The Rest

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She hangs on the wall.

A mirror of my mind.

And I long with her and dream with her.

Used to want to ask her what was on her mind.

Now I know.

She is me and I am her.

And I rest in the knowledge that she is Eve.

Every dream, all of them hang with her.

Her gaze is our gaze.

Her stare is our stare.

And so I know the leg up repose of dreaming.

And you do too.

The craving for a chair to dream.

Go there.

A chair to go and write.

Sit there.

A window pouring out the slanted rays for a moment’s pause.

And dream with Eve.

Rest with her, with me.

And gaze a moment maybe more.

Soak in the world, release what stores up in the achey bones.

And sit under the tree of life.

And hang with Eve, the mirror on our life.

Woman, child,

And rest.

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(Joining Lisa-Jo Baker at Lisa Jo dot com for her #fiveminutefriday – REST)

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Encouragement – A Letter In The Sky

mcvl hot and cold sky sunset

The heavens write letters of encouragement too. Just stand under it and read the bold strokes of orange, flame yellows against a canvas grey.

And a seeking soul finds solace under the canopy of God’s intimate signature of glory. Hope strokes, brush strokes, holy caligraphy for a sinking, seeking wounded weary woman. Man.

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Because the Great I Am is the great sky writer. Of grace notes in the sky. Set before the ones He loves. The downcast and the sin-weary. The misunderstood and missing out.

On the days of the mid-stride missteps in the sojourner’s journey, rest under cover  of the God sky. Take cover. Take encouragement.
There is more than a silver lining though there is that. There are glory streaks of brilliant screaming God colors.

Open the notes penned in the sky with pinks. Grey’s moment is waning and God’s people are the hope clingers under the envelope of blue. Looking up and looking long into his heavenly canvas gives life from the Creator of yours, of mine.

Desperate down-trodden sister sojourner, take the God letters to heart. Read them slow, these skyward treasures for the wet and weary. The radiant Son of Man is come and will come again.

Rest under the knowing.

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Walk into the waiting calm with strength, fresh strength from the mighty storm. Hold fast and long to torrential grace which washed you in the reigning down. Press into the new day, strong and strengthened one. Let storms renew. Shake off despair, let the rain wash you, refresh you, renew you, protected Child of God.

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Stand facing strong while you read the letters He writes for His still-earth-bound children. Face all with a knowing that He walks and shields. Loves and guides. Watches out over the weary.

Plant sure your feet while the winds whip, they will. He shoulders the blistering winds of worry and guards the tired soul. Seek Him as the sky turns to indigo, lavender and plum. He writes his love notes, pens them beautiful. Pens them with love. Pens them for you.

Patient One McClellanville

Open the grace and rest under His Heavens, weary ones.

Look into His eyes and into His skies.

Take, receive, hold fast to the encouragement He gives.

It is grace. Take the manna from the skies, God-sent.

Take grace. And give thanks.

Until you rest your weary soul under the black of night with a head filled with prayer and a heart filled with praise.

And shout your loud amens.

Blue Moon HMM

 For you are not alone.

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joining heather at the E of O for just write
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shrimp boat sunsets HM

The Healing – Letters From The Village

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There is a place
Planted, sacred, holy
Somewhere
In the light, separated
No darkness
There at all
That quietly waits to drip the peace

Where wrinkles smooth,
Hurt heals, tears  dry
Love prevails and grace rains down
Pelting, puddling pools of amazing
Grace

And there is a place
in the middle of life
Where forgiveness is holy
Set apart, the seed of unforgiveness
Separated from the soil
Plucked from a compost, mix of blackened sin
Parched place of holding fast

Struggle, sister, not in vain
To kill the root of hurt and pride
Resist the pull to hold to hurt
Let it go and breathe the breath of hope
New and fresh
The living hope that circles round the tender
Scars

And there settles in the folds
Of human flesh
A simple healing balm
Poured out by all the
But God’s we’ve ever read
Which lead when followed to a sacred place
Though drenched by oceans
Of your grief
The drying has begun in part

And there rests a holy mystery
A rising from the ashes
Mixed with rivulets of tears
A birthing of redemption
Burst forth, life new
Nested in the arms of tender loving
Grace
The mystery of mercy
Shall be a mystery while
We see this side of glory
But through fragile human eyes
If you should ask to glimpse forgiveness
Through heaven’s lens
The mystery dims, it fades
A faith restores wholeness in the healing
Worthy of a alleluia chorus and
Man’s boldest cries of amen.

So sing a song of healing
Whisper soft
Or trumpet loud

But fold in the notes
Of sweet forgiveness
And let the
Redemption song begin.

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joining sweet Laura full of grace at Laura Boggess dot com for her Playdates at The Wellspring and with Jen at findingheaventoday dot blogspot.com

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How I Am Learning One Size Doesn’t Fit Most Or All

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We find ourselves living in another new normal again. And it’s okay. It’s more than okay. Because we are being washed in a torrential outpouring of grace.

We are learning in the stretching. We tore down some of those self-imposed walls. Or were they man-made? I don’t know. I just know they are crumbling down a bit. The rigid, concrete walls which keep out change. The ones that conform us to some preconception, some loose ideal whose origins we do not know.

We seek to lean into God ‘s will and plan. And to bend without breaking. Yet welcoming the pruning shears. To stretch and grow. And break free of shackles that bind. To let Him mold us, shape us, lead us, change us. The heat from the fire refines us. The molding reshapes us. We hope that we are beautiful when we come through the tumbler’s wheel. More beautiful and stronger than before. But more than any superlative or standard or ideal, we hope to more like Christ.

And I am learning in the deep recesses, the places that like to tuck away and hide the false, the myth, the half-truths. That one size doesn’t fit all. And that even the one size fits most isn’t always the right fit.

Because the God of the universe created with an eye on originality and uniqueness. An unfathomable ocean of possibility and endless beauty in the physical world. Mountains and months of snow blanket the earth, no two flakes alike. Endless variety. Infinite variation.

I word searched “normal” in The Message Translation because it matters to me how scripture sees and views “normal”. It’s not a precise study in theology nor a tool in stating a case. It simply gives me pause. There were nine “hits”. Some how that seems infrequent for the whole of scripture. And I long to know why.

And I am seeing that God’s highest and best, it may lay outside the cookie cutter ways we write paradigms for our lives. We are looking at new paths and ways to live out this life for our children and ourselves.

My lens on this life sees beauty in different ways of doing and making art. Of writing. Oh the myriad of writing styles there are to ingest. The cup is full to overflowing with poetry and prose of every imaginable style. Each sip satisfies with it’s original beauty.

And doing church is going through some transformation. We are hungry and thirsty for community, fellowship and teaching. A shift in our life is shifting possibilities here too. The world, our world, our very lives are changing. And there may be another new normal on the horizon for us. I am learning to break the lens of tunnel vision. And to replace it with a lens of grace. Grace for us, our children, and throwing out stale ways of seeing possibility.

One size fits all is too small for a God this big. And His love is too grand to squeeze us into shoes that don’t fit as we run this race of life.

Our new normal feels more beautiful everyday and we are starting to settle into our new skin. Just in time for the new new normal that waits with open arms around the next turn in the road. We travel with a spirit of expectancy. And we walk by faith covered in grace.

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