Echoes of Emptiness

Hello?

                                Low…Low…Low...

Are you here?

                                Fear…Fear…Fear…

I can’t see you!

                                Rue…Rue…Rue…

It’s too dark!

                                Stark…Stark…Stark…

You promised not to leave.

                                Grieve…Grieve…Grieve…

I should have known.

                                Lone…Lone…Lone…

WHERE ARE YOU?

                                Who…Who…Who…

Slim light slices through darkness

                                Test…Test…Test…

A doorway slowly creaks open

                                Hopin’…Hopin’…Hopin’…

Are you coming then?                                                  

Then…Then…
              When…When...

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Psalm 13: 1-2

“How long O Lord, will you forget me? Forever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me?

How long shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily?”…

And so begins one of the many psalms written by David. You know, the one that the Bible proclaims was “a man after God’s own heart.” Yet, even the beloved David had periods of time that he felt abandoned by God; when the trials in his life just became too much to bear. He was a man on the run, in the wilderness, trying to evade Saul’s army. I am sure the weight of it all must have worn him down at times. Still, if a man as close to God’s heart as David could experience doubt and emptiness, then of course, so can we.

How easy it is to praise God when everything is sunshine and roses: the bills are paid and work is going well, at home the smell of warm food drifts from the kitchen, the kids are behaving and love abounds. But when times get hard and the raging storms come thundering in, that’s when the real testing of our faith begins.

As Christians, we are assured that God has a plan for us. We know in our hearts that He never leaves us and that His timing is perfect. Still, as our burdens get heavier and we bow beneath the load, we can’t help but cry out “Where are you, Lord? Have You forgotten me? How long before You rescue me from my situation?”

I wish I could tell you in forty days and forty nights the storms will scatter and the only showers remaining will be those of abundant blessings. The hard fact is there is no prearranged timetable, no countdown to mark off the days left to endure. And so we do the only thing we can do. We pull out and polish our nicked and slightly tarnished armor, strap it on, hold tight to our shields, plant our feet, grit our teeth…And wait. 

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Lord of Light, David's prayer in Psalm 13 echoes the prayer in my own heart. Like David, I end my psalm of desperate seeking with refrains of hope; for I know that even the darkness hides nothing from You and that You will provide help in Your perfect timing. Still my prayers are becoming pleadings. Come quickly to my rescue, Abba, for only You can. ~ Amen

Picture from beaconfallscongregational.org

Mustard Seed Faith

Today,
I want to tell You
that I trust you, Lord.
Though my prayers
have gone unanswered.
Though so many needs
are yet to be met.

I wait,
impatiently so.
Searching heaven for help
that's still yet to come.
I scan the skies,
each cloud that passes,
for the one You ride upon.

I search
in expectation,
with wounded spirit
covered in battered armor;
all the while clinging
to a faith larger
than the mustard seed.

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Tonight, I feel no need for an additional devotional. Simpy put, we all get weary from the battles of earth.
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Make haste, Lord Jesus. I (we) need you. ~ Amen

Honeysuckle and Privet Hedge

On our Sunday morning wander,

we walked along the timbered trail;

when suddenly I stopped to smell.

Eyes closed, I stopped to ponder,

a heady perfume in the air.

What tantalizing scent hung there?

Inhale…

Exhale…

Memories flowed on fragrant breezes.

With scented wind I was carried

back to innocent childhood days.

White and yellow flowered bouquets,

gathered so my face could bury

in nose-tickling, sweet perfume,

the tendrils twined within privet blooms.

I’d pluck,

then pinch,

taste nectar’s drop upon my tongue.

Sweet memories formed by fragrant

honeysuckle and privet hedge

found along the timbered trail’s edge.

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I know some people consider honeysuckle and privet hedge to be a hindrance in the garden. They can be invasive and take over if allowed to, but I can't imagine spring without their wonderful scent wafting through the air. 

I can remember laying across my parents' bed, with their south-facing window wide open allowing the perfume of the privet bush right outside to fill the room. It is one of my favorite aromas and always takes me back to childhood. And, it never seems to fail, wherever there is privet hedge, honeysuckle is always somewhere close by. The two together flood the backyard with an intense fragrance that I wish I could bottle to enjoy in winter!

Who among us hasn't pinched off a bloom and slowly pulled it away to taste that singular drop of honeysuckle clinging to the "string"? I know adults that still can't fight that temptation at least once during the season. :-)

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Lord of Nature - You amaze me! I praise You for all the wonderful things you have surrounded us with that seduce the senses of man. . .Even the simple honeysuckle flower with its hidden drop of nectar to taste. The smell of it combined with the heady perfume of privet, brilliantly intoxicating, Father!  Help me to take more time to enjoy the simple pleasures in life, God, and to always share them with others. ~ Amen

Wren’s Poem

O little wren,

so small and unassuming,

How can it be,

your voice rings out so clear?

The world we’re in

has a habit of presuming

that size is key,

you can’t be,

more than you appear.

Still - a plain brown bird

whose stature is misleading;

your tiny chest

swells in massive melody.

Your trill is heard

within the branches rising,

“I am blessed!”

“I am blessed,”

 so immensely. 

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You can't judge a book by its cover or a bird by their size. . .

I love feeding the birds in my backyard! You never know what is going to fly in to join the feast. But, until recently, I never realized that this common little Carolina Wren has such a BIG voice. Wrens are tiny and they are plain in their looks, just a simple cinnamon color! According to what I have read, they may weigh as much as two quarters held in your hand. Yet, their voices carry as strong a tune volume-wise as a mockingbird. I have heard their song many, many times. But, until one sang right in front of me, I never dreamed that effervescent voice came from such a pint sized, little bird. Just goes to show you should never underestimate any creature. You never know what magical gift God has given them. They say they sing, "teakettle, teakettle" but what bird sings that, lol? I changed it to "I am blessed!" :-)

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Maker of Music in Nature - I thank you for the many ways You have placed magic and beauty in our lives. Even the simplest of creatures bring wonder into this world, if we will just take time to notice. Your creativity is truly amazing, Lord. I praise You too, for even I am more than meets the eye; as is true with everyone in this world. We need only look with Your eyes, Father. ~ Amen

The Road Taken
 Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.      
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Day 30, Poem 30 (one day late because my internet refused to work!) - The poetry prompt for the 30th was to take an existing poem and take each line and try to exchange words for opposite meanings. Once again, I turned to Robert Frost. :-o

The original poem:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

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Nothing Easy

You hide behind a scowl

to warn the world away.

But I see past your mask

and love you anyway.

Nothing . . .

worth having is easy ,

or so that's what they say.

Harder than it has to be

seems to always be our way.

And yet. .  .

when your mask slips past

to let your smile shine through,

I see the love I long to last

and know the adage is true.

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Day 29, Poem 29:

It is getting late. I had to toss aside the poetry prompt given for today or I would never get a poem written - even though I know some Spanish. The prompt was to include five words in another language. Instead, this came from somewhere unexpectedly. Thank goodness, or I would have come this far to end at day 28. :-)

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Thank you, Lord, for never giving up on us like we sometimes give up on each other. Even when I know sometimes we make it hard for you to love us. We all make mistakes, but you love us anyway. Thank you for your mercy! ~ Amen

Green Is…

Green is the taste of crisp apples;

tangy and tart as you bite through the skin,

sweet juiciness running down your chin.

Green is the forest floor dappled

with light and looking up to see

patterns through a leafy canopy.

Green is the brush of moss beneath

fingertips; velvety soft and lush.

To the touch, both distinctive and plush.

Green is the smell of fresh cut grass;

of damp earth, herbs and scraggly weeds;

Nature's own pungent potpourri.

Green is the sound of frogs at night,

their song carrying in the calmness

of the twilight's peacefulness.

Green is wealth to the senses. 

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Day 28, Poem 28: 

The picture is one Ryan took in Japan. Isn't all the green beautiful? Today's poetry prompt was to write a color poem. I did one in the past with blue, so I wanted to do something new this time around.:-)

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Creator of All Colors - It amazes me how many shades of each hue you created in your artist's palette. So much detail that the eyes of man miss because they are in too big a hurry to truly see. Open my eyes, Lord, to all the beauty you painted all around me. Thank you for caring so much to create such beauty in this world! ~ Amen