Wandering in a field of daisies.
Alone in her own world.
Her world of imagination.
She wanders.
She dreams.
She wanders.
And dreams.
In a field of daisies.
She lays down her child's form
in the field of daisies.
She looks up at the clouds.
She imagines.
And dreams.
She tells stories in her mind.
She talks in whispers to her
imaginary friend.
She wanders.
She dreams.
She wanders.
And dreams.
In a field of daisies.
She is
The Daydreamer.

I would rather stand at the door in the house of my Lord,
than dwell in a big house full of riches untold.

I would rather sit in the middle of a grassy meadow,
surrounded by the sounds of nature,
than walk around in a shopping mall full of many treasures.

I would rather sit at the feet of my Lord and listen to His every word,
than have the approval of man and the affection of the world.

I would rather lose temporal pleasures,
if it means I might gain an eternal reward.

I would rather stand at the door.
In the House.
Of my Lord.

Alone she stands...
at the bottom of the mountain.
The beginning of her journey.
Her journey to forgiveness.
She looks at the steepness of the climb,
and wonders where is the strength she'll find.
Especially when her backpack is full of rocks...
The painful memories of emotional abuse and verbal attacks.
But, as difficult as this journey will be,
she knows she must take it,
in order to be free.
Then He whispers to her soul,
"Step by step, with Me,
this is the only way to climb
The Journey to Forgiveness."

She begins her journey,
one step at a time.
One foot before the other.
With the heavy burden upon her back,
which she knows she must surrender.
She makes stops along the way.
The memories surface.
Her wounds lay open and bare.
But she chooses to forgive.
To release them of the debt.
And empties some of the rocks
from her backpack.

She continues on.
The journey is tiresome,
and oh, so long.
She is tempted to give up.
Many times.
But He keeps reminding her of the prize.
Another stop.
More rocks dumped.
More forgiveness given.
More
freedom.
And another stop.
And another.
Until finally...
her burden grows lighter.
As her soul unloads its bitterness.
She sees the top now.
Oh bliss!
She climbs faster now.
She empties out the last rock.
The biggest rock.
The largest offence.
The one that was hardest to forgive.
The one that bound her in chains.
She releases it now.
Into God's hands.
And hoists herself up to the top.

She stands now in victory!
The burden she has carried so long is empty!
She has completed her journey.
Her Journey to Forgiveness.
And is finally free.
Until tomorrow...
when begins another journey.
To forgiveness.

Grief.
Grief.
Strange grief.
One moment it numbs you.
Holding you in denial.
And disbelief.
And the next.
It drowns you in
torrents of tears.
Like a fierce summer
rainstorm.
Where you can barely hold on.

Grief.
Grief.
Strange grief.
One moment you relish
in your new freedom.
Your new life.
And the next.
You miss them so much
that it feels like a slow death.

Grief.
Grief.
Strange grief.
All that you knew and loved.
Is not there anymore.
And in its place.
Is an empty void.
So hard to endure.
Sometimes you long for things
to be.
As they were before.
When you sit alone.
Pondering.
How life once was.
When your family was together.

Grief.
Grief.
Strange grief.
Oh, when will come relief?
Can time really heal this great wound?
Perhaps a little.
Yet the depth of the wound,
and the number of scars,
can only truly be healed.
By the Man of Sorrows.

Grief.
Grief.
Strange grief.
Will I ever feel whole and complete again?
When it feels like half of me has been
ripped away.
Leaving a gaping hole.

The Man of Sorrows.
Whispers to my soul.
"It is not irreparable."
I collapse in His arms.
And pour out my grief.
Grief.
Strange grief.
And He makes me whole.
Again.

Moses discovered it.
I am discovering it.
The cost of obeying the call.
Of leaving all behind to follow.
Taking a stand for the Truth
can come at a high price.
Loss of riches.
Loss of identity.
Loss of reputation.
Loss of familiarity.
Loss of home.
Loss.
Of all I've known.

The price of freedom.
The freedom that comes
from following Him.
Is full of losses to grieve.
But what I gain.
Is so much more.
Eternal treasures.
Beyond compare.
A deeper knowledge
of His great love for me.
Discovering my new identity.
My eternal destiny.
Discovering why He chose
to lay hold of me.
Freedom in Christ.
Beauty for ashes.
Joy in His Presence.
Glory!
Glory!
Glory!
Which can never be stolen from me.
If this is the price of freedom.
I say...
Amen!
For everything else is loss.
Compared to knowing Him.
Gaining Jesus.
Who is my Life.
And whose Love is better
than life itself.
This.
Is the price.
Of Freedom.

With Christ as my Husband
who is jealous over me.
Who loves me so perfectly.
There is no lack.

With Christ as my Shepherd,
who tenderly watches over me
and guides me to pastures green.
To streams of water
so I never thirst again.
There is no lack.

With Christ as my Defender
who delivers me from danger,
and rescues me from my enemies
who rise up against me.
There is no lack.

With Christ as my Father,
who holds me close all through the storm.
When I am afraid of loss and harm.
There is no lack.

With Christ as my All in All.
There is no lack.
There is no lack.

Thank you, Lord, for rescuing me from my own way.
Again.
Thank you for removing the stain of my sin.
And wiping my slate clean.
Jesus, I love you so much.

Out on the ocean,
our boat breaks down.
Thankfully, we aren't too far from land.
The rescue boat is on its way,
but now the wind comes up
and it's pouring rain.
I know God is with me,
so I am not afraid.

The broken down boat
is tossed by the wind and waves.
Crash!
It collides with the big rocks
along the shore.
While grizzlies hide within the forest.
When will our rescue boat appear?

The rain pounds down harder.
We get colder and colder.
And then off in the distance...
we spot her.
The fast boat gliding upon the water.
To rescue we the stranded.
From threatening danger.

Then...
I think of my life.
And the storm that has come to be.
Like a boat in trouble on the sea,
I need a rescue boat to come and save me.
For I can get so scared and weary.

Only God can be my Saviour.
He is my rescue boat,
when I break down in the storm.
And the waves of sorrow engulf me.
He is my rescue boat who comes to me,
when I am stranded on the sea.
In the storm and in the rain.
When I'm out on the ocean of life,
and my boat breaks down,
He will come for me.
And bring me to safety.


(C) Elizabeth T., 2016

Peace
      is
         flowing.
Like a river
         within me.

Casting
       every stone,
               every lie,
                       into the sea.

Peace
      is
          flowing.
Like a river
          within me.

And then
       the waterfall of joy
            meets the river
                      of peace
                               within.

And I realize I am complete in Him.

Hope
Is
The
Rope

Held out to me
In the form of His Word.

The rope I grab on to
when I'm drowning.
In the sea
of my confusing thoughts
and turbulent emotions.

The rope I hang on to
for dear life.
Lest I despair
and sink into depression's mire.

This rope called hope
is my anchor
in the storms of life.
In the storms
within
me.
When I cannot see clearly.

I grab on for dear life.
Oh Lord, may I never let go!
For You are the One
who holds my soul.
But...
I thank You
that even if I do.
You will never let go
of
me.

Birds sing sweetly
as darkness descends.
A dog barks in the distance,
talking to a friend.
A car engine revs loudly,
as folks are off to a  Summer party.
And then...
And then...
The sounds of a Summer evening grow still.
The moon comes out to glow.
Shining down on the silence.
Of night below.
I sit in the moonlight.
And enjoy the silence.
At rest in my soul.

I am finished trying to draw water to satisfy my soul,
from holes that cannot quench my thirst.
I try to draw water from holes of different names.
From friends and family.
From the words and approval of men.
From temporal pleasures and materialism.
But they cannot quench the longing for Love
in my thirsty soul.
I am like the Woman at the Well.
Tired of going to holes that I think are wells.
Trying to draw water.
Walking away still thirsty.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Then...
My Saviour and the Lover of my soul
comes to me.
And I drink from Him.
My thirst is finally quenched,
and I will never be thirsty again.
For He is the Living Water.
He is not an empty hole which dries up,
sending me away still thirsty.
He is the Love which my parched soul needs.
He is...
the WELL.

Tiny feathers.
Of black, white,
and softest brown.
Tiny wings fluttering.
With quiet sound.
Loud voice.
Of sweetest song.
Which can be heard.
From miles around.
"Swee, swee,"
calls the chickadee.
Handcrafted by God above,
the little chickadee
is a tiny miracle.
Of His love.

She exchanges her black dress,
for a white robe of Righteousness.
She trades in her lies, believed and spoken,
and embraces the Truth.
She decides to turn her words into actions,
no longer fearing people's reactions.
She trades in her sorrows,
for His joy.
She exchanges her selfish deeds and her
negative thoughts,
for deeds of kindness and a mind like Christ.
She trades in her old self,
for the New Creation which now she is.
She exchanges all she is,
for all HE is.
And walks FREE.

Tears of grief stream down their faces,
Mirroring the falling rain.
As a mother and her little girl lie dead,
having been slain.
I cannot possibly comprehend the family's pain.
Or begin to know why such a senseless tragedy
has happened again.
But in the midst of this fallen world of tragedies and grief,
I must hold fast to my belief.
That God is still God.
That God still loves.
And He knows how to bring good
out of
unspeakable
loss.

Where do I go...
when I feel so alone.
Where do I run...
when grief's tears overcome.
Where do I turn...
when it looks like the end.
Cling to Him.
Cling to Him.
And let Him love me.
Until I am undone.

Little children should not die,
while their mother cold and dead does lie.
This is not how it's supposed to be.

People should not be running in fear for their lives,
from the threat of terrorists and bloodshed.
This is not how it's supposed to be.

Families should not be broken.
Marriages should not be ending.
Children should not be starving.
This is not how it's supposed to be.

Love should not be growing cold.
Growing
cold.
But we live in a fallen world.
A world without God.
A world where evil reigns.
Until the New and Coming Reign.
When the Evil One will be forever restrained.
And the King of Kings shall take His rightful claim.
To sit upon the Throne.
And establish Love again.
In the New and Coming Reign.