Broken Windows

I look beyond the window
Of the house wherein I dwell.
I long to dance upon the moss,
Drink water from the well,
Engage in conversation
With the children playing there.
But my longing turns to tears
As I breathe this stuffy air.
This room with four square corners
That I know is not my call.
Why must I then be stuck here
While outside Autumn falls?
With all that is within my heart,
I want to self-combust.
I raise my fist to break that pane.
One whispered syllable: "Trust."
Angrily, I shake my fist
"But now, NOW is my time!"
And out of frustration
I sit to pout and whine.
But the still, small voice just waits
For me to settle down.
Then speaks in tones so gentle,
"I'm not trying to keep you bound.
I don't want you to bust the window,
But that doesn't mean You're doomed.
I only want to protect You.
Broken windows badly wound.
I'll open it up in my timing;
Child, soon you will fly free
And do those things I made you for,
But for now, please trust in Me.
I can't tell you what I'm planning;
It must be a surprise.
But when I do it that sight out the window
Will be too glorious for your eyes."
I look beyond the window
Of the house wherein I dwell
And the excitement builds within me.
As I know this: All is well.


-----------------------------------------------------------------

To read the Oregon Journey blog post that corresponds with this poem, go HERE.

As Sure as Breath is Life

Lifeless desert sand dunes, a grove of trees for shade,
A family: Abram, Sarai, Ishmael, Hagar (Sarai's maid).
Manipulative, backfired plans that sprung from faithless doubt
Yet El Roi wasn't finished; He knew what would come out
Of all the mess;
He still would bless.
As sure as breath was life.

These words spoken from heaven: "Almighty God am I.
Walk "all in" before me; make My Name your first cry.
A sure, abounding covenant, a name-change so intentional
By man's standards so strange and extremely unconventional.
The "h" sound entails
A distinct exhale
As sure as breath is life.

The name given to the Spirit in Hebrew is Ruah
It literally means "the outbreathing;" a fact our Father foresaw.
When the Father changed the name, He exhaled for the "h" sound,
Making the name Abra[h]am: Jehovah's breath in Abram found.
Abraham
Father of many lands
As sure as breath is life.

When anyone receives Him, they have a new identity,
Christ in them, the Hope of glory, in one holy entity.
The Holy Spirit takes His place, Ruah breathes anew.
And enables us to reproduce as we His glory pursue.
Abba smiles--
Breath-fills His child
As sure as breath is life.

Pig-Slop Kiss

based on Luke 15:11-24

Dirty, grimy, gross, and poor,
Tired, weary to the core,
Awkward, muddy, rebellious teen,
Unbathed, anything but clean.

Clean, pure, washed, and wealthy,
Strong, well-dressed, able, healthy,
Confident, transparent, graceful,
Always patient, ever faithful.

Joyful greeting, undignified run,
Huge hug for Father and son.
Blatant forgiveness, ginormous party,
Big meal--potatoes and steak kind of hardy.

Laughter and joy so starkly contrasted
To past fleeting pleasures that never had lasted.
No more pigpen, instead royal treatment,
Despite the child's poor choices so frequent.

Miracle of love--it holds no grudge;
Reconciled! though I was covered in sludge.
What beautiful reality! Our Father planned this
And rejoiced to give me a pig-slop kiss.

Desert Flood

Endless miles of sand ahead,
Behind, around, fill my soul with dread.
Why was I by Him this path led?
Could He not choose another?

My soul is heavy, weak, and dry.
Where once light, strengthened, satisfied.
My week's most frequent word is "why?"
Could He not choose another?

And yet while it appears at hand
That I walk in water-lacking land.
The deluge of rain I cannot withstand.
Should it not be one or the other?

Pelting drops that sting my face
Join a river's torrent; my feet displace.
My tears join the current; I plead for grace.
Could He not choose another?

My soul is drowning, water-logged.
Where once abundant: sorrow-bogged.
The amount of change left my senses clogged.
Could He not choose another?

How could I be both dry and wet?
Would not one the other offset?
How could I combine them yet?
Maybe I could choose another?

I fight to keep the water near
That I might the desert re-engineer,
But it only more quickly disappears
Till I turn my gaze to Another.

Abba, I don't know how the Grand Design
Allows for seasons so undefined
But I know Your plan is better than mine
So I won't seek another.

I'll crawl through the desert, bowing my knee,
And sing in the rain of Your fidelity.
I'll trust Your perfect placement for me
Until You choose another.

Each day You ever my life preserve
Such that I can't give the praise You deserve.
For if so, what kind of god would I serve?
For my God is like no other!