The Land Where The Unknowns Live – (The Power of The Wind)

December 27, 2012December 28, 2012 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

Cracking the door open a smidge and peeking back in for a moment or two. Oh the challenge of keeping the writers quiet with their paperless canvas, when all the world is swirling and brimming and blustering and shining.

Voiceless it cries,
Wingless flutters,
Toothless bites,
Mouthless mutters.

-J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

The Land Where The Unknowns Live

She sailed her boat on the seas of life where the winds blew white capped waves

Deep cracks and crevices on broken seas crept over her vessel’s sides

She sailed her craft under a sky so grey, with tears on cusp of breaking edge

Salty, stockpiled and ready to roll

Stealing salt from the tops of waves

And she sailed her ship, solo, so alone

To a land where the unknowns lived

Under night dark skies, painted charcoals, ebonies, and slates

Highlighted in battleship greys

Mirroring the melange of a heart and soul

And the sails they flapped and flailed and feinted, tattered and torn

So weak and wobbly worn

Ripped under the power and might of the storms

The swirling howling honking sounds came

And the all arounds blew

Under its gale-force currents of power and might

The breakables broke and the sediment shifted

While the trees they snapped, the roots gave way

As the wind tears all that’s shallow and weak

And the limbs bent, broke, tumbled, tossed

Then felled

As the howling power, like a runaway train

Brought the loose things loose while the winds swept the land

And carried things off in a current of cleansing

As the wind blew through, cutting a jet black night

But oh the morning it brings the new

A cleansing of a dark and broken soul

And rolls back all black

And saves the tears for some

Other day

And shines the light of Joy on all dark

As the sun shines radiant through the trees

The wind blows fresh through the cheeks puffed full

Of Hope through the land where the unknowns live

So she mends her sails, or did He mend them for her

And re-rigs her boat, or did He repair that too

Her working parts and pieces

Sending her off on a journey new

On a sea of redemptive swells

Where the pitch and toss

And the windswept new bring Hope to a journey, new

Fueled by the breeze so gentle and soft

Of a kind and whispering wind

Touching tender the cheeks of the smiling face

Of the land where the unknowns live.

Thinking of You As I Prepare Him Room

December 21, 2012 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 3 Comments

I am thinking of you as I slip out the back door. Cracking the door and slipping through to a place of preparation, pondering, reflection, and above all celebration.

And I am thinking of you as I look back over the shoulder of the year, glancing back on the months and days in review. What they held, how they shaped and what they taught.

So it is I think of you as I look at this art, this ministry, this way of writing out life on a paperless post. Of processing and framing all the grace and all the life that comes on shore, wave on wave.

I am thinking of you but I will be quiet for awhile. As I step out and embrace all that is good, and there is much. As I step out and focus on all that is glorious, and there is abundance there too. As I focus on Love Come Down at Christmas and look for ways to see His love anew, I’ll say my Merry Christmas now.

I am off for a break from this writing life. And circling the outstretched arms around family and friends. And hoping for you glory and grace and peace of our Lord.

May you embrace the Love of Christ at Christmastime as you too prepare Him room.

Room to replace the disappointment, room to fill the gaps of want, room to pour out Love and Healing where there is pain, room to fill a soul with Peace where there is fear, and room to set us free from all that binds.

Praying the space in our hearts, our lives, our homes is deep and wide for Him to come and abide.

Alleluia Anyway and Always.

Grateful for your eyes and hearts in this writing life, always.

And Wishing you Joy in the smallest of moments ,

in all the days of this , most holy of seasons.

Merry, Merry Christmas All.

Joy, Comfort and The Element of Surprise

December 20, 2012December 20, 2012 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 12 Comments

All the moments of joy, they can sneak up on a girl. I rest in the thankfulness of the moment. But not for long. For these moments of Joy, they propel me forward infusing new life, new hope, in all the new mercies.

Yes, these moments of joy can sneak up when she least expects it.

Giving a desire to go and spread and carry and send it out. To give something away. Something of the gift.

These moments come when they are most needed. Like new skin, new flesh springing from a place of fresh healing. Where new sensations of tender feeling are born.

And the world bears much new in this season. My heart would be wise to have eyes to see it. To wipe the foggy lense of despair and seek the tucked away offerings of life, and love and redemption in the folds of the new skin.

He did say He was doing that. Making all things new.

And old can look new to the eyes that can see, really see. See through and around with hope.

First born visits and walks around this home filled with light and life, by grace, singing. He is singing constantly. It sounds new and joyful. But as I visit the mental records of my memory, I think he always did sing.

I wasn’t always listening.

I think I surprised her as she stood stocking the shelf. Life is fragile and I had just come from a funeral. The sun shining and a full life celebrated. And we all long for those second chances. Mercifully I was given one. I told her I had woken in the night. That I felt a gentle nudge to pray for her. And I told her I should have offered to the other day. She is a stranger. I am a stranger. We are wrapped in community by hearts, by hurting, and by need.

And she told me why I may have felt she was hurting and yes thank you for praying for me.

I was surprised by the joy of her smile. She thanked me and thanked me. But in the giving, I was left walking ten feet above the earth. Buoyed by her tender gratitude. And I may have a new friend in this life. She smiled a smile that is blazed and branded on my soul. From her place of tangled worry and stress. She smiled and thanked.

Its as if the icy tundra, the frozen reeling earth which grieves is melting. The sorrow slowly melting from the cold. And the days, the few days between us and His birth are a healing balm of warmth.

The pain and grief redeemed by new birth. And all that He brings as Light of the World, shining bright in cold darkness is warming the souls of men.

In these days, He brings Comfort and Joy. He is comfort and joy.

He sits across the table wrapped in budding new and I see what warmth and care of another can do to the heart of man.

How the smile breaks so wide it wants to leave the face. How the hands wrap around gentle with comfort and joy.

My mommas heart is surprised. It is beautiful living breathing joy. And it is new. This is redemption from the piles of ash, and prayer has fueled this fire of burning joy. Its fragrant beauty drifts my way and I inhale. Billowing joy.

We dropped a gift of gold in a glass of liquid last night. For the girl who has the birthday rocking up on the heels of Christmas. She looked down into the sparkling water and saw a gift, she knew it had been mine. I hoped that in a passing from mother to child there would be sweet surprise, in the offering. In the receiving. And in the receiving she smiled. But I realized the joy was mine…in giving of something I treasured.

Releasing to another. There is more joy in the offering than in the receiving.

I think I would do well to give it all away for the joy in the release. And I would be wiser than those three wise men to look to Him for all comfort and joy.

Listen, do you hear the hymns of praise. Can you hear the songs up in the heavenlies. A song of redemption breaking through the clouds, the icy pain melted by a baby born in the bleak mid-winter?

May each of you find comfort and joy in the receiving of His son. And may you seek and see and find the elements of surprise, the wonders of His love in the all around you in the beautiful days leading up to Christmas.

Alleluia Anyway Always.

Joining Emily.

When You Don’t Know The End Of The Story–Just One Small Part

December 18, 2012December 18, 2012 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 8 Comments

I don’t know how this story will end. I only know one small part.

But I know what the logic and thinking of the world might be.

It might sound like this.

It’s too close to Christmas. All the gifts are almost bought. We are headed toward a fiscal cliff. There is not enough to go around in my own world. There are great needs everywhere.

And this is what I know of God:

He is beautiful and strong and capable and yet he longs to use us.

His miracles have always amazed and they always will.

He is merciful and loving and longs to heal the hurting.

And I know this about myself and my ability to see. I can’t. Not always. See past impossibles to possibles. I can’t always see Light and Hope in darkness. And I am terrible in math. So I try to draw a linear equation between the wants and needs and the generous and the givers and the you’s and me’s. But I am not good in math. But I do know the heart of God. And I know the touch and mark of His work in lives is both tender and powerful. Both and.

I also know I have a heart for words. So my heart tries to jump out onto paper which is actually a one dimensional back lit holder of my avatar. Not paper at all.

God can fill the gaps between the need and the resources. Between my words and my desire to help. Between the givers and the needy. Between poverty and plenty.

And I don’t know the end of the story. I just know one part of it.

That’s where hope comes in. And trust too.

Compassion International has a goal for December to bless children in poverty and they have reached but a fraction. The space is wide and deep and long between the goal and the what’s come in.

I know that. And I write words. And God knows the hearts of man and how he can use each of us in a Christmas Miracle.

So in the bleak midwinter, I lay out the goal, God knows the end.

I only know a small part.

But I wait with an expectant heart, pregnant with celebration at the outcome.

This may be for one person. This may be for one hundred and one hearts.

My goal is $100 for Compassion International. Maybe its one giver, maybe two at $50, or ten at ten.

Here is the link to Compassion International’s Gift Catalogue. You can give some Christmas Joy there.

Wherever that is for you, may we all find joy in the giving and peace in our offerings.

Merry Christmas to each of you. You bless my heart every day. And I am grateful.

God, the Writer, Editor and Perfecter of all of our stories, may you bless the children. And may you use us in your blessing.

Lord give us eyes to see the joy in giving, the hidden and the unseen that you long for us to be a part of, and give us hearts to bless the broken. Today and everyday. Amen