Struggling

She does the right things
Or at least, she tries.
But it's never
Good enough.
She gives up trying
And does the wrong things.

She knows that is not
The right attitude,
But she's yearning for acceptance
Just as she is.
Why try
If nothing can satisfy
Others?

Why can she never make the mark?
She feels so empty.
Where is her purpose?
Where is her God?

Yearning

She does those things with which we don’t agree.
Our criticism stares
Our judgment kills.
Can we not see?

She’s yearning
For love
For Him
But we never embrace her.

How will she find True Love if she cannot
Hear the Savoir
Over the clamor of our condemnation?

She’s yearning
For Hope
For Him
But we pass her by.

How will she find His Hope if she cannot
Feel His fullness
Over the continuance of our complaining?

She’s yearning
For Peace
For Him
But we whisper over her weaknesses.

How will she find His rest if she cannot
Sense His serenity
Over the hurricane of our hypocrisy?

She’s yearning
For Truth
For Him
But we turn her away.

How will she find His reality if she cannot
Perceive His presence
Over the jabbering of our jargon?

She does those things with which we don’t agree.
But she’s seeking shelter, love, eternity.
His body suffered all so she could be
Clean.

But Body of Christ
We fail Him
By doing all those things His body would not.

She’s yearning.
Can we not see?

Singing

Singing
for Elya Snow
Based on Zephaniah 3:17

Frightened,
She stands
Where the rubber meets the road,
Where the waiting greets the incident,
Where her wings test the sky.

What does the future hold?

If only things were
Like they once were!

But
Then what of the perfect plans
That have strengthened her faith
In her Infinite God?

What of the answered prayers
That have proven
A testimony to the lost ones she’s spoken with?

What of the testimony
That will one day testify
Of His wonderful love?

Her head knows these things are true,
And yet,
She still stands
Waiting,
Frightened,
Worried.
Scared of the leap of faith that must come
Soon.

The moment presents itself
And she takes the leap,
Praying
For help,
For peace.

“Help me mount up,”
Her heart cries,
“With wings like eagles.
Help me be strong!”

And yet,
She is falling.
Why are her wings not enough?
Why is her God not giving her strength?

“Listen closer.”
“Listen closer.”
He prompts her fearful heart.
And then she hears it—
Singing.

She smiles and rises
Upon the morning’s dawn.
Listening
To the singing—
The precious singing of her Savior
Especially for her.

Now she soars,
Into whatever lies ahead,
Mounting up with wings as an eagle.
Safe,
Held,
Quieted
By His loving songs:

“Let Me sing over you
My daughter, My girl.
Be still.
Let Me draw you
Into My arms.
Rest in My peace
For it will
Never
Pass away.
I rejoice over you
And long
To quiet your fearful heart.
I will be Faithful
Always.
My will forever seeks your good.

Let Me sing over you
My daughter, My girl.
I love you!”

Distracted Bride

Distracted Bride
for Heidi Schlender


People gather
To see the sight.
They wait
For her—
The girl in white.

But none
Waits more
Than he.

The groom is
Grinning wide
As he waits for her eyes
To lock into his.

But the girl in the back
Is distracted
As the usher’s open the doors.

She sees the people,
The flowers,
The runner on the floor.

She sees the petals that fell
Misplaced
Onto the carpet.

She sees her friends
And calls out,
“How’s it goin’?”
“What’s up?”
“We need to hang out, ‘kay?”

The Groom’s smile wanes,
He waits in vain
For her to look his way,
For her to remember to spend time
With Him—
Her best friend.

She stops abruptly
Halfway down
The aisle
And turns around.

And she goes backward
Wondering.

Why does she feel empty?
What of the love she was in?

***

The Groom stands
At the throne of heaven
He waits
For her—
The Church, His Bride.

The groom is
Grinning wide
As He waits for her eyes
To lock into His.

But she sees people’s faults
Praise’s glory
The rocks upon her path.

She sees the opportunities that fell
Misplaced;
They are so important to her
That she fails to look ahead.

She sees her earthly friends
And calls out,
“How’s it goin’?”
“What’s up?”
“We need to hang out, ‘kay?”

The Groom’s smile wanes,
He waits in vain
For her to look His way.
To take time to want to hang out
With Him.

Something happens.
She stops abruptly
Halfway down
The aisle of life
And turns around.

And she goes slowly backward
Wondering.

Why does she feel empty?
What of the love she was in?

***

The bride in the church looks
Past the colorful sea of people
Past all in her pathway.
To His face
His eyes
His smile.

No distractions seem to bother her
As long as her eyes are his,
As long as he is there.
Waiting
Saying everything in that stare
Of love.

And she knows
He is what is important as she walks the aisle.
He is the joy that makes her full.

This is His Story

The Author picks up the pen
And pauses.
Must He write the horrible words
Of pain?
Of suffering?

Must He chronicle the tears,
The broken road?
Must He foreshadow
The shadows of death?

Must He pen cries
Of fear
And want?
Must He chant
Mournful songs
Through the mouths of His characters?

The Author picks up His pen
And begins.
Yes,
He writes the painful stories.
The parts of the work that some might consider
Bad.

But He pens the story
In His beautiful script,
Knowingly.

He smiles.
He's aware

That without the bad
The story’s for naught.
How can the reader sense
Dramatic need
If all is well?

The Author picks up His pen
And writes.
Stories both good and bad.
For the story is
All
About contrast.

For how can good
Be good
Without bad?

The Author picks up His pen
And smiles.
His characters relax.

He may put them through times of sorrow
Of disappointment,
Of grief.
But He is still
The Author of their incredible story.
Blending joy and peace
Into a perfect plot.

A plot
Where both good and bad
Fade into good
Because of His loving touch.

The Author picks up His pen
With authority.
This is His story
All is well.

He Covers Me

He Covers Me

The battle's on
The bullets fly.
I hear the wounded's
Desperate cry.
I trust.
I pray.
I know.
I see.
Jesus Christ,
He covers me.

He aims, so sure,
At Pain and Fear.
Only lets them shoot
To drive me near.
I run
Toward Him.
I hide.
I flee.
Jesus Christ,
He covers me.

Though some may wound me,
Close beside,
Yes, even in me
He abides!
I heal.
I seek
His face,
His peace.
Jesus Christ,
He covers me.

I cannot help but joy
For He
From my pain
Sets me free!
I sing.
I rest.
I simply
BE.
Jesus Christ,
He covers me.

Covered With Your Hand

The little one runs, cries,
“Why must life be so hard? Why?
Daddy, help me! Daddy! Daddy!
The World is hurting me, again; won’t you get onto Him?
He only laughs when I cry, only mocks me. Daddy, why?
Daddy, hug me! Help me! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!
He thinks it’s wonderful when I fear; He tells me that You are not here.
He hopes he can make me believe that You will soon pick up and leave.
Daddy, hold me! Hug me! Help me! Daddy! Daddy!
He paints the future dark, and shouts, “Your Dad will break your heart.”
He bids me worry, never trust, for then my dreams might turn to dust.
Daddy, hear me! Hold me! Hug me! Help me! Daddy!”
But then you speak, I know I am
Covered With Your Hand:
Heard, hugged,
Held, helped,
Safe.



*** This poem was originally created in the shape of a hand, but the formatting would not remain once transferred to the blog.

Little Girl's Feet

Little Girl's Feet
For K.S., a God-sent friend


Little girl's feet:
Dancing, singing, skipping,
Laughing over the meadow.

Unexpectedly...
Pain.
Exposure.
Tears.

Little girl's heart:
Hiding, confused, crying,
Shared with no one.

Meanwhile...
Anger.
Shame.
Fear.

Big girl's mind:
Running, fleeing, covering
Pain with sin.

A friend...
Shares.
Stays
Near.

Big girl's pain:
Spilling, showing, healing
By His hand.

She is
Held
Safe
There.

Big girl's peace:
Growing, resting, reaching
Through the days.

Because of
God.
Her friend.
And prayer.

Little girl's feet:
Dancing, singing, skipping
Like's hind's feet.

Hind's feet
Laughing over the mountains.

Kroger Catastrophe

Kroger Catastrophe

Growing up in a large family, I became accustomed to the long stares and the open-mouthed astonishment we received as people confirmed that we were, indeed, one big family. There was one part of that attention that I could never seem to get over, however—the comments in the grocery store.

Sent to the store one day by my mom because of a great sale on milk and eggs, I pulled a cart from the bin and started off through the door. Here’s to a few seconds of seeming normal, I thought, dryly. I noticed the smell of fresh strawberries as I passed them on my way to the lettuce. I grabbed three heads of lettuce and two heads of the nearby cabbage. There. First astonished look of the day.

Moving on through my shopping, I quickly filled my cart. I called my mom often to check prices and the integrity of sales. Even though people watched openmouthed as I picked up bag after bag of pretzels, I continued loading the attention-drawing, crackling, plastic bags into my cart until I had a total of twelve. Didn’t those strangers know that sales are the only things that keep large families’ grocery bills to amounting to more than the National Debt?

After thirty minutes, I had, much to my relief and delight, reached the last row of the store. This is the point where I always notice the scuffs on the floor as I pass other shoppers. Nevertheless, I walked up to the egg display. The cool air permeating the area matched the cold and blank stares I felt I was receiving. For a moment, no other shoppers seemed nearby. I grasped the opportunity and called my mom. “Mama, I got six gallons of milk and eight dozen eggs. Is that all you wanted?”

Suddenly, I felt eyes burning through my back. Casting a glance over my shoulder, I saw a petite, elderly lady. Her cart was filled with various things: a bunch of three small bananas, a tiny jar of salt, a lone apple, a miniature bag of Uncle Ben’s rice, a pouch of Pillsbury cookie dough, and a mere quart of milk. As she placed her half-dozen crate of eggs into her cart with her meager supply, she stared at me and my cart like she was seeing one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.

I smiled sheepishly as I hurried off to the checkout line with my elephant-sized lot and tried to imagine my cart from the elderly lady’s point of view: a single cart, a single girl, and heaps and heaps of groceries.

Nearing the checkout lines, I remembered that the U-scan checkout’s policy had been changed. I frowned at the new “20 items or less” sign swaying above me and groaned inwardly as I realized I would have to face a cashier. I found a check-out line and began unloading. As I did, I had to chuckle. Compared to the elderly lady’s cart, mine was abundantly abounding. Instead of three bananas, I had nine. Salt had been on sale, and I had three large containers. I had the twelve bags of pretzels, ten bags of bagels, nine boxes of various cereals, six gallons of milk, and frozen vegetables galore. Seven cans of tomato sauce, ten cans of peaches, and ten cans of fruit cocktail were precariously stacked to reserve space. Eight dozen eggs were carefully placed in various spaces throughout the cart, and I hoped none would be broken. Finally, three heads of lettuce and two heads of cabbage made a green mountain in the toddler’s seat and one 24-roll package of toilet paper was balanced on the bottom rack of the cart.

As I watched the belt roll my items toward the teenage cashier, I wished I could hide under the belt or among the masses of groceries. The girl behind the counter smiled sweetly at me and said, “Do y’all like eggs?” It was all I could do to have confidence like I emptied the egg display everyday of my life as I replied, “As a matter of fact, we do.” The cashier raised her eyebrows incredulously, snapped her gum, and scanned the last dozen.

There are only a few more things, I told myself, reaching for my purse. I heard the cashier sigh in frustration. The toilet paper bar-code was not registering. I groaned inwardly. People were starting to pile up behind me in line about as bad as my groceries were piled up in my cart. Conspicuous could not rightly describe how I felt. The cashier, frustrated, slid the package across the scanner once more. As she did, the plastic packaging caught on the side of the scanner and tore. At this point, I didn’t care. The girl and I sighed simultaneously as the item rung-up correctly. I placed the toilet paper back on the bottom rack of my cart, paid, and headed for the door. I just wanted to go home!
As I neared the door, my heart sank even more. It was raining. I was barely outside the door before the toilet paper package began sliding off the cart. A man commented as he passed, “You might not want to leave that on the bottom.”
Oh really. I thought. Thanks for the tip, but what else am I to do? I just want to go home!
I stubbornly pushed the package back on the cart, tried to act like I dealt with toilet paper packages falling off my grocery cart every day, wiped the raindrops off my face, and started again for my car on the far end of the parking lot. I thought I was doing pretty well, the package having not fallen off the front, when I rounded the line of vehicles and my little car came into view. Until my toe hit something. I looked down and froze.

There lay an empty toilet paper roll.

I closed my eyes and turned around slowly. The moment seemed like an eternity as I looked up and saw the white line stretching between my cart and the front door of the store. Awkwardly, I grinned my bravest grin at the elderly man in a wheelchair nearby, who was regarding my plight with amusement. He burst out in a large laugh. I couldn’t help thinking that he looked like Santa, minus the red and white suit. Good thing I was too old to go on his naughty list.
After putting my groceries in the trunk of the car and returning my cart, I retraced my steps, very embarrassed. I never knew how much toilet paper is actually on a double roll. The wet, sticky paper clung to my fingers, taunting me. In my humiliation, the car motors in the parking lot even seemed to be laughing at my quandary. Little children pointed and stared; their parents openly stared with them.

Finally finished picking up the seemingly endless line, I threw the big white ball into a nearby recycle bin. Maybe that would make my predicament look a little better! As soon as I saw the toilet paper disappear into the bin, I ran for the car.
When I was finally out of the reach of curious eyes, I sighed. And to think that they have that on the security camera! I thought, inwardly cringing. For a moment, I felt like crying; instead, I burst into uncontrollable giggles! I will never get used to the grocery store thing. Yes, well-meaning on lookers might survey my cart with astonishment and occasional disdain. Yes, I might have embarrassing moments. Yes, compared to their cart, my cart might look like it’s going to feed the entire United States Army. And yet, my grocery store experiences reflect one thing that I love: I am part of a wonderful family of nine. In light of my family – our closeness, our good times, our bad times - a few minutes of embarrassment in the grocery store is a trifle. Well worth the awkward moments, life in a large family is a never-predictable adventure.

Published in The Stonepile Writer's Anthology, December 2010. For information visit: http://upnorthgeorgia.org/

Nothing but Peace

Nothing but Peace

A bush, a tree, a lie, a wall,
Anything to hide behind.
Anything, anything,
Distract my mind.

In my path
Directly
Painful things.
Why God?

"To bring you peace.

For painful things,
My child,
With the stamp of My approval
Are good.

Look and see--

You with Dove's Eyes
Look and see!
What I've created
Is good!"

No bush, no tree, no lie, no wall,
Nothing to hide behind.
Nothing, nothing,
But peaceful mind.

My Brain's Been in the Blender

My Brain's Been in the Blender

My brain's been in the blender
And I fear I'll go insane.
As beaters of assignments
Do inflict a draining pain.
A cup of milk’s been added
To make me smoother yet.
It takes off all the corners.
It’s worry, fear, and sweat.
I’m beat and beat forever.
When will this process end?
Just when I think they’re done
They turn the blender on again!
Different fruits and flavors
I once used to be.
(English, Music, Hist’ry,
And Biology.)
Now my facts seem all confused;
I surely have a blend.
Was Sophocles in the Civil War?
Was Lincoln Beethoven’s friend?
What will these classes render
At NGCSU?
My brain’s been in the blender
And I question, “how ‘bout you?”

Christians are like Kites

Christians are like Kites…


A gust caught my kite, sending it diving. I quickly began pumping the string and walking backwards to keep it in the air. Still it continued plummeting. Hard I as tried to give it encouragement, in a few seconds it was lying upon the grass.

I enjoy kite flying and look forward to doing it every spring. It is calming and quiet, a simple pleasure. I especially enjoy those days when there are slight gusts, making it a challenge to keep the kite in the sky. This day was that kind of day and I was using the quiet time that I had to pray. I had been failing in an area of my thoughts, and every time I failed, I was struggling with going to Jesus for cleansing because I “had done it, again.” I was allowing Satan to fee me lies, and having trouble claiming forgiveness and grace to get up and fight again. Little did I know that the Lord wanted to challenge me, through an analogy concerning my kite and my Christian walk.


I walked toward the fallen kite. Upon reaching it, I hoisted it back up in the air and let go. Pump, pump, pump, release more string. Pump, pump, pump, release more string. Minutes later, I was quietly standing flying my kite when the Lord began to speak to me through my thoughts.

Imagine with me for a moment that you, as a Christian, are a kite in the sky of Life. Salvation, the string that connects you with the handle, Jesus, who reconciles you to the Father, the flyer, never breaks, but holds fast to you. Oftentimes a tail will help a kite to stay up; therefore, the tail is the promises of the Word of God. God, as the kite flyer, “pumps” you, encourages you to new heights as you respond to Him. And how much more does He send you encouragement when “gusts” of temptations come your way. Sometimes we, as sinners, fall even amid the multiple encouragements of our Lord. He comes and lovingly picks us up, offering us forgiveness and the chance to try again because of His Son. What would you think, if, coming upon your fallen kite, it looked up at you and said, “I don’t want to try again. I’ll just fall. I might as well give up.” After you got over being taken aback at your kite talking to you, you would probably be saddened. Don’t you think God is saddened when we refuse to accept His help, His forgiveness, His grace to try again?

Lost in my thoughts I tugged at the kite string. Confessing my sin, I asked Him to lift me up and help me fight the battle for holiness again. How foolish I had been to accept Satan’s lies as the truth! Now I saw them as they were, gusts from the enemy that were trying to keep me from doing what the Lord had called me to do, what He was encouraging me to do, what He was making possible through His Son – to keep flying higher for Him.

Because of You

Because of You

My body aches from weariness,
My heart has lost its song.
I fall in bed upon my face
And think, “The day’s been long.”
I feel alone within the world
Until I feel your hand.
You lift my tear-stained face to yours;
I know you understand.

And because of you
I see the rainbow through the rain,
The star in darkened sky,
The word in scrambled letters,
The breath within each sigh,
The light inside each lightening strike,
The water in each wave,
The peak of ev’ry mountain climb,
The hope to still be brave.

My bones are broken by the pain
For words hurt more than claimed.
Yet, even in this brokenness,
Within your arms I find full rest.

And because of you
I see the rainbow through the rain,
The star in darkened sky,
The word in scrambled letters,
The breath within each sigh,
The light inside each lightening strike,
The water in each wave,
The peak of ev’ry mountain climb,
The hope to still be brave.

And in the hope of your embrace
My heart has found its song.
I rise to see a brand new day.
Your strength has made me strong.
I’m not alone within the world
For still you clasp my hand
You set upon my face your smile;
I know you understand.

College--Robber!

Crazy tests,
Too much stress
Pop culture questions galore,
Awful math,
Difficult path,
Essays and projects and more.
College--
Robber
Oh what you are taking from me!
Indeed.

Ms. Snow said
It was an exchange
Yet why must I find
Molarity's range?
Exchange?
Rearrange.
Change.

Blissful the past;
Security clasped.

Tears,
Fears
Troubling years:
College--
Robber.
For this you are taking from me:
Sanity.

He Was There

The future looms ahead of me
I wonder what I'll find
Until I hear a still, small voice
That prompts me, "Look behind."

I look and see the valley low
From which I shortly came.
Its grasses and its rivers say,
"He was always the same."

Behind the valley lies the sand
The desert, hot and dry.
Upon its cactus written:
"I hear before you cry."

The little hills beyond them lie
Mounts of joyous song.
Their gentle slopes so sweetly call,
"In weakness, He is strong."

The murky swamp, the forests dim,
With quicksand, paths unsure.
The frogs and snakes now chirp and croak
"With Christ, you were secure!"

The open grassy flatland
Where lions stalked their prey.
Those lions now roar peacefully;
God shut their mouths that day.

The lake of hope, love's waterfall,
The stream of grace, so free.
All gently tell me of His Words:
"I'll always walk with Thee."

The mountains on horizon's past
Against a sky of blue
Remind me of His faithfulness
For He was ever true.

I turn again to look ahead
To empty, steep inclines.
Dark thunderclouds may loom above,
But I will start to climb.

I'll keep my eyes upon the peaks
And cast on Him my care.
For one day soon as I look back
They'll whisper, "He was there."

What is Man to You?

Man.
O Lord,
So small
To You.
What
Is he compared to the heavens?
And the moon and the stars to You?
And yet,
You sent
Your son
To walk
This earth
And know
The life
Of man
To live
To die
To rise
To gain
For me?
Unto Your name be glory forevermore.
Amen.

One of the Ten

for John-Mark, whose testimony inspired me

Sodom and Gomorrah were under attack
To the Lord Abraham cried,
"If you find ten men in the wickedness
Will you save the city alive?"

The Lord answered back, "I will" and yet,
Not ten of the righteous were found.
No one was living for Jehovah's name
So the city burned to the ground.

My countryland is under attack
For sin and pride abound.
But here, as in Sodom, the Lord's eyes search
To see if the righteous be found.

The Lord calls, "Be of good courage and strength
And boldly for me take a stand.
For if there are people that live by my Word
Then I will heal your land."

I struggle to put away my pride--
The "what will they think of me?"
My own desires of flesh I lay
At the foot of Calvary

And say to the Lord, "You, I obey.
I'll stand for the truth of Your word.
I'll give You all and take Your hope
To those who've never heard."

My countryland is under attack
For many laugh at sin.
But I've made my choice; what will you do?
Will you be one of the ten?

He is Yet Alive!

He is Yet Alive!

May 11, 2008

Within a shadowed corner myst’ry lay

As ruffled folds of fabric laid therein.

What happened on the morning of that day?

Where was the body of the dead within?

I sighed and stared into the darkened room.

Who could’ve done this evil to my friend?

Why had they thus removed Him from His tomb?

Why had they killed Him? He had done no sin.

I thought back of Him and His love for me,

His perfect heart, His grace beyond compare,

His death upon the cross of Calvary,

And now this myst’ry – Jesus wasn’t here.

Behind me then a gentle voice did chide:

“Why fear ye? Joy! for I am yet alive!”

I Serve the One Whose Flag I Bear

I Serve the One Whose Flag I Bear

May 10, 2008

I serve the One whose flag I bear

The King of Hosts is He.

Though some would have me fear, despair,

My Lord shall stand by me.

He giveth me the strength to stand

Yea, even more to fight.

Thou Lust be on my left hand

And Pride be on my right.

I serve the One whose flag I hold,

My Captain – He will win.

And He will cause my soul be bold

To triumph over sin.

Though Satan and His host defy

The power of His name.

Still I will unto Jesus cry,

Yea, He who overcame.

I serve the One whose flag I raise

While pressing farther on.

Through danger, trouble, toilsome ways

Here by His grace I’ve come.

Yea, thus as I still breathe and live

And serve and shout and sing,

May Jesus wear the crown. I give

All glory to my King!

Here I Am, Discouraged

Here I Am, Discouraged

May 2, 2008

Lord,

Here I am, discouraged;

I need Your Strength and Song.

When things don’t seem to work out

Lord keep my faith still strong.

So here I am, I’m Yours,

May I Your channel be

And tomorrow may each one I meet

Leave impacted for Thee.

Use me, Lord.

Amen.