Archive for  September 2007

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Was watching “Yentl” tonight and couldn’t help but cry when this song was sang…

[Prayer]

Oh God-our heavenly Father.

Oh, God-and my father

Who is also in heaven.

May the light of this

Flickering candle

Illuminate the night the way

Your spirit illuminates my soul.

Papa, can you hear me?

Papa, can you see me?

Papa can you find me in the night?

Papa are you near me?

Papa, can you hear me?

Papa, can you help me not be frightened?

Looking at the skies I seem to see

A million eyes which ones are yours?

Where are you now that yesterday

Has waved goodbye

And closed its doors?

The night is so much darker;

The wind is so much colder;

The world I see is so much bigger

Now that I’m alone.

Papa, please forgive me.

Try to understand me;

Papa, don’t you know I had no choice?

Can you hear me praying,

Anything I’m saying

Even though the night is filled with voices?

I remember everything you taught me

Every book 1’ve ever read…

Can all the words in all the books

Help me to face what lies ahead?

The trees are so much taller

And I feel so much smaller;

The moon is twice as lonely

And the stars are half as bright…

Papa, how I love you…

Papa, how I need you.

Papa, how I miss you

Kissing me good night.

the reality

of your absence

is like

a sudden gust

of wind

one knows not

where it comes from

blowing out

blowing in…

blowing through

and all around

all my senses

enveloped in

this awareness

of this absence

this reality

of what was

and has been…

seeking

and not finding…

looking

and not seeing…

longing

and not filling…

missing the familiar…

the old rhythm

of just living…

the comfort

of just knowing

your presence

here…

in my reality

and not

in your

hereafter…

i miss you daddy

 

“All thy waves and thy billows are gone over me” (Ps. 42:7).

They are HIS billows, whether they go o’er us,
Hiding His face in smothering spray and foam;
Or smooth and sparkling, spread a path before us,
And to our haven bear us safely home.

They are HIS billows, whether for our succor
He walks across them, stilling all our fear;
Or to our cry there comes no aid nor answer,
And in the lonely silence none is near.

They are HIS billows, whether we are toiling
Through tempest-driven waves that never cease,
While deep to deep with clamor loud is calling;
Or at His word they hush themselves in peace.

They are HIS billows, whether He divides them,
Making us walk dry shod where seas had flowed;
Or lets tumultuous breakers surge about us,
Rushing unchecked across our only road.

They are HIS billows, and He brings us through them;
So He has promised, so His love will do.
Keeping and leading, guiding and upholding,
To His sure harbor, He will bring us through.
Annie Johnson Flint

Stand up in the place where the dear Lord has put you, and there do your best. God gives us trial tests. He puts life before us as an antagonist face to face. Out of the buffeting of a serious conflict we are expected to grow strong. The tree that grows where tempests toss its boughs and bend its trunk often almost to breaking, is often more firmly rooted than the tree which grows in the sequestered valley where no storm ever brings stress or strain. The same is true of life. The grandest character is grown in hardship. —Selected