for I have mountains of ice about me to melt.
Let creation cry to its Maker
of His glorious works and majestic splendor, knowing
that it exists because He loves.
Let the willow weep its tired song,
as it sways to the rhythm of its winds,
a dance so perfectly perfected. Let praise abound.
Let the waves escape from the water, to quench
the thirsty sands of the shore. Let the moon
and the tide tug and pull in their daily struggle.
Let the rocks lay, their purpose fulfilled.
Let the sun set before its faithful rise. Let the
budded rose bloom. Let praise abound.
To the blood orange hue of the rising sun, to the
crops that supply, to the crashing rain that sounds
let praise abound.
Let it come from the North, West,
East and South. Whether breath filled
or lifeless, let praise abound.
Don’t look now
There are wings on your back
Waiting to flutter and flitter and flap
They’re very well hidden
By your deeps fears and shame
They’re weak and about to wither away
It’s obvious that you’ve
Forgotten they’re there
For they’ve been poorly managed, given no care
Or perhaps no one told you
Of the wings on your back
Instead they just mocked, mimicked and laughed
Your wings are enormous
Named Believe and Free
They’re ready to fly you anywhere you would dream
The setting: Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. Crowded.
The cast of characters: myself, husband D’Andre, my mom and my dad.
The four of us were walking along, weaving through the sea of bodies at the amusement park on an overcast, Saturday afternoon. D’Andre and I, while not paying attention, were several paces ahead of my parents, who had stopped to purchase tickets for the rides. I clearly heard a familiar whistle which prompted an immediate response to turn around. I had gone too far. We quickly spotted my parents and walked back toward them.
As we approached them, I noticed my mom laughing. She commented with a smile, “just like when you were little.” I immediately knew she was referring to my dad’s whistle noise and it too made me smile.
There was something inside of me that was able to recognize, despite hundreds of sounds around me, the distinct pitch of my dad’s “call”. Like an instinct, I knew how to react.
Jesus said, “my sheep know my voice, I know them, and they follow me.” I don’t always feel that I hear God’s voice as clearly as I heard my dad’s this afternoon. However, I desire that when I do, my reaction would be the same. Instant. Without hesitation. Ultimately, full of trust. Trusting that my dad knows when I’ve gone too far, He’s got his eye on me and He’s calling me back.
One week at church camp. One changed woman.
Standing at the front of a small, old room, I look out and see a group of young people. The space is filled with the heaviness of their voices echoing, “love came down and rescued me, love came down and set me free… I am Yours, I am forever Yours”. With desire, expectation and a tangible thirst for more, they sang. There was no option but to weep before the Lord. So, I did.
4 months ago I took a “job” as a Jr High pastor and while I expected that it would be awesome, I had no idea how much these young people would change me. There exists a literal ache in my heart that I can only describe as a weight of love that I carry for them. I have never hoped for people the way that I hope for them; prayed for people the way that I pray for them, or believed for people the way that I believe for them. I have never desired so greatly that any group of people be connected to God the way that I desire these young people to be. It is a burden that I am overjoyed to carry.
My heart is full.