Thursday, April 24

For MomE

My mom recently sent me a song she wrote that one of our former church members is hopefully going to sing. I like it and had asked her if I could share it with people. She said I could and that it would be ok for me to post it here. I hope you enjoy it :)

He's the Air I Need to Breathe

I find every now and then
I make that promise once again
As I'm back down on my knees
Asking God to hear my pleas
When my world is ripped apart
I feel the need to change my heart
Yet I still don't seem to learn
Why God's the last place that I turn

I want Jesus each new morn
So His words, my thoughts adorn
Through my days and nights extol
That my life's in His control
He can fill my thirsty soul
Feed my hunger, make me whole
Every day I must believe
He's the air I need to breathe

When the going gets too tough
And I tell God I've had enough
Though I call upon His Name
He is where I place the blame
Still it's worse when things are good
I don't feel the need I should
Since I'm busy, there's less thought
In a Name I've now forgot

When my prayers seem unheard
I wish I still would read His word
As I search for evidence
That His love for me's immense
I'm not worthy of His grace
But long to end with His embrace
I've been taught this from my youth
That in Him, I will find the truth

Tuesday, April 22



Chains now bind your soul,
You're secured with tightest bond--
Prisoner of hope.



Moonflower pure white--
Your fragrant petals unfold

In the soft moonlight.

Sunday, April 20


I didn't have a very good day at work today. It was rough. Then I had to go to our last SA event of the year, which wasn't bad, but I think I ended up having an allergic reaction. Words that I would use to describe today are: intense, draining, awful, encouraging, itchy, dreadful, and deep. In any case, when I finally got home, my mind was entirely too engaged in processing the day and pulling out the profoundness that I knew was lurking about to go to sleep. This is what I wrote.

Your Heart

I prayed that you'd show me your heart today--

I wanted to feel as you do.

I asked for your love in my heart to stay,

So others would now feel love too.

Now I'm at work on the hospital floor,

My patients are all very sick.

I do what I can, but want to do more;

My heart is as heavy as brick.

One patient rejects me, turns a cold heart,

He's had quite enough of this place.

He chose to dislike me right from the start,

He sees not my hurt, tear-streaked face.

Another one lies there, dying in pain;

He struggles with each ragged breath.
Tears freely flow as I hear the man strain,
My heart now feels shattered by death.

Your heart was too much for my heart to bear,

The burden of love was too strong.

Please comfort my heart; this is my new prayer.

Please don't stay away for too long.

Friday, April 11

He Loves Me

So far, I think this is my favorite that I've written this semester. But I have another favorite that's still in my head and may soon displace this one if I ever write it. Anyway, I'd like to hear your thoughts and comments, and perhaps I'll explain my point if people don't get this.

He Loves Me

Melodies crescendo out my window--
Birds call me from my peaceful sleep.
Sunshine cheer wakes from orange shades deep
And glows on dewdrops below.
He loves me.

I wake and rise-- unseeing, not hearing--
And hurry through my morning routine.
Leaving home, I am fresh and clean,
But callous and unfeeling.
I love Him not.

Wind swirls the leaves, begging my attention.
He whispers in my ears, "Love me. Please."
Sun filters through crocheted lace leaves--
Dances in brilliant motion.
He loves me.

My life's in focus and my goals in view.
I busy myself with work and things,
Ignoring all the joy He brings--
His love seen as nothing new.
I love Him not.

He is untiring, always persistent
As day after day He still pursues
With hopes one day my love ensues.
He is steady and constant.
He loves me.

Mourning Dove

I saw a mourning dove all by himself on a telephone wire over spring break and I thought this poem. It's simple and silly. But I like it.

Mourning Dove

Poor little mourning dove all alone,
No one is near him to hear his song.

He sits perched on high,
Sings his lullaby,
While down below, the people pass by.