Here are the final recorded cries of a mother's heart over a rebellious child. My crying has not ended. I have no idea when it will end. I can only pray and trust that one day God will be honored and glorified through the brokenness of our family.
Life can really knock
a person down.
Before the first
round it gets tough.
Beyond my reach
As if dead,
May as well be,
I cannot touch
That wandering child
So far from our
home.
Freedom worn-
A ball and chain;
Thought to be a prize,
Instead a weight.
Weighted down by rebellion-
The destroyer of
youth.
All innocence gone; given
In a frenzy of
impulsive lust
For all one can experience.
Not ready, but
ready thought.
When will it end?
Where will it
end?
And will there be anything left?
Lord,
Help me to
remember that You love her more than I.
But then, I’m at a disadvantage; You know the outcome.
I can only trust and pray.
Each day.
And pray
Oh, pray—all day.
Do You cry as I? Does
it break your heart as mine,
To know she is running from You too?
I can’t catch her, But You can.
So do! Please hold
her fast!
So some day she’ll return; to You, to us
At last.
What’s Out There?
What’s out there in
the shadows, unknown in the dark,
So attractive?
Who wants your
company, but fears the day?
Evil lives in the
recesses of the night.
He lays in wait to
catch you unaware and draws you near,
Until his hold is clasped about you so tight
that the light is out of reach.
Turn and flee!
Scream!
Get away while
there’s still time.
Before the Dark
swallows your very soul
And leaves you raped,
ravaged
And for dead,
In the dark hollow of
your mind
Without a flicker
Of Light for hope.
Where did it all go
wrong?
Who wrote this
chapter of my life’s book?
It’s written all
wrong!
I didn’t want it to
be lived this way.
The chapters are all
mixed up
With some one else’s
story.
Can we crumple up
these pages and begin again?
I’ll write it how I
want it to be read.
It will be more
comfortable, easier to follow.
Like a Fairy Tale
Without an evil witch
or dragons.
But then, what will
be the plot
And who will want to
read it?
Okay, continue on.
But I’d rather it be
less than one hundred pages.
I’m impatient and
want the happy ending.
Quick!
Besides, the
story hurts while it is being written.
Roses
The other day you
stood handing out roses and it made me think………
You are a rose-
A beautiful young lady,
But when I’m with you, I can only
feel the thorns.
They prick and draw blood,
Injure my soul.
Did you know that there are thorn-less
roses?
With breeding and care:
A flower so beautiful and
delicate
One which does not injure or hurt
Does not draw blood and leave
wounds
It grows and unfolds slowly to
maturity
Carefully tended by the gardener
Until it is cut loose from the branch
and presented to the world
Beautiful and confident in its
radiance
To be placed among the best of
the flowers
Ready to unfold on its own
To capture hearts and make a most
positive impression
Taken from the branch too soon—
The petals will not unfold to
show all it can offer of its inner beauty and rich fragrance
Taken too late and the fragrance
is past its best
The petals fall before they can
be enjoyed for their beauty
We were only trying to tend your
inner beauty and radiance,
To cut you loose at the correct
time,
So you could unfold on your own confidently,
positively, and fully,
Into a beautiful and complete
rose
Surrounded by fragrance.
But the elements of life have
invaded our garden.
The insects of hate destroyed all
we had accomplished.
Now we cannot see you among the
flowers;
Our plant has been hit by blight
And only through constant
attention, hard work, and patience
Can it be restored miraculously
to its state of pure beauty.
But, God is known for His
miracles
And He began our garden.
We’re waiting for our miracle.
The pain is
indescribable;
There is an ache
within my heart.
This grief that has a
hold on me
Is tearing me apart.
There are no easy
answers,
No place to lay aside
This burden I must
carry
Until in His arms I
can abide.
The road that I will
travel
Has many times been
trod.
And when all take the
long route
Our Lord must think
it odd.
For the peace that
passes from Him
Is only a prayer
away,
And if we pause a
moment,
A moment every day,
To give the burden to
Him
With Him it would
stay.
Then in grief’s place
we’d find His peace,
And a gentle quiet
rest.
We’d learn what He
has planned for us
Is always
What is best.
Be quiet inside, in your heart with the lasting charm of a
quiet and gentle spirit which is so pleasing to God. I Peter 3:4
Inside---Beautiful
My heart;
Quiet…
Gentle…
A spirit
Pleasing to God
My prayer...
Lord
You know all:
All the joys
All the pain
All the fears
All the loss
All the beginnings
And where it all ends
I look on as a stranger to a stranger and wonder ---why?
All I ever dreamed of is unattainable, vanished, not to be.
Unimportant,
Uncared for…
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
Oh, to trade places with my child.
I would have loved the nurture and love given,
So missed and coveted at one time.
A life invested, questions asked, eager encouragement.
But it all still remains unattainable.
But now from both sides—
Never given,
Never accepted,
Full circle—Rejection
Lord I never knew how
to love
one who didn’t love
me.
Thank you for
teaching by
Your example on the
tree.
For that I had the need.
I hope for your
return;
I am eagerly waiting
for the day
I do not yet see.
But I know it’s
coming
For I have prayed and
been promised
The desires of my
heart.
Romans 8:25 But if we hope for what we do
not see, then
we eagerly wait for it with perseverance.
Keep her safe….yet break her.
Hold her close…yet let her fall
Draw her near…as each step taken farther from You she
strays.
Never let her out of Your reach…only show her where self
leads.
Love her…even when she’s filled with hate.
Claim her as Yours…although You she has denied.
Bring her back home…You know where she belongs.
Does she never wonder
how she got to where she is?
Lord, she’s some how
lost her way.
Can she not retrace
her steps back to You one day?
Tell her You are
waiting, where the path taken—
She was mistaken.
You’re there to guide
her back to where she used to be.
But only with a
willing heart can she be enabled to see
All that You have
planned for her-
As Your child she’ll
receive.
I Thessalonians 5:18 Give thanks in all
circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.
DO WE THANK HIM
Do we thank Him for
the answer to the prayer that we have prayed
Even though the
answer given was strewn with pain along the way?
We ask to be made Christ
like, yet shudder at the thought-
To walk the path that
Christ walked when we are asked to bear our cross.
Do we thank Him for
the heartache we live with everyday
Knowing we’re a
sinner—
Ahhh, but a sinner
saved!
Do we thank Him in
the shadows when we’re in the Valley
of Despair-
Where He shows us
what is meaningful and our soul has been laid bare;
And all else that we
had hoped for seems to wither in compare?
Do we stop to offer
thank-yous for our pain along life’s way-
Knowing that His
greatest work in us is done when our heart on Him is stayed?
Or, do we only offer thank you when we’re where
we want to be-
When we’re so full of
what He’s given,
Or only on
Thanksgiving Day?
Do we dare, or even
think, to give thanks when we are empty
And what lies ahead
looks grim?
Do we take the time
to stop and humbly give thanks
Just—for Him?
(Written and read
Thanksgiving Eve 1998, Kost Church)
I’ve heard it said
that there is a correct way to pray, a correct way to ask for forgiveness, and
a correct way to forgive. Does God not
know the heart? Is a broken and contrite heart not the correct way? If God gets so caught up in a particular
formula for prayer and forgiveness- what happens when one’s heart is so heavy
and hurting that the formula is forgotten?
Does that prayer go unheard? Is that cry ignored?
No, God does not despise the cry of a broken
and contrite heart.
Psalm51:17 The
sacrifices of God are a broken spirit,
A broken and contrite
spirit-
These, O God you will
not despise. (NKJ)
A true heart.
A need for Jesus.
A plea for help in all weakness.
I understand it now;
I am being pruned to
bear more fruit.
And how can one be
pruned without it being at first
a seeming hardship-
until the fruit comes
forth?
I’m yours Lord, prune away!
It’s hard to take
that first step, but once it’s taken we are on our way.
Each day I’m hoping
for a miracle,
And still, it hasn’t
come.
Yet I’ve been hoping
for awhile now
And pray as each day
ends…
That God would work
His miracle
In this life that He has given.
A miracle of healing
To surround my broken
heart;
A miracle of
wholeness
And restoration for
my soul.
Returning all that
has been taken,
Or squandered in
despair.
Adding more, much
more, to fill my heart
And joy to sooth my
soul.
The miracle is coming
down
The question is not
whether--
They only question’s
when?
© Copyright 2010
© Copyright 2010
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