Words.

One spoken, they dance like ✨fireflies ✨in the twilight of the recipient's thoughts forever. Considering this, let us speak words that build up, not crush. May we fill the air around us with words of ✨sweetness✨light and above all, the ✨kindness✨that gives wings to ✨hope. ✨

Wild Places

I am most truly content when I'm in the great outdoors.
It's where I commune best with my Creator.
I am convinced that the meadows are His antechamber and the forest His temple.
The wilderness? His cathedral.

In it, He has created for me a soothing sanctuary,
a calm hiding place, a wondrous playground.

I hear His voice most clearly in these untamed places. Calling me. 

Speaking my name from the woodland, He draws me out..

I follow His voice, seeking Him. Never has He hidden.

Always I find Him.  Here.

I see His craftsmanship at every turn.
The sky is His canvas.
The heavens and earth His artistry.
He adorns the field with bird, butterfly and berry.
He washes my eyes with colors, blue, green, gold.
Shades so familiar yet unnameable, even though I try.
His palette defies replication, the tone and hue known only to Him.

His fragrance, the air itself, a sweet scent on the wind.
His incense is the pine forest,
the honeyed aroma of the wildflower.
His spice, the shaded glen.
In winter He speaks to me in the hushed tones of snow on pine.
The woods are tranquil and sleepy. I hear Him whisper...peace..rest.

Listen. do you hear?

All the earth and every creature that on it dwells,

Exalting Him in their own tongue.

The wind whispers His name. 

Holy. Holy. Holy is the Lord God Almighty.

Bees hum, birds sing His praises.

The high whinny of the horse announces His glory!

Holy! Holy is the Lord God almighty. 

Even the rocks cry out His name.

My spirit quickens within me to join the song.

The trees begin to bow and sway, applauding His presence.
He is here. He is here!
My heart lightens as I run to Him,
For tranquility and rest are in His bosom.
Safety and love are found neath the shelter of His wings,
My one true home is in His arms...

Here.  In the wild.

My Heart's Song

Awareness beckons.
Calling my mind to the surface,
towards consciousness,
away from dreams of the night.

Unwaveringly, my mind sets off on a road all it's own.
I travel a well worn route, walk it daily.
Down the miles and the years to where my children dwell.
But they are children no longer, these sons of mine.
Men now, years past mothering and the need for one.

Still it is a mother's heart that beats in my chest.
A drum pounding a song to my sons grown so far from me.
An anthem that could not be stopped if I desired it so.
The lullaby they listened to under my ribs
as they lay waiting to burst forth into the world.
My heart will sing this litany
till the last beat quiets in my chest.

A canticle so familiar and true,
strummed on my heartstrings
the moment I first beheld them.
When my heart swelled beyond reason,
so full of amazement and joy
that it must surely burst.

The lyrics never change.
They are the same, enduring.
Words of love and hope.
An acclamation brimming with motherly pride..
It is an ode full of joy and anticipation,
for who they are and who they will become.

It is a quiet hymn of thankfulness.
For I am blessed to know them,
to have held them in my arms.
It is a chant to the world
that I am holding them still.
In my heart. In my mind.
In my prayers.

My song is full and pouring over,
an aria that runs in an endless river
from my heart to theirs.
I am convinced this refrain will echo
down the years.
Long after I am gone from this place.

If they listen closely,
with their hearts open wide.
I believe.
They will catch the melody
of my heart's song,

Still drifting to them on the breeze...

Just an old chunk of wood

At first I see nothing beyond the familiar form.

The "me" I have become over the years.

The hardened block of who I am.

Recently though, life has come at me like an axe.
The first swing sliced cleanly through the branches of who I believe I am. It is now busy lopping away the bark covering the persona I have unknowingly created.

This slashing is painful to the extreme.
I wonder if can survive this much chiseling and gouging. It seems there may be nothing recognizable left.

I study my reflection.

It's still me that stares back, yet not me.

Hmm, something  new there, just behind the eyes.

Though still raw and rough hewn to behold,

it's evident.  A transformation is taking place.

An epiphany surfaces,
I am being sculpted.

A craftsman has eyed this timber it seems.
Considered it's natural shape and bend.
Determined the best means to free the heart within.
Artistic license is being taken.

This artist will shape me as he sees fit,
skillfully carving me into something useful.
My true grain is slowly beginning to show.

I am more than a little surprised.

The color is deeper and richer than I thought likely.
Much more real this "new" me.

I know this transformation is nowhere near complete.
So much more work to be done.
I can't imagine what the sanding process will entail.
When finished,  I cannot fathom who I will be,
or what I will look like.

Though still painful to endure,
I think I've found the key.

To abide this refinement,

I cannot not fight against my sculptor's hand.
I must yield to his touch. Trust the skill of his knife.
I will wait patiently..

and let the chips fall where they may..

Where is love?

Love is patient.

Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.

Love is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love covers offenses.

Perfect love casts out fear.

True love cannot be quenched.

Love always builds up.

Love is God is...LOVE.

Truth. Fo sho.

A Hard Look in the Mirror..

This entry was difficult to write, so I know it will be uncomfortable to read. It may make you squirm a little. But man or woman, parent or spouse, I pray if you see yourself here, even a little bit, these words of mine will encourage you to change and to grow.

I know of what I speak. This is a lesson learned in the hardest possible way, by wielding my words as a weapon and seeing the injured fall under the weight of them. It is an offense I detest in myself. Oh, to unsay a lifetime of thoughtless words that have pierced my loved ones. But no. Once airborne they cannot be drawn back, and they echo into eternity.

Like a blade, harsh words lay the victim wide. Yet we throw them about with no regard to the pain they cause. Apologize as we might, the damage is done. The wounded, though they forgive us, will nonetheless bear a scar.

If I can enlighten one person to the devastation of this, then these words are not in vain. So dear friends, this is my love letter to you:


I heard you today. You and your little family enjoying a mall lunch at the food court, your children playing in the fountain. So entertaining to watch, such a perfect little family. Then it happened.

I saw the daggers fly from your lips. Straight toward your wife's heart, they hit their target full on. Her shoulders sagged. Your words knocked the wind out of her, visibly crumbling her self-worth. I don't believe you realize the power of your words.

Like a snake, your criticism wrapped around her, crushing her spirit. Your assessment of her inadequacies was like a knife. You were probably trying to motivate her, but you shamed her instead. Though only a onlooker, your words stung me too. I'm sure you love her, I can see that you love her, but you wield your words like a club. I fear you will beat her to death with them.

Still, behind the hurt in her eyes, I could see that she adores you. She thinks you hung the moon. Young man, prove it's true. Be the person she thinks you are. Walk in grace and integrity, curb your tongue.

You are called to be her protector, her safe place, not her judge, not her jury. Not one more voice in a world of voices that tramples her down. A gift to you, she was created from God's own heart, made beautiful inside and out. He knows and loves her as she is right now, just as he does you.

I'm sure it would shock you, if someone told you how you sound. But, be it adult or child, if there is little feeling of acceptance, understanding and respect between two people, if one is hurting, is belittled or mocked by the other; "can't you do anything right?", "you're so lazy", "are you an idiot?" that person is verbally battered.

Some would justify, "Being nice doesn't work. They've got to learn to take it. I'm doing it for their own good, to help them become a better person." But another might ask, does verbal abuse ever make someone a better, healthier person? Does it ever enrich the relationship? Does it ever show love?

For some unfathomable reason, we seem to be the hardest on the ones we love the most. To our family we often speak with severity, using words we would never utter to a friend, an acquaintance, or a even a stranger. Why do we have this need to be judge over another? Why the desire to "fix" our loved ones, to point out their shortcomings, when we should be working our own?

How confusing, the heart. How devious the tongue. (you can read more on this: James 3:2-12)

But of course, thankfully, there is a wonderfully redeeming flip-side. The tongue can speak joy and peace as healing as any balm. Soothing, they bless both the hearer and the speaker. Sweet words make our hearts sing. Words of affirmation and acceptance build us up. They help us stand taller and make us feel loved and appreciated, safe and warm. They beget kind words in return. They teach our children the power of kindness.

Something harshness can never do, words of encouragement easily accomplish, for they cause us to bloom. Like spring rain, they create in us a desire to grow, to reach for the sky. To be our best. And it's in this process that we all become richer, fuller and more complete.

What a contrast. Words can cut or they can heal. Bring pain or comfort, sadness or joy. Death and life it seems, are in the power of the tongue.

Choose life.

'Nuff said.

The Bitter Root

It starts out as a hurt, real or imagined. It plants itself in my mind and heart. I water it with my distressed thoughts, raking it over time and again. Before I know it, bitterness has taken root and soon blooms into what looks like Jack's beanstalk. Or more like that plant, Audrey Jr. from The Little Shop of Horrors.

It's huge and feeds on my thought life for weeks or months. When finally I get sick of this thing eating me alive and come to my senses, I decide enough is enough. That's it. I'm forgiving this person. I take hold of the hurt, give a pull and up it comes. Easy. There it's gone.

What I didn't see was the root left behind, below the surface, and the next time that person comes to mind..whoosh! I turn around and there it is, bitterness, anger, resentment in full bloom again. It always surprises me. Where did THIS come from? I dealt with that weed long ago.

We all know weeds are almost impossible to get rid of. You pull, you dig, you spray, you set it on fire and if you work REALLY hard, you MIGHT eradicate it. God in his wisdom offers a much better plan. Don't plant it in the first place.
Hebrews 12:15 "See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many."

Here is what I am learning. Dispense with hurt while it's still a seed. Take it to God and if possible, to the person that caused it. It's alright to examine it, but then choose to forgive and cast the hurt away. Don't allow yourself to dwell on it any longer. Give it no room to grow in the garden of your mind. Philippians 4:8 states "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." These are flowers in the garden.

Weeds and flowers don't grow well together. The weeds will eventually choke the flowers out. Deal ruthlessly with bitterness and anger. Ephesians 4:31 "Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice."

As for dealing with old hurts and resentments that we have cultivated.....

Lay an axe to the root.