The dove perches.
She rests.
In the care of her Creator.
She has no cares.
She has no fears.
She just rests.
In peaceful trust.
In trusting rest.

Lord, help me to be like the dove.
O Holy Spirit Dove,
Put my mind at peace.
Put my heart at rest.
Just like.
The dove.

I teach her to paint flowers.
I play cards with her.
I wheel her outside in her wheelchair.
In the warm, sunny air.
I show her I care.
While my dear mother in Heaven
looks down and smiles.
I smile too.
And then.
Shed a tear.

My hands are cold.
They have not another hand to hold.
They are becoming wrinkled and old.
With time’s passage.
Work-weary hands. Hands used to create. To write words to my King. To love. To heal. To serve.
To.
Sin.

My hands are cold.
They have not another hand to hold.
But the nail-scarred hand of the One who is unseen.
The One who heals me, loves me, restores, redeems.
The One who cups my face in His hands and says:
“With you, I am pleased.”
The One who takes my hand, aging with time,
And says:
“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am He who will sustain you and carry you.” (Is. 46:3-4, para.)

My hands are no longer cold.
No longer without a touch of love to fill them.
For my Redeemer who loves me is holding onto me.
He takes hold of my right hand and says: “Fear not.” (Is. 41:13)

I walk forward now in peace.
With hands no longer cold.
Within His grasp.

When I am sinking in the floods of grief.
My only Anchor.
Is You.

I think of you now in Paradise.
Where the roses never die.
You stand beside Him in Glory.
In irreproachable Light.
Clothed in brilliant white.
Beside your Heavenly Bridegroom.
Holding a bouquet of red roses in your hands.
You are His Bride.
In whom He delights.
I am happy for you, sweet mother.
Although I miss you so.

A gentle smile alights your face.
As you stand beside Him.
Bathed in glorious Light.
Your heart is healed and whole now.
I see you running through gardens of roses,
Like a little girl.
With your Good Shepherd next to you.
Roses.
How you loved them!
Red roses.

Now you dwell in Glory.
Forever with the One who loves you perfectly.
Who loves you passionately.
Together you walk hand in hand with Your Eternal Bridegroom.
Where the roses never die.
Where the roses.
Never.
Die.

My feet still touch earth.
My mother's are in Heaven.
But we are together.
One in Spirit.
As we worship our Risen Lord.
Hand in Hand.
Before His Throne.
Together in Spirit are we.
No longer parted.
Though my feet touch earth.
And hers.
Touch Heaven.

Lord, light the fire in my heart for You alone.
Let every other desire in me.
Glow under Your control.
Like a tiny flame.
Until the appointed time.
When it is allowed
to burn free.
Again.

The Way out of my fear
is trusting the Good Shepherd.
One step at a time.
Only.
One.
Step.
Until my eyes are opened
to see I can trust Him.
He woos me with cords of His Love.
Into a place of rest.
A place of trust.

Yet another step.
And more trust comes.

The Way out of my fear
is trusting Jesus.
One step at a time.
Until beyond my fear...
Walking into my fear...
He shows me a blessing.
Hidden there.
He shows me the Gift.
The Glory.
When I face my fear.
One step.
At a time.

Loss upon loss.
Threat upon threat.
Until fear envelops me.
Trying to pull me under.
I fight back. I push against it.
By His Spirit within me.
I turn my mind from the darkness,
to His Light.
I turn my eyes from the stormy seas of this life,
to my Anchor Jesus Christ.
I. Will. Not. Be. Shaken.

Carry me, Holy Spirit Wind.
I know not which way to take now.
Where to begin.
Again.

Carry me, Holy Spirit Wind.
Leaving what I've lost behind,
I am ready to be carried into Your will.
Lost souls to mend.
Even as You mend.
Mine.

Carry me, Holy Spirit Wind.
I am Yours forever now.
There is no other way to Life, to peace,
than to let You carry me.
Into the new.
Unknown.
Into the Higher plain.
My Heavenly calling.
Until You come.
To reign.
Please reign in me, O Holy One!

Carry me, Holy Spirit Wind.
******* where You wish.
Kiss me.
With Your Holiness.

Carry me, oh carry me.
Holy Spirit Wind.

Jesus.
Lover of my soul.
Eternal Husband.
You are my First and Greatest Love.
I am eternally devoted to You.
You have shown me who I truly am.
I am finished walking down a path of sin.
I choose to avoid the snares of temptation.
And I want nothing to ever come between us again.

Jesus.
Your Love is overwhelming.
Healing all my brokenness.
Healing all my scars.
You are my First and Greatest Love.
You alone hold first place in my heart.
You have my full devotion.
You have my complete adoration.
And I want nothing.
I want no one.
To ever come between us again.
Every other love holds second place to You.
For You alone are my First and Greatest Love.

Strolling up green grassy hill,
and through forest in summer breeze.
I come upon two paths
leading both high and low.
One is wider, and the other is narrow.
Like paths of life,
paths of choice.
Before me.

Which shall I take?

The wider, the easier, the popular?
Upon which many shall tread.
The path of comfort.
The path of man's approval.
The path.
Of the soul's dead?

Or shall I take the straight, the narrow,
upon which few shall travel.
The path of self-denial.
The path of suffering.
The Way of the Cross.
The Way.
Of Life.
The narrow path of trial and difficulty.
Upon which few shall walk with me.

The narrow, straightened Way.
The Way of Glory.
The Way of Eternity.
Where my Good Shepherd travels
side by side with me.

Which path shall I choose?
I have already chosen it.
When I lost what I did love so dear.
And replaced it with comparing
all things as loss,
compared to knowing Christ my Lord.

I have chosen the narrow path.
The path upon which few travel.
For me it is the only Way.
To Life.

Brilliant.
Dazzling.
New leaves burst forth.
In Spring's glorious green.

Brilliant.
Breathtaking.
Blossoms of violet and purest white.
Upon trees standing stately.
In morning light.

Radiant trees announce God's resurrection life.
Flowers of beauty herald the fragrance of Christ.

Winged songbirds.
Frolicking squirrels.
Rabbits now brown.
Every living thing dances with renewed life.

And I dance with them.
In the joy of new healing.
And renewed strength.

I rejoice in the wonder of Spring.
Awestruck.
By the greatness of God.
The Living God who created all things.
And fashioned with beauty.
Spring's glorious gems.

The Lamb of God
wore a crown of thorns.
Pressed down hard upon His brow.
Piercing ****** into His holy brain.
That my mind might be healed by His Word
of Truth.
That I might clearly see.

The Lamb of God
wore striped wounds upon His back.
That the heavy burden of sins I bear.
Might be unloaded at the foot of His Cross.
Forgiven.
And left there.

The Lamb of God
was nailed to a tree.
With excruciating wounds to His
hands and feet.
That I might from sin's chains
be forever released.

The Lamb of God
faced fear for me.
Through ****** tears of agony.
The Garden of Gethsemane. (Luke 22:22-24)
That I might be a lamb in His arms.
Who need never fear what may come.

The Lamb of God
was abandoned by all.
Family, friends, and even God His Father.
Left alone to die on a cruel Cross.
With broken heart.
And pain of loss.
That I might never be alone.
That my heart might be healed
of every scar and wound.

The Lamb of God
was pierced in the side.
Laughed at.
Scorned.
Stripped naked.
Made Monstrous. (Isaiah 52:14)
That I might be made beautiful.
That I might be forgiven.
That I might be clothed with Him.

Oh, how deep, how great, how unfathomable
is His Love!
I weep over this...
And my own unworthiness.

The Lamb of God
breathed His last.
"Father, forgive them." (Luke 23:34)
"It is finished." (John 19:30)
He was laid in a new tomb to rest.
While those He loved mourned, and had
their faith put to the test.

The Lamb of God
Oh glory! He rose!
On the third day.
Just as He promised.
"He is not here. He has risen.
Just as He said." (Matt. 28:6)
Just.
As.
He.
Said.

The Lamb of God
The Risen Christ
My Lord and my God!
Raised to life.
That I might walk new and redeemed.
As forgiven.
Treasured.
Loved.
And prized.

The Lamb of God.
The Lamb who gave up all for me.
Who gave up all for you.
The Lamb of God.
Who won the victory.
Oh, how I love my Lamb of God!
Who gave up all.
To set us free.

Little girl with golden locks.
Little girl with big blue eyes.
Little girl.
So full of woe.
In a church of stained glass windows.
The Church of the Messiah.

Mommy decks the altar with flowers.
Daddy is out and about.
The little girl stares reverently
at the beautiful window.
Sunlight lights up Jesus the Good Shepherd.
A little lamb is in His arms.
Close to His chest.
Close to His heart.
Is He MY Good Shepherd? the little girl whispers.
Am I His little lamb?

The little girl is now alone in the sanctuary.
With the Shepherd's eyes upon her.
Lights streams through the
stained glass aperture.
It falls upon her small face.
Then a Voice speaks into her depths:
"You are My child, and you will belong
to Me for your whole life."
The little girl is struck.
With awe and wonder.
At her Shepherd's voice.
For now she knows,
and will forever know,
that she is
His little lamb.

You come to me.

With healing in Your wings.

Your Love washes over me.

Filling every crack.

Of my broken soul.

Lord Jesus.
Without You I crumble.
Under the weight.
Of fear.

With You.
I am a mountain
Unshakeable.

Dear God,
this is my prayer...
To be so grounded
in Your love for me.
That I will be.
Unshakeable.

My home is on a beautiful planet.
Of blue and green.
Seen from space,
It is breathtaking.
Fragile.
Beautiful.
Endangered.
Threatened.
Very precious to the heart of God.
Who created it all.
With the breath of His mouth.
And the Word of His power.

Beautiful blue-green planet.
So dear to the heart of God.
With those He loves dwelling upon it.
Every creature deeply cherished.
By its Creator.

He who sits above the circle of our
blue-green planet,
holds it in His sovereign hands.
For it is He who holds
all dominion,
all authority,
all control.
Over
our
beautiful,
fragile,
Blue-Green Planet.

From the worries of this world and ungodly fear.
O Lord, deliver me.

From the pursuit of riches and the lust for more.
O Lord, deliver me.

From the fear of man and the desire for recognition.
O Lord, deliver me.

From my own way, my own will, my own comfort.
O Lord, deliver me.

Teach me, O God,
the fear of Thee.
That I might bear fruit.
For eternity.

My breath in icy cloud.
Before my face.
Fingers stinging.
From bitter cold.
Modern carriages at
crawl speed.
On icy road.
Ghostly white
dances in whispers.
Across sidewalks frozen hard.

A flock of humble sparrows
sing joyfully.
As if in gratitude.
And the voice of God.
To my soul is heard.
For He is still here.
In Winter's cold.

She walks on the path set before her.
Through mountaintop of hardship,
and valley of rest.
Through sunshine of happiness,
and storm of trial.
Through refreshing rain of His Presence,
and bitter cold of grief and loneliness.

She walks on.
She walks on.
In weakness and strength.
Through tears of loss
and joy of gain.
Through fear and uncertainly,
transformed into inexplicable peace.
For beside her on the path.
Are His INVISIBLE FOOTPRINTS.

I shake off the chains of the past.
At last.
I look forward.
To what lies ahead.
New life.
New time.
New journey of discovery.
Of ministry.

New discovery.
New Year.
Of finding out more
of who He is.
And why He laid hold of me.

I lay my head against His chest.
Safe in His embrace.
And then take His hand.
As together we walk.
Into the future.
Into.
A New Year.

I am like a crooked little Christmas tree.
My trunk is bent.
Branches are broken off.
In various places.
My needles are drying up.
And falling off.
Imperfect.
Flawed.
Broken.
Misshapen.
Distorted by sin.

And yet...
Still He loves me.
Because He bought me.
For a very high price.
The Blood of His Son.
Still He loves me.
In all my twistedness.
In all my waywardness.
Because He owns me.

I am like a crooked Christmas tree.
But He still puts His Light upon me.
And adorns me with His Love.
Transforming me.
From broken.
From crooked.
To beautiful.

Do not gloat over me.
Do not mock me, my Enemy.
For though I fall down.
I will rise.
Though I am wounded now.
I shall be healed.
Though I am weary.
I shall gain new strength.
Though I grieve now.
I shall yet rejoice.
This battle-weary soldier.
Shall yet
be strong.
Again.
Do not gloat over me, O my Enemy.
Victory shall yet be mine.
In Christ my King.
Do not.
Gloat.
Over me.

He buries the pain of her past.

He covers the stain of her sin.

Beneath rose petals.

The colour of Blood.

Beneath rose petals.

Of

His

Love.

Tear after tear.
Falls.

The One who calls her
"beloved."
Catches each one.
In His nail-scarred hands.

Then,
He reaches
into her heart.
And heals every wound.
With gentle
caresses.
Of His
Unfailing.
Unrelenting.
Everlasting.
Love.

A blanket of cold white.
Covers the landscape.
As nature begins.
Her Winter sleep.
Beautiful white.
Snow.
White.
Clothing everything in sight.
Yet the sun still shines warm.
With light upon white.
Snow lit up.
Brilliant bright.
God above chose to create snow.
The colour white.
For He is good.
And washes my sin away.
Snowy white.
God above who is wrapped in Light.
Created light.
That we might not stumble in darkness.
For He created all things right.

A blanket of cold white.
Covers the landscape.
Beautiful white.
Snow.
White.
Light upon white.
Proclaiming the goodness of God.
Who does all things right.
Who does all things with Love.
Like Light.
Upon.
White.

Sunrise.
Pink, yellow, orange, and blue.
Lights up the sky.
With brilliant hue.
Glorious! Glorious!
Through her car window.
Then a deer...
So majestic.
With graceful legs and strong antlers.
Leaps across the plain.
By the side of the road.
So majestic.
So beautiful.
So triumphant.
Glorious!  Glorious!

She is reminded of Truth.
Which pours forth from her lips.
"I shall leap like a hart,
upon my high places.
I shall gallop like a deer,
upon every difficult hill.
Upon every difficult trial.
Yes!
I shall leap like the beautiful deer.
He showed me along my way.
With His Spirit within me.
I can claim victory."

Old woman.
Walking wearily.
With head down.
Carrying a burden.
Too heavy to bear.
Carrying the burden.
Of what life has done to her.
Is it the burden of unforgiveness
that weighs her down?
Or the burden of abusers
who crushed her soul?
Could it be the burden of fear
that she carries?
Or the load of shame
upon her shoulders?
What is her story?
This old woman with head
bowed so low.
And hunched shoulders.
That carry a heavy load.

Oh Lord, may she come to
know You as the One whose
yoke is easy,
and whose burden is light. (Matt. 18: 28-30, Holy Bible)
May she one day release all her burdens
at Your feet.
At the foot of Your Cross.
My prayers go up before You.
For this old woman.
With head bowed low.
Heavy-burdened.
From life's cruel blows.
May she come to know Your Love for her.
In the depths of her soul.
This old woman.
With head bowed low.

Next time.
I pray that I might have the courage.
And the love.
To help her carry her heavy load.
To listen to her story.
This old woman.
With head bowed low.

(edited)

His very breath.
His every word.
Each step He took.
Was for His Father's Glory.
For the will of God,
He laid down His own will.
Not seeking His own plans.
To fulfill.

In His very breath.
His every word.
Each step He took.
He sought not His own interests.
But His Father's purposes.
His every step.
Was for His Father's glory.
Even steps.
That would lead Him.
To a cruel cross.
For the will of God.
For mankind's salvation.
To purchase forgiveness.
For us.

His very breath.
His every word.
Each step He took.
Was for His Father's glory.
He is Jesus.
Our Redeemer.
Our King.
Our Righteousness.
He is the Lion and the Lamb.
Who gave up all.
For Love.

One day every knee will bow before Him.
On earth and Heaven above.
Then, at last!
He whose
every word
every breath
every step
was for the Glory of His Father.
Will receive
All Glory.
All Honour.
All Power.

He gave up His will.
For the will of God.
He gave up His own glory.
For Love.
Of you.
And me.

Glory!  Glory!
To the King of Humility.
For all of Eternity.

Drop by drop.
Her grief falls.
Making circular indentations.
In the dust.
She falls to her face.
In the dust.
From which she came.
And pours out her sorrow.
Her anger.
Her regret...
Before Him.
Her fingers claw the dust.
In her anguish of soul.
Until she touches His feet.
Drop by drop.
The tears fall.
Until her floodgates open.
And she unleashes her grief
upon the One she loves.
Over all she has done.
And not done.
Over all she has lost...
He lifts her face up
between His hands.
And looks into her eyes.
"You are forgiven, dear one.
My treasure. My bride."
She lays her head against
His chest.
Finally at rest.
As the last drop falls.
To the dust.

In the spring and in the autumn,
in the calm and in the storm.
I give thanks to You, O Lord.

In my sorrow and in my joy,
in times of bounty and times of uncertainty.
I give thanks to You, O Lord.

In times of darkness.
In times of sickness.
In times of abundance.
In times of youthful vitality.

In times when I do not understand why.

I give thanks to You, O Lord.

In days of rest; and days of stress.
In days of struggle; and days of hopefulness.
I give thanks to You, O Lord.

In every season.
In every season.
I give thanks to You, O Lord.
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord,
unto me. (Thomas Chisholm, 1923)
I give thanks.
To Thee.

Playful children.


Beneath playful white clouds.


In blue sky.


Running.


Among playful autumn leaves.


Dancing





down.

Dancing





down.


On this playful day.

Shall I deny who I am to gain what will not remain?
The approval of man.
As fleeting as dust in the wind.
Or shall I live for the Truth?
Live...
for Him.
Live for the Eternal One.
And His Kingdom's reign.

Shall I live for the love of man?
Which is fickle.
Changeable.
Like the phases of the moon.
Or shall I abide in His Love?
Which is immoveable.
Unrelenting.
And will never change.

Shall I deny who I am?
Feeling outwardly comfortable.
While my soul is in chains.
Shall I live for the temporal,
which is so short and fleeting?
Like shifting sand.
Like shifting sand.
Or shall I live for the Eternal?
"On Christ the Solid Rock I stand." (Edward Mote, c.1834)
Firm Rock.
Stable Rock.
This is where I choose
to place the soles of my feet.
Firmly planted in His Word.
Firmly planted in His Love.
With my roots going deep.

"On Christ the Solid Rock I stand."
On Christ the Immoveable Rock I stand.
With roots going down deep.
With roots going down deep.
Into the Eternal.

Be still, O my soul.
There is nothing to fear.
Your God is in control.
And He holds you near.
There is none who can protect thee.
Like the Lord Almighty.
With His angel army.

Be still, O my soul.
There is nothing to fear.
Your God is in control.
Beneath His wings.
You can rest secure.
For He is your refuge.
From all harm and evil.

Be still, O my soul.
There is nothing to fear.
For in His heart.
You are most dear.

Be still, O my soul.
And know.
That He is your God.

This is not a poem, but an update for those of you who read my poems and follow me. I have just moved into a new home on Monday and am still unpacking and getting settled. Will resume posting poems shortly. God has blessed me with a lovely condo at a good purchase price. I am beyond grateful for my new home.

So many boxes.
Of temporal treasures.
I pack them.
I wrap item after item.
To place in.
Box after box.
Of temporal treasures.
To be relocated.
To a new, temporal palace.
A smaller palace.
A humbler palace.
A palace where I will boldly confess...
"As for me and my house,
we will serve the Lord." (Joshua 24:15)

So many boxes.
Of temporal treasures.
Which cannot satisfy.
But leave the heart empty.
Box after brown box.
Small, medium, large.
To be relocated.
To a new, temporal palace.
A house for His glory.
For I am finished.
With setting my affections upon...
Box after box.
Of temporal treasures.
Which cannot satisfy.
But leave the heart empty.
I will seek my treasure in eternity.
In things above.
Which will never pass away.

So many boxes.
Of temporal treasures.
To be relocated.
To a new, temporal palace.
While awaiting me stands.
A mansion in glory.

The beauty of nature.
God's perfect creation.
Calls to every weary traveller.
Upon life's broken road.
Every man.
Every woman.
Every child.
Come.
Come.
And rest.
Unburden your heavy load.
Come.
Come.
And rest.

Nature's call.
Is the Call.
Of God.

Death to Self.
Is Life.
To the soul.

Death to Self.
Is letting go.
Of all that I am.
To let Him.
Take over.

Lord, possess me.
Completely.
Until I am no more.
Until the old self I was.
Lies in ashes.
Upon the floor.
And You alone.
Are my Lord.

Possess me.
Possess me.
Until I am.
No more.

Jesus.
Lover of my soul.
Teach me to run
into Your arms.
Teach me to come to You.
And never let go.
Let me not be as
the horse or the mule.
Who need bit and bridle.
Or they will never come near.
Break me, Lord.
Of my stubborn, wayward,
idolatrous ways.
Let me love You enough
that my heart breaks
at the mere thought.
Of causing You grief.
Oh, may the thought
of that
bring me to my knees.
May it cause me to turn
from my rebellious ways.

Make me willing to come
to You, Jesus.
And run far away from rival lovers.
Let it not take You thrusting
the bridle of discipline on me.
For me to choose the path of life.
May every broken cistern I hew out.
Leave me so thirsty.
That I will more.
And more.
Come near.
To Thee.

Ready to begin again.
With my feet planted
on the solid ground
of His Word.
And my soul at one with Him.
Ready to begin.
Again.

She has been blessed.
With many friends.
Faithful friends.
Faith-filled friends.
Followers of Him.
They fellowship together.
In prayer and
the reading of the Word.
She is filled with gratitude.
But also remembers.
There is only One friend.
Who "sticks closer than a brother." (Prov. 18:24)
And He alone holds the key to her heart.
Forever.
For He is always.
Always.
There.

Mother mallard.
Keeps watch.
Over her almost grown young.
At rest.
But then,
after a time,
she waddles away from them.
And goes for a swim.
In the peaceful pond.
She has no worry.
No fear for her young.
She somehow knows.
That their Creator.
Is watching over them.
She somehow knows.
That they are in His hands.


"Yes, Lord, I'm listening."

No matter how often I wander.
No matter how much I stumble.
Into worldly temptations.
Into my will, instead of Yours.

I keep running back to You.

Back into Your arms.
Where I belong.


No matter how many broken cisterns I hew out.
To try to fill the void.
I end up feeling.
Empty and dissatisfied.
And so...

I keep running back to You.


When will I learn.
To just.
Stay?


The time.
Is.
Now.