God's Cathedral

Shining silver, the river flows.
Tall and straight, the evergreen grows.
Life flows seaward, fresh into salt.
The forest robes the mountain's fault.
Thus God's great work unfolds as we,
in awe, observe the mystery.

Seek not for God in spires tall
or hallowed, old cathedral hall
if, in your heart, you know he dwells
in woodland hills and mountain dells.
For, though He is omnipresent,
He also knows our heart's intent.

Thus when I need to hear His voice
I leave behind the choral noise
and seek the hush of forest dreams,
the water songs of mountain streams.
And on the rush of beating wing
                                                               I hear the songs the Angels sing.

Psalm 98: 4 - 9

⁴ Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth,
   burst into jubilant song with music;
⁵ make music to the LORD with the harp,
   with the harp and the sound of singing,
⁶ with trumpets and the blast of the ram’s horn—
   shout for joy before the LORD, the King.

 ⁷ Let the sea resound, and everything in it,
   the world, and all who live in it.
⁸ Let the rivers clap their hands,
   let the mountains sing together for joy;
⁹ let them sing before the LORD,
   for he comes to judge the earth.
He will judge the world in righteousness
   and the peoples with equity.

Where He Waits for Me

When peace won’t come

I seek your face

I always find you here

Down by the water

Near the sea

Where all my thoughts run clear

Thank you for the water

Thank you for the sea

Thank you for always being here

Waiting just for me.

The Master's Own Motif

The last leaves linger on the boughs

And shiver in the cold

In silent vigil to the days

When they were strong and bold

They too will fall in coming days,

The winds will call their name,

And they will tumble to the earth;

Return from whence they came.

But with the spring, the newest leaves

Will burst forth from each limb

And proudly wave their colors high

In memory of them.

The generations come and go,

 Yet in each fresh new leaf

Lives a reflection of the past;

The Master’s own motif.

Winter and Spring

Even in the cold of winter,

Where only darkness grows,

There abides a breath of summer

Beneath the winter snows;

For life sleeps deep beneath the frost,

Swathed in mist and haze,

Where there abides, within its roots, 

The dream of summer days.

Psalm 65: 8

Especially in the silence

At the start of our days

We turn our faces to the Lord

And lift to Him our praise

We sing to Him our songs of joy

And turn on him our gaze

For He’s the light that draws us nigh

And leads us in His ways

Psalm 65:8
The whole earth is filled with awe at your wonders; where morning dawns, where evening fades, you call forth songs of joy.

Thanksgiving

Thank you for the morning sun

That melted winter’s snow;

Thank you for the cheery fire,

The burning ember’s glow.

Thank you for all the laughter,

The family and the fun;

Thank you for the peaceful night

When all the work is done.

Thank you for the ones we love

Who’ve gone where we can’t go;

Legacies of love remain

Where generations grow.

Thank you for the friends who serve

And stand against the dark,

Those who fight and those who fell

Preserving freedom’s spark.

Thank you, Lord, for all your grace

And all you’ve seen me through;

Thank you for your boundless love.

Dear Lord, I love you too!

Psalm 13: 6

I sing to you in joy, Oh Lord,

I praise your Holy Name;

Rejoicing in your precious love

I praise you without shame.

I sing to you that all the world

Will hear my joyful voice

And each time that I think you

Again I will rejoice.

Psalm 13:6
I will sing the LORD’s praise, for he has been good to me.

Sometimes A Little Will Do

There was so little snow that fell

That the grass was peeking through

Yet she believed that it would work

For just a little would do

Her first try was short and choppy,

But each slide went much longer

But short or long she laughed each time

As her delight grew stronger

And by the time she went inside,

Cold, happy and soaked clean through

I realized that she’d been right

Yes, just a little would do

Life doesn’t always give us all

That we would want it to

But we can still have just enough

If we make a little do.

 

Psalm 147: 15 - 18

The winter wind howls down the bay

The snow nips at the trees

The mist wrapped inlet hunkers down

Beside the shifting seas

The brutal cold of wintertime

Infects like a disease

My heart is frozen in my breast

And I can find no ease

The cold, the wind, the restless snow

My heart is made of these

But You will bring the spring again

And my heart will unfreeze

Psalm 147

 15 He sends his command to the earth;
   his word runs swiftly.
16 He spreads the snow like wool
   and scatters the frost like ashes.
17 He hurls down his hail like pebbles.
   Who can withstand his icy blast?
18 He sends his word and melts them;
   he stirs up his breezes, and the waters flow.

Count Your Blessings, Not Your Flaws.

No one ever speaks of soaring

On mighty seagull wings

And yet their wings can lift them up

Above all earth bound things

They may not soar in majesty

But they still dance the wind

Their wings, though smaller and less swift,

Get them there in the end

So like a seagull on the wing

You may not be the best

But there are those, bound to the earth,

Who think that you are blest!

Job 39: 27 - 28

My roots run deep, high on this ridge,

Though I stand here alone;

I’ll hold my ground in this high place,

I’ll make this crag my own.

And though the winds may whip me here

I’ll stand against their might

For I am mightier than they,

You give me strength to fight.

Though bitter rains tear at my roots,

Or drought makes dust of loam,

I will stand where you planted me;

And make the rocks my home.

²⁷ Does the eagle soar at your command and build its nest on high?
²⁸ It dwells on a cliff and stays there at night; a rocky crag is its stronghold.

Mark 1:35

Quiet for a moment

The day’s a breath away;

For an instant longer

You hold the light at bay.

Soon the dawn will waken,

Sunrise is on its way;

I will take that minute

To pray for this new day

 35 Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.

Luke 15: 3-7

He finds us where we go to hide
Within our tears and pain
He finds us in our dark despair
And brings us home again.

So like the Wise men years ago
Pursued a distant star
He hears the crying of our soul;
He finds us where we are.

Although the way is perilous
And though it’s wrought with fears
Still He will find us where we are
And love us through our tears.

He will not notice our disgrace,
The dark and bitter scar,
He only sees the soul He loves.
He loves us where we are.

 3 Then Jesus told them this parable: 4 “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? 5 And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders 6 and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ 7 I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.

The Dark Half of the Year

The dark half of the year has come
There is a dearth of light
And even at the crest of noon
You see the coming night

But even in the year’s dark half
God’s miracles hold sway
The great ones drive the course of life
The small ones shape each day.

They’re often hard to recognize
We just don’t see them there
We call it serendipity
Sometimes it’s answered prayer

But in each little miracle
You’ll find God’s loving hand
Directing all the many turns
That we can’t understand.

For in the dark half of the year
When day seems close to night
There is, within the darkness, still
A glimmer of the light!

Dancing in the Storm

 

Though bitter little tears may fall

I don’t really mind the rain

The tears and showers always pass

The sun comes back again.

But it is only in the gales,

When the stormy winds complain,

That you can hear the sweet, wild sound

Of a wind chime’s refrain

So find the joy in every storm

Don’t weep without the sun

For there is joy in each hardship

And dancing ere it’s done.

The Blossoms

The breezes pass with gentle tread.
The blossoms bend and blow.
The sun may warm or rain may spill,
But still the blossoms grow.

At times the weeds may strive to choke,
And pull the blossoms down.
Yet ever on strong limbs they climb,
The rich, warm earth to crown.

The crumble of last season's growth
Provides the fertile loam,
From which derives the blossoms' strength,
In which they've made their home.

Their roots delved deep within this soil.
Thus, when the storm winds passed,
Though they were troubled by the gales,
Those strong, deep roots held fast.

The blossoms offer their sweet gift,
Which through the garden spreads.
It spills from petals gently tossed
And fills the nearby beds.

And as the gentle breezes blow,
The blossoms, stirring as they go,
Lift ruffled leaves to briefly show
That in their shade new blossoms grow.

Who Walks with Whom?

I always prayed you'd walk with me

As I moved through every day;

I asked you to stay by my side

And to keep the dark at bay.

But just today I realized

It should be the other way;

I want to walk each day with you

And by your side to stay.

The Thistle

I am like the thistle, Lord

My thorns are sharp and long

They tear the flesh of passersby

I seem so fierce and strong

But you see me more as the bloom

My thorns don’t block your view

You touch the softest part of me

I blossom just for you

Oh Lord, please help my heart to bloom

And make my thorns recede

Allow me, Lord, to share with all

The love and joy they need.

The Small, Still Voice

I heard a small, still voice today

Whispering of your plan;

A voice so soft, and yet so clear,

“Finish what you began”.

And though the way lies through the mist,

I walk beneath your hand;

So I will heed that small still voice

And follow your command.

Duty, Honor, Country

So many little memories
Are flooding through my mind;
The strength you shared, the love you gave,
The values you defined.
I still cannot believe you’re gone
Though my hand touches stone.
My heart’s a hole filled up with tears
Where sorrow dwells alone.
But I must rise and keep in faith
The promise that I gave
To guard, with care, all that you loved

And not your silent grave.

Black and White

Some days the world is black and white,

The sun just can’t break through;

The sky is dark with wisps of light,

The sea more grey than blue.

But even when the world is washed

In colors dark and grim

A furtive blush of light still glints,

As if reflecting Him.

Looming Mists and Worries

The cold mist filters through the trees

And twines around my heart,

I feel the hair rise on my neck

Trouble’s about to start.

It weighs upon me like the cold

Lies on the winter bay.

I shake my head to ease the dread,

It settles in to stay.

The mist won’t lift throughout the day

It’s buried in the trees;

The dread is taut across my back

And I can find no ease.

I lift my hands to you, oh Lord,

I ask you on my knees

To lift the mist that chills my world

And calm my worries, please.

Hosea 13:3

Therefore they will be like the morning mist, like the early dew that disappears, like chaff swirling from a threshing floor, like smoke escaping through a window.

Living Where God has Planted Us

Sometimes we live outside the box,
That’s how a garden grows.
Sometimes we live outside the fence,
Beyond the sculpted rows.
Sometimes we live where we should not,
Out where the rough wind blows,
Sometimes the place our lives take root
Is not the one we chose.

But still we live outside the box,
Beyond the garden fence,
And still we bloom and flourish there
Without all the pretense.
We grow and thrive where we take root,
Despite all common sense,
Because the garden is so small
And life is so immense.

Matthew 13: 23

But the seed falling on good soil refers to someone who hears the word and understands it. This is the one who produces a crop, yielding a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown.”

Broken Wings

The sunshine traced my broken wings
Beneath the summer sky;
I may never be whole again,
But, with Him, I can fly.

The Dreams I've Put Away

Silent prayers the heart won’t whisper,
Dreams it can’t believe,
Scattered hopes like falling teardrops
That nothing can relieve

Yet still the heart clings to the prayers
And dreams the futile dream.
It gathers up the scattered hopes
And stills the tearful stream,
Then turns anew to face the day;
Stronger than it would seem.

Hebrews 12: 1-3 from Cool Breeze

Hebrews 12:1-3 says: ”...let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart." (Italics mine.)

I am 42 years old, and I have breast cancer.  This is my race that has been marked out for me for the time being.  Disease is a byproduct of a fallen, sinful world, and no one is immune.  But God is always good and always in control.  At times God puts disease upon people; at other times he allows it.  But His word reassures us that at all times, "in all things God works for the good of those who love him." (Rom 8:28)  My cancer might be purposed for my benefit: to draw me closer to Him, to remind me of my dependence upon Him, to teach me to value life and the blessings He has given me, to rearrange my priorities - the list is infinite.  Or, my cancer might be purposed for the benefit of another - to accomplish any or all of these in someone else.

I know some things without a doubt:
1.  I could not have gotten cancer without God's awareness and permission.
2.  He will work my cancer for some good - either in me or in those around me.
3.  He will never leave me or give me more than I can bear with His help.
4.  Fixing my eyes on Him will keep me from growing weary or losing heart.

So in this race that I did not choose, that was marked out for me, I will fix my eyes upon Him.  There is a song whose refrain I sing to my boys every single night before they go to bed and have for years.  It has brought me such peace, comfort and joy over the years:

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.

I have put this into practice many times in my life and can testify to an immediate, tangible change in my anguish and perspective.  We are advised in 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 to "rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for [us] in Christ Jesus."  And so I rejoice and give thanks

- that He knows intimately my present circumstances and needs,
- that He will work good from this disease,
- that He is with me and sustains me through even this, and
- that He offers me peace and endurance at the thought of His immeasurable love and sacrifice for me.

Amen.

Praise Lifted by Cool Breeze

Facing the Path Before Me

Put me on the path, oh Lord,

The path my feet should know,
Set me clearly on the way
That you would have me go;
This cannot be the path for me

It’s steep and overgrown!

I want to walk the right path

But I need to be shown.

You are upon the path, my child

It’s right beneath your feet
The path you walk was laid for you
So get up off your seat
Don’t pray for other paths to walk
Don’t fear the path you’re on
You’ll never know what I have planned
Unless you carry on
And this path most assuredly
Leads you where you should go
For I have set you on this path
And I do love you so.
So stand up now and walk with me
I’m right here at your side
This is the path you need to walk
And I will be your guide.

Proverbs 4:18

My words won’t form.
They linger in my heart and cannot find their way to my lips,
To my finger tips.

The Light, the Grace,
The sure knowledge that you will lift me higher than I can go
On my own.

And so in place of words
I offer back your gifts to me, strength and faith and light
And undying love.

May You take root in my soul

May I soar into the light and never stop growing

Until I feel the touch of Your hand on my face.

Proverbs 4:18

The path of the righteous is like the morning sun,
   shining ever brighter till the full light of day.

Between the Hymns and My World

The tempest that tore up my world

To you was just a breeze

The firestorm that seared my heart

You stifled with great ease

You still the wildest hurricane

And calm the roughest seas

It sounds so easy in the hymns,

A simple thing to do,

Just bundle all my cares and pains

And give them up to you.

But that’s much easier to say

Than I have learned to do.

And I have come to understand

That giving things to you

Doesn’t mean I’m off the hook

I still must see it through,

But I can turn to you for strength

When nothing else will do.

So when my tempests get too rough

And I can’t bear the strain

I’ll give them up to you before...

I sneak them back again

But I will trust you’ll still be there

To calm the wind and rain.

Waiting on the Lord

Waiting on the Lord is hard,
His schedule isn’t mine
I seem to have a different pace;
One that’s less divine.

Waiting on the Lord is rough,
There’s much He needs to do.
And most of it I need right now
Just to see me through.

Waiting on the Lord is hard;
The ticking of the clock
Reminds me that I’m caught between
A hard spot and a rock.

Waiting on the Lord is rough
I’m filled with doubt and fear;
And yet I know with certainty
That He is always near.

So I will match my pace to His
and trust His loving grace.
For I will wait upon the Lord
And someday see His face.

Exodus 3: 1, 2, 14

You cast the stars across the skies

And set the sun ablaze

You taught the eagle how to soar

And parted nights and days

You spun the spider’s silken web

And tinted autumn leaves

You formed the grain that bursts and spills

From ripened harvest sheaves

And all of this you’ve done for us,

Each woman and each man

By which name shall I call you, Lord?

 “I Am Who I Am”

The raging of the windswept sea

You stirred with your right hand

The rustle of the meadow grass

Across the warm spring land

You shaped the blossom, pollen rich

The busy, buzzing bee

And marked the path stalked by the moon

Even the tiny flea

Who are you that you’ve done such things?

How wondrous is your plan.

Oh tell me please, who are you, Lord?

“I Am Who I Am”

^{Exodus 3: 1, 2,14}  

1 Now Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian, and he led the flock to the far side of the wilderness and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. 2 There the angel of the LORD appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush. Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up.

14 God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘I AM has sent me to you.’”