Relief

The English word 'relief' has a multitude of meaning and uses. Back in January someone asked me if I felt relieved about something that was happening and it got me thinking... I looked at the various definitions in the dictionary and pondered how the word's origins are linked to the idea of being raised up or elevated. Then I wrote this:

You step in to take my place
when I am too worn out to work,
Provide assistance
when I am in need.

In you I find respite 
from the tension.
I sigh,
exhale,
and expand as the pressure lifts.
Released from this
too long carried,
crushing load.

On this lowly canvas
you repeatedly stamp your mark
until the truth stands out.
My world is coloured 
by your hand
mapping the highs and lows
with shades of hope.

With contrast 
and care,
you raise me up again.

Dry Bones

I love the story in Ezekiel 37 of the Valley of Dry Bones... how God speaks to the bones:

"Watch this: I’m bringing the breath of life to you and you’ll come to life. I’ll attach sinews to you, put meat on your bones, cover you with skin, and breathe life into you. You'll come alive and realise that I am God!"  (vs 5-6, Message version)

Some months ago I was reflecting on the story and how God choses to re-build bit by bit, layer on layer. It's not an instant all-at-once thing. God has an order of doing things so that the bones are truly made whole from the inside out. God's not in the business of surface restoration.

For too long we laid

drained and dry

beneath the scorching sun

as if the heat could bring life

to our fragile broken bones.

For too long waited

in the desert place

observing the desolation

and hoping we’d have the strength

to somehow hold together.

For too long

silent.

But you spoke,

whispered truth to the winds

shook the foundations

of all we knew

and promised to rebuild.

Bit by bit

layer upon layer

tendons, fresh and skin

unhurried in the re-construction

you ordered the scattered parts

of who we were

to make us who we are

standing whole again.

And then you

breathed on us

and we,

inhaling the fresh air

of new possibilities,

came to life.

On the shores of Loch Long

A lot has changed in my life over the past 10 months. And it's going to take a long time to emotionally process the changes. Finding space to just be and reflect and write a bit again helps. Here's todays offering:

You take the high road,

I’ll take the low road…

Winding its way down

To the shores of Loch Long

Where the waves roll 

In 

and over me.

Here I allow myself to stop

And breathe

Observe the ebb and flow

Depositing the fragments 

of the years.

Detritus 

and treasures.

Here in silence

I walk the shores;

Acknowledge the debris

The fragile strata

Adrift and crumbling

The pain of breaking

Letting go.

Recognise the gems

The precious stones

Emerging from the battering

Smooth and strong

Seen again.

Here in seclusion

I hold the tangled mess;

Accept 

the weather-beaten knot

Of frayed rope

Unanchored

Cast upon the shore.

Cease 

striving to find

or understand

The beginning and the end

But simply sit

With the threads I hold

And weave into this fragile cord

The pain and joy

Until

I create something 

new

and beautiful.