encouragement – Rivers Renewed

Building New Foundations

It amazes me how we can walk through the fire looking back at how we used to be strong, or how we hold onto the one we love, and that love can push us forward beyond what we ever imagined……

we not only survive but we build new foundations, because the old framework was never meant to sustain us.

As you may know my wife has had cancer for many years, off and on. She will be on chemo for a very long time. You may not know that she recently had some small tumors show up where they are not supposed to be! So to be truthful it is easy to go down the bitterness road or the fear road, but we decided to go down the trust road. Meaning trusting in God.

You see our faith not only helps us, but becomes a type of a certain foundation. Never assume a person of faith is a nitwit or naïve. You have no idea what they have been through. And my wife and I want nothing to do extremist politics, which is totally off target. I’m speaking of a heart filled with love.

Back to those small tumors……they turned out to be benign! So we didn’t have to walk through the fire this time……and we thank God for that. A small yet important victory.

Shaping Words into a Gentle Rain

I try not to write from my scars. They’re there of course like everyone else, but I make every attempt not to give them too much credit.

So I write from the light or try to. Pieces of encouragement, maybe some profound peace, shaping words into a gentle rain of spring. Rivers instead.

Even if there is a storm, it doesn’t hold onto me anymore.

Poems from the Broken Sky

The wordflow began that day as the sky broke open and the lightning descended. To be honest I was half expecting Lakota to be spoken on the wind, or maybe language from one of the other tribes.

Green leaves shimmered on tree branches waving in the storm, and I knew there would be no angels this time. Only fragments of sentences, an idea floating here or there, I knew I must write.

Wordflow storms are like that sometimes, elusive, yet beautiful, and terrible all at the same time.

And in our brokenness sometimes the beautiful,

is no longer hidden.

Note: This is fiction….sort of.

In the Warming of the Sun

In the warming of the sun, we are our partially ecstatic and partially free from despair,

so we hold spring close to our hearts, wanting to believe again

and hope begins, or something like hope,

breathes into us.

New beginnings do restore us

don’t they?

Happy Easter

Today around the world, millions of people will be celebrating Easter, a day to celebrate the risen Christ, alive forever more! It is a beautiful day. One of hope and triumph over death and evil.

I have such a beautiful group of readers from across the globe, with different religions, and some with no particular religion. I love the diversity here!

Thank you so much for reading and being a great part of my blog.

Happy Easter!

P.S. The vaccine is here, spring is here and it is such a time of hope right now.

Wishing you peace and beautiful blessings.

Follow Your Heart

I write of peace, of nature, healing, discovery, renewal, of God being in the woods. There is spirit and wings, for each of us I think. A quiet heart seeking.

Yet within each of us there are different rivers, sources of inspiration. For example I love writing fiction. Did you know I had a fiction blog at one point?

And with yesterday’s post about the Capitol riot you saw yet another river from my heart. If I had the time (and I don’t) I could start a blog offering political analysis and commentary.

And yes each post can be a risk, if we push the boundaries of where we were. For “Flags and Banners” I was already expecting a much lower response. It’s the nature of that type of post.

And that’s ok.

So my point is – explore who you are as a writer, as an artist. Take chances, discover the new……and most of all……follow your heart.

Peace.

Poet’s Muse

Shape shifting into that wolf he used to be, or even the lion made of fire and stone, produced nothing more than comical lyrics and dreams of hunting with dull knives instead of that line, that phrase he had called forth, the one on the tip of his tongue, he could almost taste it….

he refused the temptation to allow despair to take him down, to allow the lancing of his pain, the calling out of anguish using poetry as way of defeating. No.

His muse must live…..but he refused to share her nakedness, her bare soul, the broken body from chemo and cancer, the legs he adored now whittled down, he would not go there, if he did he would not live there. Crushed.

God spoke and he listened. The warm embrace of nature began with a soft sun…..melting the ice. And rain, one of those beautiful life giving rains. His arm. A pen on paper.

And life began again, somehow. Spring.

Note: This is fiction. My wife is taking chemo but we are ok.

Call of the Woods

He was a boy when he first rejected confederate flags, shotguns, and red Ford pickup trucks, the way the men talked about black people at the barber shop. He knew he was different, having sensed the call of the woods.

Some force he couldn’t see, beckoning. By 18 he could read trail signs, and knew where the crows nested and their favorite corn field…where the rabbits hid when the hawk flew by.

He did follow rivers, knew the deer as friends, more importantly he felt God’s presence in the snow falling…..with a love for the unknown, that he could not see.

Heart Song from the woods.

When Peace Calls

When peace calls speaking of healing, will our hearts be listening,

seeking

her beauty?

Winter Beauty

Sometimes winter has a way,

of taking our breath way.

Category: encouragement