Releasing The White Knuckled Grip

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Releasing The White Knuckled Grip

What would you say to a girl and her dreams
Teetering on the edges of time
Laced in every shade of hope
Fringed in simple, ordinary
Longing and love

How would you take her heart in your hand
Cup it and calm it
Fill in the cracks and crevices
Of dry rot
Questioning and doubt
Tuck in the ragged edges of fear

Where would you tell her to lay down her dream
The one that’s unraveling and
Two sizes too big

In love, I whispered this
Hold on loosely, release your hard-nosed, white knuckled grip
Unfurl your hands like a banner of peace
Let it wave and dance in the air where it’s free
Give it room to sway in May’s warm breeze
Let it linger, not languish
But let it out of your sight

On the edges of time
Time,
It will tell her
It always does

Quiet, she waits

Praying and hoping with fingers
Releasing their grip
She found it better like this
For this would not be the end of her dream

Or the death of her hoping
No matter
What they say
Ends and beginning and middles are funny that way

She chooses to hope hard, to dream big
Other and bigger and smaller and more
And less
Lead by the Spirit
Her new dreams will soar
Not because, but in spite
Of her

The sun sets and rises again and again
Set your soul dreams on new ones
Release the grip of the past
Press forth in gentleness, meekness and love

She’s been
Surprised by joy many a time
It may return, its likely it will

She heard me, I know it
For she nodded and smiled
And her spirit seemed freer
Because of release
I know that she heard me
Stubborn and headstrong
I’ve known her since birth

For
She is me and I am her
And we talk to each other
About these big things
Covered, protected
By Spirit and Truth

Encouragement: A Prayer, A Poem, A Cry

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One phrase haunts me, chases me down daily.
There is nowhere for me to go but stare at it steely eyed daily.
Wrestle with it, sit with it, stare at it, and ponder what it means for me,
To do.
My recent past dredged this up, dredges it up from the silt daily.
Once I penned some words here, scratched out some heart thoughts.
They have taken on a life of their very own, a heart, legs and off they ran.
All around this interwebby world.
Words can run fast as the wind.
Lace them up with care and grace.

One phrase echoes daily on these pages, behind the scenes in the land of stats.
I can’t come here without seeing them there.
I wrote a piece one time or two, boldly with the words
encouragement, tucked in or standing out front.
That is it – the beginning and the end of this prayer, poem, cry.

When I ask Him what to do with my words
They become my true north but I stray
Clothe in grace, wrap in love, encourage.

The number is big, so I won’t say it, it changes almost daily.
Someone finds me here,
My words and me
Googling, encouragement
A letter of encouragement, encouragement for a friend
Words have wings and I pray
They find good here.

Prayerfully, thoughtfully, deeply I cry out
Oh Lord.

Take the clay of my words, Maker of My Soul.
Grab my pen and guide it while it glides along the page.

She is writing
It’s a work of Wordsworth and poetry and nature and High School English
And I can stand in my mother stance over my daughter dear
And say these words to her
We are two and it is intimate and close
Write it like you want to, just say what you mean
You can do it spills from my heart to hers.
She makes art wobbly shaky on a page.
And I know.

If you came here on a trail of encouragement, following bread crumbs
Find it, friend and grab it
He is standing over you, before you and around you.

God is loving, reigning, holding you in the heavenlies this day.

She is writing,
And it is a work in progress
Clothe her in grace and love.

I am the launcher of words, clothe me in guided grace.

We, lover of You and lover of words, steady each mark of our pen and infuse it and us with You.

Encouragement, may it always live here.
Tucked within the lines of poetry
And prose.

Amen? Amen.

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Joining my precious and encouraging friend Jennifer Dukes Lee today.

When You Speak

Emily Wierenga asked me to join her Imperfect Prose team late in 2012. Honored, humbled I responded with an excited “yes”. Today is my first time leading off the Imperfect Prose community. I chose the prompt, encouragement. And then I struggled  to write. The fog settled in and the walls came up.

 But before you go there …

 So, I emailed Holly, a member of the Imperfect Prose team of writers and asked for prayer. Later I gave Emily glimpses into my wrestling spirit.

Immediately this word became real. It wore flesh and bones and had a heart.

The possibility held in the word encouragement became manifested through their actions, their very words.

It seemed I couldn’t draw from the well on my own. They undergirded and strengthened me.

But the process I went through of fog  and uncertainty were  necessary for working out true understanding.

There is a mystery in why. But on the other side it felt needed.  The struggle strengthened.

In the middle of my struggle, a bird flew into the glass door through which I see the world while I write.  Injured and broken, lying on my porch, I felt viscerally, the injury along with him.

He couldn’t fly. I couldn’t help.  He lay wounded. I ached.

There was so much imagery in this crippled bird for my soul to soak in. I left for a bit and when I returned he was gone. There were no signs of death, no stray feathers. My heart hopes there was recovery for him.

I choose to think he flew away.

And I think of  how encouragement is poured out. Where it starts and stops. What transpires in our struggle, in the times when we feel on our backs in defeat. And yet the Saints intercede and pray.

And speak words of encouragement into our souls.

And we too can fly again.

Please join me as we explore encouragement.  See you at Em’s.

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The Ink From Your Heart

Release your words, let them loose, set then free, let them soothe a soul in need

Place your words on the wings of the dove and let them soar to a world which struggles to  breathe

Give your words, room to fly, to land on the threshold of the ones who ache, afflicted, in pain

Let your words be free to go, fall soft and gentle onto a soul, washing gentle encouragement over hurting man, woman

Let your words, still wet with ink leave the well of your heart, touched first by the spirit of God

And let them truly soar. 

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The Spirit of God is arousing us within

Romans 8 – The Message

Praying for opportunities to speak words of encouragement and tenderness to one to the left and one to the right, all weekend long. May your weekend be peaceful, inspired by the gentle spirit of God, and open to touch another in need of transforming words from a heart that knows Him.

Joining Sandra Heska King for Still Saturday and Deidra for The Sunday Community

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