Monday, April 23, 2012

Hands I Love

With Mother's Day then Father’s Day fast approaching might you like to honor your husband’s hands with a picture and poem? Please feel free to adapt my poem below to fit your man and share the idea with friends.

[I asked my husband to let me take a picture of his hands, which inspired my thoughts about what his hands have done.]


Your hands snuggled, comforted and disciplined our children who carry your blood and cell structure into the next generation.

Your hands have been laid upon family and friends while praying for sickness or sadness to leave our bodies.

Your hands held steering wheels while driving several hundred thousand miles across America and foreign countries.

A million golf swings have been made holding a club in your hands matching the flight of eagles and the straightness of spears as a PGA golf pro, who taught thousands of others to do the same.

Your hands have patted and hugged friends and acquaintances with gracious reminders of their value.

Your hands have reached for my hand every night to say the Our Father prayer before we sleep.

Your hands are raised often in worship of the God who made them.

Your hands have prepared soups, shakes and salads and crepes for loved ones.

Your hands have torn down and built rooms and roofs and planted and nourished gardens and trees.

Your hands have worked for and protected our family.

Your hands have touched me with love through ­­­­­­­all our years.

They’ve gnarled a bit, and become spotted from holy wear, but they’re still strong and true.

Fantastic hands…
[Would this be cool printed and framed on your man’s workbench or desk!]

Acts 6:6 "... who prayed and laid their hands on them."

A Breathless 2012 Poem For Every Mom and Dad:

How Big?

How big is my world?
God alone decides.
Is it one room, an island, a country?
Impact is not measured in size,
Love isn’t determined by return,
Life isn’t scored by points.
Significance comes from connection,
Linkage to the Master Planner
Destiny comes from His design,
Not mine.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Art, Writing and the Holy Spirit

In the legendary English mystery writer Agatha Christie’s book The Hollow a character tells what’s it’s like to be a sculptor. She says an image of a work she’s about to create begins to get at her, nag and haunt her, until she must sculpt it.

I understood perfectly. Sometimes the process of writing feels similar. An idea forms inside me and won’t leave and stirs about until I feel I must get it out to get some peace in my mind again. It’s disturbing and challenging at the same time. And usually delightful.

Later I was still thinking about the arts when I picked up the Christian classic by R. A. Torrey, The Person and Work of the Holy Spirit. (Usually I have a book of fiction and non-fiction going at the same time.) I started connecting artistic inspiration with the work of the Holy Spirit.

What about the nudges of the Holy Spirit? Often people tend to think of Him as purely a force to guide us, but the Holy Spirit is a Person. He gets inside of us, enlightens and directs and doesn’t leave. He stirs us up inside until we feel a holy compulsion to follow His leading. It’s mysterious and exciting and fulfilling. The impulses within us created by the Holy Spirit have other-world dimension, life-changing potential, divine capability. We derive deep satisfaction from responding to Him and rightly so.

And through it all the Holy Spirit is utterly relational, fine tuning us, our gifts, while infusing peace and joy. Cool beyond words!

Read about nudges of the Holy Spirit in Love Always, Mom available as an e-book on amazon.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Happy Easter Thoughts

                Blessed Easter!

A Few Easter Thoughts on Churches and Crosses

Churches, why do so many people go?
Do you ever wonder if you don’t?
I mean... 
Pass a church and see all the cars.
What do people find in such a place?
Do they really believe?
Or only hope there is someone in whom they can believe?
Do they go because they’ve glimpsed
if even for a moment a seeping joy,
Sensed an invisible but certain touch on this thing named soul.

Do you ever enter and sit among them
And wonder have they really seen Him with heart eyes
This Jesus all the fuss is over.
Who is this Him, this God plus Man reaching out and reaching within. 
How could this God care so much? 
And does He, or has the myth simply gone on and on?

How can you know? Unless you go…
With eyes of thought, mind bright and seeking truth,
A breath of His and your breathing changes forever.
This Spirit called Holy, the joygiver, patience maker, wisdom worker,
Will make a change within, in ways you know you couldn’t.

But how will you know unless you go…

And do you ever wonder about crosses?

Crosses, crosses everywhere.
Metal crosses with clean, sharp lines,
Wooden crosses with carved, intricate symbols,
Crosses of ceramic, collectors of dust on walls,
Whose owners have ceased to see them.
Ornamental crosses hanging around necks
Filled with meaning or meaningless?
Invisible crosses carried throughout lives
With dignity and determination.
Holy crosses that serve as reminders
Of one sacred cross carried
And a precious life sacrificed --
The cross that made kingdom dwellers
Of common people like you and me
Because God was glorified upon it
The Calvary cross brings grace to us.

 (c) Judith Rolfs Breathless 2012