Poetic Passion

GOD is bedrock under my feet,
the castle in which I live,
my rescuing knight.
My God—the high crag
where I run for dear life,
hiding behind the boulders,
safe in the granite hideout;
My mountaintop refuge,
he saves me from ruthless men. 2 Samuel 22: 2-3 MSG

I wonder: Do we see God as he really is?
Do we acknowledge or recognize his magnificence in a true and proper way?
When we get a little glimmer of His glory, do we embrace it or run away?

Are we in awe of the Lord of Lords and King of Kings?

Or when we come to Yahweh, are we so full of us that we can’t seem to see Him?

Giving my Castle and Rescuing Knight some extra consideration today.

Thanksgiving is quickly approaching–for what are you thankful?  Why do you think its so often hard to see God for who He really is?

I’m no poet

I’m not a poet, nor the daughter of a poet.

Some days I’m barely able to put two words together.

Forget about writing coherent sentences on those days.

Then, it is enough to grunt, choke, and sputter the need.

Then, in roaring power, the Holy Ghost takes over for me,

speaking a lyrical message, wrapped in poise. He does what I cannot do.

And what I can do, I do.

Today, this is what I could do…


Sometimes, when I worry,
my heart so full of fear,
the doubt seeps in,
the questions come,
“My God, are You still here?”

It’s in those pensive moments,
when darkness clouds my view,
I still my heart,
and hear Your voice,
“My child, I’m here with you.”

Every time…

Every time I share,

Every time I open my heart about things that matter to me,

Every. Time. I. Feel. Exposed.



Every time is like the first time I opened a vein,

Bled on the page,

Bound and gagged my expectations,

Tried again.


The love and the loathing mix,

And the One takes over.

Provides power.

Power pushing me.

Power teaching me,

Power shaping me.

I’m a captive at the keyboard,

Compelled by it’s allure,



Anxious, both to give and to withhold.

Medicine for my soul.

Mixture of sensations…

Mesmerizing mystery.

The act.

Too much, and not enough,

I leave it, torn.

To speak and be found out,

or to remain silent and bleed within?


My blessing and my bane.








If only we could go over there, stay for a month, and then somewhere else.



Conveyances of another kind.

We’d hop from town to town; explore, let loose, dip our toes in unfamiliar streams.




When we’d tired of this vista, we’d move on to that.  It’d be a grand life; large, risky, free.




We might end up anywhere: Barter Town, Miami, 1957.

Who knows?

If only…

But tethers,

they hold.

His Promise

As a small child,

atop a large knee,

I learned a thing or two ‘bout me.


“Blue eyes can be captivating.

Love is great and worth the waiting!

Smart and savvy aren’t the same,

and yes, you’ll have your share of shame.

Hard work doesn’t always pay,

and cherished folks don’t always stay,

and fortunes rise, but they also fall.

Through it all, yes through it all:

The tough, the rough, the messy bits,

your lot of petty fools and nits,

You’ll pull through, and here is why,

‘Cuz I’ll be watching out for you!”

Swing Low

Hope, so low on the list?





In the past?

How it goes,

how it flows,

trickle down blessings.

‘Verse conversing with my soul, as angels dance on tippy toes.

Swing low!
Swing low!

Carry me, carry me.

Swing low.
Swing low.

Carry me to hope.

Comin’ for to carry me.

Carry me.

Carry me.

Today, you carry me!

Praise be the Lord who carries me.

Swing low, Lord, swing low, comin’ to carry we women to hope.

Please, oh please, swing low!


Remember folks, this ain’t literature, it’s my 5-Minute Monday poem and stress-reliever, so take it as such. 😉

So. Much. Fun!


It’s Monday.

Fun Day!

My week can begin.

It’s Monday,

not Sunday.

I’m ’bout to dig in.

The week is before me,

potential galore.

A plethora of choices,

a passel or more.

I could mop the kitchen.

I could trim the shrubs.

I could bake some cookies

His feet, I could rub.

It wouldn’t take long to change out burnt-out bulbs,

or maybe…

just maybe…

Oh, could I? Yes, please!

Get out in the sunlight and stroll in the woods?

I would, if I could, and I can.

“It’s all good!”


I thought I’d found it, I really did.

GRACE, that soulful something that excuses unintentional error.  I thought I had it. I thought it was there, right in front of me, in my grasp.

GRACE, that  generous spirit of forgiveness.

GRACE, that thing that speaks to flawed hearts a need to be gentle with others.

GRACE, that sweet note of Christ-love.

GRACE.  Civility that doesn’t mention an embarrassment when the only thing to be gained by mention is “I’m right” and “You’re wrong!”

I was encouraged when I thought grace was in play.

I was blessed.

I could almost feel the breath of Life on my chest, relieving me of shame, embarrasement; lifting the fear and dread and carrying it far away.

It was this close, and then..

The Enemy!

The Destroyer!

The Author of Pride!

And then, it all fell apart.

GRACE: I hunger so for a glimpse of you, but you’re no where to be found.

My head wants to scream to the ‘verse, but it’s not true.

One is not many.

Many were gracious.

Many were forgiving.

Many understood.

Many thought love more important–ultimate.

Many understood the need.

Many understood their failings.

Many came to my side.

Not phsycially, but in the spirit realm.  They came!!

A few prayed. They prayed hard!  They were warriors.

It’s not their fault, this failing.

Oh, how I look forward to the day when mistakes are wiped away.

When Love is all around.

When encouragement won’t have to be earned!

When unity prevails.

Not on this side of the curtain, the Spirit whispers, but wait…

…it will come.


I’m expectant.

Now, sad.

One day.

GRACE, in pockets of peace you’re found.

Not a lot, but a little. Enough to keep me going for another day.

Enough for now!

GRACE, refine me!  I want to be more like you.  I want to reflect you in my daily life. I want to love more than I want to be right.  I want to forgive, more than I want to hold onto resentment.  I want to see victory more than I want to knock down.

GRACE, I want You!!!

Church Directory

Hubs and I had our pictures taken for the church directory a few weeks ago.  We bought a package deal.  They came back to us a few days before Christmas.  Here is a shot of the triptych we bought with some unexpected Christmas funds.


Thank you, J & T, for making this purchase possible. You two are the best!!!

Here is a second shot of the pics we took that night.


Not too shabby!  I’m glad I wore lip gloss that night. It adds a lot to the finished product, I think.

The pictures turned out nice, but recapturing them with my Nikon wasn’t easy. The final product has some kind of protective film on it which causes a glare when the flash goes off on the camera.  You can really see it in this shot.  The other was taken without a flash, so it kinda has an orange sheen to it.

Our only regret with this series:  They didn’t have either me or Mr facing the other way on the end snap shots. It would have been nice if we had both been facing in toward the center shot, and that center shot is a lil off center, vertically, but hey, this ain’t half bad for the conditions that existed during the photo shoot.  Not bad at all.

Our church gym is not exactly what you would call a photo studio.

We had the photographers add our wedding date to the print composition. I’d seen that done before and thought it was cool.  That teeny lil blurb at the bottom of the pic says: Est. 1974

Yeah, we’re oldies, but goodies, and still not done making our mark on the world yet!

I wish the wedding blurb could have been bigger, and I told the gal that who pitched it to us.  Maybe they will change that as an option in the future.  For now, we will hang this in our living room and feel embarrassed every time someone says, “Wow, that’s nice!”

C’est la vie!

When have you had a portrait taken of you and your love?  Did it turn out the way you hoped it would?