His Life Is Written…On My Heart

I keep one special book near my bed: my dad’s Bible.  It is an old leather black Bible, expensive leather, worn now, with the edges exhibiting tears, folds and coffee stains intruding out of the faded black.  The cover has “Holy Bible” and “Marion W King” written in gold letters.

Inside the Bible both my parents handwriting flood the pages. Both my parents were born in 1932, were in love for a time and he went to be in the Marines. My mom married another man, only to divorce him when he became violent. Years later my dad came home from where he was stationed and married my mom and adopted my brothers as his own.  When my dad died on February 8th in 1982, when he was only 49, my mom gave me this Bible a few years later. I immediately looked for signs of him in the Word. My tears flowed across page after page of all he had taught so many people.

I always wondered what my parents got for their birthdays and Christmas presents, since they grew up during The Great Depression. I imagine Dad got boy things, perhaps toy soldiers?  A pop gun?  What toys were in his childhood years. I will never know.  But I know he got a Bible, my dad had lots of Bibles.  If you found your deceased dad’s Bible what would you do?

I know I have lots of marks in my Bible.  I never could keep up with my mom’s writing though.  She was the “master marker.”  Her Bible is full of underlines.  Her Bible underlines are straight and neat.  I cannot do it.  My lines inevitably invade other verses, they’re crooked and sometimes run right through the middle of the words. I gave up drawing straight lines under verses—I now put squiggly lines.  I once asked my mom to show me how she made straight lines under her Bible verses—sometimes without even an effort.  She tried but I’ve never succeeded.

I don’t have my dad or my mom living anymore but I have his Bible with their marks. I have evidence that he read it, studied it, applied it to his life. I’m so blessed with the many memories and reminders of his life story.  And there is so much of him written in it.  My mom and my dad wrote in his Bible, the Bible I keep near  my bed.  It’s nice to have something—anything—that reminds me of him.

I am 52 now and it is 30 years since he died.  He would be 80 this month. I can remember every detail of what he looks like.  Really, the only harsh memory I have of my dad is that he picked at me endlessly for the way I prayed. In all honesty, I think he was just teasing me, playfully, but I never knew then and it’s affected my entire life since then. I’m going to let go of that memory and stop being afraid to pray aloud.

Paul says in 2 Corinthians 2: 3-5—”Are we beginning to commend ourselves again? We don’t need letters of recommendation to you or from you as some other people do, do we?  You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everyone, revealing that you are a letter of Messiah, delivered by us, written not with ink but by the Spirit of the living One, not on stone tablets but on tablets of human hearts.”  My dad’s life is written on my heart.  It gives me pleasure still to read his Bible.

My dad’s favorite verse: Philippians 4:13 –“I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me”I carry that same verse as my own favorite. I know that through my parents words in that Bible, in their applications of those words to my life, have helped to make me strong and realizing how much I need daily to study and learn those words, so I too can write them on my heart and in my daughters lives.

Write in your Bible!  Even if you use squiggly lines.  Your kids will thank you someday!  More importantly, write your lives on their hearts.  That someday, perhaps one cold night, as they wait to go asleep, they will read your Bible, see your marks, and remember that day, long ago, when you wrote your life on their lives.

To you Daddy, I pray I’ve honoured your memory and served well as your Daughter. I love you!

Our Family Mikvah

We had a family Mikvah at Family Week, Thursday April 5, 2012.  All the families that wanted to participate, or could, gathering on the eve of Passover. It was an incredibly royal feeling. I let my body fall under the deep and the Living Waters flowed through everything I am, even to my soul. I didn’t want to leave the warmth of the Mikvah behind, but I knew others were waiting for us at the top.

I came up for air and though the waters were very cold, I felt this warmth and peace running throughout my whole being…
It’s nice to cleanse the world off of us from time to time and know that His living waters have washed us throughout. This was our first Mikvah and we shared in such insurmountable joy with a few families, Some we met for the first time during the week, other we have known on facebook but only had the pleasure of meeting them during this week of Family Joy.

I learned an important lesson from the mikvah; to go with the flow and let the water take You. So, here I am today,  a woman, a writer, a wife, a mom and a daughter of the King.

Breathless, Glowing, A Singular Sensation

I almost can’t breathe as I feel these words come to fruition.  I close my eyes not even seeing the finale of that which is in my mind.

Isn’t that all of life? The times we are waiting to arrive, we breathe in thoughts of mercy and praise at the same time. In the dimmed light of the day when all life is quiet and peaceful these words came to me.

A whisper floats through my mind at this very moment, as my soul emerges, it’s the celebrations of Feasts, the hesitation of atonement, a small voice that asks, “will I be forgiven yet again?”

A singular silent moment in all of time. I think my heart isn’t beating as I ponder the humbling quiet of the day that awaits…these are the ways in our walk that change our everyday moments — christening each one as significant, amazing and holy.

There are so few people who can feel these words, feel the passion and breathtaking feat of getting them in writing…

This is Yeshua in me…He leaves me Breathless

Tonight after writing this and having dinner, there was a magnificent glow across the room. I looked out the window and this is what I saw. The burning of sunset and the birth of a new day in our Most Magnificent Creator!

How Do We Grow…Slowly or Swiftly?

Once we step onto the path to a new way of life, most of us expect our new life to come rushing to us as one outstanding experience. We tend to think in windfall terms, of suddenly being immersed in an avalanche of abundant blessings.

So does it happen that way?  Sometimes yes, but not usually, and for a very good reason. Windfalls of happiness can tend to be distorted, often bringing as much discomfort as comfort and as many questions as answers. Ask any lottery winner, which I’m not, and you’ll come to understand that a windfall can prove to be just as painful as the pain we are trying to escape.

Every problem you have, every lack and every limitation has a purpose or it would not be in your life. To expect these experiences to suddenly disappear without that purpose being revealed, is to expect to be cheated out of the good each experience brings. Instead of wanting them to quickly disappear, which is a form of resistance, we’re much better served when we simply ask what good they have come to bring to us.

You see, it is not an eradication of these problems, lacks and limitations you need, it is a new understanding. Were life changes to rush in, it would only deprive you of that understanding and leave you unprepared. Happiness never remains long, where a place for it has not been lovingly prepared.

Peace and acceptance of new thoughts and actions are more apt to arrive softly and without fanfare, like a gentle breeze wafting through an open window in the night. It comes upon us gradually, not in a fell swoop, but with calm and quiet consistency. This way, rather than looking up to suddenly find ourselves surrounded by unaccustomed abundance, we look up one day to marvel at how easily and effortlessly we grew into an abundant new life.

By all means, invite new changes to come into your life and do so daily; but do not expect them to rush at you, for in all likelihood, it will not. That would require a quantum leap in consciousness and very few of us are prepared for such mental leaps through time and space. Instead, be willing to trust that the values you are learning are flowing to you just as they should: in a time and manner in which you can most perfectly benefit from. In the book of Esther we see that Esther (Hadassah) took 12 months to prepare to be with her king, it was called a time of beautification.

Even now, as you read this, YHVH’s love and warmth is flowing to you like a gentle melody. Listen closely and you may hear its song. But you must listen for a whisper, not a giant rolling thunder.  Above all else you must trust that it is flowing to you in such a way that is divine. This is just as Yeshua says, a seed will grow up and blossom.

Mark  4:26-29:

And he said, So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the ground; And should sleep, and rise night and day, and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how.  For the earth bringeth forth fruit of herself; first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear.  But when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come.

 

This article was originally written July 17, 2008.

Give Me Your Pain

 

Your fragile heart has been broken
I stand there with thoughts of abhorrence
to the source of your grief, the chemical highs
But the second those tears fall
I want to catch them and put them back in your eyes

I want to hold you tight, to ease the pain
Please don’t cry, it hurts me so much
but cry and let it out
My one weakness

My heart’s pain, and my soul’s torture
Unbearable are your tears to see
They fall from your eyes, they come from your heart
It burns with unforgiving despair

I care for you so much
Your sniveling frame sends flames through my veins
And I want your tears to stop

Bring back your smile, laughter and joy
Let me see and let me hear
Your smile a painting, your laughter is music
This is My greatest bliss

Your happiness, my soul’s salvation
Give me your joy, give Me your pain

But which do I want?
To ease your pain, or to ease mine?
Love and care, or selfish desire?
I persevere through my pain of what
you’re going through
and endure my breaking heart for you

I take you in my arms as though my child
and hug you tight
Your fragile form shaking in my hold
You fit as though poured into a mould

I whisper words of comfort
Everything seems fine, on the outside
But looking into my soul…

As I shelter your embrace, I am crumbling for you inside
As I take my hand to wipe the tears on your face
The liquid burning in my fingers
As I let you cry on me, I am in agony

On the outside I stand strong for you
From the inside, my broken form lies weak

It is a shared pain
It is a double-edged sword

But desire to comfort you,
and to see your smile, to feel your joy
overpowers my weakness
It gives me strength to survive
So let me absorb your despair
Let me suffer so you can be healed

The pain no longer shared
The sword left pierced through my heart
Cry in my arms and let it out
Keep going until you can’t anymore
I can hold on for hours if you want
Draining your sorrow on to me

Don’t worry it’ll be over soon
But for now, give it all to me
Cry, cry, cry

Let me take it all
Let it go, it’s alright
Give me all of your pain.
~ongoing from 2011-2012

 

Seasons Of Your Heart

Your pain is the breaking of the shell
that encloses your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its
heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

And could you keep your heart in wonder
at the daily miracles of your life, your pain
would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your
heart, even as you have always accepted
the seasons that pass over your fields.

And you would watch with serenity
through the winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen.

It is the bitter potion by which the
physician within you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink
his remedy in silence and tranquillity:

For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided
by the tender hand of the Unseen,

And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips,
has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter
has moistened with His own sacred tears.

Kahlil Gibran

I Will Reach The Shores

I am a woman of YHVH.

And these bleeding wounds won’t be the end of me. I am a survivor. I will cry. I will scream. I will fight. And these hurts won’t keep me prisoner. I am not meant for a life of suffering, of worrying, of hurting, or crying. I am not meant to live only for more tears and pain.

I am not someone to be mistreated. To be tossed aside. I am not so easily forgotten.

I am a beautiful creation.

I am a magnificent work of our Creator.

There is no other.

There is only me.

I have my own dreams, my own style, my own story.
I refuse to let this storm take that from me. I refuse to back down.

I AM a Woman.

I might be wounded but I am not beaten. I never will be.

I am a light for Yeshua. I will not let your words destroy me, again!

No matter how long it takes I will reach the shores.

I will help others find their way too.

I am a woman dying to live fully for Yeshua.

When We Feel Broken, Where Do We Go?

These are the days we need to spend in prayer, to Yeshua our Messiah and Lover of Our Soul, and spend time alone in my bedroom, it’s where I can be quiet and I can listen. A lot of times I play prayerful worship music and turn the world off completely.

I love the quiet, I like hearing my own heartbeat.

I know that Yeshua gave me this heart, he gives me one beat after another after another; he gives me the tears that are like the spring of living water, those same tears that help me find my strength through the hard days. He’s always there, we just have to tune into Him.

You know we have to just learn to love the silence so we can hear Him.

I’m trying to find healing for my own past and my own self-destructive behaviours.

I have a 19 year old daughter whose been broken and beaten down since she was 9 years old. Fatherless in most aspects, of what a father is supposed to be.

I have never mothered a girl into a woman before and I cannot build a city in a day or even in a whole lifetime.

My friend always says, “The largest a mother ever is, is just before the swollen birth, after that she spends the rest of her life small, so very small”.

The sky was darkened and then lit up slightly just before dawn, then she made her delivery.

Her hair black and long, full of curls everywhere. Her beauty is breathtaking and captivating.

I’m in Great Awe of this Treasured Gift.

Years later, simply being in her presence makes for a conversation.

When her eyes reflect joy, I know then that I’ve done a few things right. When she sits on the ground, she looks up at me, with a wandering soft voice and asks, “what is it?”

All I can think of to say to this beautiful young woman is, “You are so beautiful and I love the sparkly look in your eyes”.

“You are the wonderment of all things of life and of all life’s plans”. 

I think to myself, “Where do I go from here?  Where will the Great Almighty have us in our new chapters of our lives?”

And as I looked into my daughter’s eyes I could see the Holy One, everlasting and eternal touch of a Living Stone full of the Living Water from the well that Yeshua has to offer us.