Tag: Thanksgiving

The Dangerous Love of God

His embrace will not just hold you, It holds all men and friend and foe, whoa,

PiCourtesy Samuels, weekend getaway.
…..

what’d I think His Comfort was… sweet cuddly Bear arm, warm with Paternity? His Comfort Zone is more than I dare dream… ach!

It’s in the Slap of the storm, in the Sap of the thorn,

Haha, I wasn’t chatting with God then, cuz He is in the crooky path of stray mountain goat; and I thought Love meant Light, but He takes the Night, longing like Darkness does for Dawn, for those that are unloved, forgotten…

…. all are clung together here: the healed, dead, dying, worthy, worthless, wasted idiot, reckless loser, offender, disbeliever, saint, deathless sinner : in that embrace that defies human limitations to Love like that.

Like that.

Little chapel in Monmouthshire

Do you have a happy place? A place you return to now and again sometimes for no reason, or when you do have a reason. I have a few like maybe you do too. This one below is almost exactly like the one I went to, eons ago, on a hill next to a forsaken lighthouse. It had lilies though, and a brick path with fallen out gate, I’d wait to hop over it and onto wild bush of Touch-me -nots.

Thankyou for Photograph, Yomargey UK

The sheer smallness of the chapel was magnified by the amount of light falling in it, through it, it lit up chinks in the woodwork, so when you looked at it from the outside it was like a small house on fire. Emotional, some would say. But I’ve grown past mere emoticons. There was a Stillness in there that got into me. It defied, and still defies human conditions for joy. It stilled my father’s bad temper at being pulled out of bed to be on time for service 7 am. My Ma was the prettiest warrior I ever saw; when she sang the sun shone specially on her, her curls lit up with fire and faith in the God who taught her how to bring up us three girls all on her own with dad away on postings all over India. She taught us how to be Indian traditionals, yet free of false humility, how she did that I do not know.

when I return to the memory of that first chapel ever, I’m reminded of how small I am in the vastness of an era I do not understand. I’m reminded of fearlessness, of the brilliance of Light as It un-hides the dark- exposing areas in my life that needn’t be subject to human frailty. And I love how freeing that is, to lean on Light and feel Its’ pressure on my skin, on my senses even, and on my human spirit so frighteningly prone to Self-reliance. Which in itself is a good thing. And some days, the human spirit wants to lean on a Thing bigger than us. No matter the fuss and kick at higher strength, humans like/want/need the Infinite whether in affairs of mathematics or promises. We need the falling in love then the expectation of that Significant Other who needs be that Leaner-On. Some of us need a Festival, a Shopping Mall, Online heroes, or Plates of This and That. We go low, then high on things that will transform us via vein, brain.

Today I’m leaning on the One that found me in Unexpected Places, else I’d not have noticed Him. Else I’d have been suspicious of too much goodness, or Structure based mementoes that Transform our inner spaces irrespective of life as is visual, aural, tactile….

There is a tide turning

There is a tide turning

There is a tide turning in your life,

a season returning,

a harvest,

a plot softened by the unexpected

shower.

This is time to weep release,

dance healing, restore

from tearing.

A time to take

joy,

stake claim make returns on what you never thought remembered your name

This is that time,

it comes by once in a few ways,

crumbs of yesterday.

This is that time, a tide turning,

a season a harvest, waiting

in you.

@raylarn

..

Wordfall

Ever seen clouds moving like waterfall?: https://youtu.be/Yk5fDgJLfCw

I went to Your mountain this morning and watched my Sky like words speechless fall from depths of endless peace,

watched You reach in my valley of silence, as if You prayed for me eternally

and every wish and motley thought fell in the mist of Your eyes like tears, needing release

needing me, needing my broken earth – reminding me of You in a way I never knew You exist

present tense continuum, You never cease, You never leave

the very place I thought was dead, resurrected You again- You fell tears in my eyes this morning at my altar of disbelief.

In my heart there are walls and rooms and doors

Pic credit Olga D. Canberra

There’s keys and stairways, vents and switches- in this heart. Like it or not, there’s a cooking pot and stove, a freezer and corners. There’s levels,floors,ceiling,tile and wash. There are left overs and water; bathwater, sprinklers, showers,bucket,toothbrush,needles, spoons &knife and fork. And cushions and covers. Mats, floor mats, table mats, dinner ware for guests/everyday. There’s a welcome mat and a throwaway. There’s towels and sheets, carpet and garbage. Oh veg peels, bouquets, flower vase. Garden balcony,books,papers,papers,papers,wires,cables, photographs, memoirs,chairs,canvas,easel,cases,boxes, music,chatter,silences,markerpens, erasers,coughs,sighs,laughter,prayer,steps, dreams, vision,hope,faith,dusk,twilight,dawn grey blush bright, noon orange yellow gold sun, rays sifting,shifting in, rising waning moonlit dust/steam, answers,questions,healing,tears,fears, rejection,hearth,peace,

My heart has walls,entry,exit, skylight,dewfell roof,rainharvest water,pulse,rhythm,arteries of Breath:

She goes around the sun, she goes upside down, revolutions rotatary- she can take this, she was made to run with me, no roots,

I’ve not understood how deep the wealth of the human heart, how inscrutable a store

Whats its measure, its define,

what an insanely blessed owner am I.

This is that time in your life, a tide turns

This is that time in your life, a tide turns

There’s a tide turning in your life, a season changing

returning Harvests, a plot softened by unexpected showers;

This is time to weep relief, dance healing, restore from torn;

..a time to wake, take joy, stake claims ~ make returns on loss you never thought remembered your name.

This is that time, it comes by once in a few ways, like crumbs of yesterday in many waters, returning 7fold,

This is that time a tide turning in your life, a season changing, Harvests ‘neath every silent prayer.

True Love

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.

…….

And through every wound a Garden grew