Heartsickness

September 28, 2009

Our hearts drive us toward the things we want most. Those things we love most give us the ability to live even when all else says, “not so.” Only you know what is in your heart and what is not. We make decisions based on what is most important to us, regardless of whether we know it. The desire in our heart somehow conquers fear of the unknown. Such courage allows us to take that first step toward our heart’s desire. Our heart always guides us in the direction of its greatest yearning. When we don’t follow that guiding, we become heartsick.

Take Your rightful place on the throne of my heart, Jesus, and guide me according to Your plan for my life. You are my great hope. You are my first love. You know my heart far better than I ever will know it. Align my heart with Yours. Fulfill this longing as only You can. Thank You, my Beloved. I trust You.

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. -Matt. 6:33

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. -Proverbs 13:12

Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight. -Proverbs 3:5-6

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“A loving heart is the truest wisdom.” Charles Dickens

Affection

September 24, 2009

During the night, I reach out for You. You draw me into the warmth of Your bosom. I lay my head upon Your chest. You embrace me and quiet the drumming that plagues my tired mind.

Silence, at last.

Your steady heartbeat becomes audible. Your peaceful-self assurance is relaxing yet invigorating. To think, all existence is held firmly in Your control, yet You take time for this intimate moment. You inspire me, my Love. I feel the strength and confidence that is You. Stars twinkle throughout the galaxy in response to Your smile. You kiss my brow with moonlight.

Our hearts beat in unison, its rhythm soothes my restlessness. A blissful surge of peace drives out every debilitating inhibition and doubt. You breathe life into me, once again. I find the sweetest comfort in Your arms.

Your quiet whispers brush vivid strokes of healing over my weary body. Your voice holds the fresh softness of raindrops and depth of thunder. Your Word feeds my hunger for more of You and satisfies my craving for contentment. Each thought You share fills the vaccuum in my soul created by fear. Your consuming love saturates all of the emptiness I felt before knowing You. Your touch relaxes my senses and drives away the pain.

I am safe with You.

Your love is exclusive. Your jealousy tolerates no sharing of Your place in my heart. You shower me with Your ever perfect love, beauty, grace and eternal affection. Humbly, my God, I accept all that You are and reject anything that does not align with Your Word.

You are my Beloved and I am Yours, Jesus.

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Haiku: Promise

September 15, 2009

Creativity
You breathe on my life, Father
Your inspiration

Your divine favor
Your heart yields adoration
my life’s in Your hands

You hear my prayers
I feel Your Holy Spirit
brooding over me

Safe in Your solace
I am sheltered from life’s storms
Precious Beloved

You quiet my mind
with whispers of hope and peace
forever with You

Jesus

Haiku: Silent Rain

September 12, 2009

I know you’re here now
though silent, my heart hears yours
together, they speak

so intimately
quiet whispers uttering
words for just we two

raindrops on windows
gentle rhythm on the ground
I hear you, my love

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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.

Vettriano

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.

danzeopulencepotfiller

The Romantic

July 15, 2009

single-rose

Romance is in the life we live
with every breath we take
within our every movement
with the ticking of the clock
in the little clinks and tinkles
coming from inside a home
pouring out of windows for
those with ears to hear

jingling of daddy’s keys
as he returns home from work
my darling sweet

mommy’s heels
walking across a wooden floor
my honey’s feet

as dinner sizzles on the stove
sloshing of a washing machine
the fine pages of a Bible being turned in a parlor
sheets ruffling early in the morning
a clicking switch of a lamp at the end of the day

Romance is woven throughout the fabric of life
beheld only by Romantics

One is a Romantic
or one is not

Romantics do not choose to be born as such
like one does not choose eye color
or stature
hair texture
or parents

Romantics have been dipped low
and held tightly to the bosom of God Himself
He kissed slowly and deeply on the mouth
the passionate Romantic before loosing
that one into the world
having left His sweetness on the lips
his stars of wonder in the eyes
his wings of hope upon the feet
and song of love in the heart
of the Romantic

He opened the ears
of the Romantic
to understand the language of love and life

He gave strong arms
to the Romantic
to bear and embrace the wildly mixed load
of burden and blessings
along life’s way

He inspired curiosity
in the Romantic
to seek out answers and beauty
to crack codes of hidden mysteries
where others see only quandry and rhetoric

He gave the Romantic
a bubbling fountain for a soul
to give abundantly to others
according to His purpose
which He doesn’t always disclose

Romantics give all they have
over and again
because the more they give
the more they flourish
drawing from the very heart of God

Being a Romantic
is not always wine and roses
it is a tremendous burden of proof
finding a way
when there seems to be no way

As the Romantic draws closer to God
the more loving and creative a Romantic becomes
for the sake of someone else

Romance is never self serving

My Beloved is the ultimate Romantic
Faithful and True
showing His love anew
with every sunrise and sunset
in every twinkle of smiling eyes
each warm embrace
every single hue of color
every single musical note
every whispering willow
every roaring thunder

My Beloved has not neglected any sorrow
He has saved every tear drop
His promises make perfect
the sweetest wine
to be enjoyed in this waking life
and for certain
in eternity with Him

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