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Tag Archives: creator

Awaken the Gray

Fuzzy logic,

Blurred truth,

Unclear lines,

Indistinct certainties,

Overcast thinking,

Crowded acceptances,

Confused, there is no black or white.

Our world is gray.

Blocking vision

No right or wrong

Anything goes

While empty souls roam around

Knowing only the gray.

Thick gray fog covering…

Hovering…

Puddling….

My heart is heavy

Watching color fade away

I slowly dip my brush in paint.

Tears of blue drip onto the canvas

Drip….

Drip…..

Drip….

Streaming down, making pools of water.

The water swirls….

Searching….

Seeking….

Looking past gray skies.

Seeing yellow…

Blinding…

Bright….

Warmth….

Energizing, renewing, igniting inner beings that were asleep.

Transforming into orange…

Realizing, conception, created for

Such a time….

Tick…Tock…Tick…tock…

Moving hands, awaking the gray…Alarms sound!!

Flowers bloom, plants open up and feed off the sustenance that makes life thrive.

Bursting forth….

Opening up…

Red explodes, covering its surroundings.

Can’t help but feel the heartbeat beating…

Thump….thump…thump…

See the passion, His loving eyes reach out erasing the nothingness around.

Covering….

Suturing….

Removing the gauze

BOOM ….

BOOM….

BOOM….

Victory marches in with vibrant robes

Authority…

Kingship….

Worthy….

The Crown awaits.

 

 

 

 

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Posted by on September 4, 2018 in Poetry, Spiritual Reflections

 

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Leftover Thoughts after Vacation

Genesis

When I explore new places, I see so much beauty in the Earth that God created.  When I am still and submerge myself in these natural surroundings, I cannot help but be in awe of the subtle differences in landscapes and waterways.  I have always found peace in quieting myself and wondering about our creative Father ever since I was a child and ventured into the woods or the farm I lived by.  This world is beautiful underneath all the ugliness that man has created by his own fleshly nature.  My quiet place is anywhere that I can be still and notice the clear brooks, green hills, or feel the soil between my toes…..soil.  Just thinking of that alone, the gritty odor of soil and the way that it shifts and molds under my feet, whether it’s sand, clay, or peat.   The feeling of coolness from shaded soil or the hot sand that you quickly walk on that is exposed by the blazing sun.  How God took something filthy and created humans to have relationships with.  Yes, by our very nature we are dirty, yet God sees each of us sprouting, growing, and blooming to the potential He created us with individually.  Distinctive differences on numerous levels, each with different markings, characteristics and traits, yet similar enough to know that our origin is dirt.  Only God can take something so grimy and shape it into something pleasing and necessary to its environment.

Revelation

When I sit on the ground, whether it’s a mountaintop overlooking a valley or on a beach with my feet in the sand, I want to remain there forever.  My soul is quiet and I feel God’s presence around me.  Remain….that’s a word that I don’t think of often, but to remain means several things, look it up in the dictionary and think about each meaning. Synonyms of remain are abide, stay, wait, tarry, rest, or endure.  That word also makes me think of this scripture “Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful unless you remain in me.” John 15:4.  My filthy self, needs to remain in Christ if I want to be productive and fruitful….if I want to live to the fullest potential of what I was created for.  I can’t do that on my own, severed from Christ.  I’ve tried before and it doesn’t work, I wither and become dry dust without Christ. Ashes to ashes, we all fall down.    abide

I wonder, as I view turquoise skies, emerald seas, and chocolate mountains, how much greater the eternal kingdom will be with a remaining known presence of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.  I used to be scared of thinking about life outside of this world, but when you remain in Him, it’s a paradise we cannot truly fathom.  It has to be a stillness we’ve never even come close to feeling even on our highest moments on Earth.  A place where time doesn’t matter, harmonies float in the air like the wind, and worries are non-existent.  Paradise….if I remember the vine and stay attached to it.

 
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Posted by on July 6, 2018 in Spiritual Reflections

 

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Ode to My Creator

viewfromspruceknobOh how beautiful our Earth is.

Oceans, rivers, springs and streams dress it with blue ripples.

The waters calm my soul when I gaze over those endless bodies.

God splashed the shades of blue onto His canvas of Earth to delight mankind with the soft touches of cool refreshment.

The rains of the Earth remind me that God’s love washes over me continuously.

When storms dance on the waters and cause my heart to fear, He whispers in the wind and I remember that He’s with me and that the storms won’t last forever.

God constructed the mountains, hills, and crags with great views of boundless land filled with vegetation and animals.

I am at awe when I stand at the top and feel the breeze move through my soul.

The climb is never simple, you wonder if you will ever reach the summit.

I peek over the edge and look at the walk that God encouraged me to continue.

The reward is great with perseverance.

Some days and nights, I lay on the cool Earth in great wonder of my God, the creator.

God fills the skies with various brushes of clouds in the day.

Sometimes the clouds are thick and heavy with little light passing through.

Other times the clouds are soft splotches with bright light bouncing onto the earth.

While at night, He sprinkles the sky with stars to dance in the moonlight.

Oh how majestic our Creator is.

 

 
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Posted by on April 22, 2018 in Poetry, Writing

 

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Dear Diary,

I haven’t had this urgency to spill out my thoughts in written form in quite some time.  Pediarylockrhaps it’s because I read that it’s National Dear Diary Day.  I remember my first diary.  My grandmother gave it to me when I was eight or nine years old.  I don’t recall if it was for any particular reason, but I do remember her telling me that I may like to keep a diary, just to have a place to write down whatever was happening in my life.  My first diary was orange and it had a lock and tiny key to keep others from being able to read what I wrote inside it.  I didn’t write in it every day, but I did write in it occasionally.  It was usually when I had some kind of confession to make, like whatever boy I secretly held hands with or was crushing on.  I used various writing utensils to scribble these confessions, including crayon.  After my orange diary was exhausted from the bad scribbling and elementary aged confessions, my grandmother bought me another diary.  This one was bright blue with a girl holding a bouquet of flowers, embossed on the cover.  This diary helped me talk about those things that were bothering me.  My parents had just divorced; I started a new school, and I was having all those preteen emotions that accompany that age.

My teen years, I moved to journaling in spiral notebooks.  The outside covers of the notebooks were decorated with my personal threats for anyone who dared to nose into them.  These entries were sometimes written in code for only me to understand, in case my Mom or sisters ignored the warnings. The words that filled those notebooks included all the things most teenagers deal with…..rebellion, sibling rivalry, hormones, boys and lots of talk about parents being out of touch.

In college, I continued to journal in notebooks.  Those pages were filled with me looking toward the future.  Would I find the right career for myself?  Would I ever find a guy that would truly love me?  I talked about hopes and dreams.  I sought spiritual direction but at the same time questioned God.

I continued journaling off and on throughout my adult life.  I reflected on pregnancy, motherhood, failures, aggravations, finances, God, and all the things life throws at you.  I joined the digital revolution a few years back and started blogging on this page.  Just like my diaries and journals, after a while the entries become sporadic.  Life starts getting too busy or you just neglect taking the time to just sit and pour out the words that are running through your mind.

Journaling for me is a source of communication or prayer to God.  It’s always been easier for me to say what I think with a pen than with my mouth.  Prayer doesn’t have to look like you think it does.  Prayer is simply talking to God.  I think we make prayer more complicated than it needs to be.  When I journal, I’m able to be completely raw with my emotions.  When I’m angry, the words slam against the pages and fall over and under the lines.  When I’m sad, the words dance around slowly trying to find the right beat.  When I’m happy, the words float and bounce from side to side.  When I’m scared, the words sway and scratch trying to find the connection to the paper.

God knows my handwriting.  He’s received piles of letters from me.  He is my greatest love and understands me more than anyone.  He gave me the desire to write, if only for Him.

 
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Posted by on September 22, 2017 in Writing

 

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Snapping The Pieces Together

ImageMy mood has been disconnected the past few days.  I haven’t been able to put my finger on it, but I know I don’t like the way I feel.  My mind has been reveling in things I can’t change from the past.  That shouldn’t have a hold of me in the now, but sometimes thoughts creep up and it’s hard to shake it. Our current finances are tight too and that shouldn’t affect my mood so much, but it does. I decide to move away from my thoughts for a moment and sit in my son’s room while he puts together a Lego set.  He’s building and talking about various things.  I watch his fingers quickly snap the pieces together and form the pattern he’s following in the book.  I hand him pieces that are next in line and he says something that speaks to me immediately.  He says . “I’ve got a song stuck in my head that I don’t want there anymore.  Do you know how I can get it out?”  I quickly reply, “Sure, play a new song to cover the other.”  He says, “Yeah, but I don’t want any song there, so I guess I could just go to sleep and it’ll go away.” 

How many times am I like that?  Instead of replacing the song stuck in my head with a better song, I just decide to escape from it.  I should instead let God put a new song in my heart. “I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry.  He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.  He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.  Many will see and fear and put their trust in the Lord.”  Psalm 40:1-3

I can’t lay in the pit and go to sleep.  I’m reaching out instead so He can lift me out of the pit and set my feet on a solid foundation.  My selfish foundation is a place where I sink, a place where I feel stuck, a place of dirt and filth.  I’ll open my mouth and sing the new song he has given me. 

 

 
 

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The Heart of Worship

When my son was a toddler, I played Christian praise and worship music in my car while we did everyday tasks.  He got used to hearing certain songs and had several that he really enjoyed hearing.  His favorite song was, “Here I am to worship.”  When it played, I glanced at him in my rear view mirror and would watch him sitting in his car seat lifting his hands and singing as hard as he could along with the song.  It always melted my heart, brought tears to my eyes and a smile upon my face.

This morning I was reminded of that time once again.  My son, who is now twelve, was sitting behind me in church.  At  the end of service and the worship leaders were  singing a worship song.  I heard my son sing along with the music and he was singing with the same strength that he did when he was little.  I smiled and teared up.  I only hope that he will continue to sing praises to God. 

It made me think.  What does God think when we worship him so purely?  I would imagine it would bring him the greatest joy and pleasure.  As an earthly parent, it makes me beam with joy to hear him sing.  What does it do for God to hear us sing to Him with such pleasure?  I know it has to make him smile, it’s music to his ears.  It’s what He longs for.  He wants the transparency of his creation to come and enter into worship.  In the bible, it says that David was a man after God’s heart.  Why? Because he sang praise to His father, he cried out with song.  He was transparent with God.  In his music, he would sing what he felt.  He was honest with his Creator. 

My prayer is that I remember that God wants to hear me sing, he wants to see me raise my hands to Him, and we wants me to be transparent. This is a gift fit for the King.

 
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Posted by on August 25, 2013 in Writing

 

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Tailor of Love

This morning I was leafing through some old poems.  I decided to share this one.

 

“Tailor of love”

He knows every stitch of me

because He created me.

He knew my layout

before I was pieced together.

He’s the master

and we’re His piece of art.

He measures us with careful consideration

Seeing the end design.

Each is relevant for different purposes,

thoughts, and placement.

 

The artist looks to Him

for He is the ultimate creator.

We are the apprentices

to His initial beauty.

He inspires us to inspect the details;

To improve upon the flaws.

He carefully tailored small details

In each of us where there is no matched replica.

Each stroke of color was meant for His light to shine through;

To reveal to all who were meant to be

His most loved creation.

 
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Posted by on February 8, 2013 in Poetry, Writing

 

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