Today is a Waltz

October 1, 2009

This feeling inside my soul today is a waltz. You take my hand, we look deeply into each other’s eyes. You lead, I follow. We move across the floor like a dream. We float without effort in rhythm with our hearts beating as one… then, in syncopation… beating together again. You cause my heart to skip a beat, or two. I remember to breathe. I smile to see I leave you breathless, too. Never before have I felt so alive as I do in this dance. Never before have I felt such comfort as I do in your arms. Your graceful elegance makes me feel like a queen. This reality is more beautiful than any dream I have ever dreamed.

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Incomparable

September 15, 2009

You quiet my noisy mind with whispers of hope and peace. You promise a future – eternity with You. Your words are not empty. They are sure and proven, over and again. All power is in Your Word. Time and space are Yours. There is neither power nor thing not under Your command. The seas thunder and roll passionately, yet honor Your periphery. The sun remains in its place, burning fiercely and constantly… a reminder of Your faithful love. Nothing compares to Your love, my Lord. Nothing compares to Thee.

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May I Have This Dance?

August 29, 2009

Today was especially challenging. I woke up lonely. Had it not been for the kids needing breakfast, perhaps I would have spent the day in bed. Not because I was tired, but because my heart was too heavy to get up. How does this happen? I have it all, so it would seem from the outside looking in. I’ve been tremendously blessed… indeed, but I’ve made tremendous misjudgements. As a result, the proverbial bar is raised to a very high standard. As such, sometimes life is a little lonely. It’s okay. Exclusive selection is a process and such a process often takes time.

Time. Precious time.

I peeled myself off the sheets and set about my course for the day, eventually arriving at a yard sale down the street on my way to the Farmer’s Market. There were odds and ends all across the property, large and small for treasure hunters abounding the neighborhood. As I approached the gate to enter the property, my eyes fell upon some framed art displayed along the iron fence. I stopped in stunned amazement. There propped amongst the framed pieces was a print of The Singing Butler by Jack Vettriano — my very favorite piece of modern art in all the world. The original painting is a back view of an elegant lady in a stunningly beautiful long, red dress and contrasting bare feet as she is waltzed on a sandy beach by an equally elegant gentleman dressed in tux and tails. They are being serenaded under cover of an open umbrella by a singing butler. Hence, the title of the piece, I would imagine.

Sight of it literally stopped me in my tracks. I stood there, gaping. This print served as a vivid reminder that I am in Daddy God’s arms. This is His dance. The serenade is that of His choosing. Its timing. Its tempo. Its duration. He has given His angels charge over me. He will not allow my foot to slip. The ocean waves can only come as far as He allows. Being the gentleman that He is, He asked me if He could have this dance. I accepted. I follow His lead.

I am quite confident that the artist did not have my metaphoric ideal in mind when his brush graced the canvas, ultimately gifting us with his beautiful masterpiece. However, art  being subjective and all, I adore the piece, holding precious the imagery it inspires in my heart every time I see it.

I bought the print.

One day, in Daddy God’s perfect timing, He is going to allow me to finally waltz with that beautiful man whom He has purposed for my life. Only He knows for sure when and if that will be. God is perfect, you know, and He will not be rushed. I trust that He knows what’s best for me. I know I am precious in His sight. He is so loving to remind me, in ways that only He can, that I am never alone.

I am my Beloved’s and He is mine.

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Indelible Traces

August 19, 2009

Indelible traces of your presence fill the treasury of my heart. Musical. Artistic. Mystical. Poetic. Literary. Liturgical. Historical. Geographical. Biological. Chemical. Curious. Intrigue. Comedy. Tragedy. Ridiculous. Serious. Insane. Sincerity. Humane. Every auspicious wonder somehow expresses your indelible fingerprints all over my life. 

Expression. A thing I can’t quite grasp when it comes to describing the traces you’ve left on my life, my heart and my mind. A thousand expressions. Ten thousand different nuances. Each one new. One impression deep in my soul. Never once did I dream that you would touch me this way.

I’m not even sure of when you arrived. Far before I was aware you were here. You’ve known me forever. From the beginning, it seems.

Indelible traces reveal evidence of where you’ve been along my path and what you’ve seen. You know. You’ve seen with your very own eyes. Your eyes… so knowing.

Indelible traces lead me to places I never known, before you.

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Choose Happiness

July 23, 2009

ladybug_fingertipWhen a ladybug lands on you, make a wish, make a wish! Then, before blowing it off your skin, say:

“Ladybug, Ladybug….”

The whole concept and morbidity of the rhyme always made me sad for the poor, helpless ladybug. Why would she want to fly to her home if it were on fire? By the time she’d get there, what horror and devastation would she see? And, Dear God, what of her children? In the face of her horrible misfortune how could I dare to breathe a wish for myself?

I’d watch the poor creature crawling around on my skin, hoping that all was truly good and right in her ladybug world.

Ladybugs look happy.polkadorts

Are polka dots not the epitome of all things happy and carefree?

Take in a deep breath of fresh air. In with the good… out with the bad.

I don’t want to just look happy — like a ladybug. I want to be happy.

I choose happiness.

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No Fear

July 21, 2009

The most sincere words pour from my heart only to feel searing coals thrust upon my shoulders immediately following the release of them into the atmosphere. Apprehension scorches down my back from not knowing how my words will be received.

Oh, the pain. The pain of unknowing.

I am not responsible for how I am received. I am only responsible for the manner in which I give.

Yet, time has proven over and again that I am my own worst critic, as my words have often been the salve which brings healing to a broken heart, the evasive lyrics to a beautiful melody, the answer to a quandary gnawing at one’s heart and mind. My words, when spoken in kindness, have been the keys unlocking bolted prison doors freeing one from prison walls where others before me have captured and held hostage a loving heart for reasons beyond my knowledge and understanding.

Even so, often, I keep my words locked deep inside… deep down inside… for fear moves me to reconsider my inspiration and I remain paralyzed in the clutches of fear. Fear often moves me to keep my arms reservedly at my sides instead of hugging a soul who needs to feel their battered body and wounded heart wrapped in a compassionate embrace.

God give me the discernment I need from Your heart and mind to move me in the path You have set for me. Move me as You are moved by compassion for the love of Your creation. Help me to understand my fear when it is merely fear and not decorum or propriety but rather, my pride. Help me to know when it is fear that ridicules me as I am indeed good enough, smart enough, rich enough, clever enough and beautiful enough to move at Your Word.

I am Your Beloved and You are mine. I have nothing to fear.

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Possibilities

July 16, 2009

3641175070_6c290acdccThe familiar klink of stainless steel being lifted off its hook —  the beginnings of a favorite kitchen symphony. Will it be dinner? Will it be tea? Will it be for colored eggs or sterility?

Tap water fills the pot, clear and deep. Silver pot placed carefully on the stove for the umpteen thousandth time. Pot sets quietly as the flame burns beneath its base.

What is it for? Possibilities are endless. Boiling water… it can be the beginning of just about anything.DSCF1435

Cook has done her part. Flames of fire take over in this familiar routine. Slowly and steadily its cadance begins, clicking and popping in response to the flame.

Tiny air bubbles form inside the pot — silent effervescence — growing in number.
Bubbles rise one by one to the water’s surface. Delicate vapor ascends and falls beneath the task light spot. The crescendo builds to a rapid boil. Rolling thunder!

Boiling water… endless possibilities.

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Green Velvet Moss

June 18, 2009

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crystal water gently flows
smoothly over aged river rocks
clear cool mountain springs
sweat streams from summer heat
down, down, down
steep craggy peaks
to azure pools of blue

spring passes now
to summer days
far too swiftly for pause

feel green velvet moss
so rich
plush cushion
beneath our feet
warm sun kisses on
our cheeks
brows
and shoulders bare
bronzing skin
warming souls
resting easily

dusk draws near

listen closely
as evening sighs
sun sinking
slowly beneath
day’s finishline
ribbon broken
race complete
moonbeams tug
the ocean tide

tall grass pillow
beneath our head
gaze upon the starlight canopy
we watch
ancient nightlights
as they
are born
die
fall
align
reveal secrets
to sage observers
who connect the dots
and in our minds
crude sketches draw
unclear
they come to life in dreams
and live or die by dawn