The Element of Surprise

The Element of Surprise

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And I heard
Bold prayers exploding from my lips
I wondered
Did another
Hijack my mouth
Borrow it for a moment
So I stuttered them again
To listen to myself in disbelief
Self reflecting, I checked
And
Made sure it was my heart
Leaking out around me
Rising up to Haven
In honest, humble ways

I came upon the narcissus in my yard
And felt how un-January of you
Bold and tender, white and frail
You seem more like Easter new to me
Yet I find
Your unique voice
Is  welcome here
Sitting, singing in the winter’s cold
For I know this is the time
Marked for
Blooming forth in honest ways

I almost called the manager
Suggested there was some mistake
So much beauty could be mine
For  $2.99, bouquet of luscious greens
As though the eucalyptus
Said pardon me and asked
If I would take her fragrance home
Where
She made promises
To sit by me while writing
In sweet and pungent, honest ways

Cancer news comes through the phone
Loss and disappointment crawl scrawled across my screen
My insides cry in wrenching sympathetic pain
For them, for all mankind
The earth is spinning wild and fast
And I am, yet still surprised
By the mix of joy and pain

But I will stand on hope
And recall the roses’ thorns
Small tight blooms, hold wonder
Unpicked, not ripe or ready yet
Hold their secrets, tucked
Still growing, on
The well-armed bush

Yet
In time’s fullness
Our moments will come
Birthed
In radiant fullness
Glory’s
Extravagant beauty
Poured out on the Earth

We will sing Hallelujah’s loud

And  bow in holy gratitude

Weep wet oceans of our humble thanks
For the pregnant
Waiting
Laced with scared hope
And rejoice in honest ways for
The unveiling
And

the mysterious
element of surprise

Surprised By God

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Surprised by God

She wasn’t speaking the obvious, really
It was a bit confessional
Or whining
Or a primitive guttural prayer
This is the problem with memoir
She thinks
Or believes
Or was it just musing
Truth was she did say, no typed
She hoped to be surprised by God
Or that God would surprise her
Do they mean the same
Or does that slight turn of phrase change things up a bit

And then it occurred to her
That what if the gift, the surprise
Was one of omission
Not physical or plain
Touchable or here

What if the gift was in what never happened
Like the absence of pain which never occurred
Or calamity or catastrophe which was averted or
Blocked
Saved by grace, shielded by mercy
Loved in the mystical marvelous way
That He does
Love, us

She thought maybe the surprise was in the silent step
Paw by paw of her tuxedo dressed cat
How can weight be silent as she creeps
Or the birth of a daughter one day in December
Oh joy, oh gift
Or the comfort of night, after the raucous and rowdy
Day
Or falling to sleep praying to be held
By him who is Comforter, buried under the
White down duvet
Seeking refuge and finding it in prayer

She remembered the camellia with a white blossom
Mixed among the red, a pearl in the sea of rubies
Miracle of nature or grafting of man
Either way, joy came her way
By God’s hand

The day she spoke it to her friend
The words of wanting, longing for Him to make himself known
She was empty
No filled with pain, loneliness and doubt

She sat waiting, trusting
Hope attending her soul

Time is a curious thing
She surmised
She had been surprised by God
More than seventy times seventy

It was in remembering back
On faithfulness
Not longing forward
With desire
Or is it
Both

Comfort comes
To those who believe
And who find Joy
Ushered in by the light of
Any moment now
Hope is a sliver
Of light pouring in
Reminding her of all the
What has been

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Joining my friend poet herself, beautiful writer and weaver of words, Laura for Playdates with God #atthewellspring and Michelle 

A Picture Is Worth, Well Something

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The Patient One and I got in the car and drove an hour and a half to visit a church yesterday.

And studied possibility and new and change and weighed some options, as much as man can. For in all the weighing there is really more of a  a wondering, what does He have for us in these months and days to come. As we make decisions at the prompt of His will and opening of doors and opportunity. Abundance on the other side of the stepping off and into a life.

My mind was swirling a bit with my post for today. You know the one where she writes looking over the shoulder, reflecting with sentiment and sap, good sap not bad sap, or with thankfulness and the benefit of hindsight, all twenty twenty. You know the one all covered in out with the  old and in with the whatever. I have a love hate relationship with cliches. They are just so cliche. They can’t help it really that’s what they are. I digress.

What if life is just more of a beautiful continuation and less of a stop and start of days and years. Just a generous outpouring of well, life.

My mind was swirling a bit about the what was and what will be. And then I saw this and I could not and cannot stop thinking of what it says as it sings to my soul. And it does that. It whispers and sings and it is so sweet.

It is the beauty in the ash.

It is the hope in things to come.

It’s the new and tender mercy on the other side of pain and disappointment.

It is the unexpected joy.

And I can’t stop starring like an awkward teenage boy at the sight of a beautiful young girl. The picture is romancing me. It is calling to the dark and out of the dark.

There were no rolled eyes when I asked him to stop. Well really screamed stop. He slammed on the breaks when I saw the scene and screamed stop here I have to take a picture.

There was no hesitation. There was accomodation.

When Beauty calls and the world speaks and we stop to listen there is story and lesson and meaning and yes singing too. To a soul.

So I will muse a little in my soul about resolution and change and dreams and desires.

I will plan and weigh and dance around a list of life to-do’s.

But mostly I will dream with an expectancy and hope. I will launch my soul into the days of all that I see in this picture taken after church on the last Sunday in 2012.

Beauty rising from the soil of cold December.

Tender new blanketing the Earth in abundance with pale yellow joy, reaching for the Heavens.

 Seeing past the rusted bars and branches of death to a  beautiful hope.

Always.

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Joining Laura for the last Monday in 2012.
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The Land Where The Unknowns Live – (The Power of The Wind)

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

the mt storms, the wind

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.