Christ in Me

A few weeks ago I was reading

a familiar verse from the book of Galatians:

“I have been crucified with Christ.

It is no longer I who live,

 but Christ who lives in me.

And the life I now live in the flesh

 I live by faith in the Son of God,

who loved me and gave himself for me.”

The line “Christ who lives in me”

hit me in a new way. 

The truth of it.

 The power of it. 

The humility of it.

It turned into a poem.

I’ve written very little poetry in my life,

so I feel vulnerable sharing it here.

But I’m hoping it will bless someone this week before Easter.

There is such POWER in Christ’s death and resurrection!

But it comes only in joining Him in His surrender.

Surrender is hard.

It’s scary.

But it is safe.

His love for you will not fail.

EVER.

If someone can love us this much,

giving our lives to Him is only reasonable.

Christ in Me

I gave my life to you my Lord,

Surrendered, yielded, bowed my knee.

It was no longer I who lived,

But it was Christ who lived in me.

But there are times I snatch life back,

My fear, my pain, my false control.

I wander from my Lord and God,

Who gave His life to make mine whole.

So I must choose to lay it down,

Each day, my self, my soul, my will.

To take my cross, the one He chose,

And walk like Him to Calvary’s hill.

Then when my heart spills real and good,

With truth, with love, humility,

I cannot own the smallest praise,

It is you, Christ, who lives in me.

                             JESSICA

A Bit of Spring Poetry

 April is Poetry Month.

I’ve loved poetry for as long as I can remember.

I think it started with my Mamma reading us poems

from the Childcraft book, Poems of Early Childhood.

That began a love for collecting

books of poetry – especially old ones.

My “grown up” books are still all boxed up

since our move.

They’re waiting for shelving.

(I’ve dreamed up a little “library” made

from the space that was a laundry closet

in the old part of our house.

Sometimes the dreams take a little longer

than the more pressing realities of life.)

Yesterday I asked my daughters

if they’d help me out with some poetry.

Cassia picked out this poem

from the same old Childcraft book

my Mamma used to read to me.

APRIL

The tulips now are pushing up

Like small green knuckles through the ground.

The grass is young and doubtful yet.

The robin takes a look around.

And if you listen you can hear

Spring laughing with a windy sound.

EUNICE TIETJENS

Kadence enjoys writing poetry,

so I asked if she’d write a poem.

After school she took her little brother on walk to the farm

and came up with this somewhere along the way.

 

SPRINGTIME WALK
A bird is flitting in the trees,

I feel a soft and springy breeze.

I feel a little hand in mine,

In front of me is a big green pine.

I stop to pick a Redbud blossom,

My God’s creation is SO awesome.

The chickens run to greet us too,

The sky is clear and bright and blue.

The horses stop beside the gate,

And whinnying, they stand and wait.

It’s nice to walk on a warm spring day,

And listed to the horses neigh.

KADENCE

“Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth.

Worship the Lord with gladness;

come before him with joyful songs.”

Psalm 100:1

Stop and Smell the Hay

The smell of fresh hay is in the air again! 

There is something good about this time of year.

Hot afternoons and strawberry milkshakes 

for everyone.

“Would you like a treat, Grandpa?!”

“Ballad”

We'll walk among the tedded hay,

That smells as sweet as flowers;

While the meadow water winds its way

Beneath the hawthorn bowers.

And when the bright green haycocks throw

Their shadows from the sun,

When thou art weary there we'll go,

And rest, the heat to shun.

We'll to the hawthorn shades retire,

Where blooms the wild dog rose;

And smell the sweetly scented briar,

Where the shining river flows.

We'll talk o'er joys we once could prove,

And blithely spend the day,

For those pleasant dreams of early youth

Can never pass away.          by John Clare (1793-1864)

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.”

 Proverbs 3:5

Drips, Drizzles, and Downpours

When I look out the windows I see dripping drops.

When I listen to the noises at night I hear

"Plink Plink"

on the panes.

Arnold Lobel says it well…

“It rains and it pours.

I’ve got too many chores,

There’s the cooking and cleaning to do.

I’d rather be out on a wet, green hill,

Laughing and dancing with you.”

-- by Arnold Lobel

We’ve had measurable rain for eighteen days straight!!!

But my father-in-law reminded me that it would have to rain

for forty days to actually break the record. J

 After a while you go crazy inside 

and just go out play in the rain.

  

How ironic that we finished school over two weeks ago

(definitely a record year for us!)

 and it’s rained every day since!

But I’m not complaining – April was so dry that the pastures

had pretty much stopped growing and Nathan was feeding hay to the cattle.

Now things are lush and green.

I quickly forget all those getting desperate prayers

 for rain only a few weeks ago.

Rain is a gift!

“Now this is eternal life: 

that they know you, the only true God, 

and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.”

John 17:3

One Snowy Night

                 A Winter Dawn

                              by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Above the marge of night a star still shines,
And on the frosty hills the sombre pines
Harbor an eerie wind that crooneth low
Over the glimmering wastes of virgin snow.

Through the pale arch of orient the morn
Comes in a milk-white splendor newly-born,
A sword of crimson cuts in twain the gray
Banners of shadow hosts, and lo, the day!

The night after the snow, 

the sledders stayed out

 until the moon came up…

"It is good to praise the Lord
    and make music to your name, O Most High,
 proclaiming your love in the morning
    and your faithfulness at night,
to the music of the ten-stringed lyre
    and the melody of the harp.”

Psalm 92:1-3

Spring Morning

 

 

 

"Trust in the LORD with all your heart;

and lean not unto your own understanding.

In all your ways acknowledge him,

 and he shall direct your paths."

Proverbs 3:5,6

Queen Anne’s Lace

Queen Anne’s Lace… it’s just a weed growing along

the roadside and fencerows, but there is something

that I love about it with its ferny leaves and funny

smell and all the memories of hot summer days.    

Queen Anne’s Lace

By Mary Leslie Newton    

Queen Anne, Queen Anne, has washed her lace,
(She chose a summer's day)
And hung it in a grassy place
To whiten, if it may.

Queen Anne, Queen Anne, has left it there,
And slept the dewy night;
Then waked, to find the sunshine fair,
And all the meadows white.

Queen Anne, Queen Anne, is dead and gone
(She died a summer's day),
But left her lace to whiten in
Each weed-entangled way!

 

Legend says that Queen Anne
gave the ladies of her court a
challenge to see who could create
the most beautiful piece of lace. 
No one could match the Queen’s
exquisite work, but while she
was at work, she pricked her
finger and a drop of blood fell
on her handiwork.  That is why
there’s a wine colored center in
most of the flowers.

 

When I see the lacy flowers I think of the beginning of a poem I used to read a long time ago.

                                          Queen's Lace
                                                             By Edith Shank

                                         Fragile and lovely as old lace,
                                         But just a roadside weed;
                                         Tall and slender in regal grace,
                                         And faithful to its breed
                                    Ever growing loosely wild,
                                         With the pose of Nature's child…

He has made everything beautiful in its time. 

  He has also set eternity in the human heart;

yet no one can fathom what God has done from

 beginning to end. 

Ecclesiastes 3:11