3.27.21

 

             At fifteen I worked for a little while for a florist at a flower shop at one of the sprawling, cream-colored hotels on the Kohala coast. 

    I remember the arrival of the fresh flowers for the day, their wet leaves and broken stems scattered on the floor as they were unpacked, trimmed, and placed upright in containers of water; the smell of them, their soft petals cool in my hands. Music of every beat and shade  pulsed as the flowers were neatly and cleverly arranged by the young florist's capable fingers. Full trolleys of fresh flowers were wheeled along the halls to decorate the main lobby and for each event happening that day. The surf pounded under a blue sky, always a blue sky, and the hotel grass was short and spiky beside the tidy pathways, the aching hot sand shining in the sun.  Torches were lit in the quick dusk at the end of every day, and I wish I had the chance of living at least one of them over again, to fully savor being young, to rest in my restlessness and to enjoy each moment as it burned out swiftly against eternity. 

           Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them; While the sun, or the light, or the moon, or the stars, be not darkened, nor the clouds return after the rain.....

       Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern. Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.  Ecclesiastes 12: 1-2 and 6-7 

No Greater Love

 

                                                                    2.15.21

          

        Christian lies beside me, his soft body warm in the darkness, his small breathing the only sound to break the stillness. Yet another blessing to add to the list- yet another gift, priceless, timeless, and given as all the others were, through pain and sorrow and suffering. But what a gift, what richness, what a treasure beyond measure he is! Eighth child, fourth son- numbers do not diminish one jot of his uniqueness or the special space he inhabits in our family. Was he a planned child? Yes, most certainly, but not of my or his father's planning. None of them have been, but the evidence of a greater Plan looks out of each pair of dark eyes. God has been at work here; crafting with such subtle nuance, such boldness, such grace, even as I have wept and trembled and shaken in fear of yet another pregnancy, yet another foray into a 40 week wilderness. And for what does he work? For my earthly pleasure? For my pride? No, for his own glory, and what a gory glory it is, the way he rides roughshod over my preferences, over my comfort, over my fears! And yet, is not this what he promised me long ago? Because I live, you also will live. He lived, he feared, he sorrowed, he wept in a dark garden and whispered, "Father, let this cup pass from me". How human he was! And yet immediately- Not my will, but Thine be done. How long it takes me to echo that swift and humble submission. So often it takes me the full 40 weeks, the last sleepless night, the final bed of agony and I'm staring into those dark eyes again and I can finally say, Not my will, but Thine, be done. Never my will, Lord, for it is shortsighted and selfish, concerned only for my comfort and the praise of man. Your will, Lord, your good and perfect will. Be it unto me, thy handmaid, and may I have that greater, more perfect, love. 

Greater love hath no man than this, than he who lays down his life for his friend.  John 15.13

 

Prayer for a H U S B A N D

 Prayer for a H U S B A N D 

This man for me that thou
Hast given.
A good gift bought by blood, and shriven.
Bless his rest
And bless his waking.
Bless his giving
And his taking.
Him thy servant
Thou his good,
Bless him in his servanthood.
In your image
Wast he created,
Bless him as Thou art celebrated.
Thou O Father
Him thy son,
Bless through him now everyone. 

A U T U M N 2020

                                                    A U T U M N  2020

      I love the ocean. The vastness, the ever- changing color, the restless crashing of the waves as countless thousands of gallons of water are weighed and measured upon the sands. The birds skittering on the beach and dipping and wheeling above the waves. A lone whale, cavorting just within view, making us feel like all of creation was made to be enjoyed.
Which it was. 

   What a heartbreak for the Father to see the things we've done to it, and to ourselves.
   While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. 

While we were yet sinners? I'm still a sinner. All of the heinous and most grievous sins I've committed against both God and man were committed after accepting Christ. How can he have been so gracious, and continue in it? How can he have seen the future of that seven year old girl and yet still welcomed me with open arms? How can he keep taking me back when I hardly feel him before I turn away again? What sort of a God is this... to be so humble? 

   The moon, a golden glowing apricot moon rises over the dark pines, the wind tossing them back and forth like shadows... and the sea thunders. 

Thus far shall you come, and no farther,
and here shall your proud waves be stayed.

O God, you are my God. 

March 2020

 

      The more I see of life, the more I see it is filled with uncertainty and powerlessness at every turn. God is in control, but every time we attempt to snatch the reins away we don't get any farther than just swerving off course for a little while.
      I have had trouble submitting to God as a married woman, and I have had  trouble submitting to God as a single woman. I have trouble being patient and trusting as a married woman...and I had trouble trusting and being patient as a single woman. It seems like there is no escaping these things, somehow we are just supposed to plod forward, wrestling with him all the way, perhaps, but in the end, bowing down and worshipping, all crying Holy, Holy Holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!

Worthy are you, our Lord and God,

to receive glory and honor and power,

for you created all things,

and by your will they existed and were created.

         R e v e l a t i o n   4. 11

S E A S O N S

S E A S O N S

                                                     
   When I feel unloved and unwanted by my husband, when I remember the countless times he was unfaithful to me for the first seven years of our marriage, I have a hard time believing that anyone can love me, even God.

      When I remember my dad, always absent even when in my presence, when I remember his unfaithfulness to my mother and his eventual desertion, I feel like that is also who God is; unfaithful, untrustworthy, and just biding His time until he will abandon me forever.

      These are lies. GOD IS GOOD. God is merciful and just and holy and God is faithful. Jesus is faithful. The Holy Spirit is faithful.    Yet in the darkness, in the loneliness, in the mire; I do not feel what I know is true. I am alone in the darkness of my mind, and see no light.    And yet, is the Light not there? Perhaps my eyes are closed too tight to see Him.

    God, grant me eyes that want to see You and only You.    Help me to cling to what I know to be right, even when I feel completely alone.

Fifteenth Year

Unpublished Sketch by 

Susan Kobzev

   

Spring

Spring by Elysia

Spring

 Summer   

Autumn 

                                 Winter 

6.18.18

                                                      J U N E 18 2018 

    June is here at last, and that sweet elusive scent of bluebells and the soft warm scent of ferns.  Silver vases range across the mantelpiece and countertops, brimming with wild bounty.
      Flowers, flowers everywhere and all to be had for the taking. Thick sprays of chokecherry blossoms in a thick crystal vase, so tall they brush the chandelier that hangs over the dining table.    Small bunches of wild roses, their rounded green leaves pointing up and out and everywhere, the yellow stamens in stark contrast but still perfect unity with the rounded pink petals, proving once and for all that pink truly does belong with yellow. Dandelions like tiny, forceful suns crowding their way down the hill and into the lawn, and Naomi crouched in the long grass, her golden head like yet another ray of sunshine. The lupins we transplanted three years ago are finally growing like the beautiful,  decadent, glorious weeds that they are, their blue spears thrusting towards an even bluer sky. 

   Oh God, to see you as my King- that is what I long for. Not just my friend and brother, not only  my Creator and my savior- but my King. 

     Summer is here, and it is full and rich and good. May we enjoy each moment to the brim.

The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are set aloft.

                        Proverbs 18.10