Totality

Click here to listen to me read this poem.

Grief is the soul’s totality—

Quenching color, light, song—

Darkness engulfing light,

Stars and planets twinkling 

At midday, breath stolen,

Chill breeze sweeping warmth away—

The light of God’s own countenance seems

Extinguished in the weeping vale.

Yet, though obscured, the sun still shines,

Undimmed, undamaged, undiminished.

Cosmic pebble nearest pale blue dot

Blocks from this dust speck’s eyes

The giant flaming star round which

Revolves the solar system.

Light flees,

But no sun departs;

Small obstacle in close proximity

Hides its great and glorious distant radiance.

Slithering shadow snakes snap at heels,

Unenvenomed phantom enemies,

No more harming sky-gazers

Than moon can harm sun.

This terror of great darkness,

Portentous and awesome—

Casting beholders facedown in dust and ashes,

In confused anguish and loss,

Foundations shaken—

Lasts only light and momentary minutes,

Measured by eternity’s rule.

However endless seconds seem,

They are but a blink, a breath,

Now, for a little time, if needed,

Until grave is swallowed up in victory.

Soon, soon, and very soon,

We shall always be with the Lord:

No more darkness, no more death;

Sorrow and sighing flee like stars 

At the sun’s resplendent revelation.

In the darkness, we wait.

In the darkness, we trust.

In the darkness, we hope

In unchanging truth:

The sun shines on;

God’s promises fail not;

His faithfulness endures,

While we see it not.

No Good Thing

Apologies for no audio today. If you need that, please let me know and I’ll add it as soon as may be. I am working towards a better way to do that. ❤️‍🩹🤗

No good thing—

Truly, unequivocally, particularly good—

Relinquished by the child of God

For the sake of obedience,

Love for Him,

Love for others—

No good thing 

Is ever truly lost,

Only forestalled.

Who am I,

Little woman,

To dream that I can give up

More than the Lord can restore?

In His good time,

He gives good gifts.

In this, I wait;

In this, I hope.

We sow good seeds,

Uneaten,

Into the tomb of the earth,

Denying today's pleasure

For Tomorrow's harvest of righteousness.

We may sow in tears

And bellies growling and empty,

But we will reap with shouts of joy.

Your kingdom come. 

We cannot outgive God.

Our troubles will be drowned in glory

We cannot fathom or dream

In our relinquishment.

In the Day of His blessed appearing,

I suspect

I will only regret

Not yielding even more.

Eternity is more than long enough

To surfeit souls with every good and perfect gift.

Anchorhold

Listen to me read the audio file

If the embedded audio player does not work, you may listen here.

Anchorhold: A Poem

  

Here I am, suburban anchorite:

Chronic illness my cloister,

My home my hermitage,

Caregiving my enclosure.

My bare voice sings praise alone in my cell

With the absent-present congregants in my ears.

The mockingbird leads the avian chorus;

I pass the peace to the dragonfly on perched on the other side of the glass.

I pass along the comfort I receive

From the Father of mercies.

A living stone, embedded in the temple of the Body,

Walled in, communion mediated by windows 

In my wall, on my desk, in my hand,

Attached yet excluded—

Invisible illness hiding me invisibly away

From the rest of the body—yet still part of it,

Never parted from my Head, the Beloved.

I am a suburban anchorite,

But the burdens and bricks which anchor me here

Anchor me to Christ.

Burden-Bearing God

Listen to me read the audio file

Click here to listen on the web.

Blessed be the Lord, who daily bears us up;
God is our salvation. Selah"

Psalm 68:19 ESV

Burden-bearing God:

You hold us up when our shoulders bow and knees buckle

    under the heavy load of trials (and duties and blessings).

You hold us together when we are falling apart.

You hold us fast when we can't hold on.

You hold us in your impenetrable,

    unsnatchable,

    unalterable grasp of love and power.

You hold us with tungsten strength and maternal gentleness.

You hold us;

Grace us, Lord, with trust enough to rest in the refuge of Your hands,

In the name of Jesus,

Whose hands and heart and head

Were wounded for my transgressions

And crushed for my iniquities,

Amen.

Tenderhearted Savior {A Prayer}

Listen to me read this post:

Harvest Moon, September 2023

Unidentified garden plant

Moonflower and honeybee

Eastern Tiger Swallowtail, ventral wings fully open

Tenderhearted Savior,

Rich in mercy and inexhaustible in grace,

We come before you today with full hearts and empty hands:

Pour your strengthening love into our hearts

And your loving strength into our hands.

Deal gently with our infirmities;

Grant wisdom for our perplexities;

Comfort us in all adversity;

Come alongside us in every difficulty.

Hear and answer our prayers even when we have no words, only tears.

When we are in darkness, let Your light shine brighter.

When we are in pain, let Your love be nearer.

Meet us at the point of our deepest needs today,

For Your glory and our good,

In Jesus' name. Amen.

The prayer as downloadable image, white print against backdrop of flaming sunrise

(Update: Audio has now been added to "The Lord Is Peace" also.)

Catalog of Fragile Beauties

Listen to me read this post:

Male ruby-throated hummingbird at feeder in our back garden

Male ruby-throated hummingbird at feeder in our back garden

Female ruby-throated hummingbird at our feeder

The LORD Is Peace

Listen to me read this post:

Lake Tawakoni from the southern shore

A path through tall trees in Lake Tawakoni State Park

Treetops and sky, Lake Tawakoni State Park

Another view of Lake Tawakoni, from the southwestern shore on a clear day

The susurration of trees and lapping of waves

Whisper in antiphon:

YAHWEH Shalom,

YAHWEH Shalom,

The Lord is peace,

The Lord strengthens His people with peace.

The sunflowers lean forward,

In eager expectation awaiting in hope 

The Great Day of the rising

Of the Sun of Righteousness

With healing in His wings.

(Come soon, Lord Jesus.)

Osprey perched in bare tree branches

The osprey's plaintive cry

Laments the groaning bondage of creation now.

The buzzards dance attendance on the last enemy,

Mortally wounded, defanged,

Yet still destroying in death's death throes.

Black and white warbler foraging for insects

Painted bunting in tree branch

Wordlessly, buntings and warblers, cardinals and wrens

Intone their unabashed, unceasing melody of hope

In the not yet:

Prayers are heard,

Promises true,

Prince of Peace coming;

The kingdom of this world

Will become the kingdom of our Lord,

And He shall reign forever.

Weeping will pass.

Joy will come.

The rattling cicadas beat time with their wings,

Counting down the days till deliverance

From corruption to decay.

Giant swallowtail butterfly, ventral wings

Giant swallowtail, dorsal wing

The fluttering swallowtail sips nectar,

So delicately her blooming perch barely moves.

In her partaking of the cup the Lord has filled,

She moves on, scattering with fecund prodigality

Grace for future blooms.

Trees in deep shade with Lake Tawakoni in background

A spider perches upside down in its web, which looks iridescent in the morning light

A fawn looks straight at the camera from the shelter of green trees

The trees of the field lift holy hands to heaven,

Singing for joy before the Lord,

Before He comes

Before He comes

To judge the earth in righteousness.

The nations rage;

The peoples plot and scheme,

But the susurration of trees and lapping of waves,

Yet sing, "The LORD is peace."

The Ebony Dog: A Love Story

Today is the 5th anniversary of losing my Ebony Dog. Missing him, I sorted through my blog posts about him. They tell the story pretty well.🐾

If you only read one, I suggest this one:

https://www.crumbsfromhistable.com/2021/06/the-electing-love-of-god-and-ebony-dog.html

In rough chronological order, here are all:

https://www.crumbsfromhistable.com/2016/07/june-2016-eight-years-ago-today-ebony.html

https://www.crumbsfromhistable.com/2017/10/sermon-on-sofa-from-archives.html

https://www.crumbsfromhistable.com/2011/05/long-and-short-of-it-ebonys-corner.html

https://www.crumbsfromhistable.com/2011/04/eucharisteo-and-what-cat-left.html

https://www.crumbsfromhistable.com/2013/02/ugos-and-broken-cisterns.html

https://www.crumbsfromhistable.com/2012/04/what-love.html

https://www.crumbsfromhistable.com/2011/12/dirty-truth.html

https://www.crumbsfromhistable.com/2018/06/i-wait-for-you-from-archives-ebonys.html

https://www.crumbsfromhistable.com/2017/10/velcro-dog.html

https://www.crumbsfromhistable.com/2018/06/12-things-you-may-not-know-about-ebony.html

https://www.crumbsfromhistable.com/2021/06/the-electing-love-of-god-and-ebony-dog.html

On Waking After a Storm {A Poem}

We are fine. There have been a few severe storms in our area and more elsewhere in America’s Tornado Alley. Our property has not been damaged so far this year, but we have experienced that in the past. This poem came from memory and empathy. I didn’t want kind Crumbles to worry needlessly  ❤️‍🩹

 

The morning after the tempest

Reminds me of waking from surgery.

Do the trees still have all their limbs?

Are they stable on their feet

Or do they need a caution-tape bracelet

Warning, “Fall risk?”

Are the eyes of our home intact or shattered?

Is its crown shingled or scalped?

Are the neurons of the power grid still firing,

Or has a lightning stroke cut off

Extremities of neighborhoods from the power station,

Impairing communication and mobility,

Disabling normal work?

Is the lifeblood of clean water still pumping

Through PVC arteries and cast-iron veins

Into capillaries of household fixtures?

The morning after storms,

The numbness of adrenaline anesthetic subsides,

Pins and needles of anxiety pricking the edges of my thoughts,

Or pain roaring back, seizing minds in its grip.

We assess the damage,

Bandage wounded homes,

Prepare dead trees for the fire,

Set about the hard work of recovery and repair,

Grief and lamentation, tallying losses, claiming insurance,

Learning what normal looks like now.