New-born Soul

This Christmas season I have felt like I am welcoming a New Born into my home again. It is the cherished gift of woman, to bear her own children. I realize the blessing is has been for me that over the past decade and more, this has been the crowning joy of my life, welcoming new born babies, one by one, into my life, my family, my home. There is just nothing else like it.


While that season of my life has ended and Jess and I have ushered in a new season of raising growing children, I have cherished the feelings which have returned this Christmas while singing songs about the tiny little Newborn Baby Jesus. I have thought about his earthly parents and the opportunity and challenge that was theirs of teaching and rearing Him in the flesh. 


Welcoming the Baby Jesus into my heart is akin to welcoming His atonement and testimony into my life. It is a gift, a welcoming, an openness, a joy, peace and blessing. At this season, as we celebrate and honor Him at the time of His mortal birth, we can celebrate also our own re-birth because of Him.

New Born Soul

As I hold

my new-born

smallest, sweetest

baby

Deepest joy

amazement

awe

cords of love

Gift from God

miracle

tenderness

beholding

Think on Thee

New-Born King

came the same

to Mary

May I ever hold

my new-born

soul

made new

Because of Thee

Recollection

( about 1990)

How can one come to
even explain,
for words are not anywhere
to describe such things . . .
But, you may recall
a starry sky
Christmas time
ocean waves
thunder storms
music
understanding

But not recall the stars
only the endlessness and the questions.

Not the time of the Holidays
only the things soaking into your soul,
the sounds, tastes, smells.

Not the recurring pattern
of waves
only the sound, and beauty
and wonders of the waters.

Not the rain
only the light, flashing
the brightest and quickest
then the sensation
when thunder roars.

Not the tune
only the prayer of each individual note.

And

Not really understanding
only trying to understand.

Let Me

(about 1998)

With every word let me praise
With every fall let me raise
With every sorrow let me learn
With every fire let me burn
With every rainbow
let me thank Thee I'm still here.
With every broken bread,
let me know I cannot fear.
With every raindrop let me cry
With every can't let me try
With every goodness let me feel
With every wound let me heal
With every mountain let me climb
With every church-bell let me chime
With every reason let me rhyme
With every moment give me time
With every gift let me give
With every Spring let me live
Each word of thine let me embrace
In every person let me see Thy face
With every light let me see
With every glory let me be
With every hope let me hold
With every clay let me mold
With every rock let me stand
With every challenge let me plan
With every plant, let me grow
With every knowledge let me know
With every sky let me fly
Each noble goal let me try
With every option give me one
All but Thee let me shun
With every song let me sing
Every melody to ring
Each chance to love
let me give myself completely
With every voice
let me hear Thy Spirit sweetly
With every eye let me see Thee only
With Thee alone, let me be lonely
With every sound let me hear
With every trumpet let me appear
With every doorway let me in
With every race let me win!

The Beginning and the End

A Winter's Day by: Kori Mitchell


The beginning
probably never was . . .
more like a circle,
shaped by the Master,
crafted in His name.
But that's how I see the start--
As a circle of friends
who opened a window
when I had almost
closed a door.
I did not deserve
the gifts you poured
upon me.
But they have been
recieved
in secret thanks.
You gave me shade
under your pointed leaves
smelling of the mountians
at Heaven's feet.
I am only a pine cone
and I see your branches
touching the sun.
That's where I came from,
and that's where I want to be.
but I must grow there . . .
and you must stay standing tall
so when the storms come,
I will not be washed away
except to meet your tender roots.
And I'll feel my own soul
begin to hold and grasp
the Master of
The Beginning and the End.

Evidence

Reflection


(written about 2005)

The sun shines
The clouds form
The mountains rise
The trees live, grow
The leaves change

The earth breathes
and turns

The sky moves
it has shapes
it is alive

Rocks stand
and ocean waves
crash on sand
rhythm is in them

You live

Oh, the world!
It is out there
to enjoy and discover.

Grace

( about 2002)

I still don't understand
what happened
my heart broke
I lost all control
I gave myself over
to the nothingness
that lay ahead
I couldn't even
pick up the pieces
the last thing I did
was take the first step
as your voice
told me to do
and I lost
everything
dreams
tears
myself

I wake up every day
to a beautiful place
you built
I'm held in the arms
of love
you provided
on the way here
I experienced
each moment
as you built
a new me
I have
everything
my dreams
more tears
myself
I still don't understand
what happened.

Steps

(about 1994)

Your little child
growing up so fast
held her tiny hand one day
'round your finger
and took one step
at a time;
trying to make it--
a long distance to her
such a short distance
to you,
back to you,
her hand in yours.
Sometimes trying
to make it all
in one single bound.

The journey still goes on,
for life is much the same.
I must take it one step
at at time,
trusting that
if I keep my eye
single to You
if I should fall,
Thy loving hand
will catch and lift me.

With Thy hand to guide me,
each step I will take,
for in one single bound,
who would ever learn
to walk?

My eyes are on Thee;
I feel Thy smile
and Thy warm embrace
already.
Happy taking each step
in turn.
Learning
to walk.
Growing;
my hand in Yours.

Always There

(about 1994)

My heart is free now.
I can see blue sky.
The storm-clouds cleared away,
the warm sun penetrating my soul.
I can see the land forever
and the mountains towering high.
I can feel my Father's hand leading me.

Broken out of sorrow,
the darkness gone away,
for tonight a star is shining,
the light is healing me.
And I know there's hope forever;
tomorrow starts the climb
until I reach the heavens up on high.

Like a candle in the darkness,
a lighthouse on the sea,
the sunshine in the morning,
Christ is leading me

and I will follow,
so when storm-clouds come again
a ray of sunshine will come through
and warm my troubled soul.

And He is with me
in a room of darkness,
on a stormy sea,
or on a cloudy morning
Christ is always there,
leading me.

Faith

(about 1993)

Faith is all
that sustains this secret-keeper
of my soul
labored with the liquid-of-life,
full there with, alas
remaining empty.
Gone with the true-love time told of it.
Oh where the master of memories?
Where the sire of such secrets?
Oh where the answers to the where-why's?
Alone, abandoned, adorned . . .
by the faith alone of the morning sun,
another step beyond life's shadows
into the light.

The Gift

(about 2000)

Three summers ago
I was given a gift.
I was so young then,
so excited . . .
I ripped it open
expecting . . .
and what I held,
a block of clay.

Ideas . . .
how to shape it,
what I would make it . . .
then . . .
The Lord unveiled
His thoughts to me,
how I should shape,
what it could be.
I shaped as He said
and on command
my precious gift--
back to His hand.

Two summers ago
I was given a gift,
still very young,
wide-eyed . . .
I slowly let the ribbons give,
wondering . . .
and what I held
that block of clay
was in a shape
I recognized.

And like before
the Lord unveiled
His thoughts to me
how I should shape,
what it could be.
I shaped as He said
and on command
my precious gift--
back to His hand.

Last summer
I was given a gift
a little older,
changing . . .
with special care,
and perfect faith
I unwrapped it
with my gentlest touch.
Trusting . . .
and what I held
was a picture instead
of what had been shaped . . .
with a flowered frame.

But in time
I heard the Lord
that all that was mine
was all in my heart
and once again
at His command
my precious gift--
back to His hand.

This summer
I am given a gift
as old as I've been,
preparing . . .
this time it comes
without a wrap,
no covering,
no pretenses . . .
I look inside,
the looking glass
with the flowered frame,
and see for the first time
myself
as part of the shape
we carved
from that long-ago
block of clay.

It looks familiar
is all I can think,
and on the horizon
I hear Him again..
On His command
my precious gift--
back to His hand.

Next summer will come
with another gift.
Older,
wiser . . .
I'll receive it
with my open heart
and listen
to my Lord
and do all I can.
I know I'll need
His loving hands.

The Glass Menagerie

 (about 1993 ~ a take on the play by Tennessee Williams)

A young lad, holding a star--
then, encompassed by light.
I had my dream in my grip
and far off I saw a candle,
it was high;
there I was, reaching.
Then it was time
to touch the real world.
A dose of that choking medicine,
suffocating me
as I reach for the candle;
to have that light
that I soon forgot.
Hoping to speak to the public
and drop the manufacturing slum
making the world's shoes
to walk all over us.
Looking back; remembering now
the candle I almost held.
In the end, it was her.
She provided the light
that now I have--
forever shimmering in the glass
of her menagerie--
broken and piercing in my heart--
resembling tears.
Did I touch her life as she touched mine?
I, left with a fire,
never to be put out.
And blue roses, left illuminated
by a fragile flame,
and a few soft words--
don't blow, don't blow.

Flag

(about 1992)

Oh
American flag, with so much flight and wave
Becoming
Endearing in our hearts, as a joy, a triumph
Shouting
Liberty as would the golden trumpets for a
leader
You- flag, a leader among mankind. Your echo


Rings for all people to look up to, to shout for.


Your stripes are the love, the peace, that we


Must grasp and hold inside. Then, we will live!


F
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Knowledge

(about 1992)

Knowledge must have a focus,
a center to which it might cling,
a point to revolve around.
As the planets are to the light of the sun,
it hangs in the mind
for addition, multiplication,
division, subtraction,
definition of derivatives,
dissecting literature to mean
something it probably really doesn't.

Or
it hangs in the heart
for service, compassion,
love, sympathy,
strengths molded from weakness
becoming today something better
than what you thought
even possible yesterday.

Both
a balance of ideas
of values
of control, use of the senses
and distribution of love.

How?
Seeing the lessons, not just looking.
Hearing the words of those who know,
not just listening;
Breathing with every step,
singing a tune,
going slow,
enjoying every silence,
bit of laughter, freedom,
sound . . . passing
as a wave chases another
to the shoreline
and cracks
in its sailing motion.
The world still spins,
seeking the light of its own focus.

Circles

(about 1994)

Circles of love
from the ones that round
the corners of my mouth
when I smile
to the ones that shape
the tears in my eyes.
The ones that shape the letters
in 'goodbye.'

They won't tell me not to cry
when you leave.
They won't have to
because through the round tears
they'll see the shining hope
you find each day,
bright as the round sun
which rises and sets
but is not so sure
as our circle of love.

Air

(about 1995)

For you it was thick;
thick with the stench
of garbage-waste
in the sordid streets.

Whose fallen limbs
crunched under your feet?
Or not,
yet scratchy sand
and sharp cactus
were your tears.

For me it is thick;
thick with the inhaling
rise of tobacco
from my brother's breath.

In season, fallen limbs
from an oak
crunch under my feet
here; my stomach knots
and lungs rebel
bringing tears.

When I die there will be air.

The Sky is Orange

(about 1992)

I push the break pedal with my foot.
The car comes to a stop behind the white line.
I stare at the red light. Red means "stop."
I begin to imagine red means "go."
Maybe it could . . .
something changes in the atmosphere . . .
my brain doesn't care-- it just imagines.
Wavelengths bounce opposite, irregular,
whatever it would take--
twice as long, twice as tall.
Anyhow, I look at the sky-- it is orange.
The trees by  the road have red leaves.
Construction-worker signs are blue,
my apple is summer-green.
I remember the 'frootloops' in my bowl that morning--
how they were purple, blue, and green.
I look up at the light;
it is green.
Somewhere behind me, a driver honks a horn.
My brain kicks back to normal--
green still means "go."
I push on  the gas pedal and enter the intersection,
as a car swerves to miss me,
and the sky is orange.

Becoming

(written about 1994)

I looked outside once-- dreaming
out the window through the shades
from my bed.

And I looked-- dreaming
at a leaf on the top of our tree
and realized
I have looked at that leaf often-- dreaming
and each time it is higher
and I wonder
when will these dreams come true that I dream?

And the tree grows up and up
and the leaf
it comes back every year after spring
having reached further, higher
to the sky.

And when I look at the leaf-- dreaming,
(and I do it often now)
I realize
my dreams get higher, better.

Perhaps someday-- yes, someday-- my dreams
will be my life-- real things
that happened;
still are happening;

I'll look through my window-- remembering
out the window through the shades
from my bed
and see-- the full-grown tree
and the leaf-- so very high
and me-- full-grown,
ready to have these sky-high dreams.

Why not?

(about 1996)

They tell me no.
Still, you know I can.
I take you with me
and we get there.

They say
distance brings you
farther away.

Still, you weren't right there,
and we are so close.

They plumb the mysteries
of life, crush them
in their hands,
throw them in the can.

You solve them
by living them.

You take the rainbows
with you,
hand out some red here,
some green there,
and throw the others
into your laughter.

The sky rains to clean the streets
and gives the world
another rainbow.

You could climb it.

Scraps of Life

(about 1994)

I started with a poster board
big, plain, and empty.
There were no mistakes on it.
There were no bright colors,
no design-- nothing to catch the eye.

He told me to come back someday
with some kind of grand design.
He said if I'd remember this,
I'd be the master of a masterpiece.

So I began to imagine
all the great things I could make . . .
polka dots, flowers, big balloons;
All drawn in symmetry,
with precision and prestige.
I thought I'd round the corners
with perfection
and border it with care.
Color only inside the lines
and make it shine with glitter and gloss.
I thought I'd take a ribbon,
weave it to a bow
and fluff it up with wisdom,
surrounding it with delicate lace
and bouncing curls.

But looking up and reaching out
none of it was in sight.
Yet right beside me stood a friend
a smile and a helping hand.

Most journeys go by quickly they say
so today I'm looking back,
examining my poster board,
and recalling that special friend I met.
She traveled every road with me
and gave me moment by moment
scraps she had found on our way.
We piled them up like yesterdays
and always walked on.

Some scraps came from a rose garden pink,
some from a sunny day.
Some were straight from her heart,
others were far off in a big balloon.
Some came from gardens
of apples, strawberries, and sugar peas.
While some came from warm plaid blankets
that sheltered me from the cold.

It was today that I broke down and cried
because I still hadn't made my design.
Until I stepped back to take a good look
and to my surprise . . .
My poster board had become
colorful and bright
etched with wonderful memories,
smiles, balloons, and sunshiny laughter.

No, the corners weren't perfect or round,
the border in and out with sorrow and joy.
Some of the edges were frayed,
but it all came together
and delighted the eye.
All of those scraps my friend
had given me day by day.
And I see that life's like a puzzle.
it can't come together in one solid bound,
but is carefully designed piece by piece
out of scraps from loved ones in life.

Our Puzzle

(to Alpha Omega pledges 1994)

Do you think He knew
where you'd be today?
That His light in your eyes
would shine my way?

Well, He whispers pieces
down deep in my soul
of the puzzle of life.
And now I know

why I felt His love
when you first walked my way
and why I felt it again
when I saw you today.

The picture is whole now,
the feelings so real
I still hardly know you,
but the love that I feel

tells me right now
you belong here with me
and the friends we have made
forever will be.

The pieces together,
His answers are true.
The puzzle's together
now I'm friends with you.

We each are a piece
of a puzzle that fits
the divine touch of God
like a candle that's lit.

I hope you can feel
the warmth of this love,
for your piece in my life
was sent from above.