Digging down deep

Beneath the wet earth from the late season snow

Chilled like the flavorless angst of my threadbare resolve,

Lies packages of hope:  those tubers, those bulbs yet asleep

Waiting for their time when the sun awakens their beauty in Spring.

Toil not, they do not, using their time of dormancy for its purpose instead

Such that life may burst forth with all that emerges from within

Stored in seasons past, full of sugar-coated memories divided between

The new members, the seeds that join miraculous transformation:  the celebration of life as it comes.

How may I be like the created things all around knowing I am so much more —

Use my time of spinning, of strife, of waiting, of failure whilst holding on for my day of celebration too?

For I am worth more than the fruits of the earth, the birds of the air soaring on high

The giant wonders of dark seas, the furry and creepy crawly ones all around

For they have no sense of wonder to bother to reason or ask the mysterious, the “why?”

They simply trust in the DNA of their making and bid their calling to each moment in time.

I may never know the answers to my questions, my quest to make sense of this suffering that goes on

And that must be good enough for me anyways to make the most of what I have been given

As perhaps a stewardship issue, a story told more in the heavenlies than for me here on God’s green earth to know

That someday, digging down deep in my own soul, my Lord will reveal His glory and I will be glader than the raven capturing her prey from above.

Until then, Gentle Reader, we two must trust in the plans set forth by our Father God

Knowing full well that more lies ahead than the lime green leaves birthed from the showers of April

We shall see God and He will love us now til the end of the age when we blossom to the fullness of our destiny

Everlasting, everbearing, ever singing praise to the Most High Who had our hearts all along dear one . . . He said so . . . the beauty from ashes came as we went on and believed.  JJ

Prickly pear cactus, Indiana, cactus, yellow, flowers, garden, gardening, Zone 5, garden themes, poetry

Let there be light

I am so glad I stumbled upon a videotaped performance this evening of the talented and zany Christian communicator, Patsy Clairmont.  My own strength is waxing and waning at the moment so she provided the little something extra I need to make it through to tomorrow.

In her show, Patsy described her search for words to comfort a dear friend battling cancer and found it in Genesis 1:3.  Here God reveals to us through Moses the beginning of the story of life as we know it:

1 In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.

And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.

Patsy points out that the first words the Bible records of God speaking are for there to be light.  Ah yes, light dispels the darkness and guides our way; light is a symbol of God’s glory and presence throughout the Bible, and so much more.  Intended as a meditation for her friend, the simple message of the verse, “let there be light,” became a joyful encouragement to both of them.  I invite you to view the You Tube video for the moving story:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-HpRO8g9Qds

This evening was a dark one for my beloved husband, Steve, and me.  He’s exhausted from the demands of work and his heart breaking as he watches his wife thrash about with convulsions every night.  I am broken, depleted  and in a good deal of pain most evenings from the same and the seemingly lack of direction in my treatment.  It seems that every time I start on a new course of treatment for Lyme, Chronic Inflammatory Response Syndrome or the myriad of related conditions I get sidetracked or have to stop due to increased convulsions.  The current pattern of some form of these “seizure attacks” is for them to occur about three times per day on average with one miraculous 23-hour break earlier this week.  Go figure.

I need the verse, “let there be light” to wash over my burdened soul this night.  I need my Jesus to be the light of my sore heart, the light of my weary steps.  I need my doubt to be transformed by blind faith in His shining light.  I need there to be light.

And so I say to you as I write this in the middle of the night, scared to go to bed for fear of more attacks, “Let there be light.”  And to my heavenly Father, “Let there be light.”  And to those exasperated by the duration of my illness, “Let there be light.”  And to all of those who are weary, “Let there be light.”  Together we can find His light and know what that means in our own lives as the night gives way to the day . . .  zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz