The Lover

There was a Lover who created a garden.
Perfection displayed in brilliance.
To the trees He said, “Bear fruit of many kinds, for my Bride is coming, and she will need nourished.”
To the ground He said, “Bring forth vegetables to sustain her, and satisfy her hunger.”
To each plant He said, “Bring forth vitality, to protect and heal her sickness and ailment. She will find healing in you when complication may arise, and where I destine that you cannot heal her, I will renew her body.”
Then, He created and brought forth animals to be companion and friend, for cheer and play.
He looked in awe of the splendor of His hands and said, “All is ready, and it is good.”
Finally, crafting with His own hands, He formed the Glory of His Creation, His Bride, to live in the Garden He had prepared.
Together they communed in peace and happiness. The Lover had never been so full of joy….
But soon, the Bride was deceived by a great Enemy and cast out.
The Lover, broken and filled with sorrow watched as His Beloved drifted farther and farther from Him.
To the trees her offspring said, “Your fruit is too sweet and not good for our bodies, we will not consume it.” And they limited their children from it as well.
To the vegetables they said, “You are too high in starches, and the rest of you are meager. We do not wish to consume you, either.”
Turning to the beasts given by the Lover to be companions, they ate of their flesh and drank of their milk, abusing them to satisfy their thirsts and hunger.
When they became sick, and forced sickness on each other, they trampled down the plants the Lover had crafted, and said, “We will grind the rocks instead.” Pulling from mines and refining chemicals, using the waste from different sources-even from the dead, saying “surely these will heal us!” These did not heal their sickness, and made them worse. They dug for more stones and strained through more waste, and more of the dead, to find their cures.

The Lover watched as His Bride trampled down the beauty He had given them, overcome with sorrow and anger. He sent floods to wash out their crops, frost to ruin their trees, fires to burn their vineyards, storms to display His glory – but His Bride made excuses, “It is us, we have done this, our hands are causing this to happen.” Some yet said they themselves had managed to create these disasters to destroy each other.

So few turned to Him, delighting in His gifts.
To those who did He blessed them with health and peace, for they looked to Him and said, “Your Creation is enough for Me, and I will Delight in you, all of my days. I will eat and make use of your Garden. For you created the world in Perfection and I praise you for providing for My needs, and designing them by hand to prepare a place for Us, before you even made us.”

Shadows of Gray

The world is different through my eyes

Where you see sunlight filtered through clouds, I see every shade of yellow and gray.  You see relief from the glare, I see magic being birthed.

When you see a panhandler with his sign on a corner, you see incompetence and addiction.  I see a broken, humiliated man with a story to tell.

When you see the rain falling on the road, you grumble at getting wet or watching drivers overreact.  I see the glint of light and allow the sound of rain to soothe my soul.

Where there is darkness in the forest you fear for ghosts.  I watch for faeries to appear.

When mountain peaks are washed in golden sunlight, you see majesty, but I see nature communicating as the mountain thanks the sun for its warmth.

When you stare out at the ocean, you see its surface beauty.  But I hear the souls of the world calling out across the distance, and delight in the ancient waters that have circled the entire globe.  Ireland kisses my feet.  The waters the Messiah crossed have evaporated, gathered in the sky, and fallen in tempests on the ocean.  Pilgrims crossed the waters.  Wayfinders journeyed across the waters, using the stars to guide them.

When you complain about the sand that gets in and on everything, I see millions of shells that have been worn down and deposited safely on the shore to rest.

Where you see the desert, I see a sea of glass waiting to happen.

People are sad and depressed.  You see another person who “doesn’t get it”, and I see heartache, desperation, desire to be more than this– and survival.

Perspective is a flip of a switch.

We all have different vantage points.

Mine invites you to see the world in different colors, when all most see is shadows of gray.

Refining Fire

​The fire rages in my chest

Burns away all my regrets

Ashes blow in the wind
In the burning vault

I’m reminded of my fault

Every foul deed I rescind
Pressure is burning hot

Etching away what I am not

This pain will make me new
Diamonds are refining

I can feel them shining

This pain will make me new
It’s brutal and it hurts

Like walking in reverse

Memories stuck in replay
Each fault and daring taunt

Of who I am and who I’m not

What I was is torn away
I will come out brighter

From the Master’s fire

I will be made new

I can be brand new

More Than A Weed

A little yellow flower bloomed in a sea of grass, awoken brightly to the sun.
Her beauty was unique, hundreds of tiny petals covered her face, each one like a drop of collected sunshine.
She spent her days reflectively staring into the sun, marveling at the beauty of the sky.  When night came she curled into herself to sleep in a green cocoon.
When she was thirsty, the sky rained down on her, reviving her vibrant greens.
One morning, she was noticed.  The flower happily drank in the acknowledgement until words like, “weed” and “plucking up the roots” were spoken over it.
The little flower shivered, frightened by the thought.  She curled into herself, unsure of what these words meant.
One by one the yard was “purged” of her sunny golden friends.
Was there something wrong with them that they were worthless, compared to more refined friends?
Her color began to weaken, as her saddness caused her to droop.  The powders she endured slowly ate away her will to live.
This flower did not escape her fate, she too was whisked away before her full cycle of life had come to pass.  For instead of a Flower, in gleaming glory, all anyone ever saw was a Weed.

Dear Little Girl

Precious Child, I have some Wisdom I wish others had shared with me.

Your skin is flawless, like porcelain.  It’s sincerely beautiful.
I wish I had taken care of mine, I hadn’t known then what I know now.

Don’t wear the make-up, pressed powder will do.  Your complexion is so delicate, be gentle with every inch of it.
You’re beautiful.  Wear the sunscreen, protect your beauty or one day you’ll look like me.  Damaged, scarred, reddened and rough.

I have some freckles, they don’t help.  So please don’t argue about the sunscreen.

Brush your teeth faithfully.  Keep them shining and healthy.
I didn’t.  And I cannot take back the damage.

Your life is so incredibly worth it.  Somebody loves you enough to help you through.

Enhance your beauty, but don’t smother it.  Wash your face before you go to bed.  I’ll teach you the proper skin care I wish someone had taught me.

Your smile is beautiful and true.  Never be afraid of who you are.  I’ll walk you through this life, and help you learn the True Beauty tucked inside.

The surface is important, you will determine how you feel based on how you look.  The woman who says women shouldn’t let how they look affect them, is right– but how you feel about yourself is going to stare at you from the mirror.

I let that woman control me.  Everything I didn’t see, I tried to create.  I was skinny, I was caked, and I still had yellow teeth.

Your appearance isn’t everything.  But it is going to bother you whether you wish it or not.  You’ll look to be someone else, or something else.  The best thing you can be is YOU.

And I’m going to teach you how to do this.  Because Beauty is more than skin deep.  And you’re already beautiful.  But I don’t want you looking in the mirror and regretting what I have, so I’ll help you believe in yourself like no one believed in me.