Start at the point of exasperation

When you reach the end of your rope then a new one must come forth

‘Cause everyone needs a hand to hold onto sometimes.

When all you can see is a dark web of experience, a broken road underfoot

Then we must cling to a crossbar strong enough to last forever.

When your body is broken, unreliable, and shaking with ravages of illness

There is no reason not to grab a hold of something eternal, transcendent, permanent, sublime.

When the pain begins as your eyes open and close each day, each night

Trust that these are a consequence of our fallen world, not your curse tender child.

When hopes get dashed over and over and over and over again

Re-examine what you are hoping for . . . the journey is alas, laced with gold.

When “challenges” plague you that would dwarf the average soul next door

Walk your own path with eyes fixed on your Maker Who is holding your heart.

When all hope is gone it is actually the perfect time Gentle Reader

To cling to our risen Christ, borne from an old rugged Cross, waiting in earnest to love you through it all.

When one day the suffering ends and your exasperation is but ashes on the dirty ground

Know that to finish well, not pretty or neat, is its own just reward. We’ve got this. He’s got us. And all will be made well.

Isaiah, 41:13, Lord holding us, take heart, trials, illness, disease, suffering, tragedy, Christian, Jesus, hope, enduring, reward

When darkness comes

The worst of the nights, the worst of the days

Seem to come more often of late

Leaving me exasperated:  a fine word indeed

When all one’s strength is gone.

Desperate cries to my Lord go out

Nothing comes back.  I am alone.

My beloved is here but can do nothing

He is helpless but to feed me something

In hopes I won’t choke, that it might help.

The wretched seizures are more pervasive now

I cannot think of a greater hell

When my head bangs so, my breath does not come

And my thoughts are stuck in stun mode.

Then my Doc cancels again

How is this even right when I am in need

So much is wrong in that office

Leaving me to fend for myself again.

Years have gone by

With nary a change

I guess if another day passes

I must still be alive.

Waiting on the Lord

Waiting on the Lord,

Clinging to this keyboard,

Playing the “how long psalm” in my head.

 

Where does my help come from?

So obvious that it’s Him once again

And yet the troubles trouble on.

 

“God is not Santa Claus,”

I once wrote a fellow sufferer, or

One who hands us our lottery happiness ticket.

 

The Lord knows no boundary of time

So our journey must not be measured so

Lest we push ourselves out of His perfect plan.

 

For if we take the reigns

And steer off course by will

We may never see His glorious promise revealed.

 

He will never leave us or forsake us.

He is with us now and til the end.

His mercies renew and He graces us with abundantly more.

 

Humbly shall I remain

Waiting on my Lord with open eyes

For His return in glory:  it will be soon.

 

And on that day I know I will be glad for all.

like a river glorious