Psalm 55:8

I can feel a storm is brewing,

The clouds hang low and grey,

But there’s still some blue sky showing

So it won’t hit today.

I feel it prickle on my neck,

I hunker down to pray.

I’m frightened of what’s coming in,

But it won’t hit today.

I hate the ominous feeling

That trouble’s on the way;

It haunts me as I toss in bed,

It follows me by day.

The only thing that I have found

To ease my fears away

Is dropping down upon my knees

To bow my head and pray.

I ask you, not to turn the storm,

But my false fears allay

That I might face what comes with calm…

But it’s not here today.

Psalm 55:8
I would hurry to my place of shelter, far from the tempest and storm.”

Because I Too Have Mourned

Grief washes over me in waves

And drags me to my knees.

Some days I stand within the tides

And bear the grief with ease,

But other days I’m swept beneath

The waves and cold sea breeze.

I need to find some steady ground,

A place where I can stand,

Within the crashing of the waves

Beyond the slipping sand.

Oh Love, I wish that you were here,

That I could hold your hand.

But you have gone beyond my reach,

Where I’ll hold you no more,

And I can only stand and pray

Upon a grief tossed shore

Knowing that you’re safe with God,

Where I’ll see you once more.

Job 32:9

I am not that broken blossom

Drooping in the garden,

Withered, as time and the weather

Gave no grace or pardon.

All of its dreams now perishing,

Its petals line the bed,

Til all that’s standing in the rain’s

A bowed and barren head.

I have the grace to see myself

As more than battered bloom,

For though my body’s breaking down

My soul will beat the tomb

And rise upon the warming breeze,

My blossom’s sweet perfume.

Job 32:9
It is not only the old who are wise, not only the aged who understand what is right.

Tulips Filled with Rain

Some days I count my troubles

And let them rule my day.

I grumble over all the things

That just don’t go my way.

But then I find that simple thing

That jars me back to grace;

Instead of seeing all my woes

I’m gazing at your face.

My cup runs over with blessings

And let me not forget

That you are the one that fills it,

So I don’t need to fret.

Psalm 23: 5

 ⁵ You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

Too Tired to Pray

First clean the house and wash the clothes,

Then get the tires changed.

When suddenly a problem comes

It all gets rearranged.

I scurry like a little mouse,

Running all through the day.

At night I crawl into my bed

Much to tired to pray.

I say, “If life was easier,

If I had less to do,

Then I could find a way each day

To spend more time with you!”

But I know that’s a fairy tale,

I know it isn’t true.

We set priorities each day

And then we follow through.

I need to stop complaining, Lord,

About my busy day

And set aside some time for you

To sit and praise and pray.

I miss you when I’m not around

And that’s my fault, not yours

So I will see you when I rise

Before I start the chores.

But In My Dreams I Fly

There is just a hint of sadness

That lingers in the air.

The sun is warm, the air is soft,

I should not have a care

And yet I feel the loneliness

That presages despair.

I need to shake dust from my wings

And learn again to fly;

I need to feel that I can soar

Across the boundless sky.

I long to leave the sodden earth

And all the tears I cry.

I know that I am bound to earth,

My wings must stay unfurled.

My task is here, where you need me,

My wings, for now, stay curled,

But when I dream I still can fly

Beyond this lonely world.

Psalm 55:6
I said, “Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest.

Living Within His Grace

All the world’s piling up on me,

I’m losing the rat race.

I run as fast as I can run,

But I can’t keep the pace.

The thoughts I shouldn’t think still come,

Some are a great disgrace;

Some of defeat, some of disdain,

Some, my soul debase.

I say and do so many things

I wish I could erase.

I’m far from good, try as I may,

I’m just a hopeless case.

But broken as my life may be,

With pieces out of place,

I know that I can still be whole

Living within his grace.

Ephesians 2:8
For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God.

What Do I Reflect

We pass sometimes so fast through life

We seldom pause to find

The impact that our lives may have

On those we leave behind.

What little lessons do we pass

To those who share our days;

And what reflections do we cast

Along our busy ways?

Take time to notice who sees you

And what it is they see.

Make sure that you are showing them

The best you you can be.

See to it that you truly live

The lessons they should know

So that they can reflect you well

When God calls you to go.

1 Corinthians 14:26

We are the flowers in God’s garden,

Each bloom reflects his face,

With all our roots intertwining

Until our leaves embrace.

Even the wild flowers blowing

Have their special place,

With vivid splashes of color,

They move with wind blown grace.

Each bloom brings something special to

The bed in which it grows,

A perfect shade or a fragrance

That spills when each breeze blows.

And each one has a purpose in

The garden’s many rows,

A special gift within its bloom

That only heaven knows.

When God walks within his gardens

He savors every bloom;

He stops to treasure their petals

And relish their perfume.

His blossoms may not know their worth.

But he prizes each plume,

For each one’s formed in his image,

Each helps the garden bloom.

1 Corinthians 14:26
What then shall we say, brothers and sisters? When you come together, each of you has a hymn, or a word of instruction, a revelation, a tongue or an interpretation. Everything must be done so that the church may be built up.

Back in the Nest

You carried me upon your wing

As I slipped off to play

You blessed me with a joyful trip,

A blissful get away.

The gifts of friendship, grace and love

Bestowed in fine array

All travelled safely home with me,

Tucked in my heart to stay.

So let this praise be one of thanks

For those whose gift is grace

And for the safe return trip home,

My favorite nesting place.