“GOOD company in a journey makes the way seem shorter!” Quote by Izaak Walton 1593 – 1683
ON an early spring morning over hills and meadows A yellow golden butterfly
floats among purple scented flowers
If I could catch her I would say
“I know your journey will
be long and your companions few
And I wish for you a friend
prone to share her journey with you!
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“Two are better than one . . . if either of them fall, one can help . . .the other up . . . if two lie down together they wil keep warm” Book of Ecclesiastes
The robe he wore was old and torn WITH rips and tears And if you could see his hair
IT was long and UNDITY!
He shuffled with his feet, whispering defeat Appearing at night in dreams That only a child can dream
As I grew up this visitor
of the past came less often As time filtered through my
mind this was just an ‘Apparition Of Something
Less Divine’
With abandonment issues as a child I perceived God as I did the missing parent which has taken many years to reconcile God as a loving presence in my life!
Why – Oh why – my sweet bird? For together we could fly Why did you leave me behind?
How I long to hear your soft song
But its song had died in the darkness of night
In grief to a distant land it took flight . . .
A very long time ago a man had been captured and sent to a foreign land. Once a powerful king David became helpless, taking refuge in God during deep distress. He wrote a song called
have lived in shame, in our abuse, agony and pain? Why did it happen? Why did we not stop the cruel acts? Did the threats intimidate us?
“But we have been abused” we cry our bodies and minds we took on as our fault the sins of the perpetrator has eaten away at our hearts our dark secrets haunt us at night, our pillows drenched with tears, having taken the burden upon ourselves but it is just too heavy to bear In self reproach trying to pay the price As if we are striped of the things of this earth ready to die
THERE once was a Man
who experienced this pain as we in humiliation and scourging he hung upon a tree His robe torn from his body his loincloth removed a spectacle to the world
In disgrace, his garments bickerd with tainted money 1Beatened with a rod with cuts and abrasions a crown of thorns pressing
upon his head, nails driven through his hands offered for all men
Our appetites and passions he bore tempted of the devil denying himself bread given to prayer instead tasting bitter wine, spewing it from his mouth giving us power over our addictions
The cry of the mob “Crucify Him” as he hung upon the cross Crying “Father forgive them for they know not what they do” giving us the desire to forgive our assassins and demons too
Desolate and forlorn when his followers fled, he understands when alone we are left In all of these things he was striped and given to death only to rise again that his sons and daughters may in eternity rest!
