an offering by Rebecca Blackwell
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? (Ps. 22)
I saw this church in ruins when I visited Ghost Ranch (Abiquiu, NM) in March of 2000, a very dark time in my life. The psalm and the picture still speak to me in difficult times.
OUR HELP IS IN THE NAME OF THE LORD
Many of the vehicles, businesses, etc. that I saw in Ghana had religious wording on them. This one particularly tickled me… doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in the driver! But then again, the roads in Ghana might be dangerous, so perhaps prayer is appropriate.
Life, a retrospective reflection,
Like a rare, turn of the century stained glass window.
In due course, portions stained and sordid,
Lacking true meaning and purpose.
Yet just as the stained glass window,
Life comes alive with radiance and beauty.
A solitary event transpires and inspires,
Glimmering light from above shines through.
Suddenly and spiritually, raptures of beauty,
Myriad of stained portions, uniting in elegance.
A portrait to behold, a story to be told.
Such it is with the stained glass window.
And so it is with our life, as the light shines through,
A newborn redemption and grace,
Beauty to behold, a story to be told.
And so it is, with the stained glass window.
Blessed; broken; given.
Today I joined in the formation of a new congregation, Light of Hope Presbyterian Church, which grew out of the lives of three predecessor congregations that chose to be blessed, broken and given in order to form one new ministry. So excited to see what God has in store for this wonderful and faithful group of people.
by John Clare
I am! yet what I am none cares or knows, My friends forsake me like a memory lost; I am the self-consumer of my woes, They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost; And yet I am! and live with shadows tost Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life nor joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems; And e'en the dearest—that I loved the best— Are strange—nay, rather stranger than the rest. I long for scenes where man has never trod; A place where woman never smil'd or wept; There to abide with my creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept: Untroubling and untroubled where I lie; The grass below—above the vaulted sky.
– See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/20728#sthash.JiXJ0HiU.dpuf
Thoughts & Images from the Heart 