I saw the sun the other morning
Peeking through a crevasse in the clouds
Like a brilliant iris of light,
(Too bright to see the color)
Staring through the vast, dark grey eyelids.
Even when the sun rose to its hidden place
Behind the upper mass of moisture,
The brightness of that spot drew my vision
Till all the last remnants of radiance
Faded to the jaded blue of the indifferent sky.
But bright hope kept shining within me…
Beyond the canopy of clouds,
Sun shone with all her beauty and
I felt touched by it, gifted with it,
As if I were a carrier of that light
In some supernatural, ephemeral way.
But no one else could see it, feel it… touch it.
So I curled the hope up inside me,
Snuggling with the joy already there
Until it blossomed into fresh faith.
Father sure knows how to paint a beautiful sky!
You are astonishing, Lord!
It amazes me to stand here
As your hand slowly unfolds
To reveal the tiny gift inside.
The waiting isn’t over, but
It seems as if Your plan is clear.
My friends are rejoicing
With some reserve as of yet.
But life bundled up in a baby boy
Just bounces around and
Smacks you in the heart with joy!
It’s hard not to hope that
Your hand is holding grace, that
Your goodness will be the sure hand–
Even though, for now, we still wait,
I’m going to trust You to know best
Still hoping for long years of prayer
To be answered in THIS gift.
If I could write, I’d tell of all I know,
Which isn’t much, for all I have to show.
This sense of self inside of me,
This thing that drives me to be free,
Is just a formless mass of feelings, though…
I try to write the deeper things inside.
Though most of me prefers to run and hide.
My efforts bring a war within
(It seems like all my life has been),
Yet I am fixed on letting go of pride.
If I could write, the passion in my prayer
Would be to touch the world with all its care—
To show them God’s great love for all,
So they could help break down their walls
Releasing all the anger and despair.
I try to write so people know I’m real
With caution in expressing how I feel—
So they identify with me
(With common eyes we clearly see),
And we can lay things at His feet and kneel.
If I could write, I’d risk all that I am,
To share my love, and consequence be damned
But still I struggle hard and long
To speak or sing a heartfelt song.
Sometimes I’m sure I’ll never write again.
I try to write despite this wretched doubt,
For I must write. I cannot live without
A way to speak my mind and heart—
To show I’m weak and then impart
How self laid down receives God’s grace throughout.
If I could write…
