On Those Days It’s Hard To Hang On

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But Christ is faithful as the Son over God’s house. And we are his house, if indeed we hold firmly to our confidence and the hope in which we glory.
Hebrews 3:6
I’m surrounded by unpacked bags in my office. They sit, along with a good part of my to do list ignored, awaiting a bit of attention from me. In my free time, I sit and stare blankly, semi-paralyzed considering the lists that grow longer as my capacity to complete tasks grows more impossible…with every passing moment. I wonder why I return to this place, again and again.
 It’s the place of Overwhelmed. It’s not God’s place for me any more than the desert was for a bunch of wandering Israelites…and yet it is His classroom as it was for my sweet, Jewish, faith forerunners. I learn much from them, I confess. I read and re-read the story and History of Israel and I see myself more clearly, through His eyes. Am humbled by His mercy and wonder at His wrath. Am sick with the beauty and pain of it. The pure unadulterated truth that is being muffled daily by those who call themselves intellectual, enlightened, knowledgeable. 
I can’t watch a drop of news because my chest swells, and I can’t breathe and I feel Jesus weep within me. Not to mention I am waging war with enemies within and without of my own small circle of love. The battle to hang on spiritually, emotionally, mentally…wages on. Hanging on and victoriously living are two different things. Don’t you dare point a finger because suffering is promised my friend, along with victory. My stomach turns, and I hang on. Hope swells larger than my pride, and lingers long. It never leaves me…it never leaves you who cling to His hope.
I hang on to this hope.
Especially on those days it’s hard to hang on.
Even today. 
And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.
Romans 5:5

What do you cling to on those days it’s hard to hang on? 

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Spring’s Desire

I find myself longing for something new.
Not that I am discontent. 
I am not. 
I have peace. 
Am content.
Yet I feel a longing within,
not dissatisfaction,
for that stirs up 
negative connotations.
Is there a fresh wind blowing?
Have the winds of March left 
the feathers strewn, dried leaves dancing?
Questions prancing through my mind, like horses
waiting on Spring’s kiss.
Nostrils flare, warm breath meets cold air,
I stand waiting as thoughts gallop on past.

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There is a stirring within my soul,
I’ve not forgotten
my ultimate goal.
I am your pupil- the center of your eye
Confident am I, of your love.
But there is a new day dawning and I sense the morning
whispering sweet promises blurred by mist.
I walk the shore, winter’s abandoned rocks glimmer, 
washed clean in salty splashes-
beaten, tossed, worn and beautiful…
Am I like a rock, Lord?
Am I beautiful?
What does Spring promise?
Hope eternal in colorful blooms,
new life,
glimpses of green.
Mr. Robin, don’t be dismayed,
though it may seem
Spring is delayed,
He has made everything beautiful in it’s time.
Hope in His faithfulness.
I find my hope in the blue sky of your eyes,
the white clouds of your hair,
the solid strength of the trees reaching low, reaching high
the wind that blows my hair wild…

Lord, quench my longing with your presence,
let me bask in the quietness of an eternal glory that far outlasts a season.
Hope eternal, bubbling up,
living water to satisfy the thirst of my soul. 
Spring blooms in the confidence of your love.
Am I like a flower, Lord?
Am I lovely?
What will Spring deliver this year?
Will I be renewed with the thaw?
Dew kissed promises refresh the heart.
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Make me brand new, Jesus.
Roll the stone, make me alive-
Call my name- loudly
I will rise.
Make me new, without compromise.
Renew my heart, without disguise.
Let my life reflect You.
Let your presence abide 
and shine through.
Let your life
truly be
 Spring eternal rising up from
 within me.
*With special thanks for the beautiful horses captured on film and shared by Kelly Laffey of Laffey’s Irish Animals. 
I always try to link with my friends at dVerse...
check out some really great poetry there:

Look to the East {A Message for Weary Mothers- of which I confess I am one}

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For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? Romans 8:24

I’m looking across the table at my daughter and my mouth spills poison before I have time to retract the words. They tumble out, like scrabble pieces as I scramble them in my mind. 
Parenting. 
Hard. 
You. 
Make.
We are in a battle of the wills, and trust me, this mom knows she can’t win.
I wonder again, why?
Why, do I return to the thought it’s supposed to be easy
Perhaps it’s not supposed to be easy, but maybe at least… could it be steady?
Our boat is always rocking, and I find sea-sickness is the norm. 
I’m queasy.
What did I expect?
I wonder it all…knowing that it hasn’t been easy for those I know who have weathered storms but still made it safely to port again. 
They lived to tell. 
Will I live to tell?
I wonder it daily, how this story turns out and I am living in the moment, longing to know the end. Longing for the happy ending. Heart and stomach intertwined and Living Words swirling about within, gently chiding, “Why do you doubt?”
And I confess, broken-
I do, Lord. 
Forgive this weak child.
Some days I just don’t want to hear about everyone else’s wonderful, perfect, well behaved, thoughtful, athletic, gifted, wonder kids. Who also love God, read the bible daily and get straight A’s. Who follow perfect parents into white picket fenced homes and do everything, well…perfectly. Sorry, I confess, it makes me a little sick in my stomach. Sad, actually. I long for that which is not and faith reminds me to trust when my circumstances stare me down defiantly, spit in my eye and shout “No”. 
I remember  how I used to feel after I watched the Brady Bunch and longed for that which was out of reach.
Completely unrealistic…yet?
Only child, of a single parent, I yearned for something I could not name. 
I longed for a happy ending but did not even know what it should look like.
Beyond the grasping hand. Ever reaching. 
How do you perceive something you’ve never seen before?
How do you grasp that which is out of reach?
Never seeing, ever reaching. 
Yet hope lingers in the hearts of God’s children because He is the Author of Hope.

There is still God residue within, unseen.
Dormant seeds laying in wait. 
Winter may be cold and seemingly barren, but beneath the white, frozen blanket is
dark earth nestling seedling. Even one lone seed, buried deep. Longing for something it knows not…yet.
Still within the soil, hidden, hopeful yearning for light.
Heir apparent awaiting Spring’s thaw.
A happy ending in sight.
Oh, Mother, longing for your prodigal to come home-to you, to Him-
Look to the East, He comes with the dawn…
Take heart.
Lift your eyes.
His promises root deep.
Cling tight and let go
He is trustworthy.
He sees you.
His reach is everlasting. 
And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.
Romans 5:5
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.
Hebrews 11:1

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. 
For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:18
Although our battles may not be exactly the same, we all have them. Let us remember to deal gently with one another, giving grace, upholding truth, fighting the good fight as God leads us individually and together. If we do this we will be too busy to judge one another, for each day will busy us with love and tears enough.
In His Grace, Dawn

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The Injured Bird {Guest Post @ This Southern Girl’s Heart}

Photo: Mary Lynch
Would you please join me over at my sweet, Blog sister Ashley’s place
as I share this special story about Trusting God?

I’ll start here and you can head on over there to finish, OK?
Thanks, friends!
It is early morning as I step out on the dewy grass in my slippers 
to fill the bird feeder in our back yard.
It is after all, a morning ritual. 
A daily reminder to me of His provision.
I usually put the coffee on, feed our family pets, 
then mosey on out with a pitcher of seed for our fine feathered friends outdoors. 
As I approach the feeder, the waiting birds scatter to the trees.
 I notice a tuft of feathers in the stones that surround our self made 
gathering place for the winged. 
I stand and the thought that I am gazing upon a dead bird enters my mind,
 arrow shooting sadness straight to the heart; 
but then I notice his head turning, strained with twisting, 
jerking to look up at me…
Continue Reading at 
This Southern Girl’s Heart…
I’ve turned off comments here, 
so we can meet together there!

The Promise Of A New Name

 He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. 
To the one who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna, 
and I will give him a white stone, 
with a new name written on the stone that no one knows 
except the one who receives it.’

Revelation 2:17

Some days I really long for the hidden manna, He promises.
I am grateful for the grace, truth and provision in the present moment.
But I long for my new name, white stone and the promises to come.
He is faithful to keep His promises. 
I place my trust fully on Him and the promises to be revealed.
Now and forever. 
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