Archive | September 2015

Cottage-by-the-Sea #26 9/30/15

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Abba Father:
O Master of the Universe,
Source and Creator of us all!
Being so amidst every element,
Makes me feel so small.
The sea waves are pounding,
Advancing up and down the shore,
Needing close, I sit at covered door,
Amazed by You more and more.
The sound alone is powerful,
Reaching quickly to who I am,
Tunes my heart to You alone,
For You are You, man but man.
Waves so wild and unpredictable,
Swipes shores clean of my defeat,
They clear the land and air,
Remove the stench of my retreats.
Whipping winds pull and push,
But harbor sought I in Your arms,
Where the storm dare not touch,
My soul truly safe from all harm.
Thank You, Lord for Your Sea,
For storms that rage and those sweet,
Where lessons of life are taught,
Along the Sea of Victory and Defeat.
You alone deserve all gratitude,
I praise You to the deepest depths,
Receive my heart’s worship true,
To You it goes, oh please accept!
            dfav 9/30/15
—Donna

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I’m Not a Betting Woman

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The situation isn’t pretty,
Thinking of it fills me with dread,
In Vegas the odds would weigh heavy,
The next few days are already read.
But, see, I’m not a betting woman,
Don’t believe in luck at all,
I’m already on my knees and praying,
God won’t let us tumble and fall.
Life, yes, it’s unpredictable, I agree,
Bad things happen to everyone,
But lucky numbers, shoes and hats?
Make no difference under the sun.
That’s why, I’m no betting woman,
Don’t believe in luck at all,
I’m already on my knees and praying,
God hears me when I call.
Go ahead and place your bets,
Wage money, silver and gold,
Place your trust in mediums,
Then watch ’til all the story unfolds.
Me? I’ll remain right steady,
No bets, no consultation, no luck at all,
I trust in the power of prayer,
To the Lord God who loves us all.
No, I’m not a betting woman,
Who cares what the odds are today?
But, I’m on my knees, the truth is set,
God and faith, they don’t play.
dfav 9/28/15
-Donna

Erasure

Due to copyright issues I can’t use the Sunrise Over the Cotton Fields photo.   This photo is used by the permission of Martha Gaston Stewart.

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Gorgeous sunrise picture over a little town,
A place of small population perhaps past it’s prime,
Once barely a mail-stop the cart drove through,
Sleepy little farming community it’s crops renownn.

Sunrise casts it’s morning rays over drying brown stalks,
Topped with snow white cotton for harvest,
Such beauty my eyes see that my breath catches,
Memories of Gone With the Wind come to bring fault.

Oh, my, there are some who can’t see beyond the cotton,
And the wicked wrongness often wrought,
To produce that field of cotton, money,
A time in history not to be easily forgotten.

If one lifts their eyes to the sunrise splendor,
To the vibrancy God has for this day, this time,
One remembers Christ died upon a cross,
His arising from the dead we’re asked to remember.

There’s no eraser made to wipe out our deeds,
No easy way to ignore what once was true,
Much erasing occurs when Christ love is applied,
And greater still the righting grows stronger with these seeds.
             dfav 9/24/15
—Donna

Daughter, I Ask

Photo source unknown.
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Daughter I ask,
Throw open windows to the breath of Truth,
Eliminate your heart of all the shadows,
Ask Me to melt away sins chains,
To flood your soul with Sonshine,
While praying your heart is refreshed with Holy rain.

Dare allow Me to light each nook and cranny,
My Spirit’s swirling to blow away cobwebs,
While your neglected shelves have order returned,
Recognize My power when you but ask,
In My will is much for which you’ve always yearned.

Daughter, how I love you so much!
With love deeper and truer than any man.
Don’t leave while things are halfway restored.
Trust me and I will show you the way,
With steps sure and true, ones not easily ignored.
             dfav 9/24/15

Cottage-by-the-Sea #25 9/23/15

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Abba Father:
Before the sun rose this morning, I did.
Getting as close to the water’s edge as I could get,
My chair goes, pushed, with such ease.
Watching as a hint of color tints the horizon,
Deep desire to be close enough to the sea I’m wet.
My soul opens up, seeking You as You please.
There’s no where I can be hid,
Even if that’s what I sought, but, it isn’t.

You have swiped Your hand, across the sky.
Your painters palate beautifully displayed,
My heart does what my feet cannot,
Gliding on a path of reflected hues,
I find myself a part of the wonder arrayed,
Praise You, Abba, Your daughter is not forgot,
Although I will always wonder why.
You love someone like me.

Oh, what joy in my heart unfolds and grows,
Becoming one with the beauty You created,
Who has pushed me here to acknowledge You, Creator?
I couldn’t before, nor do I now.
My heart never again can forget such love displayed.
Let Your love shine in, silence the haters.
For in this sunrise love is all it knows.
I praise You, Lord, for reminding me.

Oh, praise You, Lord, the I Am!
Praise You, Abba, the Healer.
Praise You, Almighty, forever and ever.
Praise You, My Shepherd, for Your guidance.
Praise You, Sweet Savior, Lord of all, forever.
Praise You, Master, help me forsake You never.
Praise You, O Holy One, the Gentle Lamb.
Praise You for Your love, mercy and grace.
        dfav 9/23/15
—Donna

Love is Here

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The aroma of chocolate in German chocolate cake,
Two nine-inch rounds of warm, moist, perfectly baked chocolate,
Baked from scratch without a written recipe,
My all-time favorite melt-in-mouth cake,
Bake it for my birthday, Christmas, anytime cake,
Caramel, coconut, pecan luscious frosting,
I’m eight, spend all my money to win Mama’s cake at the fair,
Here love is found, here love is found.

The smell of freshly baking biscuits,
A cookie sheet full, perfectly round circles,
Cut with a recycled Vienna sausage can,
Except for one triple-sized “Daddy” biscuit,
And one half-size “Baby Sister” biscuit,
Bacon frying, grits simmering, eggs being scrambled,
I’m twelve, p. j. clad, wiping sleep from my eyes,
Here love is found, here love is found.

The scent of deep-fried special occasion only chicken,
Between oil and chicken affording it is hard,
Took an hour to get the oil hot enough,
Calling dibs on the legs and wings,
Daddy wants the other parts, no wings,
Potato salad, deviled eggs, baked beans,
I’m sixteen and Mama’s food is about all we share,
Here love is found, here love is found.

Aroma of Mama’s preparing her chicken and dressing,
Chicken stewing on the stove with herbs,
Cornbread browning in the oven just right,
Onions, breadcrumbs, poultry seasoning,
All the ingredients, her secrets and other perfect “seasoning”,
Everyone will be feasting with this one dish,
I’m twenty-two aghast she added Cayenne pepper!
Here love is found, here love is found.

Smell of Thanksgiving dinner with “The Dressing”,
Turkey, sweet potato casserole, corn, mac-n-cheese,
Extra cornbread browning in the oven,
Deviled eggs and potato salad in the frig,
Mama’s recipes, only I’m cooking, my oven and frig,
I’m thirty-three, cooking for our first holiday and the in-law’s,
Her recipes from her head, my memories, into my computer.
Here love is found, here love is found.

Smell of other people’s food drifting,
Through the house with chatter after the funeral,
Her funeral, our Mama’s funeral, ’cause she is gone,
Conversation turns to her food, her cooking,
Cakes, mashed potatoes, biscuits, her cooking,
Everyone has a story, weddings catered, birthdays,
I’m thirty-five and it hurts to hear, to remember.
Here love is found, here love is found.

Familiar aromas have wafted through our home,
My family and friends talk about my from scratch carrot cake,
They plea with me for Grams/my dressing,
Mama loved mine better than her own dressing,
I’m fifty-one and Hospice comes almost daily,
My death will be no surprise and I pass recipes to our daughter,
Here love is found, here love is found.

I awaken to the smell of Mama’s biscuits baking,
Bacon frying, coffee brewing, and I’m confused,
I’m alone no one is here and no biscuits baking,
All day I smell them and I think I’m losing my mind.
Or is this medication playing tricks with my mind?
Then my Hospice nurse arrives and I ask,
“Do you smell biscuits baking? ” And I explain.
Here love is found. Here love is found.

When I’ve met Jesus, and the initial welcome home is done,
I’ll walk arm-in-arm with Mama to home within home,
Where’s there’s a pan of love in the oven.
Biscuits and dressing in the oven.
God’s love has sight, aroma, sound, feel,
I’m seeing Him, smelling, feeling safe in his Him.
Here love is found. Here love is found.
dfav 9/20/15
-Donna

Prayer and I

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Prayer and I sat out this sunny day,
To see humanity what they would say.
First we came upon this lovely man,
With gracious manners and calloused hands.
He responded to our quest to pray for him,
To tell us of his painful, secret sin,
An addiction to porn he couldn’t forever defeat,
Where Satan has him often in full retreat.
Never a sweeter man who desired the Lord,
Yet strangled by a trap of this world.
Second we came upon a single mother,
Dropping kids off at school, tough cookies together.
The father wouldn’t pay his child support,
He only laughed at her when she went to report,
She’s tired and lonely but God is her rock,
She pushes negative aside keeps an eye on the clock.
God assures her she’s not forgotten,
And she asks us to pray for her ex for he’s not all rotten.
Third man we meet says he’s no use for God,
Followed up by how we’re so odd.
He goes on and mentions he has cancer,
But he’s not frightened, oh no, no Sir.
He’s a self made man through and through,
He’ll rejoin the dust pay what’s due.
Prayer and I turn to the church, sit on a pew,
Lord, I don’t know how to thank You.
Each person we met had a spiritual need,
So we’ll sit for a moment pray for the seeds.
Thank You for allowing us this privilege,
To walk, pray, stand in the gap, and be a bridge.
Isn’t this what part of witnessing is after all?
Seeking the lost, trying to lessen those who fall?
Pointing the way to Jesus the King,
For its in Him we have everything.
               dfav 9/16/15
—Donna

Cottage-by-the-Sea #24 9/16/15

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Abba Father,
It’s dark outside and the windows open.
I hear the sea waves rush in, wash out.
Feel a dampening chilly breeze blowin’,
And I feel more alive than I have in days,
You’re the Lord, mysterious in Your ways.
How can this be? How can this be?
That I feel most alive here by the sea?

I am unafraid alone here in our cottage,
It’s our prayer closet requires no aid for me,
I enter at will and when You call,
Here the ground is level as I pray,
And I am assured we can hear what we say
Here I’m sure we communicate, sure we communicate.
In this cottage there can be no fakes.

While Your sea dips, splashes and waves,
The wind through Your hands directions are drew,
I feel so secure to pray as You lead me in,
Allow prayer to be my investment again.
Here lead my words, here lead my prayer.
Meet their needs in Your will is my prayer.

From this Cottage-by-the-Sea.
The one prayer closet we built for me,
Here within, nearby my favorite things,
My Bible, scribbles, Your Sea, You and the best thing,
Your Holy Spirit guiding me, guiding me.
To keep on praying from the Cottage-by-the-Sea.
                 dfav 9/16/15
—Donna

How Great It Is (Reflection on Deut. 4:7)

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Naive or misguided?
Misled or conned?
When was freedom,
Ever easily won?

One war or two?
Revolution or world?
We believed then.
God willing, we’d win.

The Israelites prayed,
God, set us free.
And He heard them,
Freed’em from misery.

Before them God went,
Cloud and fire,
They panicked, gave up,
Demanded an idol.

Reminds me of the USA,
Lost in a wasteland,
Unsure who we are,
Risked enough, gone to far?

The world’s looking now,
What will we do,
Put our head in the sand,
Bow our heads, fold our hands?

Deuteronomy 4:7 tells Israel,
They were blessed to have,
A God who was near them,
When they prayed to Him.

Couldn’t that be the US again,
If we humble ourselves and,
Truly pray to Him?
Can we be humble again?

73% of American’s say,
They are Christians but,
Biblical truth in laws,
Aren’t reflected at all.

Let me encourage you,
Who write and craft,
To give witness for God,
Create truth on His sod.

Genesis says He made,
Adam in his image,
So our creativity call,
Comes from the God of us all.

Now is our time,
To help reignite America,
First to much praying,
Then to much working.

Encourage wrongs righted,
And laws rightly fixed,
Our leaders to lead well,
The truth always tell.

Our God will be near us,
He’ll be part of our hearts,
Let’s turn America’s direction,
Work for everyone’s salvation.

Can we be again,
An example of God’s blessings?
I commit to praying we can,
Will you pray with me we can?
              dfav 9/15/15
–Donna

Remember 9/11/01

Source of photo unknown.

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We watched in disbelief,
In horror and stunned silence,
As the Twin Towers fell,
One by one, no reprieve.

Flight 93 crashed by brave men,
In a Pennsylvania field,
Instead of the White House,
Passengers who said not again.

Pentagon struck and burning.
Acts of terrorism,
By misguided jihadists,
Who died still yearning.

2977 lives blown away,
From over 90 countries,
Plus 11 unborn children,
Number mounts day upon day.

People dying from cancer,
Injuries sustained,
Other diseases caught from,
Being on or close to the disaster.

American’s became one that day,
Our differences forgotten,
People sought to help and,
Sought God again in different ways.

Remember September 11, 2001,
As the sun rises and sets,
The moon shines ’til done,
By turning to Jesus, God’s Son.
               dfav 9/11/2015
Donna