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Give Pause…

Give pause…
The morning light peeks over the horizon
To break up the shadows of night
Till day takes its place and the sun
Leaps up into the open expanse.

Give pause…
The clouds turn dark and dense with rain
Breaking in with renewal and life-giving moisture
As thunder and lightning speak, “Holy, Holy, Holy,”
Magnifying God’s greatness and power.

Give pause…
The sun peeks through the clouds
Calming the storm, displaying God’s rainbow promise–
Brighter colors because of darkness passed–
Till brilliant blue holds sway again.

Give pause…
The twilight comes in as sleepy sun sinks
Until the sky twinkles bright with stars.
The moon blinks down reminding all,
“Rest now in the comforting blanket of night.”

Give pause…
Night follows day follows night in divine rhythm.
Peace and storm weave in and out of the dance
Ordained from creation’s dawn
Till time’s twilight and eternity’s continuance

Give pause…
A moment of reflection is a worthy gift,
A breath of the eternity–time’s undercurrent
Running like a river without beginning or end
Through the hands of Creator God.

Give pause…
For the Father of Lights,
Source of unending Love,
Sacrificed on the altar of Holiness,
That we may know Him fully and
Give pause…

Glorious Familial Havoc

My kids came again–
Wreaking a weekend of glorious familial havoc.
They used to be little people depending on me
To tell them what to think,
How to figure things out,
What the answers were to
Whatever knotty problems they faced.
Now, they initiate imaginative ideas,
Put sentences together in ways
That never occurred to me (wow!).

Then they went again–
Inflicting an evening of mourning for
All the stupid things I can think of.
This missed day or moment,
Month or special event,
That thing I could have said better,
Done better, mediated better…
Motherhood doesn’t stop for me
When the weekend ends.
It only goes into hibernation to avoid
The harsh desolation of a landscape
Barren of the continual interactions
I miss so much.

When they come around,
I lumber out of hibernation,
Shake myself to reawaken maternal instinct,
Blinking sleep out of my eyes so
I can see them, hear them,
Feel the atmosphere of love and affection
So unlike that between me and my spouse.
The spontaneity of youth tumbles me over
With the hugs and I-missed-you’s
Mumbled into my welcoming heart.

Ah, well, I suppose life goes on.
At least, that’s what I’m always hearing.
For me, though,
Life is like the broken lines on the road,
Only the long painted lines are
Holding the gaps together for me…
The gaps don’t keep the lines apart,
They are their own events–
Unpredictably full of the unseen blessings
Brought when motherhood meets its match,
A miraculous pairing of loved and beloved
That happens every time my kids come around
Bringing their own comfortable chaos.

random thought

It’s Thursday. Spring is finally on its way. My mom and my best friend are both going through crises (one at a hospital in Phoenix with her adoptive mom and the other at a hospital here in Nashville with her legally adopted daughter). My husband is watching TV. I’m online doing school stuff (and writing this post). My kids are in Clarksville with their dad. My dad is in the Philippines. One brother is in Virginia with his wife. Another brother is north of Nashville in Springfield hanging out with his girlfriend. I’m feeling a bit at a loss and a lot scattered and very overwhelmed… But the clock is still ticking, so I guess I’ll go work on my homework. Dear Jesus, help me do what needs doing.

Are We Done Yet?

It’s nice to know I’m listened to, and read and understood–
At least that’s what they tell me all the time.
But I can think of only one who speaks his mind (and should)
That I don’t prompt for feedback on a rhyme.

I go along and write a verse or poem here and there
And put one out for people now and then,
But I have written less and wondered if my readers care.
The silence on this matter doesn’t end.

It’s sad to think that if I stopped and kept it all within,
That few or none would ever say a word.
I didn’t even realize it was bugging me again
Till one friend wrote and told me I was heard.

Now this is silly and I know I need to let it go,
Still, I’m a normal human and I hate
To learn I’ve let such feelings overflow.
I’ve let my sadness squelch how I create.

So someone speak out, talk to me, pick up the phone and call…
Should I stop with what I’ve already done?
Does what I write mean anything to anyone at all?
Or am I simply writing for just one?

I’m sure that I will keep on putting words down on a page,
But share it? That, my friends, is what remains.
There’s so much on the internet to read this day and age.
Perhaps I’m done here. Nothing’s wrong with change.

Moonlight

Beautiful she
Sits with dignity—
Tail wrapped about her feet,
Black as midnight,
A bit of moonlight
Glowing on her chest,
Green eyes slowly blinking.
Bright sun warms her coat
Through the windowpane,
But beautiful she
Sits regally unaware
Of her watcher.

REEVALUATION

The old year passes and the new one
Hits me like another wave in a turbulent sea.
I forget that I belong to Him sometimes, but
This annual reevaluation comes around
Reminding me, reproving me, recalling me—
A strong silent undercurrent of renewal—
Till I stop my busy haste to achieve and
Relearn how to “be� …again,
How to hear …again,
How to be still and know …again.

Father is so patient with me.

I can but stand in awe and paint word-pictures
Over and over in a pitiful attempt
To convey some piece of what I perceive of
His greatness and glory and my yearning to get closer.
I am like a moth drawn to a candle flame,
Knowing a hunger for the holiness that can
Consume my being until I am nothing
Apart from Him.

Another part of me shrinks away,
Wishing I could just get on with my life.
So much takes up my time and energy
Until I am sucked dry.
I feel spun out into so many directions
That my mind ends up at a standstill
Unable to process simple actions.
Sometimes I catch myself staring into nothing
Instead of brushing my hair or
Finishing the sentence I’ve just begun.

It is this emotional, mental and physical exhaustion
That brings me to my knees.

Oh, Lord! Fill me up again
With Your desire, Your Spirit, Your presence.
Turn my face once more toward
My source of Life, Strength and
Divine, unconditional Love…
Towards YOU.

Eighteen Today

November 27, 2006… It’s a long way from November 27, 1988.

Click on the picture to see the poem.
Hannah's Senior Picture

Guest of Honor

December comes coldly, softly on the heels of November
Creeping in the door like a featured guest arrived too soon,
Trying not to be noticed while the hosts prepare for
The party everyone looks forward to each year.

Suddenly, awareness pounces on the whole house and
December is the center of attention—
Basking in the glow and graciously gifting fans
With a glance, a word, or a reminder of their value.
Without admirers, December’s importance fades,
Yet every person lauds her arrival and cheers her presence.

The Holidays accompany the acclaimed like adored children
Huddling in the shadows until introduced to all,
With pomp and circumstance for their brief appearances
Then disappearing out the door abruptly,
Sent home and to bed until the next year’s
Featured display by their indulgent parent, December.

She courteously bows out as the party peaks and
Everyone turns towards January’s flamboyant arrival
Just before all collapse fatigued from the festivities—
Ready for rest, recuperation and regular routine.

New Page

Just wanted to let folks know that I’ve posted a new page. Please read “Perspective On Being Grateful” if you have a few minutes to spare.

The Healing King

Names are important, because what they say and mean reveal a lot about the person who carries them. Cara Colleen means “friendly girl.” At the very least, even if I have never met you, I hope you can understand that I share what I share because I believe we can all be friends through the one Friend who is eternally with us. Sometimes it is my children who come up with the best ideas for names and titles. My second child and oldest son suggested a title for a second book only weeks after my first one was released (five years ago). He was ten then, and already a deep thinker.

There is much of my poetry that I don’t show to the kids simply because I have used it as an outlet for venting, for expressing, for putting my deepest emotions and thoughts “out there” so I can get them into perspective. It has been one of the more important avenues that the Lord has worked with me to get through the healing process. Not all of it is depressing or sad or angry. Much of it is praise and adoration for the One who has been my strong fortress through so many years of trials and desolation. Some of it is thoughtful expression, nostalgia, or just another attempt to verbalize my admiration for the wonders of creation. There are a few that I have deliberately set out to write on a given subject and wrestled with my artistic impetus before I was able to say, “there, it’s finished.” Some are to my kids, my mother, my dad, my brothers, my husbands past, former, and present, and some are to individuals who have influenced my life in one way or another.

As I feel the kids are old enough to understand, I’ll show them some of the pieces I have written because I want them to be part of what I do. I have encouraged each of them in their own creative talents. All of them are involved with music in some way (piano, violin, guitar, brass, drums). Hannah has been writing poetry for years already, involved in high school choir competitions, and will be 18 in a few weeks. Jonathan is writing a book, so he can publish it, make millions, and go to art school in Rome after he graduates high school in a couple more years. David is in the band and wants to become an engineer. Zechariah, well, even though he’s been learning piano and has the funniest one-liners, I think he is just enjoying childhood still and I am going to let him be one for a while yet.

It was Jonathan who came up with the name I have never been able to top. Since it looks as if a second book may not happen until sometime in the next century, I thought I should at least share the title. Maybe I should make it the subtitle of my webpage… who knows? At the very least, it deserves acknowledgement because it so aptly describes my relationship with my Lord, the God who created me, who knows me more intimately than I even know myself, and who is, as John Milton claimed, my Muse …because He is indeed The Healing King.