Help me trust you God, I don't want to falter.
Though circumstances are grim and discouraging
Evil must not win, help me be encouraging.
Help me trust you God, I don't want to falter.
Let your love for all humanity be mine, may I choose to love.
Even in the midst of the world filled with hate,
I choose your love may it not be late,
Let your love for all humanity be mine, may I choose to love.
Set me firmly on Your path, I believe in Your way.
As even basic decency is lost in this place,
Strengthen me for Your pace,
Set me firmly on Your path, I believe in Your way.
O God, may I be found as true, faithful to You.
May I know when and how to fight for Your way,
Being sure if I have anger it is righteous each day,
O God, may I be found as true, faithful to You.
Father, may my heart always believe in You first.
Even as it appears evil is winning after all,
Remind me of Your plan since Adam and Eve's fall,
Father, may my heart always believe in You first.
----dfav
6/6/2021
Tag Archive | adapting to change
What Message is Getting Through
There is deafening noise all around,
You cannot escape it wherever you are bound.
A violent roar angry, loud and explosive,
So loud, oh so loud, it turns into a weapon so corrosive.
Noise so big, so loud, so hot and molten,
Your message is lost to all, dispelled, no longer golden.
There is violence in the streets below.
People breaking in, as people once friends turn to foes.
Glass shatters, bricks explode, fire flames and licks,
The guilty or innocent such destruction has no pick.
Businesses, homes, people damaged or wiped away,
Taken out by waves of fury again today.
There are tidal waves of age old lies,
How many deaths will be enough to die?
Leaders so corrupted they cannot smell their stench,
Plans roll out to which they've plied their wrench.
This has nothing to do with "we the people",
Much to do with the torn down steeple.
No longer can I hear the message,
No longer can I read the passage,
No longer can I find reason for sanity,
No longer do I see any recognization of dignity.
The locusts have passed again and again,
I cannot hear through their violent, wicked din.
There is one promise to which I cling,
One taste of tomorrow despite todays sting.
Jesus came and died, He the only perfect One,
He rose from death His victory won.
He is returning, He is coming back,
In Him alone resides all the understanding we lack.
Until then though I struggle to hear your voice,
Do you think there is another sane choice?
This paints a picture of evil reigning,
Of the worst of all humanity demanding,
Their way or no way, life or death,
It seems your intent to steal away our last breath.
There is deafening racket all around,
No escape no matter where you're bound.
A violent roar, angry, loud and explosive,
So loud, oh so loud, it turns into a weapon so corrosive.
Noise so BIG, so LOUD, SO hot, SO molten,
Your message is lost to all, dispelled, no longer golden.
----dfav
4/20/2021
The Sounds are Missing
The world living sounds are changing,
In some respects they’ve gone away,
The sounds of leaves crunching
Beneath a neighbors feet.
Traffic isn’t as thunderous these days,
People pass but not as many,
Even heavy trucks have gone astray,
Their wheels and air brakes muted.
Birds are no longer tweeting,
Squirrels aren’t actively gathering nuts,
As if nature itself responds to silencing,
This world, as a whole, long changed.
Feelings of discomfort and disbelief,
Are ushered in by bare branches,
As every cell in me waits for some relief,
Sounds today? What waits tomorrow?
—-dfav
9/28/2020
Sameness
This is a picture of my African Violet that was the first plant I grew successfully indoors and for an extended period of time. It was, ironically, a gift from my co-workers when my father died. So at the time I took this picture the violet was around 2 1/2 years old.
I confess growing it for the most part was done without much thought. It grew in one of those self-watering pots so I kept the reservoir filled and cut off any blossom or leaf as soon as it looked sick.
Turned out there were a lot of African Violet nurturers in our office building. All with lots of rules on how to grow this flower with a reputation for being finicky. Of course I was doing everything wrong. Of course this flower doesn’t like change in it’s environment, period so everyone warned me not to EVER MOVE IT FROM THE SPOT ON MY DESK.
When I had to stop working I had to bring the violet home. Neither it nor I were happy being home all the time. Despite my focused attempts, my desire to succeed and a fear of failure the violet died.
I grieved the loss of a plant. I grieved its loss more than I grieved the loss of my father. My sorrow wove itself into the fabric of my heart, intertwined with the threads of unhappiness over forced retirement, the loss of knowing who and what I was anymore and my physical pain.
Unlike my violet the tentacles of death I felt didn’t have a firm enough grip on me to succeed. The difference? The gardener.
Like the violet I don’t like change, especially drastic change especially. Unlike the violet I am adapting.
See, my Creator, the same Creator as my African Violet, has a plan for me to continue living and we have a relationship that allows communication. Complete communication.
I am learning to accept where I am now because God is faithful, trustworthy and knows what is best for me. Sadly my violet didn’t understand that, but, being it was a flower not a human that reality is understandable.
God promises never to leave or forsake us and He has given us a lifetime assignment. (Matthew 28:16-20)
He promises a plan and a purpose for our lives. (Jeremiah 29:11).
Our Master Gardener knew us in our mother’s womb. (Psalm 139:13).
Most of all He tells us He is the vine and we are the branches. To be alive we must abide in Him. (John 15:1-17).
Yes, He makes all the difference. My way of caring for my violet adapted but the finicky plant couldn’t. Gratefully, God always gives me His best because He has an intimate knowledge of me.
Change happens. God is always in control.
-Faye
fvbf 