To someone you love
Is like reading the final page
Of an amazing book.
As the last chapter ends
You begin to notice
Just how beautiful
The plot always was.
You appreciate the joy
And even the pain
As you read and thumb
Through every page.
The moral of the story,
You realize you've reached
The end of this journey.
Although the last sentence
Is the most difficult to read
Another great book awaits
Once you turn the final page.
Eventually you may stumble
Upon yet another great find.
Or maybe you'll return
To the book you left behind.
You may just discover
Once all is said and done
That this particular book
Was your favorite story
For Ty & Des ❤️
Have you ever noticed that friendships are like books?
A new Friend is like a well acclaimed book that you just can't put down, as you wait to see if it is really all it was cracked up to be.
An old Friend is that trustworthy favourite with bent pages and peeling cover that you turn back to year after year.
A good Friend is the book that always brings a smile to your face, making the hard, dull parts of life seem worth living.
A best friends is that one book that you can inexplicably never part with. It's less exciting, less acclaimed, less popular than the other books on your shelf. But no matter how hard you try, you can never replace that well thumbed treasure with the newer, flashier releases everyone else seems so taken with.
My heart is a library full of well thumbed or ignored stories that fill the pages of my daily existence.
Even the forgotten titles of friendships past fill an essential part of my being.
Without them I would be an empty page.
Opening my eyes
I find it hard to understand how anyone
Can think it was all an accident
Such an abundance
An anomaly somehow created this.
An anomaly that created itself.
I would much rather believe in a God so powerful, beautiful, merciful, and loving that he created all this for you, and I, and all the world to enjoy.
Such a God!
A creator so mighty he can never be confused, stumped, stopped, or overcome by the created.
Nothing I can do will ever separate me from the love and mercy and grace of this God.
Blessed Sunday <3
You're my anchor in the open seas
My sail when currents cease
You bring me through the endless night
And guide me into peace
You're the Harbour for my wandering soul
The lighthouse when I drift
You make my raging spirits still
You give to me your gift
Unworthy is my weathered wreckage
To bear such gifts as Thine
Yet in this ravaged vessel here
You chose to graft Your vine
All hail the monarch over the seas
Searching the oceans wide
For the sailor abandoned alone
To navigate the tide
In seas unknown our gazes turn to
Our North Star in the sky,
King of the oceans green and blue
Whose banner we proudly fly
For every tear I cried
Was a tear you wiped aside
Your arms would wrap around me
And in perfect bliss would I be
For every tear I wept
Was a tear that You treasured and kept
When You find me weeping
You draw me into Your arms for keeping
For I know that when I mourn I find your perfect peace
Blessed are they who mourn for when You come our tears will cease
Like a Mother with her children's fear
You call to me and draw me near
And when You touch my broken spirit
You treat my wounds with tender care
When I was shivering in the freezing cold
You collected my tears of gold
So, in your arms rest young and old
Kings and paupers, slaves and I
Within the Father's loving hold
You have called me Precious Daughter
And I have called you Loving Father
I came across an old write of mine and decided to refresh it.
When I ask with fervour but thank with naught
When I praise the action but ignore the thought
When I cry out for help but not for joy
When I use words to tear down and to destroy
When I remember the hardship but forget my reward
When I pray prince of peace but live by the sword
When I shrink from death but forget to live
When I'm quick to anger but slow to forgive
Forgive me God
The smell of terpentine permeates my favourite blouse
The glow of candle light flickers in my windows
The absent minded stains of ink splattered through out my house
The cool, soft clay feels like silk between my fingers
There is a chisel hanging from a nail in my wall
There is blueprint spread out on a table in front of me
My eyes are canvassing everything, anything, all
There is a colour and flavour in everything I see
There is a word tattooed on my forehead, innovator
I can't help but find a way to reinvent the old and invent the new
What more beautiful a worship to offer the creator
Than to create with the gifts he has given you