Friday’s Tune: In the Silence

Tags

faith, music, poem

I haven’t shared a Friday’s tune in a few weeks, but it isn’t because I haven’t been singing! Sometimes it’s better to take a break from writing, than to force it and lose joy in the process. 🙂

I hesitated to write today. Sharing something you wrote requires a degree of vulnerability and this song is one I wrote. It’s so easy to let the opinions of others steal your joy or crush your soul. But I have been singing this all week.

I have been frustrated by the on-going opinions and “theories” related to Covid-19. In particular, those restrictions that are viewed as restriction of rights. I believe some of the restrictions are necessary to protect one another in love, and are for a season. I get tired of “entitled” people spewing poison and creating conflict. Some just for the sick pleasure of doing so.

Worship, especially music through worship, is important to me. I can’t imagine attending a church service without singing because that is one of the greatest forms of expression, for me. But if I’m asked to refrain for a season, then I will. I will sing in my heart when I’m in public, and I will sing with all the breath in my lungs when I’m at home (or in the car)! You’ve been warned! 🙂

It might have been on my mind Saturday night as I slept. I had my frequent Saturday night nightmare. I am panicking!! I’m late for church, I’m leading, and my sheet music has vanished. I’m supposed to provide the offertory as well. Just me. So as we rushed out the door to get to the church (this time I wasn’t even in the building yet), I started to write a song…and I woke up with the first 2 lines still in head.

I’m not a morning person. It was 6 a.m. and my eyes were still heavy with sleep. But I rolled out and foraged in the dark for a notepad and pen…

If there’s no music, then I will worship in the silence
I will soak in the reverence of Your majesty
And in the silence, I will glory in Your splendour
I will wonder at Your depths of love for me.

If there’s no music, then I will worship in the silence
I will whisper the name of Jesus, He is King
And in the silence, I will praise You for Your goodness,
I will marvel at Your depths of grace to me.

In the quiet, when I’m trusting You
You are my strength, my joy
In the quiet, I hear You calling me
I know Your voice
My heart and soul will always sing to You

If there’s no music, I will worship in the silence
I will wonder at Your mercy, how You lifted me to stand
In the silence, I will tell You how I love You
How much I need You in the silence, make me whole
I am Yours

(c) Jenn Simpson, August 23, 2020

DP Writing 201 Challenge: Water

Tags

DP, DP Challenge, poem, poetry, Weekly Writing Challenge

This weekend, I signed up for the Daily Post Poetry Challenge …I’m not sure what I was thinking other than I need to tackle some goal, some challenge to beat the February blahs! Today’s challenge was to write a Haiku related to water, and if up to an additional challenge, to include a simile with it. We’ll see how this goes… Happy Monday!

 

My life’s like a puddle
Serene, it reflects the beauty around me
I am calm and happy.

Former views are snatched away
Someone causes ripples to distort my peace
I am frightened and lost.

Ripples fade, glassy surface resumes
I feel them keenly, less with time
I am sore and weary.

The ripples are a warning
They will happen when I am unprepared
I am uncertain and untrusting.

They are also a reminder
God created my puddle; God restores peace
I am comforted and safe.

I can survive the ripples
I choose to change, not be defined
I am free and tranquil.

The puddle will always change
But when I pause, I see reflections
More beautiful, I am blessed.

To join the classes, click here.

This was the Moment…

Tags

Christmas, holiday, poem

This was the moment when Before
Turned into After, and the future’s
Uninvented timekeepers presented arms.

This was the moment when nothing
Happened. Only dull peace
Sprawled boringly over the earth.

This was the moment when even energetic Romans
Could find nothing better to do
Than counting heads in remote provinces.

And this was the moment
When a few farm workers and three
Members of an obscure Persian sect.
Walked haphazard by starlight straight
Into the kingdom of heaven.
-U.A. Fanthorpe

Merry Christmas to all!

– especially to my Big Guy who can’t be with us this year. He has been working 16 hour days clearing trees from hydro lines after the ice storm.  I’m so proud of you, and I promise, I’ll make sure there’s lots of pumpkin pie when you do get here! xoxo

This was the moment…

Tags

Christmas, faith, poem

This was the moment when Before
Turned into After, and the future’s
Uninvented timekeepers presented arms.

This was the moment when nothing
Happened. Only dull peace
Sprawled boringly over the earth.

This was the moment when even energetic Romans
Could find nothing better to do
Than counting heads in remote provinces.

And this was the moment
When a few farm workers and three
Members of an obscure Persian sect.
Walked haphazard by starlight straight
Into the kingdom of heaven.
-U.A. Fanthorpe

Merry Christmas!!

Unfinished Poem

Tags

faith, poem, writing

I am unfinished poem
My author writes and rewrites
Drastic changes and subtle nuances, all seeking perfection
A rhythmic flow of grace.

Others read me, but they don’t always see what my Author sees.
For Him, there is life and passion, tragedy and form
Hidden behind the words.
I am a life-long work nearing completion with every sunset.

When my poem is finally written – then others will see me,
Not as fully as my Author sees me, but I trust,
In a way that they, the reader, may see Him.

 

 

 

The Puddle

Tags

faith, happy, poem

My life is like a puddle, serene and calm
It reflects the beauty around me
I am happy.

But every now and then, someone rudely sticks their finger in
They cause ripples in the surface and distort my view
It is hard to see clearly between the waves, snatches of the former views wash away
I am frightened.

The ripples have faded now and the puddle resumes its glassy surface
But I still keenly feel them, though less with time
I am weary.

The ripples are a warning
Someone can stick their finger in again if I am not prepared
I am uncertain.

They are also a reminder – it was God who created my puddle, God who allowed the ripples, and God who restored it to peace – He is my Sovereign
I am comforted.

I can survive the ripples, the fluctuations, the changes
I can choose to be forever changed by them, not defined by them
I am free.

The puddle will never look the same
But if I pause and look again, I can see something reflected there
Something that is even more beautiful
And I am blessed.

A Strong Woman

Tags

Bible, cry, faith, home, poem

A strong woman is a woman who carries the burdens of her hurting world on her shoulders –
the broken heart of a friend,
the shattered dreams of a child.

She laughs with those who laugh, and cries with those who cry.

She desires for her home to be a sanctuary for her family. She binds the broken hearted, she encourages the weary and she presses on in the race of daily life.

She is bleeding and bruised inside, with a smile on her lips and a hug in her arms. She goes unappreciated, unnoticed, sometimes reviled, ridiculed, sometimes rejected…but she goes on because she loves deeply.

A strong woman carries her burdens to God daily, knowing that He alone can be trusted to see her…to see how very weak she is in her own strength, and how very strong she is in Him.

“I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.” Phil. 4:13
*September 5, 2003

Losing Hope

Tags

adventure, babies, Bible, death, faith, family, hope, infertility, loss, miscarriage, poem, shoes

I can’t believe it’s been 4 years…4 years ago today, it was grey and drizzling, but I didn’t mind. My precious boys were eating breakfast together, and I couldn’t stop smiling. I was pregnant again…at last! But my joy was short-lived. 4 years ago today I spent 8 hours alone waiting in the E.R. for confirmation of what I already knew – I was having a miscarriage. There was no drama, like on TV, but a long, slow process, one that meant I continued to hope, even as a longed for an end so I could grieve. I wasn’t just losing a baby, I was also losing a dream.

Romans 5:2-5 says: “…And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us”. During the weeks that I waited, the line “and hope does not disappoint us” kept running through my mind. It was God’s message to me – not the part about character or perseverance (at least not this time), but the part about hope. It’s been so hard to surrender my hope for another baby, and the life that I had long imagined. I have grieved for my baby, Hope, and my lost dreams; I think a little part of me always will. But I believe God does not allow surrendered hearts to continue to long for things He will not ultimately grant in one way or another. I lost Hope, but I haven’t lost hope…I am choosing to believe that God has a different adventure for me, a better one than even the perfect adventure I imagined.

I found this poem, rather accidentally and wanted to share it in case there was someone else who needed it more. My experience, sadly, is not unique. I cannot say I wouldn’t change the outcome if I could (at least not whole-heartedly just yet), but my heart and my feet are beginning to hurt less, and I am ready and excited for my different adventure.

I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.
I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.
Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don’t hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.
Author unknown

Death of a Pair of Shoes

Tags

humour, parent, photography, poem, runners, shoes

There are moments when I feel like a “bad parent”, even though I had no way of knowing…I received a note from Little Guy’s teacher in his agenda. The note said “Please buy new indoor shoes. I think he has outgrown/worn them out. O.K. Thank you!” He read me the note in the car on the way home…when we got home he showed me the evidence. If a picture is worth a thousand words…

 

These shoes do not owe us a thing – he’s had them over a year, unlike his outdoor shoes, which usually last 3 months…max! So after a busy day, karate lesson, and supper, I ran to the Mall to see what I could find…and had success! As I was standing in the shoe aisle, looking down, the irony sunk in. The shoes I was wearing, my beloved runners who were faithful to me when I was pregnant and couldn’t reach down to tie the laces, that walked the city streets when I first moved away from home…no longer owed me anything either. I have had them for well over 10 years.

Both reminded me of a poem I found in high school and shared as a joke with my brother, who at the time was also wearing a pair of shoes that had lived long beyond their time. So to the shoes that have journeyed with us – I bid you adieu (well, at least Little Guy’s shoes)

Death of a Pair of Shoes by Jorge Guillen

They’re dying on me! They’ve lived
Faithfully, Christian
Servants honoured
And happy helping.

And pleasing their master,
A tired traveller
Ready to quit
For peace of sole and foot.

These soles know. They know
Step by step long rambles
And wet days, floundering
Among slop and cobbles.

Even the colour drains
From sad skins
Which, plain as they were, livened
Some forgotten festival.

All this announces a ruin
I don’t grasp. The affliction
Of living corrodes honour
They’re running. Specters! Shoes!