Praise be to God

Not long ago four of us who write individual posts decided to do some verse that would allow us to each write one stanza – then step back and allow the Spirit to move another of us to pick up the next …. then another, and so on. Then we would reconfigure it into a completed work. We had, of course, no idea of what it would look and sound like. It might be compared to a modern day psalm of devotion. It has since been published, and hopefully has touched others as it did us in such a profound and unique way.

PRAISE BE TO GOD
Who made the Universe
Yet is small enough to reside in our hearts
Our God who created the ponderous bulk
Of the Ocean Whole, but also the delicacy
Of a hummingbird wing
Praise be to God
Who breathed Life into me
Though I cannot see Him, yet I draw breath
Hearing His voice that rings bright
Before all earthly clamor
I walk through the shadows of life
Treading upon the sunlight of buttercups
Your call is Inescapable
It brings me to my knees
In Joy, Hope and Love
Praise be to Christ, who tenderly holds
All that the Father has given Him
Facing the terror of deaths unbroken stone
Crimson flow, Humanities bath
He open the matrix of Life
With thunderous Love
Healing Springs, River of Truth
Teardrops streaming
Swimming in Joy
Your spirit sings a Blessing
Into my parched and eager heart
My life has spung anew
As fresh seeded grass
Till now, knew nought but mornings dew
Breath of Life, soaring so high
Your essence lingers in the air
Filling my Soul
With Wispering Prayer
My hope follows the skylark
With delicate strokes of an Indian paintbrush
Your love is forever painted upon my heart
Praise God for Renewal and Protection
For Faith and Courage
Joy, Cleansing, and
Love Infallible
Holding fast to every Promise made
My hands have learned to reach
For all things that speak of Love and Beauty
As I inhale your wondrous Gift before my eyes
My voice exhales with longing to see your face
Your Grace is beyond imagination
Your word is precious to me
Oh, that I may be one with You!
Praise be to God whose Word is Life,
Truth and Wisdom
Whose Holy Spirit is Love,
Goodness and Mercy

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DAILY BREAD… A TRIBUTE TO MY FATHER ON FATHERS DAY

It is 3:00 in the morning and there is a sliver of light and the hall light shows bright under my closed door. There is movement in the bathroom. Princess stirs from her sleep at my feet and growls softly. Out the window the street light revealed a skiff of snow on the window sill, and further upon the streets of Englewood , Colorado.

A flush of the toilet signals the last of Dad’s preparations for his workday. Soon, the smell of brewed coffee, then the muted closing of the screen door tells me that I still have hours before school. The last interruption; the reluctant crank of the old Ford, that had grown tired of the daily trip… but for Dad’s insistence.

Fifteen minutes later the big billboard on Spear Boulevard facing Cherry  Creek, announces “Happy Home Bakery”. It has a picture of a mom, dad, and two children with big grins; announcing their joy over baked goods displayed before them.

The Ford rolls into line with some thirty  other early risers; all “Breadmen” who will soon guide their bread-wagons up to the dimly lighted platforms.

Dad struggles down the stable- way with the heavy harnesses and collars to hang them on pegs in front of Bill and Bonnie’s stalls. They are brother and sister with the same white markings on their noses and sides. Bonnie is older with an added splash of white on her hind quarters. And, she is the smart one. Both had been fed and tidied up in preparation for their day on the street as representatives pulling the big spoke- wheeled wagon; with the same happy family declaration on the side and the words; “Donaldson’s Bakery”

The breadmen had smoked and exchanged greetings, commenting upon the challenge of the slippery streets and snarled traffic. The flakes were getting bigger and beginning to stick on the pavement. All agreed that there  was somewhere they would rather be. Dad reminded them that it might well be good for business, particularly if a number of customers stayed home. As for him, he had bread to sell. As the covered wagon was being loaded, he made sure that things were organized according to the route plan and customer preference; sweet stuff up front.

The delivery process was the ringing of the bell at intervals all along the block; then many stops along the way. Folks would often appear (more often women) in their bathrobe to signal and talk about their needs. Some, who had standard orders, would provide storage boxes out front with a note or settle for “regular”.

Dad always had his stocked basket in hand, with the standards, but with a supply of “specials” that he offered to build the sale, and a story about a a sweet that he had personally tasted and could not help but recommend. It was always a great day when he returned empty; but the route was often finished before he was. He sometimes ran the rout backwards to pick up those quota-beating sales; perhaps adding an hour or two to hi trip back to the bakery and those happy faces. Today those faces were obscured by the heavy snow and little was to seen of the smiles.

A “good” bread route had always between a priority thing. Dad’s was a good one earned by good performance, day in day out.

Today, it took much longer, and there were heavy coats replacing bathrobes, and more little notes in the porch boxes. Dad carefully noted all  of the deliveries, since he was accountable for every item. He could take two day old things home free. We enjoyed mature sweet rolls ‘he’a’ted with butter on them. What does a hungry six year old care?Later in the day, school children would run alongside and beg for a two day old pastry. He would supply them if he had them.Most all would trot along with the horses to his consternation.

Dad’s dogged performance and friendly sales-making attitude made Happy Home happier. So much so, that he was promoted at age 25 to sales manager. Nearly every Breadman in the company was his senior. His peers applauded his success as one of them.

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Praise be to God

Originally posted on 4hispraise's Blog:

Not long ago four of us who write individual posts decided to do some verse that would allow us to each write one stanza – then step back and allow the Spirit to move another of us to pick up the next …. then another, and so on. Then we would reconfigure it into a completed work. We had, of course, no idea of what it would look and sound like. It might be compared to a modern day psalm of devotion. It has since been published, and hopefully has touched others as it did us in such a profound and unique way.

PRAISE BE TO GOD
Who made the Universe
Yet is small enough to reside in our hearts
Our God who created the ponderous bulk
Of the Ocean Whole, but also the delicacy
Of a hummingbird wing
Praise be to God
Who breathed Life into me
Though I…

View original 246 more words

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The Voyage

Recent events have called to mind a poem that I wrote not long ago;

Our voyage through this life is fraught with light and darkness; sun and shadow

We offer ourselves brightly, yet our shadow follows behind unrecognized and indivisable

On sunny days we credit deity for warmth and vision, yet our partner reminds us of

things we cannot surrender; For it reminds us of things we are loathe to leave behind

and are greater than we are

One bright new day I will awaken and find this darkness gone… a victim of nothing more than it’s ability to frighten me.

Change can more often be a good thing. Whatever God calls you to do, He has equipped you to do it. Perhaps we can all agree that we are born to fulfill God’s plan. But can we always agree upon what that might be? We may talk about predestination as it applies to so many things outside ourselves, but find it difficult to find it woven into our own lives..

God does not make a secret of His will. The bible is filled with phrophesy for mandkind but his plan for us individually seems secret at times……..until……. He whispers into our ear; listen ;”Be brave, be flexibile. I am turning over a new page in your book of life.. I am placing you in new circumstances for which you have been completely prepared.. I have already gone to this new place to meet you there.

Leave your old “stuff” behind , I will provide things new…….. as you will be new.

 

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To Die Before We Wake

This mornings seed. More often than not the Spirit wakes me with a thought, saying, in effect, “See what you (we) can do with this one”. It’s not as if I don’t have an original thought in the morning, it’s just that if it comes from Him, He’s the one that does the work…. and it’s a good thing.

How many of you “seasoned ” readers recall the prayer of their early years, taught to us by our parents; “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take”.
Die! I’m only five years old. Later, I’m thinking; Mom’s pretty morbid!
This morning…. I’m thinking, not so much.

There are at least twenty five other versions of that prayer that removes the reference to death. One such poem is; “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. May Angels watch me through the night. And, wake me with the morning light”.

While at five or twenty, it may seem odd to suggest the eminant reality of death; to die in one’s sleep is not a bad option. We credit in our observations; “What a blessing. He died in his sleep”. Obviously, the main point is.. Will God take our soul?.

I abandoned my childhood version of this prayer to focus on things of the time and moment. The Spirit now would turn my attention to considering it again. Not because I am old and the odds are good. But to recognize that it has nothing to do with age. The concern belongs to any of us who wait too long to surrender and find a home for our souls.

Ready now……. If I should die before I wake…href=”https://4hispraise.files.wordpress.com/2010/12/praise.jpg”>

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Rest in Peace

We, all of us, place a great deal of stock in sleep. Shakespeare laments, ” The cloud capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself. Yea, all of which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this unsubstantial pagent faded, leave not a rack behind, We are such stuff are made on, and our little life is rounded with sleep”.

We worry that we do not get enough sleep, and rightly so. Scientists say that we can accumulate a “sleep debt” due to poor sleep habits, sickness, and awakening. Research says it can be paid off, or worked down; that, for some, it must be. Each of us, depending upon our age, requires more or less. Surprisingly, some credible research says too much sleep is associated with morbidity ( a big word for unhealtyness). The Americqn Cancer Society Study of over one million subjects found that longer sleepers had an even greater risk. Maybe some just don’t want to get up and face life as they know it.

This would place emphasis on quality , not quantity – long or short.

Both Psalms 4/8 and 127/2 deal with the core issue. From our perspective ; “I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety”. From His perspective, ” It is vain for you to rise up early, to stay up late, to eat the bread of sorrows, for He giveth His beloved sleep”.

It is then worries that drive us to wakefulmess, or oversleeping. As Goldylocks would observe, what is “just right”? The answer, at least in my mind, is only “that which God provides”, and it is totally an individual matter. To some much is given. My poem suggests that solution;

What wand’ring soul could ever rest
In wanton sins he feels is best

To breathe God’s air so heaven sent
With restless deams be still content

It’s not in sleep we find at last
Those rare coins our heart has cast

But in our faith where peace resides
Within the will of Him, our Spirit guide

In showing desire for God alone
We craft sweet dreams of His condone

His lasting promise of tomorrow lives
In each morn’s blessing He faithfully gives

Truly, the sweetest dreams are found in Him.

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I Love a Mystery

Few of us remember radio as “THE” voice of all news and entertainment. For those not living in the thirties and fourties, I would picture for you that big, rounded, mahogony box with fat control knobs, and a grill covered with tapestry fabric. It sat on a likewise dark-wood table in the livingroom with a crocheted doily under it. The antennae cleverly strung over the door casing.

Those who can imagine that scene can recall the then all-time adventure serial “I Love a Mystery”, circa, 1939 and it’s sequel “I Love an Adventure” through 1952. Both capturing the mysteries confronted by Jack, Doc, and Reggie. So influential was the show, that it even inspired the Hanna-Barbara cartoon, “Scooby Doo Where are you”. In that, I have just invited in those who remember the late sixties and early seventies.

It seems that not knowing what comes next, or being scared our of our pants, rates pretty darn high on the entertainment scale.. from the very early days.

The Bible holds it’s own with anything we can conjure up in the “Miraculous and Unseen”, for it shows us a world where regular life is continually touched by divinity. The unseen world of divine power measured against everyday stuff. People today think of miracles as events that defy the laws of nature; like the rising and setting of the sun, and that the miracle only occurs when God intervenes and alters the course of nature,

When the bible was written there was an entirely different perspective; they believed that God governed nearly everything that happened – Seed and harvest, feeding birds of the air, clothing the lillies; the very simplest of things.

Then or now, whatever we may attribute to “things of God” – He holds the key to the future, and He chooses His own moments of revelation. It is a historic, every-day serial where He chooses to broadcast, whenever…. we just need to stay tuned,

Then the wall between the ordinary visible and the unseen will dissolve. As Paul said, “We see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face” . 1 Cor. 13:12.

We are challenged by the whole mystery of it, and like the child I was, I love it. Except now there is no stattic, and it no longer scares me out of my pants.

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