God is close to the broken-hearted Mercy is where his grace has started Carved-out justice of rock he made Starve the devil on blood-soaked pearls once paid Love falls down in chunks of fluff All-time… More
Aaron Copland clouds
Trumpets and strings
Brilliant blue with wings
Plucked from the scores of paradise
Rose gold rays, long-tall days
This is where even devil prays
Brass beds, brass bands
Worry and fear are always my strays
Green as far as the sun can swing
No fence to stop a living thing
Rolling hills, sunlight spills
From the top of the world, I sing
Yellow fields sway
Harps of angels play
And I dream that these ghosts will stay.
It’s hard for me to write these days. I don’t have extra time. But with Thanksgiving breathing down our wattles, I wanted to say a quick thank you to my husband.
My husband, Guy. He’s a rock. I know all women say that about their husbands. And some are referring to the stony outcropping of a lump that inhabits their sectional, but this man. This man is my rock.
He is the stone that I have built my adult life on. Over and over, my “home” has been torn down, ripped to the studs, overwhelmed by the storm and waves of PTSD, anxiety and mental/physical illness/addiction. My whole life seems like a chaotic whirl of emotion and pain. But in the middle of that whirl, the lighthouse I fix my course on, is Guy.
He’s brought me to Christ. He wouldn’t say that. He wouldn’t know that.
My mom taught me church, the Bible, what it meant to be a Christian, but my husband has drawn me to my knees in reliance on Christ.
We’ve had turmoil. We’ve had horrible fights. We’ve had almost 20 years of anger, bitterness and rage to conquer. But we’ve done that mostly hand in hand.
He’s supporting me in this crazy idea of mine, to go to Israel and help little children and elderly who use wheelchairs. He’s so excited for me. He has been my cheerleader throughout this whole process.
I’m so lucky and thankful to have such a passionate, caring, loving husband who desires me, cheers me, loves me and forgives me. A man who cares about my spiritual well-being as much as my physical and mental well-being. A man who cares about my being at all.
And gosh darn it, I just think he’s so handsome. That doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. And some ladies might think I’m legally insane to swoon over this rock, but he’s just so gosh-darn kissable. His humor and charm make him irresistible to many.
I’m thankful that God made such a wonderful man, a man after my own heart, to pair me with. To make a child with. To grow up and old with. I’m so very lucky to have honesty, loyalty and love in my life.
Thank you, God. I rejoice this Thanksgiving for friends, family and my forever friend and partner, Guy. :*
In heaven and earth
Nothing to be done
Now that you’re gone
No battles to be won
Living this life
Kills us every day
One step closer
And time will have its way
The depth of sorrow
Is an endless tomorrow
These things cannot find fix
These emotions cannot unmix
There is no timeline
To heal this grief
Just hope for reunion
Live on that belief
How much you love anyone is directly related to how far you had to walk to find them.
Or how far you’re willing to walk WITH them.
Scars are the birthplace of unconditional love.
My monsters emerge
And prey on fears
Love is submerged
Below weight of tears
Near this wreck
Be cautious with me
Might break your neck
In this dark sea
With phantoms unknown
Breath will fade
As we sink slowly down
But you’ll want to stay
Once my colors abound
Die with me
In this still deep
Let these demons be
And have their sleep
Thoughts and prayers don’t work if the very people who are praying are gunned down in a CHURCH!
Actions born of thoughtful prayer are what change violence. Common sense can save lives with thoughtful gun legislation.
does not feaR men or guns.
time will have its perFect results of heaven.
our God will not abIde craven idolatry:
murderous sacrifice oF our innocent children,
worship of weapons insTead of His power on high,
a complete abadonmeNt of morals or wisdom.
keep your thoughtS and prayers alive
with actionS of this body
stalk and storm Halls of justice
with your powerful autOmatic voices of reason
attack vaUlts of law
where this Love of guns
is stored and protecteD by evil money and favor
oust and roust, Bust virtue out
kill the silencE of idling hands
demand safer lives wIth cautious liberty.
turn over the tables of destiny by eLecting those who should die for you
rather than kiLl in your names.
in thE name
should never be down the dark barreL of a privately-purchased democracy.
AR-FIFTEENS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL.
This is an acrostic poem, aligned in the center.
The center column has an equal number of letters on either side in each line.
The power in this country rests in the hands of those with guns and money.
It should rest on the peaceful people.
If you need a high-capacity weapon to protect what you have?
You don’t have what you need.
AR-15s should not be made legally available to murder 15 yos.
Every gun ever made was forged to kill a being.
Every gun ever made has or will kill a living thing. Or multiple living things.
Guns were made for no other purpose.
Only man could make killing so easy.
Karma will call and collect her damages.
I am not saved by Christ because I’m good.
I am saved by Christ because he is perfectly motivated by LOVE.
I want to be more like Christ.
But I will always require his Grace-filled help.
To ask a question,
“Why am I made to suffer?”
You were made to shine.
Suffering is choice.
You chose hard paths to travel.
Normal feels easy.
Hope during chaos
Focus in place of distraction
Courage under fire
Composure is required
Anger won’t bring satisfaction
Be hope’s slave
And ride high on this blue wave
Hope requires faith
Faith is now accepting questions
Peace is an option