Knit and Pray

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

My TWO Octobers

       October in Texas is often amazing. It is delightfully cool and gives me energy to do outlandish things such as prepare the soil for its winter rest, wash windows, and clean out closets. The best part of October in Texas is taking long walks under skies as blue as my grandson’s eyes.
      With those things in mind, our local writers group, Hill Country Women of Words, chose to write about OCTOBER for our meeting this week. I’m posting here the words that flowed from my heart through my fingers yesterday afternoon just before meeting time. While the words surprised me, I am encouraged to renew my reach to answer His call on my life. Most of my readers are many years younger than I am and may not quite understand the larger picture here so please do not read gloom, doom, or sadness. Pause a minute in your own whirlwind life to find the joy, excitement, and awe in the calling of Jesus Christ.

October. Autumn. The 10th month of the year.
The land is tired and ready for its winter rest but first there is much to be done.

On All Saints Day we officially and communally pause to look back, to remember our ancestors, friends, and loved ones who beat us to the finish line. It is good to consider that instead of gloating and forgetting us altogether, those saints are surrounding the very Throne of God, praying for us who still struggle in this life. This year, our local Methodist church will dedicate the new Columbarium on All Saints Day. A very good thing.
In the cold of November, golden coverings fall from the trees, leaving them bare. Yet, the crops are safely gathered in so we come as thankful people, raise the song of harvest, ask the Lord’s blessing, and thank we all our God with heart and hands and voices. Thanksgiving: family gathers; a very good thing.

Then the best season is last when our earthly calendar ends with the Joy of Christmas and is complete with chorus, bells, and happy song. It is fitting that man created a calendar ending with a birth that gives Life forever. Christmas: celebrate Jesus, celebrate family, celebrate life; a very good thing.

And, so it is.
October. Autumn. The last seasons of my life.
It is about time for my winter rest and from my October vantage point, the calendar of my life is---
Dotted with both storms of sorrow and amazing, heavy showers of joy. I can now look back and see long periods of growth - - -
- - - and empty years of stagnation.
I am fascinated to witness how the seasons of my life connected and how
old things became new, increase replaced loss, and trust overcame fear.
So, at 74 ¾ years of age, I can see almost clearly how Christ worked it all together. I smile in gratitude. It is a very good thing.

Now, with only two seasons left - - -  there are still celebrations and MUCH to do.
More than ever, I must be about my Father’s business.
J I must remember that those who are younger do not have the advantage of my amazing wisdom and grace and … well… I must be more patient. J

Therefore…..
I will continue to diligently study the woman of Proverbs…
          As I fold my hands in prayer, and as I knit, wash dishes, make beds, wrap gifts, wipe brows, and type words… please bless the product of my hands. . .
          As I love and attempt to guide and bless and nurture please help me to look well to the ways of my household and may the teaching of kindness be on my tongue. . .
          As I rise up and face each day… please let strength and dignity be my clothing. . .
          Especially, may I smile at the future.
In the cold of the November of my life, as I slow more and more, I will give thanks for those crops I gathered throughout my seasons and I will raise the song of harvest; I will ask the Lord’s blessing on the meager gifts I’ve offered Him; and I will delight in praising Him with all my heart—even if my hands grow feeble and my voice dims.
Then at the Christmas of my own December, I will celebrate my real beginning.

Claim with me Paul’s admonition in Romans 11:36:
          For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever. Amen.”


Love and hugs and blessings !!
Liz

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Giving Thanks in Texas

RAIN.
Real rain wet rain much rain steady rain.

Water falling from God's Hands onto our dry, parched, thirsty land.

No, the drought is not over but our dirt got a BIG drink tonight.

Yes, it came with a bang. Lab Ava and I jumped five inches at the first out-of-nowhere-house-shaking-soul-straightening bang. But the water was wet.

Twelve hours earlier, the bride was radiant, the groom adoring and the families hugged and laughed, danced, cheered, and gorged on father of the bride Jimbo's remarkably luscious home made barbeque and the absolute best-in-Texas Italian Cream wedding cake. Drove safely through minor storms there and back. Stayed up late visiting, knitting, and listening to the rain that was predicted to end by 1 a.m.

Wooooo-hooooooo here it is five a.m. and the rain continues to fall.

Yes my restless legs roused me out of a much-needed and oh-so-restful sleep.
But I can type praises.
Because.
There is RAIN in Texas.

RAIN poured onto a sinful people from the loving hands of the One Triune God who is merciful and forgiving.

Thank You, Holy Father.

One of your grateful children,
Liz

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Welcome Autumn

Unbelievable. Another season has arrived in Texas. And it is an unusual autumn for us - -  dull, brown, and dried up.

Thankfully, my world is made so small and I'm brought into reality by my blogging friends who are amazing.

          Dawn posted about devastating floods from Pennsylvania where she volunteered with the Red Cross and shared God’s love.

          Beth posted from here in our hometown about rushing to Bastrop, Texas to help victims of raging fires there. And, withOUT her permission, I quote Beth’s closing statement in her amazing post of September 13: The effects of this fire will be long-lasting and long felt. I am so sorry for the lives lost. I am so thankful that a community of people in the midst of a huge tragedy can be the hands and feet of God.
          Both the floods ‘up north’ and the fires ‘down the road’ were no respecter of persons and angrily consumed homes, some lives, and memories and refrigerators and photographs and livelihoods.

          Ohio, Missouri, New York, and Pennsylvania pray that the rain will cease, for a while.
          All of Texas prays for rain to fall to feed and bless and protect our land.

And there I was, spending most of the summer complaining—loudly at home and widely on blogs—just because I was temporarily sick.

Forgive me, Holy Father; forgive me friends and neighbors who have lost everything.

Megan at Sabbath Says reminded me, so today, I went back to my already worn out copy of Ann Voskamp’s A Thousand Gifts and began recounting my own blessings. Makes me ‘shamed to have complained.

          I left off around July 20th with something about: My office is clean.
That was THEN.

THIS is now J


214.    Chicken thawing for a healthy and hardy supper tonight.
215.    Sleep. Any time it comes.
216.    Life in a small town and getting phone call 8 a.m. to share news of an injured biker …    “just because it’s a neighbor and you might need to know.”
217.    Laundry finished – dried, folded, put away.
218.    Dishwasher quietly cleaning and sanitizing my dishes, pots, and pans while I write.
219.    A great-niece who loves to stop by and who will spend time with Daughter while Dear Heart and I take a day off to celebrate nine years of marriage.
220.    Nine years of marriage !!! Thank you, Holy Father, for a loving man, companionship,    and  family.
221.    For fire fighters across Texas who stand at the ready for another Red Alert this weekend – high temperatures and high winds. Bless and protect them, Holy Father.
222.    For good friends who stand by and insist that I get out of the house for lunch, fellowship, and laughter.
223.     For following a nagging in my heart when I took time to dial a friend in New York. We haven’t talked in months and months and haven’t seen each other in over four years. But her laughter, our private jokes, our memories, and our concerns picked up across the miles with no interruption. Tea and whispers, Mary calls it!
224.    For the safe birth of another baby boy—a great, great nephew. Now Dear Heart and I each have  a Mason among our nephews. J

And, dear readers, as the Apostle Paul taught us in his epistles, I offer to you:
          Grace to you and peace … I thank my God always concerning you, for the grace of God which was given you in Christ Jesus.

Liz


Thursday, September 15, 2011

Summer Goes On. And On.

It has been a long, dry spell.
v In Texas
v In my soul
v In my words

Other friends and places are washed away by floods and high water.

Who said, "Feast or fammine" ????

As I hand-watered  one of our hundred-plus year old oak trees, I admitted to God that we are a selfish people who want it all and who turn from Him. And I begged forgiveness.

Maybe you know about the dry times.

No medications. High winds. Daughter’s headaches. Angst about Texas friends who helplessly watched every THING go up in flames. Then back on medications. SLEEP. REST. DREAMS.

Through these long days and longer nights, I’ve needed healing words written by my writer friends, by my cyber friends, by my family. ALAS. I’ve read few words written by anyone…. just from exhaustion.

Guess what???? There IS good news. God knew what He was doing from the beginning…..
            “And by the seventh day God completed His work which He had done; and He RESTED on the seventh day from all His work which He had done. Then God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, because in it He RESTED from all His work…” (Surprises you? Yeah, right! )

Sleep. Rest.

Before the sleep came, I could not concentrate on blogs, on fiction, on history. For weeks on end I could not sit at my computer. Drought was  v e r y  dry.

HOWEVER. I did read many words in Holy Scripture. Some words sink in and bless and encourage. Other words are blown away like leaves driven by that recent summer north wind in Texas that stirred up fires and dust-devils in the pastures and in my mind. But I read again. And again. God’s Word.

So, in my own drought, here is how God held onto me and blessed me—in spite of myself and the evil restless legs……
©     I actually attended Sunday School class a couple of times and Teacher Tom is teaching on Saul/Paul. Isn’t it amazing how God works? Over the days I could not think straight and skipped Sunday classes, I was drawn into a new, exciting insight into the New Testament.
©     This very OLD Christian, deeply steeped in God’s Holy Word, has greedily taken huge gulps of the first Christians building churches and holding onto their faith and teaching one another. Like I never saw it before.
©     Later I’ll write more about my New Testament journey.
©     Even though our local chamber reports on 99° EVERY DAY… here's a glance from our south (the cool side in Texas), shady, front porch on most days of July, August and so far into September. Just sayin.


Honest picture. Honest.

©     Then, I made the monumental effort (applause is humbly appreciated) to start Daughter and me back to water workouts in our local indoor pool. *yuk; up early; drive to the pool; etc. shampoo; and etc. yuk* HOWEVER the water workouts—led by Daughter’s wicked-trainer-mother—work wonders for Daughter’s balance and mental wellbeing. Also helps her mean, old mom!!
©     Family and I drove to San Antonio to celebrate the 25th birthday of first-born’s first born.  Oh my--- I have a birth grandson who is a quarter of a century old. OLD.  Well. I’m glad God gave him to us!!!

The OLD one is John, far right, white shirt. :-)

©     Family and I joined the celebration of the marriage of Dear Heart’s baby sister. She turned 85 in May and became a second time bride in July. Don’t even TRY to tell ME about serving a God of second chances. J We witnessed, again, two, huge families blending and bonding beautifully last Saturday.
©     Family and I attended our community 9-11 memorial last Sunday. Moving. Appropriate. Good.

Fredericksburg High School Naval Jr. ROTC

©     Faithful friends bless me as they continue to care, encourage, and cheer me on through my bleak days by knowing just when to INSIST we gather for lunch. It’s like a drink from a clear, sparkling pool.
©     Today I discovered who will receive my current prayer scarf. This one is yet another red, white and blue and even my orthopedic doctor said, “It is BEAUTIFUL.” His brother was a 25-year Marine, so he might be prejudiced. Over the last month, the scarf has grown and changed into my most unique—though imperfect—knitted offering. It is important to remind Phillip’s mom that her son did not die in vain, that we care; that we remember.
©     And one last note. Today, at the very last minute of the absolute deadline, I submitted a short story to a contest. The only important thing is that I wrote and wrote and edited and read instructions and edited and pressed the SEND button.

So, dear friends. This has been a long list of thanksgivings. If you’ll hang with me, I’ll try to write more often and offer shorter epistles. Each of you is special and dear and precious to me and to our Heavenly Father who knows you better and loves you greater than I do.

As my cyber friend, Dawn, says... let us covet only the Living Water.

Genesis 2:2, 3

    Liz

Monday, August 15, 2011

Summer & Grass Burrs in Texas: A Last Word

 - - - or a few thousand words..... a picture being worth so many.... 
<> 
The drought goes on. And on.
To the point we let the grass go, even around the house.
Our prayer is that we can save some of our old trees around the house.


In the back yard, Cocoa & Ava innocently search for gopher holes



Unaware the still green "sticker patch" lurks under their noses


While just one step over is a brittle, brown, dagger just brown and ripe enough to strike.



BUT !!! Ah-ha !! The just-four-months-in-the-ground Sage blooms away !



So. When Summer gives dry, parched days with unbearable temperatures and
 GRASS BURRS . . .
. . . I just go inside, bake Apple-WholeWheat-Honey Muffins
...and continue praying for rain.

Living Well in God’s Mercy
Liz

P.S. Thank you, Sally, for your awesome proofing. Guess what.... Encarta Dictionary really guesses about those stickers we lovingly refer to as burrs. :-)

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Texas Grass-Burs and God's Armor

Most things Texas are wonderful.
People. Sunsets. Bluebonnets. Garden tomatoes for supper. Bare feet in the cool of an evening.

Texans are especially known for toughness and in this record-breaking, soul-cracking drought, our toughness comes in mighty handy.

We Texas humans are also known—on occasion—to be
Ó Stubborn
Ó Obstinate
Ó Determined
And a few other descriptions that don’t fit well in this format.







But let me tell you: There is nothing good about a Texas grass sticker-bur.

In my 70+ years, I’ve learned to live with spiders, stay away from scorpions, pray against snakes, and ration water.
But I cannot deal with Texas grass burs. They live forever. They never die. They cannot be destroyed.

Our grass burs are

Imperishable M Indestructible M Perpetual M Permanent.

And  Eternal.

Those evil stickers lurk in sand, grass, and weeds. When human skin connects suddenly with a Texas grass bur, the grass bur always wins. It digs in deep and draws blood. A sticker bur is small and evil and embeds itself into said flesh.

And it continues to live in the surface of the soft threads of carpet.

Grass burs overrun Texas.

Texas grass burs can live happily without blooming in any kind of soil for up to TWENTY years. Then, after one little rain shower, wham. Old seeds pop up into wicked stickers before the rainbow come out. And without rain, the stickers are like tiny razors in the dirt.

We have an outdoor mat on our front porch that is supposed to trap most of the burs from the soles of our sneakers and it does a so-so job. Then, just inside the front door is a braided rug that pulls some of the remaining demons off our shoes. So, for a time, my life-long Texas feet walk around in sweet denial that the rest of the floors in the house are relatively safe.

HA !!!

The longer a grass bur stays in the rug, the deeper it goes into the weave. The sticker dries and becomes brittle and razor sharp. The little spikes break off and entrench themselves into the flesh of a tender, human foot. Or finger. Sometimes, the splinter is so tiny it can’t be found to be removed and sinks ever deeper into the tissue. Next, it gets infected and the doctor removes it with special instruments, applies bandages, and sends you home with expensive antibiotics. If you are lucky, you don’t have to get a tetanus shot.

Occasionally, I sit on the floor of the front porch and pick grass burs out of the rug. Today was the day to de-bur the carpet. Each time I worked a sticker free from the threads of the rug, I thought,  Ah Ha! Gotcha before you get me!

Gradually I began to realize that no, the thorn got me first, second, and third. When I pulled up a particularly vicious thorn, I held that little sticker in my hand and thought, Yeah, you are just like that little sin I tried to cover up. The one that lived a very long time. And multiplied. And got buried away from the light of day. And attacked me at any weak moment.

The longer I looked at that tiny, dried up sticker the more evil it became. Like my sin. Both the spike and my sin grew larger. The microscopic barb/sin is insidious, dangerous, subtle, menacing, ominous, threatening, intimidating, hostile, aggressive, bullying. Trying to get rid of the stickers in my carpet—and the sin in my life—was a debilitating job. Before it was finished, I dissolved into tears and my fingers dripped blood.

Finally, I remembered that blood dripped from the side of Jesus the Christ for my sin and I prayed for forgiveness.

As I said, this old Texan is often stubborn and I jumped into the sticker job before preparing properly. Had I simply donned my garden gloves and used pointed-nose pliers I could have walked away from de-burring the carpet in half the time and totally pain free.

You know the life solution already, right??? When I live prepared in my soul, I can withstand sin much easier.
God even gave us precise, exact instructions. Laid out clear as a Texas summer sky.


God’s Word. The Holy Bible. Ephesians. Chapter Six….

10 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.
11 Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.
12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.
13 Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.
14 Stand firm then, with the
¨     belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the
¨     breastplate of righteousness in place, 15 and with
¨     your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace.
16 In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.
17 Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.
 18 And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.
19 Pray also for me, that whenever I speak, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel, 20 for which I am an ambassador in chains. Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should.

Amazing!! I’ve been tired and sick and negligent lately and it took the almost invisible sticker from a Texas grass bur to remind me of God’s greatest shield against exhaustion and illness and laziness.
          Thank You, Holy Father that even and especially in our weakness you remain strong and pure and faithful.
May you be blessed by God’s Word as together we stand firm!
Liz

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

My World Keeps Turning


…albeit…. S  L  O  W  L  Y.

Perhaps the weather condition of my home state reflects in the condition of my blog posting—or lack thereof—over the past several months:

85% of Texas is in either extreme or exceptional drought, the two worst categories. 

My hometown of Fredericksburg is in the Exceptional Mode.

Exceptional being AWFUL - - DRY - - - parched.

In addition to drying up, our temperatures are high and higher. We are inching our way upwards from 42 days of triple digit temperatures. For those of you who, like me, are slow in math, “triple digits” is a fancy term for anything over
ONE HUNDRED DEGREES +

of hot, hotter and hottest temperatures.
*duhhh*

Today in Kerrville, Texas – a mere 20 miles from Hometown – the outside temperature registered
105

No rain means dry fields, empty creeks, dry lawns, dying trees, no wildflowers, and precious few weeds. It means livestock are sold off at rock bottom prices and that wild animals—deer, raccoons, skunks, possums—are skin and bones skinny and hungry and thirsty. And dying.

Our Texas hill country has had more than our share of drought conditions off and on during the past several years.
Believe me that dry is bad even in the winter because dry burns regardless of the temperature.
But DRY in summer is frightening because summer-hot dry burns faster and hotter and in the blink of an eye.

Do you remember reading Erma Bombeck’s The Grass is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank? Wise woman, Erma. Here’s a picture of the pasture, way behind our house, that sits on top of our septic tank. J


Notice the dry, burned-up, wasted pasture all around.

At church the other day, some of our local friends complained to me about our neighbor across the road and his use of EVERYONE’s underground water to irrigate HIS hay fields. I have nothing to do with another’s use of water and while the said neighbor is within his legal rights—part of his livelihood / agricultural needs—we’ve noticed that it’s been weeks since an 18-wheeler truck has maneuvered through his narrow gate to pick up a single bale of hay. We have noticed, by the way, that in spite of our community water wetting down his hay fields, his coastal is not growing. Yes, it is green, but the weather is too hot for the grass to grow tall enough to cut and bale.
Seems to this city girl that my Sunday School teachers were onto something way back in the early 1940’s when they taught us to take turns, to share, and to love one another.

Each night, the weather people continue to say, “There is no hope for rain.”

Nevertheless, we who are called by His name continue to petition Him, our High and Holy heavenly Father, Creator of all that is or has been or ever will be, to be merciful and to heal our hearts, forgive our sin-filled ways, and to please wet our land and fill our creeks.
And, by the way—again—do you remember that dreadful day this spring??? May 22, 1011… Joplin, Missouri…. Talk about deadly.
          So, while we entreat (beg, plead) our Holy Father to  pour out water from the heavens onto our land, we must remember to continue to pray for those who lost everything. Homes. Belongings. Photographs. Grandmothers. Aunts. Livelihoods. Kitchen sinks. Roofs to cover those who survived.
          And we MUST give thanks for God’s perfect love.

Praying to serve and glorify my God and my King.

With love,
Liz

A Friend's New Adventure

Those of you who know me well, understand that I am extremely SLOW to say good bye. It is safe to say I prefer denial to the finality of an absolute end. Over the past three years, God called several of my friends Home to be with Him. One went suddenly in a violent car accident two days before she and I were to have a long-overdue lunch date. Two other friends fought cancer over a few years and I was privileged to spend some precious and private time with each in their waning weeks. Another friend’s sudden cancer took him with little notice and I’ve been blessed to walk close with his widow as she grieves.
In all these cases, I had some issues with my Holy Father to settle first so I did not let go quickly or even delete their e-mail addresses from my contacts list until recently.

Just my way of being sassy to my Father.
He knows I don’t handle change easily.

Today, I'm rethinking goodbyes.

From the inception of this prayer blog of mine, a link has stood sentimental on my sidebar as a special local place: The Closer Walk Christian Bookstore.
The store closed on May 31, 2011.
I have grieved deeply.
But I could not write a good bye. I could not write about my memories or the blessings I received from Sheila and her store. The store ceased to exist eight weeks ago but I could not remove the link.
The Closer Walk Christian Bookstore was a fixture in Fredericksburg for 27 years. The store meant a lot to me and to our small town.

Sheila and the store have been in my life together for some fifteen years and through the store, Sheila was my mentor, confidant, former employer, and fellow writer. We walked through trials and tribulations together, shared joys and celebrations, shed pools of tears, and prayed together at the drop of a hat or a tear. She is a lovely lady who is small and delicate but who managed the bookstore with an iron glove and ministered to droves of us with a quiet, trusting heart.


May 2007 Sheila & Liz at The Closer Walk booksigning for Liz and Sally Clark.


When she and her husband closed the door the last time to the store, Sheila turned around to embrace the next adventure God will give her and she spent a month visiting with and entertaining her grandchildren, children, and other family, praying, contemplating, and listening to her Lord.
She has already begun to write more, to set up her speaking ministry, and work in her garden. Today I received word that Sheila has a new blog. She is taking a new first step.

*sigh* Maybe it is time for me to let go.

Oh!!! But, hey! Perhaps this goodbye isn’t going to be so bad after all:

·       Sheila’s e-mail address is ACTIVE and ALIVE
·       Sheila still answers her telephone
·       Sheila continues as an active member of our Hill Country Women of Words writers’ group.


Please visit Sheila’s new blog. You will be blessed sharing in her new adventure

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Happy Birthday, Little Brother

Sometimes, I must yell STOP and bring the daily grind to a screeching halt.

Sometimes I just have to shout: God is good and life is sweet.

I haven’t posted on a regular basis lately even though the restless leg curse is calming for the first time in a dozen years and sleep--restful, uninterrupted sleep--is returning. Because of that God-intended, beautiful SLEEP, my depression and anxiety and frustration and hopelessness are falling away. Guess what I’m doing with my new-found time????

You have noticed I have not been writing.

I’ve been cleaning closets, organizing clutter, dusting things that were grossly neglected, planning a family-style bridal shower in our back yard for next week, and doing every-day things like cooking cheerfully for my family and going to the grocery story. With a happy heart.

And I’m giving thanks. And I’m not complaining (too much) about out record-breaking Texas drought induced HEAT. Life has been returned to me and I am grateful.

 Many of my friends—both cyber and real-life—have faithfully stopped by my blog to pray awhile in one or another of my cyber praying chairs so I want to share a HUGE thanksgiving with you. It happened today. On just another, routine Saturday.

Today, Dear Heart and Precious Daughter and I drove an hour across the Texas Hill Country to celebrate my brother’s birthday.


He is the only sibling I’ve ever had. Well, except for his wife who is my best friend and Jesus Sister.
I took a store-bought (but larapin-licious) Over-the-Hill cake and the birthday-boy himself drove to the restaurant to bring home ready-made barbeque.

Sister said, “Your mother and mine MUST be cringing behind a cloud in THE Throne Room because all their lovely china and crystal are tucked safely away in the buffet and we are eating store-bought  birthday dinner on paper plates!”

Actually, Eloise and MayBeth were probably thanking our Holy Father that their daughters finally slowed down to grasp the finer things of life: FAMILY and RELATIONSHIP.

Sister served fresh goat’s milk and told about their new batch of Peacocks. Lil’Bro and I—both in our 70’s now—showed off  our cyber skills by comparing  apps on his Iphone and my Ipod. The house resounded with memories of birthdays past and hopes of birthdays future. Listening (or not J) to our stories were Birthday Boy’s only niece, only grand-nephew and only brother-in-law along with one of his three sons, two of his daughters-in-law, three granddaughters, and five great grands (between 4 and 11.)

We laughed. We remembered. Our worlds stood still for a little while.

We were just Family. Without shame and WITH great joy.

Happy Birthday, Jerry


Standing on His primises,

         Liz

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Desolate Days of Summer

My disclaimer must come first!!

I am not a poet.
I do not write poetry.
Poems mystify me.

HOWEVER.
Sometimes, my brain goes beserk. (Could it be from the heat? Probably not )
PLEASE, no critiques :-) I welcome any and all comments but remember I make NO claim as a poet. I write prose. Long pieces. With LOTS of words. :-0
But, because it is summer and in Texas we are hot and we are dry, this is my love offering to you!

S
 I
   Z
     Z
       E
         L
           I
            N
              G
                         Days    of    Summer


Sun sucks moisture from the ground,
heat sears dirt while a
blistering wind whistles through the trees
in sultry days and sweltering nights.
Parched throats breathe stale air and
thoughts, birthed in limp, lifeless minds,
bake to a crisp
before they form.


Searing winds of summer
smack around our souls,
suck skin dry and we
stagger across parched ground
smoldering under the sun and
stale air scorches lungs,
sapping all strength.

Abruptly

water whirls; we
wiggle wantonly within
welcome wetness.

Sprinklers
          spin
                    spit
                              spike
spew
          swirl
                    soaking
                              showers.

Sadly, we shut down the timer
to save precious well water shared with others and
search for shade to
wait for rain
from God.


May you be blessed with safety, your daily bread, and extra portions of God’s great Grace while we wait for rain.
Love,
Liz