Archive for Rest

The Hourglass of Life

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on January 29, 2018 by Her Broken Wing

What did you say? Sitting next to him, I impatiently asked.

And then I saw the pain in his eyes that told me he was doing his best.

He was old now and his speech had begun to slur. I took his hand and held it. I was convicted. The twinge of pain ate at my soul. I looked at his hands. They were wrinkled and aged–they were old. He shook as he squeezed my hand back. There was an unspoken language between us then.

In that brief existence, his heart spoke of a time when he was vibrant and virile. A man who raised a family. A man who had a career and worked a garden in the hot Sun. This is the reason his hands were weathered today.

His heart spoke through his eyes, he was a man of God. Although my impatience saddened him deeply, he understood. For he had once been young and he too had been quick to judge an elderly man like himself as I did him today. Oh, he understood, he just didn’t like it.

I saw all this in the look of his eyes and the small tear that fell.

Time passed and we sat there quietly–together.

An understanding.

A forgiveness.

A love.

Psalm 71:9 “Do not cast me off in time of old age; forsake me not when my strength is spent”

Connie

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Then Sings My Soul

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on October 25, 2010 by Her Broken Wing

My awakening…followed by nights of slumber.

I toss.

I turn.

There will be moments of clarity before the fog rolls back into my mind hindering my thought process once again.

My brain begins to play games with me–teasing me. I fall into its’ drama. I believe the deception it whispers.

Similar to a small animal in a maze, I can only see that which appears in the moment. Yet, wishing I could rise like the Eagle above the clouds, soaring high as the wind guides her wings. Nevertheless, the scenario’s are two distinct patterns of my life at different times in a given day.

Most days though, I hover in between…not quite sure where I belong. Impatiently, I wait… for the right time that never comes. But I try to fit in. I do try — to belong.

A glance…A shrug…A smile

Maybe, if I’m lucky.

In return, my soul.

I all too freely give away my heart before its ripened to maturity. Thus, allowing the pulsating motions regulated through the elements of sensitivity to run away with that which is pressing .

As I fall back to sleep, He is there…He dances with my spirit.

My feet move, trying to find the rhythm. My heartbeat slows down to the sound of rain and the sense of His presence.

Then sings my soul…

Beautifully Awkward

I Can Fly

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on July 15, 2010 by Her Broken Wing

Broken, shattered and battered no more—it’s a choice.

I can fly…I take one small leap and I am flying above the clouds as free as the spirits surrounding me. I reach up and grab a piece of a white fluffy cloud.  I hold the cloud to my chest, it is a sacred moment. Spinning and twirling around in flight, I see my past, present and a glimpse of the future.

“I am free. “

I soar to a quiet spot and rest. There I hear the angel wings flap. They hear me pray. I hear them sing. I am at the foot of the Almighty. I cry a river of sorrow as He holds His hands out and catches my every tear. His tender touch lifts my face and smiles. No words needed. I feel His love.

“I’m not afraid.”

“The journey I have walked, You have walked too, You have been there. I see it in Your eyes—something I have sought all my life—understanding, hope, love sweet love so compassionate, so gentle and so warm. You know and understand what I am trying to say without me saying a word.”

“I want to go with You Father.”

Finally God Almighty speaks, “I am yours love.”

I can fly now–but only in the Hands of God.

Beautifully Awkward

In My Father’s Hand

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on April 24, 2010 by Her Broken Wing

In my Father’s hand, I sit…I wait.

I pray.

And I am thankful for the life He gave back to me.

In a sense, I have been born again.

My wings are broken beyond repair in such a way they are irreparable.

I cannot fly, nor do I wish to.

I rest

I will be back in a few days…

(and thank you my friend at Little Red Hearts for doing this picture for me)

God Bless