My garden in the sky.

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Back to my personal place, the place that’s me, where I can watch unnoticed all that passes below, partake in the vibes of distant conversations without being burdened by understanding or reply. A place where the sky fills two thirds of my vision, and surprises me in sudden glimpses of breathtaking splendor, where I can see the far off hills, be aware of the old church, rooted through the centuries, without the need to visit. Here were God seems closer than my last week away.

Yes that house is far bigger, it has not just a balcony by a beautiful ornate garden, not just  bathrooms, but outdoor hot tub. It’s far more beautifully furnished than mine, has spare bedrooms, a library and study, even a working fireplace and chimney. All these things I love, yet it seems empty even when all the  family are there. The dog is my comfort, we sit, each missing in our different ways. I rub his ears and watch too many movies in an effort to pass the time till my duties are over and I can pass it all back to its rightful owners.

They like it here, anyone would, it has everything ones heart could desire, all but one, my little garden in the sky is the place God and I chat, a place of renewing, somehow his humility doesn’t sit well with opulence – neither does my heart.

It reminds me of a favourite song:

“Make me the king of a vast domain,

With cups of pleasure to ease the pain.

I’d hate it all without Him…”

Life is like that, things can never fill the empty place within. It’s so good to be home where everything reflects our life together, small, cosy, warm spirited – here I can write again.

Above the waves.

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Currents surged and tossed her,

Sharp prongs tore at her flesh in passing.

She was overwhelmed.

The surge of humanity,

The tide of evil,

The depths of depression.

Disorientated she could not find the light,

The way to the sky she remembered as a child.

Limbs convulsed

She sank beneath the weight of her wounds.

Struggle ceased.

Then,

As muscle relaxed,

Air dwindling,

A force of nature revived.

Her being floated slowly upward

Towards its natural element

Light and air burst upon her

Filthy water streamed from her face

Eyes encompassed by light rejoiced.

She saw an extended hand and grasped it

Yielding all to the strength of its creator.

Comfort in grief.

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(Excerpt of a letter from Ben Franklin to the widow of his brother John Feb. 1756)

“That bodies should be lent to us is a kind and benevolent act of God. When they become unfit for these purposes and afford us pain instead of pleasure – instead of an aid, become an encumbrance and answer none of the intentions for which they were given – it is equally kind and benevolent that a way is provided by which we may get rid of them.

Death is that way … Why should you and I be grieved at this, since we are soon to follow, and know where to find him.”

With fear and great joy!

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“With fear and great joy” This so captures those moments when we perceive God not as a far off deity, but a living entity involved intimately in our very lives. I love this phrase!

Mathew recounts:

“There was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat on it.

His countenance was like lightning, and his clothing as white as snow and the guards shook for fear of him, and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid…”(the strong men, the soldiers, were terrified, but the defenseless women had nothing to fear for they came seeking Jesus.)

“So they went out quickly from the tomb with fear and great joy…”

“Jesus met them, saying, “Rejoice! … Do not be afraid.”

It is this awe so great it might border on fear were it not immersed in total and overwhelming joy, that quickens my heart time after time.

companionship.

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It’s a cozy “armchair” feeling I have with Him and me,

Like a pair of bedroom slippers warm and comfy as can be.

A very special feeling to be loved for me alone,

To set down lists and doings, put down the mobile phone

And bask within His presence as He gently strokes my hair

Although I’m all alone here I feel his being there.

Like soothing cups of chocolate, like sunshine in the rain

This special deep contentment that eases all the pain.

 

Magic picture

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There’s a picture in my kitchen that’s magic don’t you know,

It daily changes hues and tints, my pleasure to bestow.

Capturing the hills and trees it renders in its might

The fleeting moods of sky above, the glow of glorious light.

Entrancing in its sunset, bedecked with jewels by night

I gasp when doing dishes, surprised by glorious sight.

You guessed it is a window that frames the vivid theme

Creation of a God who loves to render such a scheme.

 

Prison break.

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Trapped by expectations, she longed to gain the sky.

Folks and their opinions had quenched her urge to fly.

Encaged within her prison, she longed to be herself,

Cast off all inhibitions neatly folded on the shelf.

To cast away the costume of who others thought she’d be.

Step through bars of inhibition, wings unfolding to be free.

At last it came the season- couldn’t bear it anymore.

Broke out of limitation – to open sky did soar.

‘Twas not without a price tag, for her loved ones bore the bruise

She made upon her exit – when another life did choose.

And yet they saw the glory as she sped into the sky

You cannot bind in serfdom one who’s born to fly.