A Moment. A breath. A poem.

Last few nights, and days at our house have been rough. The flu is making the rounds. Which makes for a lot of momma heartache, a lot of laundry, and not a lot of rest. Yet still today, I was able to enjoy a moment, and even have time to write it out. I hope it blesses you with a little sliver of peace, even as it did for me.


Holding on this moment,
Merely existing in the sun.
The worries fade away,
To the stillness I now run!

I melt into this instance;
This briefest breath of time.
I place it with great care
In a peaceful corner of my mind.

When I walked past my window,
Where sun brightly streamed.
She gently kissed my cheek;
And said ‘hello again’ to me.

She caught me unawares
Her friendly salutation.
I looked then to the view,
To heed her invitation.

The snow lay thick around,
Where shadow and light play.
The trees danced bare and naked
Winds song to which they sway.

Beyond all this the river,
Stood a solid icy guard.
A monument to winter,
His harsh beauty my reward!

Thank you gentle sunshine,
And winter how you bless.
For this brief, and happy minute,
That I now in my heart possess!



via Photo Challenge: Repurposeimg_0347

I saw this word, ‘repurpose’ and thought of all the things I have repurposed in my life. There’s been a lot. when you have five children, a small home and a humble income, you learn that in fact: yes, necessity is the mother of invention. But it’s not the dresser I repurposed as a TV stand, or the old bed board and knobs, that got upcycled into a place to hang plants. It’s not the coffee cup display that was created from repurposed cabinet doors. These are not the most important, or best repurposes I have experienced.


Those are just things. The biggest and best repurposes happened in myself. The the body, once so firm and young and beautiful, repurposed for more then just getting me from point A to point B. Was changed into a sanctuary, to nurture and bare wonderful life. My tummy repurposed from something hard and flat, to something soft and squishy for little feet to bounce on, and tender blessed heads to rest when weary or broken hearted.

The little girl broken, broken in ways many don’t, and never will understand. The little girl who felt unwanted. The little girl repurposed as something cherished loved and Royal.

A soul imprisoned, chained. Bound to slavery of with self loathing hatred selfishness, jealousy, rage, and bitterness towards others. Transformed into one who truly knows the redeeming love of the King and creator of all. One free to serve with Joy and peace the Saviour of this world. Free to love with purity. Free to stumble, and be forgiven.

And finally the biggest repurpose to affect my life, was not of my doing at all. It was the man, the God, the lamb, the Christ. Coming down and repurposing the device that was for torture, the instrument that caused the stoutest of hearts to tremble. The cross. He came down hung upon it, rose again three days later, and made the cross a symbol of redemption, of hope. A symbol of the powerful love which overcomes, not by force of strength, but force of humility!

That what I thought when I saw the word repurpose today.


Holy Healed

God places pain in our hands,
Pain stuffed down deep inside.
Pain avoided at all costs,
In darkest corners of our mind.

He makes us touch and feel it.
Allows it to seep into our soul.
He lets it break our spirit;
Around our hearts enfold.

To face an hold the hurt.
To unleash memories we bind.
Gives us grace to release them;
Truly freedom, from past find.

He’s the great, and Holy healer.
So perfect, and wondrous is His art.
He won’t merely bind and fix wounds,
Makes lovely scars upon our heart.

I imaging in my deeper thoughts,
Of those so filled with His pure light:
If we but glimpsed their soul,
We’d weep for the beauty of their strips.

Hope for Our Youth.

I wrote this after talking to a dear young lady who is currently in high school. After listening to the struggles she faces, and the hopelessness which seems to cover the youth of our town I almost felt drawn to despair. I fear this type of desolation is not only isolated to our community, but stretches across our nations and schools. Still my hope arises! For, how much brighter shines the light in such darkness! How much more visible the truth must be through all the blatant lies of the enemy! How much more ready could a harvest of desperate souls, clinging to any sort of false hope be! Let not the workers be few! And dear church! Let us not look down on anyone because of their youth. Let us no longer accept for our youth, in church,the burden of rebellion, and immorality, that the world would have them bare. Instead, let us in faith, equip and minister to them, and encourage them in the royal priesthood which they are called to, and established in. Our expectation must not be that our youth would fail and falter, though of course if they do, there is Devine grace and forgiveness. Rather let us expect that their desire would be for God, and that they would soar beneath his wings as more then conquerors. As those not overcome by the world, but as those who would overcome the world by the blood of Christ! And youth! Dear, beloved, chosen youth of Christ Jesus. Stand firm. Stand fast. Read your Bible. Pray. And may the things that you do echo through eternity! May your lips be anointed for his purpose. May you have eyes to see and witness the blessed redemption of your generation! May your faith surpass that of my generation! May you rise!

In the darkness deep,
The apathetic sleep.
Unaware of what they miss,
Not caring to resist.
Seeking yet another does
The weak and hollow ghost.
The drug they consume consumes;
Their life is left in ruins.
They do not seek escape,
Imprisoned they feel safe.
Unaware they’re all enslaved
In digging their own graves.


Through the dawn is breaking,
Light so bright, so breathtaking!
Ripping apart their notions
Of simply going through the motions.
Showing them so much more,
Then the walking death before!
Echoing through the valley pained;
Dead embers now enflamed!
A rising generation turns their face,
To the one enthroned who offers grace!!!

Destructive Distraction

Oh cell phone you awful tool!
Distract me agitate!
Pavlov had naught on you;
Ding and I salivate!

Your siren call sings to me,
I waste my life to seek:
A like, a love, a laugh, a share,
Or even a retweet!

A text! My hope arises
To be shattered on the floor!
It’s no real connection,
Information nothing more.

Addiction by definition:
Is what we can’t let go.
An unhealthy consumption;
A monster we let grow!

Upon my soul I crave you!
And resent you and your grip!
I know I must resist you;
Or further in you slip.

Lord I cry out to you:
Show me how to only use,
This tool as for your glory;
Then be by it abused!

Surrender I now to you
The chains that I hold dear;
Let me rather now abhor,
What keeps me from YOU near!

I do not seek the common lot,
Only uncommon will do!
The world may chase a device;
I instead chase after you!

As I search for you Lord,
I do not waste my time.
For those that seek you God,
Are sure of you to find!

Joy and, peace and, gentleness;
Kindness, patience, meek and, mild;
Self control, sorely needed,
And love so great and wild!!!

Mighty Hope

Hope is not just a rope to which we cling;
Not merely a beating tiny wing;
Not at all a weak, and fragile thing;
Or a single timid voice that sings.

I know hope is strong, for if scarcely lost,
Our wounded souls will count the cost!
We’ll hold no warmth, be chilled by frost!
Great hope must be, for severe it’s loss!

Hope is partnered well with faith;
Love may be, more surpassing great.
Still do not hope underestimate.
Hope is a conquering, not feeble state!

Hope it rises from the dark!
Bearing no stain in whiteness stark!
Angel’s lips herald it’s hark!
Countless dead rise with it’s mark!

Hope is advancing, it is not still!
May be oppressed, but can’t be killed!
A harvest ready endless field.
It shall remain. For. So. God. Willed.

Hope is living breathing strong!
A great, mighty wind gusting long!
A loud, and shouting growing throng!
A million voices raised in song!img_0361




Truth can be sharp, truth it can sting.
Lies can be soft, and inviting things.
Truth it can be hard, very hard on a soul;
Lies can flow easy, and warmly enfold.
Upon the rock of truth dreams can be broken!
Lies seem to inspire, when they are well spoken.
Truth is medicine we don’t wish to take.
Lies go down easy, and are simple to make.
Truth when released will at times cause strife.
Lies when poured fourth, offer easy hollow life.

Truth it will free will release from a trap.
Lies gently hold, but maintain a firm grasp.
Truth will equip us to make ourselves better.
Lies make weak, pull us down with their fetters.
Truth is a lifeline to which we must hold!
Lies they entangle their threads plentiful!
Truth will grant wisdom and other fine jewels.
Lies will stroke ego, and make proud a fool.
Truth is worth seeking, and awesome to find.
Lies are in plenty, and a dozen a dime.

Truth often humbles, which is often hard.
Lies offer much, but pain’s their reward.
When deeper the darkness, and harder the climb;
Truth must be held higher for the lost to find!
While we may live where truth is spit on;
We offer back its haters it’s strong loving song!
Don’t mistake truth as, what we please and choose;
It’s real, and eternal, ours to accept or refuse!
Truth won’t  be bent to fit with our desire.
It’s live, and unchanging! A consuming fire!

To my Children

Do you think that I love you because,
You’re lovely in so many ways?
Do you think it’s your brain that I love?
Or the joy that you give me most days?

Do you think it’s your hair that’s so dear?
Or the way your nose goes with your chin?
Do you think it’s the face in the mirror?
Or your goofy laugh, or sweet grin?

Do you think it’s your talents dear child,
That cause me this deepening love?
If you manner remains meek, and mild,
My love will flow out from above?

Not these things, though they’re fine,
And certainly ways to strive after.
It’s not your face, voice, or your mind;
Not your gifts, or tears, or your laughter.

No. for when these disappear and instead,
You’re soured by rage, anger, and strife!
If you disobey when you wake, til’ in bed;
Still my love will pour out on your life.

My love does not change. Though I may rage.
It remains constant and it is not severed!
For when we both stumble, no matter our age.
I can’t forget, that inside me, He knit you together.

So forgive me my child if I should falter.
As your mother I’m flawed and I fail.
I too rely on the God who won’t alter.
I too need the hands pierced by nail.

Fragile Dreams

Dreams are dangerous things to chase after. For the shards that are left when they shatter, will cut deep into your very soul.

The dream it sat upon the shelf
A shiny, wondrous thing.
I looked at it by myself;
Hope in my heart would sing!
By the hour it held my gaze,
Though I daren’t touch.
Lovely would it make my days,
To watch it oft and much.
Then one day while looking at
My lovely, cherished dream.
It seemed upon the shelf it sat,
The orb to brighter gleam.
I know not how, or why,
I dared stretch forth and stand.
But I did, in wildness try
To hold it in my hand.
I held it but a moment clasped,
That bright and beaming ball;
Before it slipped from my grasp,
And shattered from the fall!
A million tiny little shards,
Pierced my soul it seems.
This lesson is my reward:
It hurts to chase our dreams!
Yet I still remember,
The instant it was mine.
It burns now as an ember
In to corners of my mind.
My soul is now less raw.
I’m again my hopeful self.
Just the other day I saw
My pretty dream upon the shelf.