Grieving and Rejoicing

wpid-2012-06-29-13.00.59.jpgA co-mingling of
A grief so heavy handed
Sip by sip we drink of it
And the quenching does not come
The grief of man seems never ending
Life in grieving is prolonged
The heart so heavy finds no solace
From sharp pain the season long
The heart ripped open in the sadness
The depth of loss defined in terms brand new
The weary souls of hearts beat different in this sea of sad
And tremble, quake at news of death

But somewhere while the tears still wet
And as the human heart is weak with pain
The glimpse of Light and then bright rays
Will shine anew Hope, co-mingled with the pain
As healing comes, no matter at what rate
As healing comes in mercy wrapped in love’s still fragile lace
As healing comes and joy streams mingling,
Mixing with rivers of life’s salty tears
Our Hope in present darkness sings to hearts
And Love born in a manger, Love radiant will
Proclaim, that though the pain in life cuts deep
A manger holds life’s Comforter and Healer
And we will, we will rejoice again

And while the pen that writes the words
Is colored, shaded in charcoal greys or
Ebony black sorrow monochromes
A Hope restored brings Love anew
Creating slowly colors, brilliant Hope’s bright hues
And writes a love note to the hearts of men
And wipes the tears on cheeks and weary souls
Proclaiming Love and Hope and Christ’s Love
Still makes mercies new, all the mornings
Of all the days to come, everyone
Replacing broken fractured with healed and whole
Co-mingling tears of weary grieving
With those of a weary world’s rejoicing
A world still grieving
Will see a day, in days to come
Of Hallelujahs, broken
Still Rejoicing
Rejoicing still over
News of Comfort and Joy
Comfort and Joy
And though faint and weak,

Alleluia Anyway

 

Joining Laura for her Play Dates at the Wellspring

 

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Women At The Farm

In the sharing of this place

We gather by reflective pond.

And share the past, the hurt and pain.

While cobb webs break by hand with broom,

Not knowing what tomorrow brings.

We curl beside the waters edge

And wrestle with a gentle breath,

The unknown places yet to come.

Smoke fills the air from grill and burn pile

And all the while

Grief shared is grief diminished

On the lips, of the women at the farm.

No ride of whimsy on the road

With men in search of folly in the wood.

A vigil held by weathered chair

As if the words can heal a soul.

The weathered chair bears  burdens well

Of words flung through crisp fall air.

Words of women woven on the porch,

A tapestry of trials.

Worn grease coat feels but  feather like

When compared

To the heaviness of the words,

That fall as jet-propelled autumn acorns on tin roof,

Like heart bombs dropping from azure blue

Heavens.

And won’t His Words heal our souls?

Proclaim the women at the farm.

This is the very best way to love. Put your life on the line for your friends.

John 15:11-15

I am joining my friends Sandra, Deidra and L.L. Barkat.

Have you discovered the beauty of wordcandy.me? Its delicious. Courtesy of the folks at Tweetspeak Poetry.

Seeking Understanding in Loss

We grieved this weekend.  News of death delivered at our door.

Hearts ripped open, confusion bears down,  needless loss, words jumpled together.

AGAIN.

Weeping in our souls for the unknown parents of a young man tragically lost.
A college friend of oldest child.  Gone.

Middle son says how many is that Momma.  How many friends has he lost.

I am numb in my answer and I cannot count.  Literally, figuaratively my soul refuses the excercise of counting.  The number were it one would be too many.

Weeping comes at night but JOY will come in the morning. And The Message says it like this- The nights of crying your eyes out give way to days of laughter. Psalm 30:5

He calls home over and over again during 36 hours, processing pain.  Sitting at the feet of his earthly father to discuss how and why and what if.  One decision? One day? One
moment? One series of events?  His father is wise and patient and seeks to wrap it in understanding.   This Jesus Lover and Follower who is 21needs his Dad.

My mothers heart hurts. Its plain.  Its simple. It hurts.

I know that my son is here today and this hurting mother who is unknown to me grieves deeply the loss of hers. I do not know their story.  I know that Jesus does.

What young boys and young men and men and children of God are teetering on an edge of lost hope. Of confusion and hurt. Of pain and despair.

Is life’s preciousness not known or felt or believed? In that tenuous moment between utter pain and despair, does the heart always cry out to the Lord, the Comforter, the Healer, the Deliverer, the Life-Giver, the Great Physician?

Psalm 120-121 The Message — I’m in trouble I cry to God, desperate for an answer I look up to the mountains.  Does my strength come from the mountains.  No my strength comes from God… He won’t let you stumble, your Guardian God won’t fall asleep.

Praying today for college students. And for healing among this son’s family and friends.

And I will tell my children today and tomorrow YOUR GUARDIAN GOD WON’T FALL ASLEEP.