Tag: Sunday

There’s another word in it

Prompt: Observant

I always look forward to this Prompt from Friday Five minuters, look forward to it with a relish I knew growing up with tonsillitis and was allowed ice cream only on sacred times of wellbeing! Ah well. Thankyou FMF writers, for keeping me in touch with words,mine & yours. Life gets hectic- beautiful yes, hazardous often in these days of virus and co., but creation never stopped. Sam my musician friend’s beard has gotten longer. Binda seems to heal from cancer, our friendly neighborhood pigeon gets bolder by the day, the children are taller, the sky feels more velvet, yesterday I caught a few drops of rain- it was cool and quenching in my skin, this morning I could not wake up the 5 am I usually do for my morning Quiet, but I kneeled within, in my heart, in bed, cushioning my spirit in Him, as He re- created me for a brand new day. Still in bed I open mail from FMF, and blog. Something I’ve done only twice. Blogging before brushing my teeth. Its a different odd feeling. Like breaking a rule, like smiling with your mouth closed? Maybe. Blogging is a whole cave of possibilities in a beach full of pirates, hehe. I see the world differently horizontally : the Word Observant hauls up sensitivities to look at life with new perspective: as a Server, a Waiter of creativity. A servant of It. Not obstruct its way. Not mess with its Maker, not shut eyes to the possibilities of the day. Here I want to haul self up and stare at the things waiting today:Wait. Ask. Pray. Serve as I watch, observe our Creator’s pathways in my day.

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I could’ve been another person

This is first hand from my mother who was there: I had just been born ‘normally’ but here was the thing. I was a third daughter, and one of our older relatives wasn’t happy. That aside…

…. the nurses weren’t happy for my Ma, and they were about to fix it.

My mother heard them discuss a baby switch with the lady next bed: she had just had a third son. So. The nurses were ready to start this process of switch ( before anyone’s husband got in the picture?) This is an absolutely true account; my ma was horrified and would not allow the discussion to proceed. What were they trying to do, strike a goodwill conscious baby switch between the two mothers? Was this the other women’s idea?

I cannot imagine any other mother than the one I have, have loved and been loved by. Gratitude Lord for the protection there.

Too many infant girls face untold horrors in nations that are subject to certain practices that involve dowry, etc.. why are people afraid to raise daughters?

Unsplash
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I am brimming proud of mine; of every daughter everywhere. God forgive our sins of murder, hatred, and discrimination.

FMF Writers
From around my home

From around my home

A Letter to you: (inspired by a blog-friend)

Heal Warrior,

know you are Loved by a Force you cannot see, but One that sees you. Regret nothing but what you deprive yourself of tomorrow. Love generously, live every minute, I mean LIVE. Lockdown all noise that Intrudes. We deserve more than we give ourselves. You are No.1 and should be in your list of beautiful things this side of heaven. You are precious, more than trees and leaves of all the pages ever written anywhere on earth, aren’t you?

Aren’t you? Look deep in the eyes of your heart and read the preciousness with which you were created. See how Someone died so you and I could live free as we do, children of an earth almost too blest. Aren’t we, too blest? Warrior friend mine, yes you,

I write this with an urgency I do not understand: there’s a day to live for today and you and I must excel all expectations to just be normal. We ride above the boring norms we chalked out for yesterday… eh warrior please let go of yesterday’s habits, yesterday’s nightmares, let go, let go of tomorrow’s predictions, let’s be who we were, we are, will be… warriors in love and Peace: nothing missing, nothing broken-

we were made for days as these in a Love that forever breathes heavens’ brand of peace Warrior, please.

Old calendar, in tiny easel. Some Words never fail, no matter the way humans err and one decade after another breaks down in the stress of Time.
Last night we watched the third episode of CHOSEN, is brilliantly put together: the life of Yeshua as seen creatively by Producers’ unique brand of wit that comes from a seriously awe-filled place. Yes some Americanese in it(…”you kidding me?!” Said by Hebrew disciple), which is in any case versatility at best😃but besides that, surprisingly good – after watching way too many Jesus films, this still grabs. Looking forward to seeing the last episode now.

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My little Harp girl in Water Colour, and paper roses (no florist around), yes, babe pics of our kids still around the house: Reminders of days that we receive every day from the Father of Lights with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow.
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Prayers that go up as incense. Answered prayers. Expectant healing from things more than an earth- bound virus. We are more than these, we are Prayerers: we forget who we are, we forget the power in our hands to reach out to The Only One Who has the power to save from Gehena. Yahweh, heal our earth from wounds we needn’t host. Remind us we needn’t be scared of things that kill earth life but cannot touch our immortality. Show us who You are. In these days, remind us of who we really are.
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If you’re looking for Sunday Fellowship, do join here
https://youtu.be/KH3hSVK4_UQ

P.S.

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Have a great week!

@raylarn

‘LIFE’ is a state of mind…

Yesterday we put together a video of the Fellowship that has currently just the five of us, at home. It was past lunch time when we finally began: our son on his little keyboard: we had a new song= new lyrics😳;

Kitsy our angel finally sings though! Me I hate cameras, never liked them, but there’s a daughter with lens in this house. Sigh … I love God, will do whatever it takes. Besides it’s been 2 years of intense Love that kept us going. We’ve had family and friends pray over us and that’s no small thing. Gratitude!

Title of this Post is from the Word in Video: …death too is also a state of mind. We rise above the Things that hold us back, dead places of the heart and mind that cause us to die inside.

we are surrounded by physical death and associated shadows, but Life is what we are within and beyond all of that. Which is what makes this celebration more meaningful this time than any. Yes Uncertain Times! The only certainty is that nothing can take away our Peace, no matter what, nothing shatters the bonds broken at the Cross, for Free….

we’re packing in warm greetings from our home and homes associated with Haven friends here in India, to yours:

may you have the Peace of God which surpasses all human understanding, and the Joy that comes from staying with Him.

I do not know that all like such words, but it’s the thing within me and it’s why I write. I wish you Christ Jesus, like you did not think possible, in these times, this life, these days. These are those Absolute Essentials we cannot live without. We all may never see each other in this life, but it is my prayer that after all these words here and there, we will oneday truly be family together, eternally.

Family hug.

Step through Locked doors

May we seek and find Him more today, than ever before. May we touch His Wounds and never doubt again. May He step through our walls, our locked doors; may we experience His Passion in new ways, in our roads to ‘Emmaus‘;

oh that same power that raised Jesus the Christ from the dead, be our Dew and Manna today.

May we never be the same again.

Have a blessed day!

From our table, a month ago. No bouquets available, except a Post full of wishes that you stay safe well and truly happy, body soul and mind.



P.S
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Beauty for Ashes

Photo FMF Writers

Quenched by thirst for True Love.

Did this 👇painting last year, after seeing Souza’s Christ( see below 2nd painting for also, his grand son’s Street graffiti of Goan woman praying?)

Painting ‘BEAUTY FOR ASHES’
Raylarn l, Acrylic
CHRIST ON PALM SUNDAY
Francis Newton Souza
Solomon Souza grandson of Souza:
STREET GRAFFITI, Goa.

Art is a language all it’s own. When I’m silenced from society and ask myself what I’m at, is when Painting kicks in. It’s like dancing for me, or cooking a designer meal. It’s my dialect. There’s grace, disgrace, pain, hopeless hope.

Today, Palm Sunday and India and everywhere potentially exploding with Covid, or not…. it’s that kind of day again I’m looking within. Some call it prayer,

you can label it, morph it, strip it down, it’s still the fact of reaching out to the One that made me: the Act of Love that consummates my presence here, the Fact of His Life…. when I think of that, there is little else that overcomes. And I need some overcoming, Now.

Am grateful for the Gifts we are given at this time. Gifts that say it better than we might. These are the Journals of our Times. These are the trails we leave behind, our blood prints that might be a new kind of beautiful for generations to follow. What we are at.. in the Now, matters. These emotions, questions, they capture human responses, and sometimes responses are all we’ve got to secure our eternities.

Souza captures Christ with that Palm Leaf; you might call it grotesque almost, but this is how pain looks in any given century.

His grandson’s Graffiti details the folded palms of a Goan woman. What’s she asking? What are we asking. globally, individually: are there immediate answers, is there Beauty in the Ashes of hopes, prayers and dreams,

what’s Christ got to do with contemporary existence, does God care I may ask. What do we do now:

what is this that causes peace when I pause, lean, go still…. my emotional palms folding in,

is Humanity beautiful when we are most vulnerable,

do we ask questions of immortality, here, like this, now,

when else?

Life wasn’t ever permanent. Now maybe is all we’ve got.

Photo FMF Writers