Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.

Often I meet someone and instantly a vision or word comes to me and I feel I have known that person forever. It is amazing as I ponder where the thoughts derive and how they reach me at just the moment needed. Words of encouragement or assurance the person is visible, cared for and loved. I wonder if it warms their heart as much as it warms mine?

Sometimes it is the opposite and dire news. One day, at a sleepover in the fifth grade, restless, waking every few minutes with the thought someone in the family had passed away, I told my friend I needed to go home. Yes, mother informed my great-grandfather was no longer with us as I entered the front door. (Although curious as to why I was home.) This was a first death experience and I could not look upon his body. I could not turn my thoughts towards death and whisked away the truth about life.

Me in the chair with Great-Grandpa
I was the sibling who was not afraid of  people in the nursing home. I barely knew my great-grandfather but I had great affection. A deep bond of silence between us that rocks my mind still. I contemplate if our thoughts were exchanged without words, he just as eager to welcome me into his world?

Psalm 23:4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,

“Has this world been so kind to you that you should leave with regret? There are better things ahead than any we leave behind.”  ~ C.S. Lewis

Fear lurks around corners
in the shadows,
behind the flickering candle
stands the tallest mountain.

Stand at the grave
peer within
notice the white rose
wither and begin again.


Advice Memoir Poetry quotes Soul Journal

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