Today I picked up a leaf

From my favorite singing tree

Where I sat and prayed for Adam

And all his guys

Where I wept for the wounded

Where I wept for the dead

Where I sat and prayed for Josh

Where I sat and prayed for Mel

Where I wept for Mel

Where I weep for Adam

Many times I sat

Under its branches

And failed to hear its song

One day the Lord spoke

To my weary heart

Listen….be still….listen

Hear the trees sing

And then I heard it

It sang not a lament

but rather praise

The wind rustled through leaves

And it was if the tree rejoiced

Reveled

In exaltation

In praise to the King

To me it sang

“Peace, be still,

It will all be well

He lives

And because He lives

We can dance in the wind and the rain.”

   The beautiful tall Sycamore Tree, that I have so often sat under, has dropped all its leaves. It sits quiet now, and naked. I shall miss its singing as the wind blows through its branches.

 

On the night of this writing, as I was leaving work, I paused outside and looked up at the old tree. It was still. Only a few leaves clinging to its limbs. As I looked up a gentle breeze began to blow, and the limbs of the tree began to move, and the few leaves clinging began to rustle and make sound......one last song before spring........sleep now old friend, I will see you in the spring.

 

(He's the One who conquers giants)

My devotional reading today was on Romans, Chapter 1. A rich piece of scripture but today two things were pointed out.

Verse 8....First,I thank my God.............and Verse 21....For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him,......

 Giving thanks is important, honoring God is important. Our failure to be thankful leads to our failure to honor God and ultimately to our overall failure. Giving thanks and honoring God gives you new eyes to see. Instead of all the wrong you tend to dwell on, you see how abundantly blessed you truly are. Honoring God reminds you of who He is, of what He has promised, of what He expects of you.

So today, we give thanks for His abundant blessings and for His grace and mercy.

Thou Eternal God,

Thine is surpassing greatness, unspeakable
goodness, super-abundant grace;
I can as soon count the sands of ocean’s ‘lip’
as number Thy favors towards me;
I know but a part – but that part exceeds all praise.

I thank Thee for personal mercies,
a measure of health, preservation of body,
comforts of house and home, sufficiency of food
and clothing,
continuance of mental powers,
my family, their mutual help and support,
the delights of domestic harmony and peace,
the seats now filled that might have been vacant,
my country, church, Bible, faith.

But, Oh, how I mourn my sin, ingratitude, vileness,
the days that add to my guilt,
the scenes that witness my offending tongue;
All things in heaven, earth, around, within, without, condemn me –
the sun which sees my misdeeds,
the darkness which is light to Thee,
the cruel accuser who justly charges me,
the good angels who have been provoked to leave me,
Thy countenance which scans my secret sins,
Thy righteous law, Thy holy Word,
my sin-soiled conscience, my private and public life,
my neighbors, myself –
all write dark things against me.

I deny them not, frame no excuse, but confess,
‘Father, I have sinned’;
Yet still I live, and fly repenting to Thy outstretched arms;
Thou wilt not cast me off, for Jesus brings me near,
Thou wilt not condemn me, for He died in my stead,
Thou wilt not mark my mountains of sin,
for He leveled all,
and His beauty covers my deformities.

Oh my God, I bid farewell to sin by clinging
to His cross, hiding in His wounds, and sheltering in His side.

(Taken from ‘The Valley of Vision: A Collection of Puritan Prayers)

You are I am!

I've been the one to shake with fear
And wonder if You're even here
I've been the one to doubt Your love
I've told myself You're not enough

I've been the one to try and say
I'll overcome by my own shame
I've been the one to fall apart
And start to question who You are

You're the one who conquers giants
You're the one who calls out kings
You shut the mouths of lions
You tell the dead to breathe
You're the one who walks through fire
You take the orphan's hand
You are the one Messiah
You are I am
You are I am

I've been the one held down in chains
Beneath the weight of all my shame
I've been the one to believe
That where I am You cannot reach

You're the one who conquers giants
You're the one who calls out kings
You shut the mouths of lions
You tell the dead to breathe
You're the one who walks through fire
You take the orphan's hand
You are the one Messiah
You are I am
You are I am

The veil is torn
And now I live with the Spirit inside
The same one, the very same one
Who brought the Son back to life

Hallelujah, He lives in me
Hallelujah, He lives in me
Hallelujah, He lives in me
Hallelujah, He lives in me

You're the one who conquers giants
You're the one who calls out kings
You shut the mouths of lions
You tell the dead to breathe
You're the one who walks through fire
You take the orphan's hand
You are the one Messiah
You are I am
You are I am

(He shuts the mouths of lions)
(He tells the dead to breathe)

(He calls out kings)

"The night is the worst time for the warrior,
Unlike most, he dreads the night, yet he will never tell you,
When he lays down his head at night, it is not a reward for his hard worked day,
He lays his head down knowing the war may revisit him,
He steels his nerves and kisses his woman good night,
Or if he is alone, he prepares for the coming storm,
When he finally falls asleep he hears the guns blazing,
He hears the screams of his brothers,
He feels the fear in his heart,
His heart pounds, his body shakes, his skin sweats,
He awakes terrified, desperately trying to find some sort of comfort,
The soldier wishes he could tell his family,
Wishes he could tell his wife,
Wishes he could tell his girlfriend,
Wishes he could tell his mother, his father, his brother, his sister,
Yet the warrior cannot,
For they will not understand his pain, they will not understand his everyday war,
The warrior brushes off his latest encounter with the war,
His prepares for his day, trying to forget,
His daily commute to work is different than your average man,
The average everyday road to him looks significantly different,
The warrior feels his tension, always assessing danger,
In crowds the warrior feels discomfort, his weapon is the only thing that brings peace to his nerves,
This feeling always brings stress to his mind, yet you may never know what the warrior feels,
You may never know what this man has done, for most warriors will never share it,
The soldier seeks his comfort with his brothers,
Those that do not have their brothers with them only pray that they could be with each other again,
The warrior almost wishes he could return to that dreadful place that made sense,
The place where everyone around him felt the same,
Yet he knows that is not possible,
The warrior knows he must continue on,
Yet the fight can seem so overwhelming,
How I can ever achieve peace, the warrior asks himself,
How can he ever let those he loves know the pain he struggles with every day,
This question eludes the warrior constantly,
He asks himself, “How much more can I endure?”
Some days the fight seems lost, some days the warrior gives in to his grief,
But in the end, the warrior always finds comfort with his brothers,
He knows he must fight on, to the objective to triumph over all,
His sense of pride bolsters his heart,
He braces himself for another day, ready to take the fight to his true enemy, his mind,
Some days the warrior finds himself at peace,
Some days he may not think of the war,
Yet the warrior always knows,
It will come back again,
During the night,
Or when he is alone,
The Invisible War drags on, unsung, unrecognized, and unappreciated by the country for which he fights, and dies for."

 The above poem was posted on the page of someone I care very much about. It is attributed to "a brother".

 The poem speaks of what is now called PTSD, or "Post Traumatic Syndrome Disorder". The name is relativly new, the disorder as old as time. Over a decade of war has caused a rise in this condition. PTSD is defined as "a psychological reaction that occurs after experiencing a highly stressing event (as wartime combat, physical violence, or a natural disaster) outside the range of normal human experience and that is usually characterized by depression, anxiety, flashbacks, recurrent nightmares, and avoidance of reminders of the event."

 It is common now to have warriors who have deployed multiple times to war.  A small percentage of Americans bear the brunt of the consequences of over a decade of fighting. According to the VA, more than 30% of the veterans treated are being treated for PTSD.

 The above poem speaks from the heart. There are truths within its words, but in my opinion there are also falsehoods, not intentional ones, the writer is not trying to lie to you, the writer believes all the words of this poem. He speaks his heart.

 From the perspective of someone who loves someone, who currently battles PTSD, I will attempt to speak my heart in answer to this poem.

 The warrior dreads the night, he steels himself to face it, not realizing that those he loves are in their own way doing the same. The family of the warrior have a dread of the night also. Their prayers become more fervent as the light begins to fade from the sky. They may occupy themselves like other families, in watching a television show, or reading a book, but each one is thinking of their loved one, thinking of the coming night, praying for some measure of peace, praying the nightmares will not come, praying if they do come that they can be dealt with, praying that no harm will come to the one they love as he (or she) battles the demons of the night.

 The warrior wishes he could share the things that torment him, with those that he loves, but he feels he cannot, he feels they cannot bear them, or that they will not understand him. Perhaps they will recoil from him, and from the horrors he has seen. Yet his loved ones are praying and hoping and living for the day when he will allow them to assist in carrying these things, when he will bare his soul to them and allow them to stand with him in this fight. They care not how black and ugly these demons are, they love their warrior, and they want only to see him(or her) come home.

 For some reason, the warrior believes that it is not possible to understand, nor sympathize nor empathize with him, because those who love him were not there. The family does not understand this. A neighbors home burns to the ground, killing his children, we have never experienced this, yet we understand, we sympathize, we empathize. A terrible typhoon takes out a thousand lives, we were not there, yet we feel their pain, we imagine how horrible the suffering is, we care, we want to help. Why must war be any different? Why is there this belief that it cannot be understood at all unless one has participated in it?

There is truth that in experiencing something, you know more fully the suffering it brings, but others can know a measure of this suffering simply by doing all they can to understand it.......yet often the warrior will not allow the family to do so. Were the tables turned, were it the wife, the mother, the father, the siblings that were under full assault from an unknown enemy, the warrior would insist upon knowing this enemy, he would insist on being allowed to fight it, in fact he would most likely push aside the loved one and face it himself.....and yet he will not allow them this same comfort in fighting for that which they love.

The warrior believes it is not possible to ever return to the normal, yet this thought alone aids his enemy in defeating him, for without hope how is a battle won? If you are defeated before you arrive to the battlefield, if in your heart you know it is all over and there is no hope of victory, all you can do is go out in a blaze of "glory" and yet ultimately defeated. There is hope, there is always hope, and there are others who have achieved victory. The warrior may never be the person he was before, but he can be a fully functioning person. No one is what they once were, each day we change, sometimes drastically, sometimes bit by bit, but in the end, noone is the same at 30 as they were at 19. The warriors circumstances are much harder than normal people face, the road much steeper, but the concept is the same.

 And last the warrior believes that his battle is unseen, that it is invisible, that he is alone in it and no one sees nor cares about his sacrifice and his suffering. That is not true. People do care. People do appreciate all that was done in their name, all that was lost in their name. People do want to help. If they did not how would all the hundreds upon hundreds of non-profits receive the funds they need? Where does the money come from to build a new home for a Wounded Warrior? It is not from the government, it is from the people. Wounded Warrior Project receives its funds from citizens, as does the hundreds of other non-profits that cater only to our veterans.

 People do care, and together we can defeat PTSD, we can get through this, we can come out the other side whole and functioning. You were not meant to fight this fight alone, and yet you will not allow us to help you. You are a warrior, you know how to fight, you know how to win battles, you would never consider turning away help in a firefight. If under attack you would never tell all the people around you to go back to the FOB, you got this, you will fight it alone.....and yet that is how you fight this PTSD. Please let us help. Give us ways to help. If the things we are doing are not helping please tell us what we can do.Please don't shut us out.

 When you shut us out, in reality you are handing us over to the enemy you fight against, it is kicking our ass, it is causing us pain, it is causing us sorrow. You would not leave a brother in this position. You would hand him a weapon and fight beside him. Allow us that same chance. We do care, we want to help, we will never stop trying to help, in the end it would be a lot easier for all of us if you would just tell us how we can help, and accept our assistance. For we too, just like you, will go down fighting. Together we can win, standing each alone we all risk defeat.

 In the end, this family will fight against PTSD until either it is defeated and crushed into the ground or we are all dead. If we cannot bring our forces together, then we will fight alone as single units, not as effective, and the risk of casualties is greater, but if that be the way it must be, we stand willing to go down in a blaze of glory, hearts shattered, tears flowing, spitting in the face of this PTSD until it sucks the last of our life and breathe from us. It doesn't have to be this way, but we are committed and we are all in this fight come what may.

 We will never forsake you, we will never stand down, we will never stop trying, we will never stop praying, we will fight this all the way, if you shove us aside, we will pick ourselves up off the ground and push forward. If you push aside one weapon and break it into pieces, we will pick up another. We will never stop.

 You may consider walking away, as a means to protect us from all that you fight against. Should you choose that path, do so knowing full well that not a day, not a waking minute will pass that we do not agonize over you, think not for a moment that the constant prayers lifted to the heavens will cease, that we will somehow be sucked back into life and forget that you are a part of ours. That will not happen. This is perhaps the fight we fear the most, the one unseen, unknown, where we battle against something and are unable to see the results and unaware of how you fare in the fight. But whatever route you choose....we will not fade.

We will not accept defeat.
We will never stop trying.
We will never leave you.
No matter what you do.
or how you treat us.
We stand with you.
No matter what you do.
No matter how you treat us.
We spit in the face of this PTSD
We will either beat it or die in the attempt.
We are your family members.
and we will not go quietly into the night.

 Written this day, with all our love, to all those family members who seek with all your hearts to bring your warriors all the way home. Take courage my friends, never give up, never surrender.

 And to our warriors, we love all of you more than you know, we understand things better than you think, and we have your back, even when you think you walk alone.

 

“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.”
― William Wordsworth

  I was not always as I am now. In truth I am nothing at all like I once was. Sometimes people need to hear that, else they place you upon some pedestal on which you are not worthy to stand.

 Today, as I write these words, I am a Christian, one who loves Christ, one who loves people, one that He has given the gift of mercy to, one that He on occasion uses to bless others, most especially those who are hurting.

 The irony of that does not escape me. That He would use ME for mercy? I sometimes roll upon the floor overcome with laughter at the thought of it. You see.......God has a sense of humor...........For I know who I once was.

 I grew up the daughter of a preacher. A poor man, a single father raising two children, working full time in a cotton mill, pastoring a church full time and always keeping some form of garden going,  he rarely had two nickels to rub together, nor much time. I fault him for nothing. He did a great job considering the hand he was dealt.

 Growing up, I wore hand me down clothes, some of them the most awful things you can imagine. I was teased a lot in school, never had many friends. Got into a lot of fights. And obviously as the daughter of a preacher, I went to church.....ALL THE TIME.

 While growing up in church I was allowed to witness the hypocrisy of people. I saw hate, I saw judgement, I saw people be downright mean....deacons, pillars of the church....a sham and a lie.

 I watched my father, pour his heart and his soul into the church, and watched him often be judged wrongly for it. Although he demonstrated great faith to us growing up, for the most part it was just his faith and his faith alone, rarely did it encompass the masses who attended church and sat under his preaching. To be fair, there were one or two along the way who did in fact demonstrate the love of Christ.

 I grew up pretty mixed up, pretty messed up. Seeking something that I could never quite lay my hands on. And I grew up very angry at God. I was angry at God, but I downright hated Christians. I called myself an atheist, which is also sort of funny as when anything bad happened (and it happened a lot) I would shake my hands at the heavens and curse the God of which I did not believe existed.

 Being raised on the Bible I knew it pretty well. I learned how to twist it, how to use it against those who (Lord help them, Lord forgive me) had the courage to try and reach me with it.

 I never did this with my father, I think in my heart I had too much respect for all the things I had witnessed growing up, the hardships he endured, how he tried as best he could to make things right......but I in truth thought him to be an old fashioned, uneducated fool.....although one I loved very much. LOL I expect my children most likely think the same of me now. God sure does have a sense of humor!

 I lived my young adult life under the principals that you needed to do unto others before they could do unto you, because I believed for the most part that people and circumstances always let you down.

 I owned a green t-shirt that I loved, it declared Me to the world, it was how I defined myself......it said "Proud Bitch". (Hope I am not shocking you too much here).

 During my time in the Air Force, a young Christian lady, whose name I cannot recall but whose face I remember clearly, had the great misfortune of being randomly chosen to be my roommate. She was hardcore, she loved Jesus......and I hated her guts.

 She would always invite me to church and to Bible study, and looking back on it, I admire her for her efforts, she was no coward. I once threw her up against the wall and told her "I hate your Jesus and if you ever mention him to me again I will ________". (okay, pick yourself off the floor now, yes I was downright mean and hostile then.) She told me "I am praying for you".

 I have so often wished that I could remember her name, so I could find her somehow and tell her how things turned out.........but her name is lost to me. I think God has enabled me to clearly remember her face for a reason. I am going to recognize her in heaven, and be able to go up and say "Hey! I bet you never thought you would see ME here?" It should be a delightful conversation.

 I was an angry person, a bitter person, a rather sad person. I expected the worst in people, and therefore never bothered to look for anything good in them. I had no qualms about hurting someones feelings, and lost no sleep at all for those I did hurt. I rarely let anyone get too close to me, and if they did, I tended to pretend as if I did not care about them, and I fully expected them to hurt me. Sometimes I hurt them first just to get it out of the way and behind me.

 A lot of people prayed for me, a lot of people tried to reach me, but it was not really until I had children that my eyes begin to open. I did not think it possible to love someone as much as I did my children. I loved my husband, loved my father, loved my brother, but on the day I held my first born son (and it happened again when I held the second one) I knew that there was nothing I would not do for that child. I would die right there on the spot. I could attempt things that had always terrified me, I could endure any hardship, any pain, any suffering, if it was for their benefit or protection.

 So when my oldest was a little over one year old, God called me, He opened my eyes, I saw myself for what I was, He reached down, removed the heart of stone I had lived with for so very long, and He replaced it with a new heart. Learning how to live with that new heart has been a process, a journey upwards. Learning how to lay aside judgements and prejudices picked up over the years took time, (and I am still in the process) but that day, so long ago, was the day He changed me.

 I am no saint, I am no wonderful, loving,thoughtful, kind person. Or maybe a better way to put that is the me you see now is all Him. Before Him there was hardly any love in me for anyone other than my immediate family. Any kindness, any grace, any mercy that you might see in me, any blessing you receive from knowing me, from reading something I wrote, any help you might receive from my prayers........is ALL HIM.

 In His grace and in His mercy, He reached down, he took me who had done nothing but fight against Him, and spit on His people, and He changed me. By His grace and mercy (and I cannot help but think His sense of humor) He gifted me with a new heart, one of compassion, one of mercy, one that hurts and bleeds for others. He in His grace, allows me, from time to time, to be His hands, to be His feet, to be His voice.........it is an honor I often take for granted, and an honor I often fail at. Not a day goes by that I do not fail it in some fashion.

 I confess that it bothers me sometimes, when people praise me, when someone says something positive about something I have written or something I have done. My heart screams at me......what about all the things you should have written and you didn't....what bout all the things you should have done and you failed to do them.......what about the old me that I still fight and struggle with at times !.....it's all Him or nothing at all. Only He makes it good. Only He can take a life that has nothing of value to offer to anyone, and turn it into something worthwhile. Everything else is vanity, everything else will pass away, only that which He does will last forever.

 Mind you I know people mean well. I know what they are trying to say, and it is appreciated. I just despise myself for any pride I feel towards anything I have done or accomplished.......because I recognize that without Him, I never would have made it this far. I would have been dead and in my grave long ago had He not had other plans for me. Had he not reached down and removed that stony old heart and replaced it with His.

 He can do that with you too, if you are willing. He can take all the hate, all the anger, all the judgements, all the hurt, all the sorrow, He can pluck a heart of stone right out of your chest and replace it with something wonderful. I pray that all who read this find the grace and the mercy that I have found.

 The song below is one that always, always, brings tears to my eyes. It is me. Like that old ugly green t-shirt that I used to love, the one that defined the old me, this song below defines the new me. I hope it defines you also, if not now, then one day, when He calls you.

"Redeemed"

Seems like all I could see was the struggle
Haunted by ghosts that lived in my past
Bound up in shackles of all my failures
Wondering how long is this gonna last
Then You look at this prisoner and say to me "son
Stop fighting a fight it's already been won"

I am redeemed, You set me free
So I'll shake off these heavy chains
Wipe away every stain, now I'm not who I used to be
I am redeemed, I'm redeemed

All my life I have been called unworthy
Named by the voice of my shame and regret
But when I hear You whisper, "Child lift up your head"
I remember, oh God, You're not done with me yet

I am redeemed, You set me free
So I'll shake off these heavy chains
Wipe away every stain, now I'm not who I used to be

Because I don't have to be the old man inside of me
'Cause his day is long dead and gone
Because I've got a new name, a new life, I'm not the same
And a hope that will carry me home

I am redeemed, You set me free
So I'll shake off these heavy chains
Wipe away every stain, 'cause I'm not who I used to be

I am redeemed, You set me free
So I'll shake off these heavy chains
Wipe away every stain, yeah, I'm not who I used to be
Oh, God, I'm not who I used to be
Jesus, I'm not who I used to be
'Cause I am redeemed
Thank God, redeemed

The longer I walk with Christ, the more I long to be with Him. This has not always been the case, in times past the promise of heaven was no more than the knowledge that when I die, I would go to there, but I did not long for it. I longed for Christ, longed for Him to save me from one trouble or another, longed for Him to grant me this job or that one, longed for Him to provide me with a house or a car, but looking back on those times (and I am not saying it is wrong to pray for such things) I really was not longing for Him, only His rescue, His provision, His blessing.

Now I long to see Him. To bask in His presence.To sit at His feet.

I long for heaven. These is so much beauty in this world, all of creation cries out glory to the Lord, and when I look on a beautiful scene, or an amazing creature, or when I see an act of kindness from one person to another. When fellowship with family and friends is just perfect and everyone is laughing and enjoying each other’s company.......during moments like these I think about what His word says.........

"But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him."

And I think WOW! Better than this right here Lord? This is GOOD!........but He says this is nothing, He says that I cannot even imagine how wonderful it is going to be.......WOW!

Better than this!

Better than this!

Better than this!

Better than this!

Better than this!

And that is just looking at a handful of beautiful places in the world, think of all the most beautiful wonderful places on this great planet Earth…..and then consider His word….. "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man” you cannot even imagine what He has prepared for those who love Him and are called by His name!

That makes my heart sing! That excites me, that fills me with hope!……and on top of everything......... He will be the light of that place…..” And night will be no more. They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light”

And then I begin to consider all the wonderful creatures God has made. He gave me a love for animals, since I was a tiny child I was always drawn to any animal I saw. Still am at 53 years of age. I love animals. I marvel at them. When He makes all things new, His word tells me this; “The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the young goat, and the calf and the lion and the fattened calf together; and a little child shall lead them.” And I think WOW! I am going to be able to see all the animals and spend time with all the animals………..but in reality it will be more! I can imagine spending time with all His creatures in a beautiful place where He is the light……He says it’s going to be MORE than I can imagine, He says my eye has not seen anything like it, my ears have heard nothing like it, the thought of it has never entered my heart.

And I say WOW again!

I love many different types of music, and I believe that music touches the soul. Beautiful music calms the soul, brings peace to the heart. I can think of several pieces of classical music that are simply amazing, The place that He has prepared is going to have music! Music like we have never heard before. "nor ear heard"  It will make Schubert’s - Symphony No. 9 in C major seem dull and lifeless.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=87QwOIPQPr0

Franz Schubert - Symphony No. 9 in C major

And last, but my no means least, I think of relationships. How often have you banged your head against a wall trying to understand someone you love, or trying to get them to understand you? And doesn’t everyone treasure the really special moments, the ones where everything clicks just right, everyone is happy, there is laughter and closeness and you just wish you could stop time in its tracks and stay there forever. Those moments don’t come that often, there are far more of the ones where you are longing for something more, wishing to understand or be understood, longing to communicate on a higher level.

Relationships are going to be perfect there, we will walk with God and with each other, no sorrow, no tears, no ranting and raving and angry faces. It will be such a perfect time of fellowship that I cannot even imagine how good it will be.

And people we love who have crossed over will be there. We will have all the time we want to visit with them, to walk with them, to delight in their company, and I pray that all those I love will be there, to be able to simply fellowship in perfect accord with family and friends all the time is an awesome thought!

And He will be there, fellowshipping with us, and the relationship enjoyed with Him will be the greatest relationship of all, for we will see Him face to face. I cannot wait for that, I yearn for that.

I Can Only Imagine

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fb_vRkDBUB4

To close I want to reassure everyone that in my yearning to be with Him, I am by no means suicidal, nor am I gazing at the heavens and therefore serving no earthly good. I intend to remain and press on until such time as He is ready to call me home. I will fight the good fight, I will finish the race, I pray by His grace to finish it well!

But I am ready to go…….

Even so, come Lord Jesus