LAST Sabbatical Reflection: Words on a Page #36 I Remember

 I Remember...  

...words taken and reworked almost directly from Ezekiel 16...

The clear image has stolen into my mind

Day and night, without bidding.

A waking dream. I remember. 

I see her...feeling so very old at 15,

But truly so, so very young.

Insecure. Lost. Sad. Scared. 

I remember the days of my youth,

I know where I came from, 

where you found me. 

I know the state I was in---

The pain, the confusion.

Where I was heading.

You found me, 

born from lines of sin and treachery.

Bloodied with misuse.

Uncared for. Unseen.

Tossed aside and neglected.

You found me naked, unaware of my shame.

Tenderly, you brought me close.

With your hesed, you bathed me.

You washed me clean. 

You clothed me with fine linen.

Adorned me with beauty and wealth.

You fed me with choice foods.

You poured abundance.

You poured blessing on my head.

You established an everlasting covenant.

You offered yourself to me, 

Covered me with your garments.

You called me your own.

I belong to you!
I am yours.

You are mine.

With joy and with peace

You fill my days.

Your love is better than life.

Written November 2020

...words taken and reworked almost directly from Ezekiel 16..

Ezekiel 16:3-14 

"...I bathed you with water and washed the blood from you and put ointments on you. I clothed you with an embroidered dress and put sandals of fine leather on you. I dressed you in fine linen and covered you with costly garments. I adorned you with jewellery: I put bracelets on your arms and a necklace around your neck..."

HESED 

Written November 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #35 Farmers Words

 The Farmer's Words

Something is always wrong with the sheep, 

the farmer says with disdainful tone.

Their feet, their bums, ever lost or caught.

Would never make it on their own.

Funny that He calls me sheep,

Rumbles of laughter fill my soul.

My body, my will, often lost or caught.

My freedom is found in His control. 

Something is always wrong with this sheep.

This truth sits like a wisdom crown.

My shepherd, my farmer, my gardener, my friend.

Watched by Him, I'm safely found.  

Written November 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #34 Painting Clouds

 Painting Clouds

I simply can't paint you. 

I try and I struggle. 

But you will not be held or captured. 

I can not pin you down.

Your splendour and majesty.

Your brilliance of colour and depth.

Your movement and grace.

Your diversity and changeability.

I cannot capture you with my brush.

An argument I will never win.

A venture that has no end.

Wrestling Leviathan or a fight with the sea.

I try.  I struggle.

I attempt new techniques. 

New colours and strokes.

I shift and shade.

My skills are lacking, to be sure.

Yet, I am convinced that even if...

If I had the skills of the masters, 

I could never paint you.

Vangough's brilliant use of colour, 

his light and shadows...

He failed to paint you.  

To paint you truly. 

You have been painted already.

Made, altered, mastered...

by the Master, Himself. 

He that pulls the great beast with a hook.

He that wrestles the waves.

He that says, thus far and no more!

He has painted you perfectly.

Displayed His magnificent skills!

November 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #33 The Power of Words

 Power of Words

A simple phrase

spoken with a smile.

Said with kindness, 

words slam into my chest.

My balance is lost,

Rocked and off kilter.

Spoken shockwaves, 

I tilt and sway.

Sickness rises from the deep,

Said once, now a mantra.

Words swirl and surround,

running and racing in my mind.

Dizzy and disoriented,

I feel the shift.

I fight to keep stable.

Just stay still!

I pull at my heart,

tug it back into place.

Find my equilibrium again. 

I whisper truth to my soul.

It was just a simple phrase...

It was such a sweet smile...

Written November 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #32 Rambler

 Rambler

She called him a rambler.

Defined by his adventures, 

he rambles his way through

valley, field and mountain pass.

He walks, she explained.

He walks often... for fun, she laughed.

He rambles, she said again, 

willing me to understand.

Words bounce in my head and I wonder, 

As I walk the hills,

one muddy step after another, 

I ponder the words as they run through my head.

Am I a rambler?

It may not be Tryfan or Pen y fan, 

It certainly will never be Everest.

The Himalayas are not my cup of tea!

But, indeed, I ramble.

I ramble through this life.

I traverse and trek through peeks and passes.

Making my way through forest and fields.

I would not have chosen this life, 

this adventure and ramble 

of body, soul and mind.

But, I am grateful for the vistas.

I am deeply thankful for the sounds

I am in wonder for all I have seen.

Excited about the whispers of what is to come.

Yes, indeed!  I call me a rambler.

Written October 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #31 Tree Symphony

 Tree Symphony

Sounds like rolling laughter

The trees shout and rejoice.

They dance and sing, 

wild movements inspired

by wind and worship.

One high note rings, 

One low bass resounds.

The symphony of celebration

surrounds and engulfs.

Enchanted and uplifted,

I raise my voice.

I lift my hands.

I join the song and the dance! 

"Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them;

Let all the trees of the forest sing for joy! Let all creation rejoice!"

Psalms 96:12

Written October 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page#20 Hidden

 Hidden

The tide rolls in and covers.

Boulders and stones lay beneath.

Hidden. Unseen.

Beneath movement and thick deep

Cities and stadiums of structure stand.

Hidden. Unseen.

Give it time!  The tide will shift again.

These rocks and foundations will be revealed

Opened and on display.

"For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, 

and nothing concealed that will not be known

and brought out into the open."

Luke 8:17

Hallelujah and Praise Him for His mercy and unfailing love.  

Hesed  חֶסֶד‎!  

Written October 2020

Reminds me of this post from 2009

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #29 Peace

 Peace

Coins spilling out of a purse, 

over-filled and bursting.

An inheritance is mine,

more wealth than Solomon himself.

And yet, I walk often without shoes,

without my coat that keeps me warm.

Riches beyond reason,

legacy that surpasses understanding.

I have been given peace,

As a birthright, it is mine!

Enduring endowment to fill,

Reality to guard and satisfy.

Today, I will accept the ring, 

wrap myself in the robe.

Today, I will lean in and receive,

I will rest my head and lay on that pillow.

I will walk in the given gift,

Take a long needed nap on the boat. 

Written October 2020

"Peace I leave with you.  My peace I give you..." (John 14:17)

Mark 4:38-39

Philippians 4:7

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #28 Perfect Redefined

 Perfect Redefined

Nature doesn't move in a linear fashion.

There is nothing neat and tidy

found on the forest floor.

Leaves don't fall into a pile.

Random, scattered, multi coloured

Thrown, tossed---a tumble of here and there.

Grass doesn't grow in a straight line.

Wild, untamed, high and low

The curves and the turns have no pattern.

Trees don't stretch out straight.

Jut out, jagged, jostled about

Flaws and faults the norm.  

The path ahead twists and turns.

Rocks strewn left and right

This plant, that tree, this vine or weed.

Nature let's her hair down.

Flowing freely whipped by wind.

 Dishevelment is earth's standard.

Creation is not clean, pristine, or scrubbed.

Seemingly random, wonderfully creative! 

Variety and diversity esteemed.

Beauty found in blemish.

Peace amidst mess.

Charm and comfort in chaos and colour. 

Isn't the woodland wonder just perfect?

The wild, wind blown grass just perfect?

The twisted trees draped over the path...

Absolutely perfectly perfect!

Written October 2020