Love Letter #1 in a Series

June brings remembrances of fathers. I find myself having memories of a father of
long ago. At least once or twice I remember sending a letter over the years to the
resting place where he was buried. Come to find out, I’m not the only one who has done
this. It is quite common for others to do it as well. I’m not sure what the caretakers do
with the letters. They may open and read them, then dispose of them, or maybe they don’t
bother at all.
Much later in life I have written letters calling them, ‘Love Letters To Daddy”, working
through emotional issues of an absent father. I had to put them together slowly, there
was no way of hurrying the process.

Daddy, you were bombed last night!
Walking into the kitchen the
morning after, light reflects you
in the breakfast nook, as I quietly
enter to see if you are alright.

You are hiding behind the newspaper
and unable to notice your daughter.
Alcohol vapors sting my nose, you don’t
see me, as if I don’t exist.

Oh Daddy, you were the one
with the clickity-click-click of the
tongue and the crazy songs you sung.
Where did Mama go? I think she got
tired and left.
I remember her pouring water from
bottles down the drain, but it had
a funny smell, I couldn’t really tell.

Who is this strange lady in our
house, the one wearing a blue
negligee, you both swing and sway
from room to room, then pass out
on the bed.

Sounds of heavy breathing are
alarming, I am confused and don’t
know what to do.
Viciousness in the kitchen the day
you staggered across the kitchen
floor.

A pressure pot of beans exploding
on the ceiling sending you to the
hospital reeling.
I begged you not to drink, but you
once again began to sink, I’m sorry
Daddy I made you drink.

Well, my visit with you is almost done
and my time is spent, I will soon be
sent away.
Really Daddy, will you send me back
to those abusers and their evil ways?
Aww, please, why do you let them
do this to me? I really don’t think I can
take much more.

Oh, don’t make me leave, don’t make
me go back to that smelly shack.
Your pungent smell of vinegar, cukes
and alcohol are better than that.

But my pleas were ignored, you were
just too sick to have me around.
That fifth of whiskey made you awful
thirsty hiding the bottles in
cabinets and drawers.

Remember how you swerved on those
LA freeways, taking me to the bus,
without a sound between us?
The roar of the engines and exhaust
fumes making me sick, carry me to
a place I would rather not go.

Finally climbing the steps, crying,
unaware of the effects on an innocent
child from no where.

Well Daddy, I remember these
things whether you do or not, so I am
writing these letters in hope to be
freed of the pain that was caused!

“Love is like wild flowers, it’s often found in the most unlikely places!”

Yesterday, walking along side a road in the high desert, I came upon a sight that was a surprising and refreshing act of kindness. I hope whoever did this knows what a blessing
they have shared!

Again reading from the ‘Book of Ezekiel‘

Ezekiel 37:5,6

“Bring my dry bones together, cover them with skin and I shall live again!”
In our desert experiences in the land of
seemingly death, as trees devoid of life, our dry bones are without skin and breath!

“The hand of the Lord came upon me in His Spirit, and set me
down in the midst of the valley, and it was full of bones…
and behold there were very many in the open valley and indeed
they were very dry. And He said to me . . . can these bones live?
So I answered, “Oh Lord God you know… prophecy unto these bones
and say to them “Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord” Thus says the Lord
God to these bones ” Surely I will cause breath to enter into you
and you shall live!”

* * * * *
Lord, only you and I know what it took to get
to this place on earth, earnestly seeking the right
way to go. With tightness of stomach and
tension of muscles, every fiber of my being
disrupted, constant motion creating
commotion.

Oh Lord, put me back together
again. Knit me together with the same needles
used in my mother’s womb. Bring my dry
bones together as you promised long ago
.
And as you fashion me, help me to know the
pricks and punctures from your needles
are only for my growth. When it begins to
hurt I promise I’ll try not to cry, but if I
do my tears you will dry. And please
remember to use your thimble, for I know

it hurts you more than I. When your
children are hurt your precious Son feels

also the pain. And when the needles are
placed in your pin cushion to rest , cushioning
the blows for your children below. A
stitch is not taken unless it is needed. This is
enough for now and all you will allow.
When you see I am becoming unraveled
and its time to pick up your needles once
more, pour your oil on my wounds with the
Salve from heaven!

Light had turned to darkness that day, petals of brightness slowly faded away, in seclusion they hid, as their Father appeared, asking the question – “Where are you [my children]?” Genesis 3:9 –And down
through time His search for His children has gone through the earth, spoken through His servants – Noah pleading with the people to hear, that the flood would not take
them away, to Jeremiah, the Weeping Prophet, searching for God’s people with

the same question “Where are my children?” But they would not answer, placing him in a pot of boiling oil, for his beseeching cries. And many more men crying to God’s people with the question “Where are you?”

In my last post the Prophet Ezekiel, was used by God using
prophecies. . . .signs and symbols to dramatize God’s message to a an exiled people! Some verses are very graphic, in Chapter 16 –
Relating a beautiful story of God’s love, in search of His people. . .

Beginning in Verse 1 – And the Lord came…Saying

“Thus says the Lord God to Jerusalem. . .

Your birth and your nativity are from the land of Canaan…

As for your nativity on the day you were born, your naval

cord was not cut, nor were you washed in water to cleanse

you, you were not rubbed with salt nor wrapped in

swaddling clothes, no eye pitied you to do any of these

things for you, to have compassion on you, and you were

thrown out into the open field”

“And when I passed by you and saw you struggling

in your own blood…I said to you in your blood,

“LIVE!’ Yes I said to you in your blood “LIVE!”

“I made you thrive like a plant in the field, and you grew

and matured and became very beautiful…But you were

naked and bare. When I passed by you again . . .I spread my
wing over you. . . And you became mine, washing you
in water. . . I anointed you with oil and clothed you

with fine linen and covered you with silk, I adorned you

with ornaments, put bracelets on your wrists and a chain

on your neck, and a jewel in your nose…Your fame went

out among the nations…But you trusted in your own beauty”. . .

[Having need of nothing, going about your own ways!]
And once again God searches for His children
with the question “Where are you?”

One day I was listening to the radio, and the song
– ‘A Horse With No Name’ by ‘America’
was playing with it’s many lyrics –

“I’ve been through the desert on a horse with
no name. . .
After two days in the desert sun. . .
A river that flowed made me sad to think it
was dead”. . .
These words reminded me of the beautiful story
of God’s search for His children in the desert
wanderings of His people through the ages, portrayed
by the Prophet Ezekiel – Chapter 16!

Even down to our time, for all who are
singed with troubles and fire in their desert
experience, God in His love searches for us never
giving up!


A metaphor of words and images in the form of a poem came to my mind –

Hooves pounding on the clay baked ground!

The child playing among the reeds on the river’s edge!

 

A voice is heard in a desolate land

“Oh Ezekiel, what do you have to say

of this man, one that is searching

for a child among rocks, stones and

burning sand?”

There is a desert under a blazing sky

where serpents lie. Cacti hide a tiny

wren, it’s wings singed from the noon

day sun, never flying as high again.

All is still, but for the horse and its rider

moving faster, its hooves pounding the

clay baked ground.

On the first day of his journey, no child

was found and in disappointment turns

his horse around. With an empty heart

and far from blest, even though he did

his best.

He could not remove the picture from

his mind and returned to the desert one

more time. Searching far and near, a cry

in the distance spurs him on.

With the brim of his hat to shade his

eyes, looking on the desert floor, in a

pool of blood in a pocket of sand, he

hears a child’s cry again.

Lifting this baby to his saddle side, with

his hands its tears he dries.

Cleansing with water and oil, removing

clothes dirty and soiled. With newness

of life the child arises, it is given a name

no longer living in shame.

The desert is turned to a river bed. The

wren flies high again and with joyful song

it sings.

Living waters flow upon the earth, bidding

the child live in a land with no more

dread.

Playing among the reeds on the river’s

edge, no danger will come from the adder’s

den, for there is no more sin.

All things are new because of this Man’s

Redemption Plan!

Continue reading “The horse and it’s rider…” →

‘Remembrance of a mother‘

I think some of us are tempted to question

the timely events in our lives, why certain things

come about, parents that were given that

weren’t the best.

As a child I had been brought up to just

accept things as they were, hoping they

would get better. But they never seemed

to be resolved.

My mother was a flighty person, moving

in and out of the chaos

and confusion she had woven in her life

and mine.

Then I remember clearly the time when

I was interrupted from a childhood of

acceptance to one of adolescence, when

I could no longer tolerate her behavior.

And anger and resentment began

to fill my heart. I spent much time

wondering why I had been given a mother

like this.

When I began recovery, I remember the

first night, when it was revealed why I had

turned away, and realized the trauma she had

received from abuse in her life. It had just

been carried through to mine also. There was

a reason for her neglect, and thus started

years of working through the issues I had

developed.

I wondered why these things were not revealed

much earlier, and I had been given a chance

of reconciliation before she died!

* * * *

Who is this mother we have laid to rest?

Poor helpless soul who wandered this

earth, not knowing or caring where she

was led.

She took her child along for the journey

who at times did not know where she

would lay her head.

With emotions held in and warned not

to cry, this child hoping she would be loved

if things got better.

Now death has taken this mother, and she

has gone to sleep. No longer tormented

with emotions so deep, sorrow

no longer her’s to keep, removed forever,

to rest In peace.

But remember child, she did not have the

tools to help you to survive. She could not

fulfill her role, you became the mother and

she the child.

Oh, where do I look for a nurturing

mother? Could it be, that God is as much

a mother as He is a Father to me?

And then a clearer picture I saw, as I

wrestled with the why’s and how’s

of the mysteries beset on the journey

of life. Perhaps if I had been given a

mother that I had wished for, I

would not have reached out for

something better!

Encouraged to rest! To set aside these blessed hours!
To come apart and be blest”

A Sabbath evening reflection…

“:A world without a Sabbath would be like a man without
a smile, like a summer without flowers, and like a
manor without a garden, it is the joyous day of the week”

Henry Ward Beecher

As the sun began its circuit on the

eastern horizon, its rays reflected a

*massive structure, doors that

had been locked since COVID 19 were

opened
* * * *


And on this day of prayer of 2022
two years later
we have much to pray for, for our
nation and nations in conflict and war

From morning till night, hour upon hour

for our leaders who fight for our nation

The question is asked,

“Is the Lord among us or not?”

“The God who watches over America

never slumbers or sleeps”

The doors of our churches and cathedrals
are open for all who seek comfort and peace!

These excerpts are taken from my
poem ‘It was six hours of dawn’

*The Washington National Cathedral

There are many things to be grateful for this
Eastertide,
delivered from our pains and sorrows
of the past, our abuse and shame, receiving new life!

Are we the only ones that 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
Those that violated 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 bare, trying ever trying to pay the price

There once was a man that 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
He identifies with us
Nails driven through the palms of
His hands, one day becoming scars of reminders
of His love for us
Our appetites and passions He bore
tasting the bitter wine spewing it from His mouth
giving power to the addicted that they may be
delivered too
Crying “Father forgive them for they know
not what they do” giving us the desire to forgive
our assassins and demons too
Denying himself bread, tempted of the devil
given to prayer instead
Desolate and forlorn when his followers
fled, He understands when we are left alone
Taking our punishment upon Him, for
all of these things He has given power to God’s
sons and daughters, for there is not a sin that
He has not forgiven!

Selections from my poem
‘The Stripping’

A Sabbath Reflection

In six windows of time He took the world in His hands
separating the sea from land
Drawing back the curtain of black

A freshly made sun in an azure blue sky
and night time purple with evening lights
In six days he created the world
and on the seventh day he rested
inviting His children to rest with Him!

“And so having finished His task…
He blessed the seventh day and declared it holy”
(Genesis 2:2)