Beautifully His

Psalm 139:14 

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.

Beautifully His 12/6/12

Barefoot child,

Hair a mess,

Spinning, twirling

In a dress.

Believing-

I'm a princess-

My mommy told me so!

Preteen girl,

Freckled face,

Wondering, wishing

To find a place.

Believing-

I'm not pretty enough

And I can't be.

Young adult,

Steely eyes,

Thinking, Certain,

Beauty is lies.

Believing-

If only I try harder

To follow the crowd.

Fully grown,

Not content,

Trying, hoping,

To retain years spent.

Believing-

I lost my beauty years ago

But maybe this can get it back.

Child beloved,

Made with care,

Remember, see,

God is there.

Saying-

You are created beautiful

Because you are uniquely Mine.

~ZA

Copyright © 2012 Ophelia M. Flowers

Still Will He Hold

 Still Will He Hold 11/4/12

All alone within the corner

Too ashamed to even pray.

The tears fall warm and heavy-

I long to simply run away.

How could I have done that?

Will He love me even still?

I turn, now harmed and broken.

Oh I've fallen from His will.

The pain within my anguish

Curls inside me as I cry.

Now truly I have failed Him,

Mocking words. I long to die.

The figure of my Master,

I know His presence very well.

We have walked through paths of laughter.

I'm ashamed how far I fell.

I try to hide within my corner.

Steadily He's drawing near.

In the midst of tears so many,

I can't even see Him clear.

Then a hand falls to my shoulder.

I wait for words of angry scorn.

But instead I hear the words,

“Child draw nearer and get warm.”

He leads me to the fire.

I shy away from the light.

Now He can fully see it.

I want to hide within the night.

I linger for His judgment,

Believing now He'll cast me down.

How can He forgive me

When I've muddied my white gown?

His eyes meet mine gently;

Kind hands wipe tears away.

“Oh little one, I love you.

Let me take the burden away.”

“But why would You take it?

Can't You see what I have done?

You used to call me friend,

But I've spit upon Your Son.”

There's pain within His look now.

“Oh child, do you still not know?”

He pulls me to His chest.

“For you I've bled and been made low.”

“How then do You love me?

If I'm the cause of Your pain?”

I do not understand this.

My look falls to my new stain.

“Child once You've been forgiven,

I will never let you go.

Turn to me within your sorrow,

Or your burden will yet grow.”

I give to Him the darkness,

His touch turns it white.

The burden I had carried

Is now blessedly light.

“I know that you stumble,

I've seen the things you do.

But no matter how you've fallen,

My blood has made you new.”

He's seen me as I've faltered,

He knows the doubts so bold,

But He reminds that I am growing-

Though I sin, still will He hold.

~ZA

Copyright © 2012 Ophelia M. Flowers

My Life's Book

 

 

This is something I've had on my mind for a few days now - not the poem exactly, but the thought. An older man in our church died recently, and his funeral was on Friday. Sunday his wife was there and somehow (as a women's Sunday School tends to do it seems) we got off on a rabbit trail- this time about him and his life. Towards the end he had Alzheimer’s, and she was smiling, saying how now he was Home and able to remember and not be sick. He left behind a legacy of people who were touched by his life – at the joyful way he lived. I want to leave that kind of impression upon people. The impression that imperfect, chatty, scatter-brained me wanted to live life to shine God's glory and bring joy to others lives. .

 

In his sermon Sunday, my dad said that when his life's book cover is closed, he wants to know he lived it to the fullest, and that brought together my thoughts.

 

 

When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, "I used everything you gave me." ~Erma Bombeck
 

(Oh, and Happy New Year, everyone! ;) )

 

 

My Life's Book

 

 12/31/12

 

When at last I close the cover

Of my frayed life's book

And I flip back through the pages

To take a reflective look,

I pray to see God's glory

Scrawled throughout each faded page -

To know I lived the fullest,

No matter life's end age.

When “The End” is finally written

I want to see my “Once upon a time”

And see how God had given

Each day that I called mine.

I pray to see God's glory

Shining out from what I gave

To see I left a legacy

That reaches out beyond the grave.

When I look back at the story,

Touching each worn word,

And I smile at the laughter

Or the times my heart felt stirred,

I pray to see God's glory

Even in the times I fell

And to hear my Master say,

“Dear one, you've done well.”

 

 

~ZA

Original photo: LINK

Copyright © 2013  Ophelia M. Flowers