Once I was your wife
I was your future
Now in your life
I feel like an Intruder

The scars we carry is our legacy of love
The deeper they are, the more we felt hurt

There will be a promised land.
There will come my day of
complete freedom.
There will be an end to my tears.
There will come a day when
I have learned to overcome
my fears.
With His Truth, held near.

There will come a time
when I am soaring like an eagle.
Victorious and strong.
There will come a day when I
will take back all that my
Enemy has stolen from me.

There will be a promised land.
A land of healing, restoration,
and rest.
A day when my Shepherd will
redeem the years of my life
that were eaten up by the locust.

A day of joy.
A time of freedom.
A season of victory.
And renewed purpose.

There will be a promised land.
Though it delay.
Though it tarry.
It will come.

IT WILL COME.

As some of you know, my father was in crisis yesterday (7/8/17). He went into the ER at the Veteran's Hospital here in Tucson Arizona at around 10AM with tremendously labored breathing. The doctors were afraid he'd had a recurrence of the throat cancer he'd had in 2010. They were pretty much convinced of it, and we were prepared for the worst... but my prayer warriors and I prayed for the BEST.

At around 2PM he had a tracheostomy. They found out it was NOT cancer, but frozen vocal chords that were causing the distress! They used only light anesthetics, and he pulled through with flying colors. Hallelujah!!!

Now what they must determine is what caused the vocal chords to freeze. He could have had a mild stroke. But other than his throat problems he's in excellent shape for a man of 92!

Thank you all who sent us good thoughts and prayers. Those who read, and everyone on Hello Poetry...

YOU ARE ALL AWESOME!!

AND SO IS JESUS!! THANK YOU LORD!!

♡ Catherine

Empty rooms.
Once occupied by those I love.
I grieve the loss.
I step in.
To face.
My fear.
Of the empty rooms.
But...
My Saviour,
my King,
the Lover of my soul.
Now embodies.
Now fills.
With His Spirit.
These empty rooms.

I open my hands.
I give Him the loss.
I let go of fear.
I lift my hands.
My voice.
My soul.
In praise.
I fill these empty rooms
with songs of praise.
With fervent prayers.
Where there has been tears of loss.

These empty rooms.
Are no longer empty.
They are filled.
With the Living God.

Here I live.
Here I abide.
With the Lover of my soul.
In rooms once empty.
But now...
Full.
Of the Presence.
Of Glory.