Both the poems and the spaces within "insideout" are suited for this idea.

I'm feeling like I should hide, though. My daughter stared at me for a moment as I curled on the couch with book and pen, then crept close to peer over my shoulder. "Mom, you're drawing in a book!"

It really isn't the same! Is it? *laugh*

---

Thank you to the TweetSpeak Poetry Blog, where I commented and became the winner of the draw.

They are currently celebrating National Poetry Month with daily posts about various American poets, a wonderful way to discover new poets and share your love for the ones you already enjoy. It is also an excellent place to revel in poetry among like-minded individuals.

Monday, April 26, 2010

And Then Tears

Beloved
the whisper
Beloved
the cry
and arms that hold gently
while the tears that he cried
wet my hands
and my shoulders
as I bow low my head
and feel undeserving
of love given
instead of shame

More
calls my heart
Vacant
and spare
my arms widely wander
and reach to nowhere
while the outpouring
grows greater each day
till I can't help but notice
the too-large
display to claim

This
is too much
This
I can't hold
and it rushes through empty
with the brightness of gold
and pays up the darkness
and scolds at the grime
removing invaders
and cleaning the
crime's stain.

Tears
in his hands
Weep
in his arms
as the love
clears the scene
and battles alarm
at contrasted awareness
of ragged scum
to glistening garment
now weep
cleansing torrent
welcome of rain

---

This is a poem for a thought still growing. While I think the words carry the meaning, I'm not confident of the poem itself. Did it become too cumbersome for the thought?

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Less Tangible

Preferring the mythology
of perfect relationship,
tread quietly
upon the surface of interaction,
leaving no ripple
in the mirrored perfection
of a thousand
twilight thoughts,
and avoid closing the portal
to return
to the real and the true,
for fear that it will be
less tangible
than the dream.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Fear - RAP

Slow deepen dark
Swift set the sun
Race track the sky
Lost time to come

Quick pace the floor
Touch on the light
Dawn turns to dusk
Shadow clock to night

Fast chase the wind
Gasp in a breath
Caught by the air
Ticktock of death

Stilled by soft sound
Frozen by thought
Invading theme
Page turns
...
to naught.

---

Moral:  Don't read scary stories at night.

Hmm... I came up with another after going to bed yesterday, so I'll try to read my writing-of-the-night. (And after much guessing and editing...)

---

Monster_us

He stalks in the shadows
and wanders the night.
While he plays in darkness,
he also loves (light).
A creak in the floor
alerts when he goes
to enter the closet
(and pulls out his clothes).
He glares in the mirror
with a blade for the task
and makes fearsome faces
beneath (foamy) mask.
He peers through the windows
(of stores) on his way
to creep through the maze
(of the office) each day.
Of all the monsters
he envisions to fear,
the most dreadful of all
lurks inside him all year.

---

The monster theme for the day was prompted by L.L.Barkat for Random Act of Poetry. "Monster_us" is inspired by Marcus's post "Zombies for the Love of God" over at High Calling Blogs.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Conditional Love

Beware of the dreamer
and caution the lover,
who sees love too bright,
too great, and too new.
For there is a love
that begins with a dream
and expects the beloved
to make it come true.
The thorns of the rose
offered or given
are conditions set
in the wisp of 
"you ought"
disregarding the chosen,
preferring the dream,
and angered
by failure to follow 
the thought.

Painted photomanipulation: "BE my Love" by Karenee

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Where to Be

reach higher
bow lower
consider
self
compare
too prideful
too degraded

look up

down

nowhere

eyes too wide
gaze too narrow
too profound
too slow

be faithful
be steady
be honest
just know
compassion and humor

be understood
generous
loving
honest and good

no slip-ups

no failures

just live as the best
and then
only then
let God do the rest?

this life
comes with
rules
nobody
can keep
which is why

God
moves in

transforming
the weak

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Beading the Church

The church is not beads
on a tray of grace
scattered
rolling
out of place.
Each unit
is treasure
God has found,
jewels selected
to shape for a crown;
bonded and fitted,
carefully set,
positioned
so each unique piece
will reflect
grace in their settings,
facets of love,
completing relationships
started above.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Claim - Place

White light of transparency.
I cling
though it burns
till the pain blinds me.
He promised strength,
love and peace,
burden-bearing,
and release
from sin's dark stain.
Because of Christ,
all this I claim.



Shallow place
where rippling flow
scatters pebbles,
tosses stone,
carving channels
deep and wide.
Though all I am
seems cast aside,
yet I will trust
through this release
I will be given
growth and peace.
New ways to go
and dreams to dream,
what lies ahead
may be unseen,
but I know this Giver
who, when He takes,
has chosen better
to fill its place.

Releasing habits of long standing is not an easy decision. I'm releasing a lot right now, including the inordinate amount of time I've been spending reading blogs and interacting in the world-wide community. Right now it feels as though nothing will replace these things, as if breaking the habit means I will lack something forever. But I already know that some healthy options will take its place, more time with my children, better management of my schedule, more time listening to God ...

This community will be here, even if I cut back to an hour a day, and I expect to find that it was worth it, in the end, even if right now I'm feeling a little lost while the laptop stays closed, where I can't check on it all the time.

But I'm asking you, if you see a blog post you think I'll love, or a poem, or a picture, or a dream ... come here and post the link for me so I don't miss it! Aaah! Okay, I don't really expect that of you, unless you want to, of course.

I'll still plan to post every day. But the daylight hours are reserved for new habits, so let's see what comes of this!

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Finding "Found Art"

When I joined the Found Art: capture [beauty] photography project over at BibleDude.net, it was surprising to become the random participant selected to receive the proffered copy of Found Art:  Discovering Beauty in Foreign Places, by Leeana Tankersley. Thank you, Dan, for giving me the chance to discover this story.

I wasn't sure what to expect upon opening the cover. Of course, the title is fascinating for an artist like myself, who considers everything beautiful to be "a find," whether it is a glimpse, a photo, or a shaping. The story perfectly fit this mentality, only in addition to visual beauty, Leeana Tankersley discovered the hand and beauty of God as she sought His face amid foreign people, circumstances, and relationships.

Her lyrical phrasing was a comfort, yet full of challenging concepts as I read and learned from her experiences. Because of her, I've decided to pursue the unfamiliar path more often, to discover what treasures exist outside my usual ways, both in relationships and experiences.

Protecting myself means giving less care for others. Though this lesson is one never specifically stated, she illustrates it time and again. I learned more from her, of course, but these are lessons that still reside deep beneath the clay of their planting where I can't clearly see them.

As a whole, the book begs to be reread and pondered. I recommend you find a chance to discover what beauty you may find within its pages.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Act Zero ... Scene 7,148

She continued to wait 
for someone else
to act
first.

Does Grace Mean

Do you think knowing grace:
means forgetting the rescue?
is losing the sorrow, repented of sin?
can make it okay to live as if nothing
is desperate for change in this life I am in?

Do you think grace means:
happiness?
feeling heart strong?
knowing that nothing in life can go wrong?

Paul wept for his losses,
his blindness,
the waste
of years of self-righteousness
thrown in God's face.
Even as
grace
dripped from his tongue
with a contrast of joy
and God's victory won.

He claimed not his own life
but chose to remain
in the unsullied
holiness
through Christ we claim.

In self we have nothing;
to see this
is
grace.

Through the tears
of the knowing,
we still have
Christ's face.

Hatching Onions

This is how hatching out of an onion must feel.
Always another layer, always another peel;
Yet each is brighter, closer to the sun;
And somehow that's enough for me to know I've won.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Word of the Day: Pelf

Calculating
three for me,
and one for you
is fair you see.
Because you
are not myself
as I collect
this hard-won
pelf.

---

Ehehe... from the same word origin as pilfer! I had to play with it, because it doesn't sound like a real word, but it is!

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

A Daughter's Love

Bright fabric petals bloom
above sweet flavor,
a favored gift.
Paper napkin
keeps the cat
from touching tongue
to creamy beverage,
reserved.
A special delicacy,
mother has saved
yogurt for a rainy day.


This must be the time
she's been waiting for.
The best-made toast
has been prepared;
her favorite jam.
Everything is just so
upon a tray.
Now to wake mother
and make her day.

---

This is what my seven year old did for me this morning. Isn't she a treasure? I am truly blessed.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Crying for Help


You may not know this, but I need help. I can't even begin to deal with daily life on my own. It may seem like I should be doing well, but I'm not. I'm easily tired, easily confused, easily overwhelmed.

Yes, it is true I don't always take proper care of my body. I forget to eat, and exercise is a rarity. Just those small actions feel and sometimes really are beyond my reach. I lose simple tasks in a fog of weariness, and don't remember whether they were done or when.

It is probably the results of the seeping destructiveness of my choices, the alternatives of which may have prevented the weakness that has become a fact of today. Yet I can't find the first step out of this vacuum, though I have pursued and prayed over it.

I know the many possibilities for beginning again,... after all, I've studied and received much counsel. But I don't have that knowledge in the core of my existence. The part of me that interacts with this physical realm finds it all to be intangible and unreachable, no matter what I know.

How many times have I been here through the years?

How many times have I looked at the same obstacle and climbed up the sheer cliff of expectation, only to fall once again when my health or emotions faltered?

Loneliness lurks beneath my feet, but I don't dare indulge.
God has been too good to me.
I am loved and even useful at times.
I'm privileged to pour His love into lives I never dared think I could reach.
I've been given gifts and persuaded to use them.
I am encouraged daily by people I've never met.
I am developing ever-deeper friendships among the people I know.
Friends support me, filling the gaps that would have prevented me from doing as much as I have done.

Yet here I am, again.

When something vital is missing, then that is where God provides most miraculously. But I'm still wondering what He will do. I'm missing basic capabilities for day to day life,... things that must be done, day in and day out, for long periods of time.

How can anyone this needy and empty and useless pray that someone else might step in to fill in those places or take the massive amount of time and effort that would be needed to build a basic framework I could later depend on?

Isn't that asking just a little too much?
Maybe it's wrong to need so much.
Maybe I don't really need it?
Maybe I'm just not trying hard enough.
Maybe I'm not moving forward willingly enough.

I already know my choices have exacerbated the health problems and are sometimes the sole cause for my emptiness. But I still don't see a catalyst for change within my reach. Constructing my own miracles isn't in my capacity, as has been proven throughout my life, despite the miracles that have been poured out instead, arcing high and broad as the sky beyond the possible result of my pitiful efforts.

And so I press forward as best I can and wonder
what will happen next,...
and
is this really as important as it seems just now?

Come to think of it, when I see weakness in others, do I see it as God's call to step in and help shore up the gap as I am able, or do I scorn them? I always want to help, and don't think they are wrong to be in need.

I think that's God's grace.

So I will wait for God's grace again, because He never fails to overflow with it.

A Reason for Lacking

If I were everything people might be
and considered the best by all who see,
then I'd just be a fiction,
a mythos,
a dream,
and that's far more
fearsome
than it would seem.
Missing some pieces means I need others,
friends, mother, father, sisters and brothers.
My lack makes room for community
and my strengths are the reason I was made me.

---

This poem was prompted by the post "All Wrapped Up." I recommend you read it, and respond to her question at the end, or even follow her blog for more thought-provoking posts.

Poetry is Shorter

Thoughts too often shaken
like stones on a mountain
are caught within tremors
of concepts forgotten.
As life's storms increase
through the water they tumble
awkwardly rolling
with a deep throbbing rumble.
So much could be said
of the mountain up there
and that great, lonely stone
just doesn't compare,
but it carries a history
of grandeur in part,
though it stands now, alone,
it remains mountain's heart.

---

My previous post is exhibit "A" for why I usually confine myself to simple poetry and art. So, to make up for it, this one is short. Better to let you figure out what I mean.... Because you will recognize what you need to discover among all the possible interpretations with far more precision than I.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Note the Artist's Hand & a ramble & a story

Have you ever considered
how it could be
that our bodies sense
and our eyes see?
We listen, smell, taste,
and somehow we think
to bring them together
in sensory link.

How is it we know,
in spite of the lack
when color is swallowed,
which is given back?
And when did the eyes
find the perfect design
to capture reflections,
invert and combine?

And how do we taste
what the nose perceives,
tangled with texture
between tongue and teeth,
or absorb sound
suspended in air
with the pressure of motion
we don't know is there?

By what stretch of knowledge
did our blood
find the pressure and pattern
to network our food
to both feet and brain
as the lungs press in air
while the rest of the body
expects that it's there?

How did the tendrils of nerves
find a way
to register temperature
from day to day,
sensing touch with precision
where needed the most,
without overwhelming
the minds of their hosts?

Accidental development
just can't explain
the interdependency
our bodies claim,
a mystery thousands
who search can't design;
neither science nor art
can its framework define.

And if, in the trillions
of ways things might be,
the odds are still none
without zeros flung free
to make the equation
seem possible, then
perhaps it was God
who designed and made men?

---

Hmmm... it can't help but look like I consider God to be the Creator of the universe. In fact, you might note I believe he was hands-on about the design, down to the smallest detail. You could infer that I believe he is still so involved that it is by his direct command that the galaxies remain in their places, the planets circle the sun, the world continues to turn, the tides continue to flow, the rocks retain their stability, sound keeps its pattern, lightning builds and releases, bees carry pollen, minds retain thought, blood carries nutrients, and love is possible between people.

I came very close to believing God might use evolution to create the world due to the peer-pressure of those who don't believe in him, but wish to explain everything anyway, but then it occurred to me that there are too many discrepancies in that thought process, unless I also wish to eliminate him from the equation.

Why would God use death to create life, then use death to punish sin? Why, if he were all powerful, and the designer and the will behind the structures and processes of life, would he need to be slow and distant, somehow activating a whole lot of accidents and exceptions to bump things into place? Rube Goldberg was a man;... why would God imitate him? Why would God claim to have specially crafted man and woman by hand, after speaking the rest into existence in a more casual but still awe-inspiring manner?

Yes, God could have used evolution because he's powerful enough to do it that way too, but it doesn't fit the story of his interaction with humanity or his claims about who he is and why he bothers to interact with us. If, when I die, God tells me evolution really did happen, I'm not going to lose faith in him. But, for now, I chose to believe that he really did speak a word and make his will exist physically, and I think if you're going to admit God exists and is Creator, then the evidence can easily be seen to follow this assumption without adding new probabilities just to make it sound possible.

He says Jesus is his Word, who was present at creation, become human flesh, and doesn't that mean more if his Word is so powerful?

What if he is the password ...

*warning*
Random personal thought progressions follow after this point... I could have made a separate post, but you might find this interesting, even if it is long, and I really don't want to spend more posts on this concept, since it's a blip on my thought radar, and not a consuming obsession for which I will fling myself in front of cars or despise those who disagree. *grin* Just sayin'...

Imagine:

God spoke a universal, fully interactive hardware and system into existence, then programmed everything, from how molecules would interact with each other to how sight becomes thought, in a continually changing if-then scenario with unlimited exploration within set parameters (i.e. no changing the rules of the system). He then designed independent beings with the ability to perform anything within the defined parameters, including a possibility of destroying their environment and relationships by misapplying the possible interactions.

To prevent this, he gave them complete access to the system limits and possibilities through an open communications channel with himself, and warned them if they were to go independent and experiment without referencing him, an action codenamed "sin," that the "death" anti-virus would activate, a security feature integral to the entire system's design, which depends on constant interaction with its creator to maintain integrity. They promptly trashed the manual and the communications system, choosing to experiment independently, thus activating the sin=death program. To slow the speed of the destruction he activated safety mode, a rougher, more durable planet system that would resist random experiments and proceeded with his rescue plan.

He permitted them time to see for themselves how destructive their choices were to the world and themselves, intervening from time to time to prevent complete system failure. He chose individuals through whom he communicated his plan for restoration and explained the basics of system maintenance, though they couldn't even get that much right. Even then, belief in his promised word was a guarantee of protection from complete destruction.

Eventually, as planned, he entered his universe as a human, conceived within a woman by the word of his presence. He knew the system-wide program he had engineered demanded full death for every act outside the system design, without exception, so after living a life of unbroken connection to the original plan and ensuring that records of this example would be maintained within primitive human communications, he filled the sin=death program requirements in order to install the protective shield whose boundaries permeate past and future, and formed the promised shelter within which his people could find protection and reconnection.

With the reconnection complete, he returned to explain the access requirements before temporarily removing his avatar until a future date when he will directly control the final backups before reformatting the entire system. Now we can link to the invisible connection through the master-password who fulfilled the required conditions in order to restore life and make it possible for us to interact with the system the way it was designed.

---

Okay, I know I stretched and probably broke a great many points in the above digression, but it was interesting. And now you can debate to your heart's content and I won't hold it against you ... though I might ignore you if you're mean.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Conundrum

the missing pieces frame
...
me
...
if I were all that
then I would not exist
replaced by
...
other
...
caught in the same conundrum

Not Me . I AM

It's becoming a trend or perhaps a fad. Marcus started it by being Heretical, then L.L. Barkat wrote a Note to the Shepherd and Glynn found a reflection in Sacred Sand. And now I'm  following in their footprints, so to speak. Exodus 3 has many facets.

---

Barefoot and aware
of dirt and grime
and past actions taken,
a millstone weight of crime.
Too much
and
too little
before this unburning flame,
and the ground beneath
my unshod feet
repeats I am to blame.
Who am I?
Interruption,...
for the answer I inquire.
Not me.
I AM!
The one who is
consumed
is not the fire.

Hearts Unopened

there isn't enough space in me
to know everyone worth knowing
to give as much as should be given
to be the friend in need
...
yet still I look
for hearts unopened
and hope
to be the beginning
of a grace-filled gift
larger than myself

Friday, April 9, 2010

You Know...

I didn't,
you know,
hold on to the pencil
that one time
when it fell
and you jumped
backward
off the bench
into the lake
where the mermaid
sleeps
...
except
you hit your head
on her shoulder
or maybe
it was her arm
and she screamed
awake
like a whirlpool
swallowing
you whole
...
and
I still have
that pencil.

---

It's not like I need to practice "random" but I still like to do it sometimes.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

"The absence of ..." and a challenge for you

Below is a mildly poetic take on opposites. Feel free to read them and take me up on the challenge at the end.

Boredom:
the absence of
creative thought.
A hollow mind only
perceives the
lack.

Sulking:
the absence of
joy-centered vision.
Focus on the shadows
turns the eyes
from light.

Bitterness:
the absence of
hope. Emptiness that sees
no chance of grace or fulfillment
and only seeks to destroy
the pain.

Hatred:
the absence of
a decision to love.
A refusal to pursue blessing
in preference for
seeking harm.

Lust:
the absence of
generosity. A gaping
desire that pursues only
satisfaction regardless
of consequence.

When facing
the absence of
_______

the vacancy
can only be filled
with the missing element.

---

I noticed a long time ago, while homeschooling my children, that the moment they start sulking and whining their minds turn empty. I've often told them they have to consider the situation with hope that they can solve it, so the creativity God has blessed them with can come to their rescue.

Today, I wondered what other vacancies we create by choosing the negative or sinful attitude over the virtue that counteracts it, and came up with these. I tried to walk into the concept from a different direction than usual to provoke thought.

The challenge?

Add your own contributions or disagreements in the comments below. I would love to learn from you, and I'm sure everyone will enjoy reading the discussion. If you follow the comments you might even have an interesting time interacting with each other as well?... Just a thought.... *grin*

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Dear One

Dear one,
please do not contort yourself
into the shape of two or even five
in an attempt to be more.
You are best as you are.

---

I am feeling witty today ... but it doesn't show that well. *wanders away*

Monday, April 5, 2010

Wouldn't it be better?


If I were not broken
I know wouldn't be here,
curled up amid the fragments
of a million shattered lives;
melted, stained, and blended
with the filth that now surrounds me.
I want to be more beautiful.
I want to look alive.
And if I were not broken
I would still be useful somehow.
If I could be perfect
just the way I was designed,
then I wouldn't be here at this time.

Wandering through trash heaps,
the artist searches with intention,
lifting up the fragments
of a million shattered lives.
There is his construction,
a blazing inspiration.
Against the mounds below it gleams
with light that seems divine.
And when he takes each find,
though they bemoan that they are useless,
as he places them within his work
they glow in their new places.

If I were not broken
I know I wouldn't be here,
It's because I'm missing fragments
that I fit within these spaces
so I find myself supported from all sides.
Could it possibly be better
to pretend I am not broken
and miss the chance of being part
of this great, growing work of art?
And the flame of light shining inside
this artist's work glows to the sky
and melts the broken units into
one blazing creation.

All who see it marvel at the sight.

If I were not broken
I know I wouldn't be here
and I would not be whole
within this beautiful design.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Following L. L. Barkat

I read L. L. Barkat's post, "How to Write a Poem" and thought I'd try it. My inspiration is an event that occurred yesterday. I love my cat very much, but for some reason he has opinions about breakables that strongly differ from my own. Also, I borrowed "cutting edge" and "concept" from commercials. Because that's just how it is.

 ...

I'm not going to touch the cutting edge
of glass broken as it fell from the ledge
of concept into reality,
and all because
there were
flowers
drinking water
at the table,
and the cat was thirsty.

Life Goals


My dream is to pour hope into hurting hearts.
I would love to overflow with joy
and help people start to see the life
that's possible
in spite of pain.

I dream of giving more than I desire to have;
of learning
to pour out the Living Water in my hands,
and forgetting to wonder
if I have enough for me....
Even for a stranger
God's grace must flow out free.

I plan to trust and pray
when I can do no more than listen,
yearning to be a stable place for
those who weep because of sin.
For I'm part of a body whose systems run
from past
through present
into all eternity.

And God will reach those places
I can't ever know exist
because He's holding all the chances
safe in His sure grip,
so the fact is that these hopes are something
fulfilled through His plan,
even though it is a mystery
I'll never understand.

Reaching out and learning to be ever more open
to seeing all the moments
that so swiftly slip beyond my reach,
I dream of holding rainbows
and coloring the moonlight
and painting hearts with grace
and love and peace.

...

Image: Bright Butterfly World

Friday, April 2, 2010

Are you?

Are you living?
I just want to ask you now that you are here.
You see you're holding time
that's just your own
and you can't take it back.
So are you choosing to use everyday
as full as love can make it?
Are you giving as much as you desire to receive?
No need to fake it.

Are you hopeful?
Are you sharing the good things that you have
and giving without expectation?
Have you found the treasures
in the path that you've already taken?
Do you see what you have?
Or are you caught up in a dream
without foundation?
Are you choosing where you are
to set a path and walk afar
or are you blinded by
a wish that's still unseen?

...

Quick and raw, this one. I didn't process it enough, but I'm afraid to push on it for fear it will crumble.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Asking for Amnesia


Yesterday is fraught with grief
and pain too tender for relief
Letting go?
Living on?
...
It's much too hard
to move beyond.
And so,
here is my one request
in case I'm
not
doing my best;
in case I'm bitter,
still unknowing;
in case my memories
are slowing healing
by the way they stay,
though I thrust them far away.

If You took my memory
would I love more willingly?
Would I give with better grace
and find true joy
here in this place?

I'm curious if I'm the cause
of sharpened words
and bitter pause.
But till I lose my memory,
I'll wonder still
if it's just me.

---

Hmmm ... and there it is. Forgiveness is a mutual business, tied up tightly with repentance. And when there is no repentance, then the heart must lift the weapon of love to pour grace into the situation anyway. But always there is the lingering question ... considering even loving hearts need a constant outpouring of grace from on high ... whether blindness masks bitterness with pain.

Image:  "Wish"