A Christmas Prayer:
“Let me be that Star,
Let Your Life blaze through my inadequacy,
Gaze thru’ my shadows with Compassion, with forgiveness and the kind of tender mercy You’ve stood for,
Oh Gentle Saviour, arrest my blindness with Your freedom to be who I was made to be, in the Light of your power. Free me from what blurs my vision
Beautiful One be born this day in my ash, my ashes of dreams, for a star is that; may I reflect You, reaching out to me via Light years of Love.
Teach me Love, Your Love Oh Sacred Head once Wounded for me, Your Story stuns me o’er and o’er….
past the frills and fluster of seasonal cheer, I want to know the real You more and more, Gentle Jesus of the Cross, as You go about Your Day do not pass me by,
may our planet shine with You, with the Life of Your Light.
I prayed that you would be given the gift of sight,
but God in His mercy allowed me to see His Light all around you.
Now I ask that you my child will pray too, this prayer for others: that thru’ your journey via the valley of shadows, you will leave footprints that lead another out of darkness.
Each day this prayer grows, and as it does, my eyes open to things I’ve been blind to. How we misunderstand the gifts we are given: they arrive in unusual wrap and bows, sparkling with the tears of heaven.
“For God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but He has given us a spirit of power, love and discipline…” quote from The Bible.
Rest my heart, your fabulous heart rich with kisses from heaven,
rest your thoughts, pick berries, eat sweet raw tender leaf made by the fingers of God,
Life will pass its days in ways that surprise you & me; sunbathe your tears.Rest my heart, your fabulous heart
rich with kisses from heaven.
I was born of the dust, where Light fell like a stairway, ’twas calling calling, Child of the Dew, ‘fore you even knew it,
I know you..
Before you were born in the womb of galaxies of Stars, you & I were summoned to breathe, by the breath of God –
falling like Dew,
Lest we forget we are first born Natives of Light,
lest we forget ….
Painting Lyrics of my heart Watercolour digitalized, RN
Posted by @innerdialects on Mirakee app.
I never earned titles and much bread…
these two hands stayed home to stare out at trees and skies and leaves; I wrote poetry with my floor mop, or doodled with raw mango skin, and left over crayons. Never sold much, I hoarded; love pavements and the songs in strangers’ eyes. Love God. But who said that works in the ways of everyday living? Nah, nobody. Today’s my quiet day, my consult with the King. Here we are Hannah and Esther, Sarah Martha and Sweet Mary. Life and the Times have also made me some David and some Peter. And some Noah. I ache to pet some living (wild)species I’ll never probably personally meet…. polar bear and sea horse.
So, 3.30 pm Monday with my Maker. The home outside this door smells fresh bread. It’s our second daughter baking. The youngest sits with the sun in his face, he can look right in the Light, unflinching. He has that gift, some call it visual disability. His eldest sis makes music with a guitar and keys, it’s a harp to listen to… muted sounds of life reaching through to me under my door,
I have lived to see this, and see true love in Jeff’s eyes at the altar of Your faithfulness-
this November, I’m stripping barbed wire. The barbed wire of disbelief, grouch & fatigue(ugh terrible trio).
Yeah I’ve never earned fortunes and proverbial silver spoon and wheels but I’ve spun unedited prayers at family toes at 5 to 5 am some dawns –
You watch me watch You light the sky bringing heaven to my hearth;
I bless Your Brow if I might – with a daughter’s kiss that heals things I don’t know to say or ask. Thank you for healing our lil one’s seizures.
This Monday I’m sitting here in the deliciousness of a healing. I didn’t find You in fests and grand recitals, but here in the hiding place among heartbreak where our blind son healing from seizures, must also wear out meds’ side effects …
You here in these rooms of cuts and bruises, his confused tender blind face not even tender in random chaotic moment. The girls brave it all, they huddle later, wipe our fears away. ‘This too shall pass,’
I find You here nestling us:
It’s an aloneness crushed with the aroma of You,
the aroma of Grace.
Compassion, suffering long;
Grace & Humor kiss each other, smiling, locking arms and tears with anticipation of a better hour to follow.
I find You here.