I Am at My Best

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In the mysteries of my mother’s womb,
God knit me together,
A precious pattern with infinite details,
Qualities like no other.

Many petite, brown haired and,
Brown-eyed girls are born,
In whom their intermost being God weaves,
Uniqueness so innately detailed and adorned.

Still, there isn’t any being like me,
God so particularly created and fashioned,
The possibilities that were & could be,
When God created each of us He purposed.

But the mistake you cannot make,
Is to think I’m His little marionette,
He gave to me free will to choose,
Would He do that and then forget?

Every day there’s the possibility,
For me to choose how to use my skills,
My heart has a longing to make God proud,
Not to make this a clash of wills.

God can work best through yielded hearts,
Today and hours yet down the road,
And if I down the road He should take,
I pray then the Lord finds I shoulder His load.

For to turn my back on my Designer Creator,
Would be to turn on the best of me,
For there cannot be the smallest doubt,
Jesus forgave my sins and set me free.

It was then in this fine hour I saw,
To choose to see His best in me,
Forgiving myself as He forgives,
Living each moment, His way, and free.

This is what His call to me is,
Savor every moment of everyday,
He created in me too the need to create,
Sitting and waiting is not the way.
              d.f.a.v.   5/20/15
—Donna

Cottage by the Sea #15 5/20/15

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Abba Father,
Reached the end of me,
A while ago—
Hanging on though,
Hanging on,
To see what You see,
‘Cause its beautiful,
Your beauty—
Not that of man,
Not that,
Man’s eyes see dull,
Show me, what You see.

No heroine here, Lord,
Grace covers me—
Your blood flows down,
Your blood,
Cleanses and frees me,
‘Cause You make me worthy,
Of Your love—
For Your grace,
For Love,
You are my story,
You are grace in three.

Father, Your hand reached me,
Blew life into me—
Pulled out my limitations,
Pulled out,
Left no stone unturned to be,
So there’d be no doubt
A hold-out for maybe—
This is all You,
Your moments to shine,
Your glory in me,
You loving through me.
                d.f.a.v.  5 /19/15
—Donna

The Sound of Silence

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Ahhh—The silence.
Though the click of the fan,
The ting, tingling of the rain,
The hum and bubble of the concentrator,
Reach my ears,
They don’t reach my heart.

Ahhh—The stillness.
Luxurious, welcomed stillness,
In house, mind, heart, no stirring,
No useless scurry,
My soul is still,
This. Is. It.

Ahh—The awareness.
Absence of accusations,
Absence of fluff and flash of justification,
Jesus says one thing,
…he without sin—
—he may cast the first stone.

Ahh—storm of my existence.
Suspended, here and now,
Suspended, free fall, Satan grounded,
No stones hurled, screaming thuds,
None can be—first.

Ahh—The silence.
Though the tweets of birds,
Though the ting, tingling of falling dust,
The hum and bubble of weakening judgments,
Soothes my heart,
He fulfills my soul.
                d.f.a.v.  5/18/15
—Donna

Of Frogs & Christians

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The frogs sit in the water filled pan,
A mild little croak now and then.
Outside looking in with impish glee,
Is a bright-eyed man to see what he sees.

The frogs don’t jump and they don’t panic,
Waters feeling fine better than the Atlantic.
They fail to feel and fail to see,
That impish man turn up the heat degrees.

Before they know it those once happy frogs,
Had passed on through deaths fog.
They were cooked to death in submission,
Heat applied with their silent permission.

On fire Christians sitting in a pew,
Listening to what God has for them to do.
None of them notice the whispers in their ears,
From clever demons and their its okay cheers.

The people don’t think about a missed Sunday or two,
It’s just until ball season is through.
You used to love country rock so a song now and then,
You don’t even notice when two became ten.

A playful flirt, lunches and the two of you in one car,
Drinks after work, you haven’t gone too far.
Next thing you know empty spaces in the pews,
Satan turned up the temptation slowly and got through.

As the frogs learned and the Christians too,
It wasn’t the big surprises that brought the doom.
Simple, seemingly innocent decisions led them astray,
One to their death and the other to Satan’s way.

Beware your surroundings and how comfortable they are,
A false security and you go too far.
Living for Christ in this world shouldn’t fit you just right,
It should chaff you, and feel too big or too tight.
                          d.f.a.v.  5/17/15
—Donna

Persistant Prayer

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Prayer isn’t mere words,
Spoken in whispers,
Or chanted in rhythm,
Shouted through time.

Prayer isn’t a list,
A to-do-task check-off,
Give me these things,
A hollow bells ring.

Prayer is for praise,
For I Am is God,
He’s loved us forever,
Will depart His never.

Prayer is for thanksgiving,
For the blessings one has,
The love of family,
The salvation of enemies.

Prayer is an outpouring,
Of one’s heart and soul,
When our words fail,
Christ intervenes to prevail.

Prayer is awareness,
That God communicates,
He provides our needs,
Dividing crops from weeds.

Often in mind’s eye,
Words float up to Him,
Sometimes they crawl,
Or brick-like simply fall.

Lately though my prayers,
Have been wrenched out,
Humble but persistant,
To be heard, I’m insistent.

Everyday, everychance, everywhere,
That I possibly can I pray,
Committed to persistence,
For grace in this incident.

Heal me Father, I plea,
Grant me a miracle,
Wash open the closed,
Free what is jailed.

No demands from me,
No threats or tantrums,
Only honesty each moment,
This disease has cruel components,

The words of this prayer,
I envision as an army,
Going to You empty,
Returning equipped simply.

Heal me Dear Father,
From this Valley’s shadow,
David called it death
Lord, its sleeved in stealth.

Expose it for me,
Throw light on it’s ways,
May the victory be Your’s,
Your will at the core.

Prayer, Abba Father,
Is a two-way event,
Both listening, thinking
Curious and speaking.

Praise Jehovah! You are God!
Glorify You the I Am!
The One with no hesitation.
Grant me this redemption.

                d.f.a.v.  5/15/15
—Donna

A Lesson in Leadership

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King after King of the Israelities compromised with the world,
And “…did evil in the sight of the Lord…”
Over and over this in the Old Testament was read,
Making it harder to fight heart to head.
They forgot what they risked was so real,
Imagined their intentions weren’t clear,
They’d rather leave what is right behind,
Than have the whole truth brought to mind.
King after king sat on the throne,
Further and further from God they did roam.
Today we’re no different if I give it some thought,
Its not individuals for which we should have sought.
Instead it’s cleaning up our lives,
Beneath the Blood of the Lamb that has survived.
King or pauper, old or young,
The facts will surely be loudly sung.
But in the end, Christ will have won.
When that day comes and He appears,
And we rise with Him and shed our fears.
We’ll answer for our leadership,
Like the kings in the Old Testament and their ego trips.
Will what you do be followed with pride?
Or will it be preceded by God Himself asking us, “Why?”
               d.f.a.v.  5/14/15
—Donna.

Cottage by the Sea #14 5/13/15

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Abba Father :
The Sea and I awoke this morn,
When the dark began to wane.
The sea itself seemed to hold its breath,
How gallant marches it’s waves,
It surveyed the treasures on shore,
It knew nonetheless it’s spiritual gain.

When from my view upon the deck,
I drank in the first lighten wave,
As the sky burst forth a rosy glow,
Lifting shadows with its light,
True devastation met my sight,
Lost homes, lost lives, crumbled cliffs,
What of this place, Lord did You save?

I image turning to find our cottage roof gone,
Plywood from windows ripped and torn,
Perhaps the foundation washing away,
The driveway out front a sinking hole,
A total loss I somehow missed,
Within me a gentle voice says, you were not alone.

My eyes drank in our Cottage basically unscathed,
And I wonder how this could be?
Struck head-on by nature’s fury,
Devastation literally all around me now,
Our Cottage shines like a miracle bestowed,
A beacon of hope beneath my feet for me.

Like our lives struck head-on by disease,
Like families torn apart from lies and sins,
Like marriages crumbled with infidelity,
Like lives ripped off foundations, weaknesses exposed,
What looked so fine from the outside,
Foundations couldn’t hold when the storm roared in.

God, You sat here with me through the night,
Offering hope if I would but reach to You,
Though I felt weak and tired, half-alive,
You shone a thin sliver of light,
And held me as I yielded myself to Your love,
Exactly what You’ve taught me to do, I do.

Storms of life can wipe out our world,
Coughing tidbits of others lives into yours,
But the anchor will grip if God sets it,
The Cornerstone will remain unmoved,
Faith well established can stand the test,
Hope remains if Christ is your core.
      …d.f.a.v. 5/12/15
—Donna

Cottage by the Sea #13 5/12/15

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Abba Father,
The tropical storm churns the sea,
Waves are higher than shoreline trees,
Winds have torn everything into shreds,
It’s hard at night to lay down my head.
Thunderheads have rolled way past the shore,
One even now pounds on roof and door,
Threatening lives near by to change forevermore,
A deeper, darker force at this storm’s core.
Truth be told Lord, it’s not the winds,
Or drowning rain, or lightening’s clashing din.
It’s the struggle in the hearts of all men,
To follow You or the paths of sin.
The storm is one of our own making,
We’re our own best enemies in the fighting.
Forgive me Father when I turn from You,
When Your hand is what I long to cling to.
Be with me now in our Cottage by the Sea,
While the storm blows over this is where I’ll be,
Trusting that beyond this angry, screeching storm,
The Son is shining for those reborn.
              d.f.a.v.  5/11/15
—Donna

Since I Got the News

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Nothing says what I want to say.
No matter what I try to write about,
It all comes out as useless junk,
I get so frustrated I want to shout.
Lord, its more than writers block,
More like time has warped my day.

The “to-do-list” is crossed off done.
People told who had a need to know,
Still nothing eases the shock inside,
When words were said before I said “No!”
“Here’s a diagnosis, pushed aside,”
I cling to the Father, Holy Spirit and Son.

It’s with me when in the morning I wake,
And follows me all through the day,
At evening and night when it’s there too,
In every action, all I do and say,
Throughout each chore I stumble through,
If I admitted less I would be a fake.

I’m dying and I’m only fifty-one,
Just finding my way in a creative world,
Poetry, novels, paintings and how-to-draw,
Things I tried to wholly trust You with, Lord,
How can death now be my call?
I feel cheated of the life we ‘ve built here too.

You’re God and You can understand my mood,
You’ve allowed that of which I don’t understand,
I cling to the compass pointing me to faith,
I cling to our Father’s masterful hand,
To cling to less I’d have lived for waste,
So to Christ and faith I hold even in solitude.

This is real, this is where I’m at.
I can’t pretend it’s all okay, it’s not,
But with Your help Lord, I’ll be alright,
Though I may not wake at morning’s shout,
I can close my eyes turn to the light,
When You have called me to where You’re at.
                           d.f.a.v.  5/8/2015
—Donna

Beyond Existence

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In You I live.
I’m one hundred percent,
Alive!
Far beyond,
These earthly woes,
Far beyond all I know,
I live!

Troubles pile,
On for this earthly trial,
Higher, high.
In You Lord,
I do much more
Than exist unsure,
I live!

Because of You,
The death You overcame,
After Calvary.
Exist I did but now oh my,
My soul is tethered beyond the sky.
Oh, yes I live!
I live!

Alive!
From mere existence,
In the Lord I’ve realized,
There can be no greater prize,
Than to live in Jesus,
Who reminds me of all eternal,
I live!
              d.f.a.v. 5/7/15
—Donna