Death Be Not Proud – a poem about Nathan’s Win

Death be not proud

That you’ve gained one more soul

It was not a win for you

Swallowing whole

His breath and energy

Cancer and pain

You may count it as yours

But this loss is yet gain

 

Friends and dear family

Daughter and son

Draw near to heaven

Where life’s now begun

His grace is a blanket

His comfort a salve

His presence with Nathan

Is here with you now

 

Death be not proud

For this world is not home

For this earth which we roam

Will assault heart and bone

Rather, home is our city

In heaven and light

So I raise my proud fist

For one hell of a fight

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Freedom’s Door – a poem on prayer for freedom

This is a poem I wrote for an article for Abolition Now, about the power of prayer for freedom. They decided to wait on the article part and only published the poem for now…

Freedom’s Door

I hear your voice call out to Me

Most times it is My symphony

Most times it is all that I need

To move, to act, to pour.
Believe, I fashioned you this way

Let’s talk and laugh throughout the day

I’ve placed them in your path for you

To move, to act, to pour.
So move again, and you will see

My Spirit in community

Each act of faith, a rugged key

To open freedom’s door.
Dash the mountain with My Word

With authority assured, and

Speak to me, My Kingdom’s shine,

You open freedom’s door.

FreedomsDoor

(photo credit: Kathy Lebron)

Meaning in it All

Too many songs I’ve written then forgotten
Too many poems I’ve penned and never read
Bereaving of a song
Sand through my fingers, gone
How will they ever be…
The days, the lines gone into documentation
The waste of time, times two, I’ve told myself
But it’s a warring thought
Against my spirit, Not
Another day distraught
(There is)
Meaning in it all
A purpose and a call
Awaiting time to shine
Awaiting darker nights
Where only I can sing 
Into their suffering
Revealing You in me…The meaning in it all
   When they mine my grave
   For the treasure never spent (treasure never spent)
   They’ll sadly walk away
   For eternity
   Has all of me

My Kinda Dance – repentance and forgiveness

After Break Free tonight, talking and praying with my awesome friend and prayer-sister Samantha about sex trafficking, I had to stop by Freddies on my way home. I figured I might possibly run into David from about a week ago (https://chelan.me/2015/02/21/david-from-freddies/), but wasn’t sure. What made me wonder, is that I’d picked a random sermon to listen to on my way home from some church called Victory, in my Podcasts. I’d never listened to one from there before. This guest speaker was preaching all about King David. She was specifically using him as a prime example for us to embrace repentance along with forgiveness.

As Freddie’s was closing, I picked a line to check out and then saw it was his line! But he had to shoo me away to self check out. I left, a bit bummed, but then saw him again at the main doors a few minutes later. I turned to him, “DAVID. I told you I’d pray for you, remember?”

He smiled, and I watched it come back to him. So I asked him there in front of the electronic double doors by produce, what I could pray for him about. He said for a stressful real estate deal set to close March 13th or 18th? to go through successfully. And then he asked me if I had anything he could pray for.  I thought about it…& said sure! I applied for a part time job and want it, only if God does. So direction on that.

He placed his hand on my shoulder and we stood there, basically strangers but brother and sister in Christ, and prayed for each other as his co-workers exited the store every minute or so.

After he prayed for me, I prayed for his real estate deal but added a part that I’d just heard from that sermon: that God would help him to see repentance for what it is – a turning away.  And when we turn away from sin, we are turning toward our God who loves us deeply. I prayed for a desire to always turn away and then turn toward, trusting that there will always be a great freedom found there.

He lit up even more and mentioned that there was power in that prayer, & that he feels like what I prayed for him should be “reciprocated”, back to me. And I received it. Cause I’ve always had a hard time with repentance for some reason. But now I’m realizing its the step to take before asking for forgiveness. Like they’re dance partners.

I was thinking, our hands, if they are still filled with undealt with (unrepented of) sin, they will not be able to be filled with his gift of forgiveness. It’s a give and then get. A bit like a spiritual dance. Move toward God a few steps and give up the sinful action or attitude and then move back a few and get freedom and joy that comes from receiving His forgiveness. And a bonus comes when we gain victory over that area. Praise God!

Now that’s my kinda dance.

On the way home from there, the Lord gave me a new song with these words:

Vs1: There’s an outpouring of your spirit – out of our hearts, out of our homes. An outpouring of your spirit – into the streets, into the public places.

Vs2: There’s an outpouring of your spirit – out of the church, out of our songs. An outpouring of your spirit – into our work, & into the lowly places.

Pre-Chorus:

So I will gogogo into my worldworldworld and I will lovelovelove every boy and girlYeah, I will gogogo into my worldworldworld and I will pray – for freedom every day

Chorus: 

Freedom freedom be released

From your Kingdom.

 Kingdom be released!

Bridge: 

Give me a mind not divided, not distracted.

But the mind of Christ.

Give me a mind set upon you, set upon truth.

The mind of Christ.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_QoWrlITPI

Fruit, a poem on God’s Creation Around, and Within Us

I am not from here.

I was bought to become
A citizen of a new Kingdom

That defies space, and laughs at time
Makes rain and soil, twists the vine

It takes that which was never so
And speaketh it to be, to grow

To burrow roots and draw from silt

And push aside condemning guilt

Its nutrients of truth and grace
Are coursing through my spider veins

Until at last in seasons’ time
A glimpse of pink, a bloom, a sign

And all the waiting, and irresolute
Will pale behind colors of life-bearing fruit

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Transformation Northwest – Conference with Father’s House Church, at 1st Baptist Church SW Portland, featuring guest Speaker, Pastor at Hope Centre in Tauranga New Zealand, Kristen Williams. Also featuring breakout session speaker, Joshua Shaw, on speaking out with boldness to those in public, words of knowledge, and healing those with pain or afflictions, by the power of the Spirit.

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The Surrender to Spring – poem on anxiety, winter, spring, hope

The Surrender to Spring

frost

The chill demanded tightened fists, a tightened scarf around my cheeks. Its frost, like fear, deceit cashmere in shadows.

It seems as though anxiety makes home a cold society…and lies awake in shivering and shallow.

Yet as the morning breaks and with it sunlight gently takes away the tense, it seems this warmth is really, grace.

Grace with which to operate, to view, to love, invigorate. Grace with which to saturate this day.

I watch intently crystal hairs that weaken, melt and drip and bare, the blades beneath their outerwear so blithe.

They are still, as they await the transformation. They unveil the season coming, and a brighter shade of life.

Gramma Grace ~ a poem on Memories in Honor

Her hugs would envelope my tiny frame
Hydrangeas of purple white blue
Her slanted driveway gave us a game
Makeshift go-cart planks on wheels

Easter service bunny cake-pan
Jellybeans green-hued coconut
Lemon drop dishes, two in each hand
Makeshift roller skate rink in the back

Reader’s Digest, People’s Court
Whopner, dachshunds, motorized chair
Secret passage, hideout, fort
Eyes that sparkle, giggle fest

We were welcome, we were there
Road trips, parks, reunion fun
We were clueless to despair
Until she stole her life from us

1995 in Spring
When Easter boasts of Jesus’ blood
The day after her birthday’d bring
News of her blood, it left her still

We watched her Pastor lift and roll
Heavy carpet, dripping bed
What would become of Gramma’s soul?
Her wounded heart, is it now whole?

There was no stone that rolled away
Her Depression held a permanence
Can suicide be void of blame?
I’ll never point to man, nor self

Two years later, down the isle
Eight and Braylon grew inside
Twelve my Angel flashed her smile
Nineteen now, I miss her still