Just as He rested from His creative works, let us also enter His Sabbath hours!

“Then God blessed the seventh day and made it holy”
Genesis 2:2-3

“The earth has yielded its increase, our God shall bless us”
Book Of Psalm 67:6

“Feeling gratitude and not expressing it, is like
wrapping a present and not giving it”
William Arthur Ward

There are times when I’m not sure I can take another step,
the hunger games sap my strength and there is little left!

Hungry, empty and weary, my sugar lows have descended
to my toes. Starving, rushing into the store, buying a bag
of chips, never mind the dip, just let these morsels pass
between my lips.

Attempting to rip it open, I pull, tug and finally biting with
my teeth, pleading, punching, until I am sobbing.

My pallet savors food, however it comes, steamed,
baked, stewed or even barbecued. Faint and dizzy,
no wonder I’m so skinny, these games are almost too much,
as I say a prayer and try once more.

Lids screwed so tight, while I anticipate at long last
a bite. Twisting and turning, frustrated and crying. All in
all the games played on society complicate life even more.
Oh, if we could just stay out of those scary stores!

There lies in the shadows a peaceful scene,
a boat carries someone in an unsettled
dream
Beyond the placid lake is a river scene,
where dreams flow to the ocean streams

Pearly fingers turning pages of the
past, messages are sent to my troubled
self

But who can remember dreams as we slumber,
somber dreams that encounter our hearts?
There is a God who never slumbers or sleeps,
carrying our memories in His deepest heart!

Inspired by the Book Of Psalm 121

As the sun is setting and the shadows are gathering,
may we enter the rest so graciously given us.

“The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament shows His handiwork!

Book of Psalm 19:1

Violets are my favorite flower to grow
With a little love and care they bring
much fun and cheer!

Snuggled in their beds, watered and fed, they are happy
where they are planted, with dresses of pink, purple and
red and bright yellow eyes

One morning a large hand reaches low
these violets are lifted from their beds and
placed in a box, wondering where they are going
the littlest violet begins to cry “please don’t leave me behind”

The engines are roaring they are not sure where
they are going, suddenly they come to a stop, the
man places them on a shelf, their leaves are drooping
their flowers are dropping and they are not very
pretty as people are passing

The little one cries, “our toes are cold and soggy
and we have caught a chill, please won’t you give
us a chance and take us home before we die?

A time to heal is what we need after our difficult ride”
A sprinkle of water, their heads begin to perk and
people stop to look “These violets are prettier than
before, I think I will buy them”

The shadows are passing, they are placed on a shelf
sparkling, if not for their time of disaster, they would
not be brighter, filling this home with laughter!

Sometimes we look to others, instead of to God to get us where
we want to go!

It is a difficult road I have taken, my load is heavy and I am forsaken!
along this road to heaven
Preachers, teachers, friends, I look to all of them to help me get in
Holding my thumb up high, hoping for a ride, they wish
me well and pass me by
I don’t know how long I can do this, I cry, I weep, all the rules I keep

Run and run, busy, busy, barely taking a breath, lest I falter and be left
Every day I confess, what more can I do?
Throwing up my hands, I quit, there is nothing I can do, it is a gift!

“For it is by grace we are saved…
it is not our own doing, it is God’s gift ” Book of Ephesians 2:8,9

A Sabbath Reflection

May you find rest and peace at the close of this week!

All things in the past forgiven, resting places have arisen!
The magic number seven, opens the door of heaven,
a busy week of six, one day given for rest that all may be
blest!

And the last month of fall!

Though
the trees are losing their leaves
and seem lifeless

Though winds from the east
and west blow

Yet the old oak tree stands fully
dressed*

We like this tree will stand
strong and true
We are never forgotten!

*The oak tree is the last tree to lose
its leaves.

A shanty by the sea sits high on a hill
The old woman knits, watching the
otters in the brilliant blue waters

The seashore is scattered with cockles
and shells, sun reflecting colors of pink
and pastels

Furniture is scanty in the shanty, a
white washed table and chair, a
patchwork spread, and a spring
mattress for a bed

White sail boats drift at sea
sitting on her stool as peach pies
cool, winding spools of yarn as she
yawns and sighs…

This is a portion of my poem
‘Shanty By The Sea’