The midnight cry

“With wings of flight and trumpets


Many times in our lives, we may not have been
aware, that we were protected and cared for
by angels, ever faithful, ministering to our
Angels visiting earth with folded wings,
weeping with tears for the things done
here, but ever returning, never forsaking their
And in the times we are living, angels have also
been given, riding on horses of might and fury,
bearing a message of soon coming events to
come upon us, of forewarning and love to all
who will listen!

“And I will show wonders in the heavens
and the earth…
The sun shall be turned to darkness, and
the moon into blood”

Joel 2:30

“And it shall come to pass that all
who call on the name of the Lord
shall be saved”

**Book of Joel chapter 2:32

Twisted train of thoughts

“This was a trip I could not afford”

When I was six and my brother was three,
our mother took us on a train ride from
the west to the east coast. I only have
faint memories of that ride, but it set up
deep emotions that were embedded in my
mind, beginning a frenzy of travels, with
curves and twistings, taking me on a
trip with an uncertain destination.

A lost coin

“And with her candle lit, she searches
for her one lost coin”

For when it is found there will
be a celebration

I wonder how many of us will stoop down to
Pick up a penny? Or just ignore it, as
Not worth the effort!

In the East of ancient times, a coin was
Very valuable.


The houses of the poor
Usually consisted of but one room,
Often windowless and dark. The room
Was rarely swept and a piece of money
Falling on the floor would quickly be
Covered by dust and rubbish.

In order that it might be found, even in
The daytime, a candle must be lit and
The house must be swept diligently.

A wife’s marriage portion usually
Consisted of pieces of money which she
Carefully preserved as her most
Cherished possession, to be given to
Her daughters.

The loss of one of these coins would be
Considered as a serious calamity.
And its recovery would cause great
Rejoicing, in which the neighboring
Women would readily share.


The coin, though lying amongst dust and
rubbish is still a piece of silver, sought
because of its value.

In this parable, the lesson may be taught,
though a mother or father may have many
children safely abiding in their home, but
will not be content, until their search for
their lost child is found?

“And with her neighbors rejoicing”

The Mustard Seed

The smallest of all seeds

“Where the birds of the heavens can rest under
its shadows

With the heat wave that has struck
much of our country, with unusual
high temperatures, I found myself
seeking relief in the park, perhaps
under the shade of the trees.

And to my surprise there were many
more wiser than I, for there were few
people with their usual activities.

It reminds me of last year with
Covid, when our parks were empty
and strangely quiet. It took a lot of
faith on our part to get through
that difficult year.

Now, once again there is a need to have
faith to meet the new challenges facing
us, with the severe draught and impending
fires with their caustic air, consuming
our lands.

There is a story

“Like a Grain of a Mustard Seed”

“Which when it is sown, though it be
less than all the seeds, when it grows,
it becomes greater than all the
plants, and puts out great branches,
so that the birds of the heavens can
rest under its shadows.”

We are encouraged to have the
faith of a grain of the mustard seed,
and nothing will be impossible.
We will be given help to endure
these things that have come upon

Sometimes I find myself having a
difficult time with faith

Expressing it in a prayer

Mustard seed of faith

The smallest of seed was planted
And began to grow.
The mustard seed of my soul
Sprang up,
A tender shoot, lifting itself
Above earth and sky,
Grass and grain and waving branches.
But soon the seed began to
Whither and die.

The drought has been long, what
Was plenty now is gone.

Oh, help me God, for my faith is
Small, what will you do with me?
When I perceive myself my
Silhouette is like a tree with
Branches twisted and tangled,

Encumbered with vines and
Tendrils of fear, fed by roots
Reaching deep into earth’s
Cisterns of misbeliefs and

That even the birds of the air cannot
Find a place to perch, to rest
Their wings, to raise their
Fledglings, to share their song,
For my downcast spirit drives
Them all away,

Devoid of shade and blossoms
Of fruit, green leaves withered
With decay.
Oh Lord, take Your fine tooth
Comb, undo my tangled thoughts,
Make me as the mustard seed
Once planted in my heart!

Inspired by the ‘Parable of the Mustard Seed’

The Prodigal Mother

“Reluctantly opening the door”

As she calls for her mother!

“If she had only been good, it is her fault mother left”

Addiction is a frightening thing, it can remove a mother and

Father’s presence from the child’s life. This dreaded disease

Runs rampant in our family. Today is the tenth year of my son’s

Death, taken in a cruel way. Thankfully I was spared from the

Devastation this illness can bring, and yet though substance

Abuse in a physical manner is absent, I struggle with an

Emotional attachment that is much more profound in many


To the point of being consumed with their illness, almost

Destroying me. With the recent news of of this ugly strike once

Again, of a loved one who has sunk to the delusion

That their pain can be lifted, I am once more with the question,

Will I be consumed with this one as well?

And yet, from a Power greater than myself, I am convicted
that the memories of a painful past, of my mother’s choosing
will be lifted, and I will not succumb to dwell in a harmful
state of mind, attempting to do something for someone else that
I am powerless to obtain!

The Attic

“A gust of wind fans the flames”

A soft glow of orange erupts into tongues of fire

I remember something that was said long ago, a speaker was
encouraging those who have experienced devastation and
emotional pain. And I have never forgotten his words –
“Even if you have to hold on with only your very finger tips,
don’t give up”
Through many sorrows and disappointments I have felt like

the cauldron of flames were about to consume me. The heat
of affliction became too much, as if my mind and body
were ready to explode!

In honor of all those who are opposed
by the enemy, are we not all as “A brand
plucked from the fire?”*

And restored to our rightful place


The Gatekeeper’s Child

For a child growing up in alcoholism and addiction,
there never seemed to be a safe place to go. Home
was never safe, neither school or friends, making it
difficult to trust others. Later in life I learned of a
safe place, where I could run to, to a tower of
safety, a place of protection from the enemy!

“A fair skinned child with bright blue
eyes and blonde tousled hair”

And with songs of laughter!

“The name of the Lord is a strong
tower, the righteous run into it
and are safe”
Proverbs 18:10


An impelling story of promise and hope

Of a woman in an ancient land

A woman of beauty about to be betrothed

The evening is sultry, too hot to sleep,
as she climbs the steps to the roof,
as they often did in this ancient village.
There is merriment and joy in the distance,
as she looks down on a wedding taking place.
She is enthralled with the bride and her
beautiful jewels and dress, her painted face
with bright colors, waiting to meet her groom.
Under the stars, falling asleep, she dreams of
the day, when she will be betrothed,
just as every girl dreams, for this is the custom
in her land, to be married and have children,
was her deepest desire!
And then came the day when her dream had
come true!

With loving care, her maidens
Surround her
With perfumes and oils, smoothing
her skin
Placing sparkling pins and fasteners
In her long flowing hair
Her eyes enhanced, painted in black
With purple eyelashes
Then stepping into a gown of
Sparkling sequins of ivory and lace
Slipping into sandals of scarlet and blue
And finally silver bracelets and a
Necklace of gold!
Looking into the mirror, it reveals a
Woman of beauty!
And as her maidens slowly draw the
Beaded curtain aside with its tinkling
There is silence as she poses
Before her husband to whom she is
Abram gently lifts Sarai’s veil
Taking his wife to his tent to bare
His child

Years swiftly pass and her hope is
Not fulfilled
No sign of life felt in her womb and
She is saddened
Unable to conceive, Sarai devises
A plan
Inviting her servant, Hagar, into
Her tent to lay with her husband
To bear the promised one, and Hagar
Did bare a son
Calling him Ishmael
And Sarai became jealous, sending
Them into the wilderness
With continued years of waiting her
Hopes dwindle
Now looking into the mirror
Her face is marred with wrinkles
And creases
Her bones waxing old, her back bent
Hobbling with a stick
And with no hope she had been given
One night in the coolness of the
Abram fell asleep and he was given
A dream
God promised him a son
And a great nation!
In sharing this promise with Sarai
She laughed behind his back
For she was
Ninety and Abram one hundred years
But God did hear her prayer!
A cry in the night, a midwife quickly rushes
To her side
And Sarai gives birth to the promised
With gnarled hands and a once sorrowful
Her fingers are now entwined with a babies
Soft skin
One whose descendants would fill the
Land like the stars of heaven!

*The stars had never shone brighter
that night
*As feasting and rejoicing filled
their hearts
*The promise was fulfilled
*Surely this child is the progenitor
of all God’s children
*Pointing to the long awaited
*And now Sarai’s name was
changed to Sarah and Abram’s
to Abraham

This is inspired by the story of
Abraham and Sarah in God’s word

Job and his three friends

“A wealthy man with many sons and daughters”

A sad story, but one with a happy ending

“When this story was written we are not sure”

,There are many stories of faith and trust in God’s
Word, but one well known story of a man called
Job has been a comfort and help down through
the ages.
In spite of loss and affliction, and three friends
rejection, he was ever faithful to his God!

There is a man called Job in

The land of Uz, beyond where

The Euphrates River flows,

Dividing into streams of blue



Flocks of peacocks with their

Flirtatious cries strut about,

Sporting purple and green plumes

Among white lily and Star of

Bethlehem blooms.

Wild donkeys and mountain

Goats rest in the shade of the

Broom tree plant.


As far as the eye can see, all of

This land belongs to the

Patriarch Job, a wealthy man

With many herds and families,

And seven sons and three



Now it seems that this is a story

That existed from the very

Beginning of time,

When it was written we are not

Sure, but it is inspired by God’s


It is a sad story but has a happy



The villain of this story is jealous

And accuses the God of this man

Of unfairness,

Speaking one day “You have

Favored Job and if you remove

His children and land he will

Curse you.”

God replying “Alright take these

Things away but do not harm



One early morning after his sons

And daughters feasted the night

Before, Job arose to offer prayers.

His servant entered with the news

“Your children and herds have been

Slain and I am the only one that


Job is astonished but does not find

Fault, trusting the God he exalts.


Then the foe of Job says “Surely,

If you afflict this man’s body he will

Curse you to his face.”

Job was afflicted with boils

Covering his body, shaving his head,

He sat in ashes.


Yet he does not charge God with

Wrong, replying “Shall we receive

Only good and not evil?”

Job questioned God but never

Cursed him.

He is a victim of a wager between

God and the devil!


When Job’s three friends heard

Of his dilemma they rushed to his

Side, deploring the sight of his

Sufferings, sitting down with him

For seven days and nights.

After seven days Job broke the

Silence cursing the day he was



“Why did not the earth swallow

Me before I was put to the

Breast, why did I not die,

Coming from my mother’s womb?”


Then Job’s friends drew near

With reproaches,

“Job you are at fault, if you had

Not sinned, these sufferings would

Not be received with


He replied, “Lord they accuse me

Of sinning day and night.”…


And in spite of this man’s anguish

And pain he still never cursed God,

And he was blessed with much

More than he had possessed, and

With seven more sons and three



The Book of Job spanning over

Centuries, gives words of comfort

To those who question since time

Began, “Why the suffering of all


This is the first part of the book
‘Three Friends’


“The years the locusts have eaten
will be restored”

“They have not been wasted”

“And I will make good, what the
swarm has eaten”

The following is a story of the travels of a
Wanderlust, and her search for a peaceful
land. From her journeys through dry arid
wastelands to one of life giving contentment!

It was as if I was blown by the creatures of
the wind, on wings singed from the heat of
Unable to stop and become part of this
earth. With my eyes, scanning for some kind
of life, but everywhere I looked there was

The years of my life had become consumed
by the blight of an oncoming army,
devouring everything in sight.

But there is a favorite quote
“I will restore to you the years the swarming
locust has eaten”

“My great army you shall know and I will
make good the years that the swarm has

The following is part of a story I have
written in metaphoric prose and

“Sitting on a bench, reflecting on
Her life, there is a longing in her
Heart, couldn’t it have been
Different than this one she has
The formative years have not
Been wasted, the bumps and
Ridges of dry desert sands, truly
Have become bridges to a better
This is a work in progress, a
Prophecy in time. She presses
On with hope, that what she
Cannot see will one day come to

The house stands strong and tall.
Proud and free it seems to be.
Leaves swept bare, not a weed
To be seen, shrubs neatly trimmed,
All in all this place has a happy face.
But windows and doors are locked,
No one can go in or come out.
A girl resides here, it is dark.
Shades are drawn, as she sits all day
Long sewing on her ascension gown.
A spotless house, not even a mouse
Would dare to venture in.
The clock’s pendulum strikes on the
Hour, announcing she must hurry to
Obey her rituals, to sweep and dust.
The kitchen table with empty chairs
Is saddened. In the cupboards are
Antagonists chewing.
Lowly locusts with their flatulence
Bellies and bulging eyes, inch their
Way through grubby cabinets…
Tired at the end of the day she hopes to
Rest, but this is when memories
Have their ways. Tossing and turning,
She can no longer bear being eaten
A cry is heard from the disheveled
Cat, as smoke comes through the
Door. The room at the very top
Bursts into flames… The room she
Could never go in.
She is awakened and quickly rises,
Picking up her dress, running to the
Door, it falls on the floor. It is sad,
This house is removed, but it
Has to be.

Her Thoughts Must Be Restored To
Their Rightful Place!
The scavengers of earth, devouring
Their prey, now bow in solemnity to the
Sacred Word of antiquity.
“The years the locusts have eaten
Will be restored, they have not been
Letters she has hidden behind
Are now words of poetry seeking
Her mind.
Pages are bursting to be heard. The once
Disarrayed cat sits by the fire in
Contentment. The puppeteers have
Relinquished their ties with shears
Sharp enough to break the lies.
The cabinets are no longer stirring,
Gnawing has ceased as the locusts
She did all she could to make herself
Clean. This girl of dust is no longer
A wanderlust. Her house has become
A home, glowing within.
She would like to invite all to come
And eat, there is plenty of room at
The table, a table draped in white
Linen, bread and drink freely given.
Candlelight reflecting faces of
Those no longer hidden!

Portions of this poem are from
My book ‘Wanderlust’