Rainmakers Speech Tournament - 2005

Because You were there, I had nothing to worry about, yet spent countless minutes in silent conversation with You, as the many faces of those who only knew that part of me, passed me by in aimless direction. Were they talking with You so internally too? I am sorry my devotion to them was lacking on that day, but strangers to me, I feared speaking with them, mingling with their world, and chose to obscure myself with the vines of invisibility, that I might be seen, but my thoughts left to remain solely with You. Thank You for holding my hand when I was alone.

You sat in the back row of the room too small, and listened to me when words, certain and etched on the tablets of my heart, poured forth from my mouth. They trembled until You stilled them, the words that were not my own, but Yours. I remember Your gentle features, beaming because You were marveling at Your work, and gladly You came and stood by me, placing a strong hand on my shoulder, and whispering against my ear what You wanted me to say to them next. They could not see You there, but I could. Were You moving in the hearts of my audience? Did they find You evident, springing abundantly forth from my words? Could they look beyond my human insignificance, and see You? Let it be. Please.

We stood there, the three of us, to the side of the stage where lights were bright and encircling those beneath them. You. Me. Him. And I prayed it wouldn’t be me to take all the recognition, because I thought for certain it was reserved for him, and he fully deserved it. Entirely. So as we stood there, I could feel the expected company of warm tears settling on the brims of my eyes, both Your arm and his, securely around my shoulder for the moment was filled with eagerness, and acceptance.

I smiled at the sight of my best friend on stage with two others, waiting to be the one to award me, and marveled at how far she had come, how much she had grown, and all she had taught me when I needed the words of experience. Experience, yes, that I was gaining piece by piece, just as the friend who stood beside me was. You were molding us at the same time. But my head dropped slightly at the sound of his name called before mine. Was it meant to be that way? But I knew with the weight of the medal around my neck, his victory in achieving something great for you hung with it. We rejoiced together, brother and sister.

The many, numberless embraces of happiness followed soon after, as I was enveloped in a crowd of people, friend, and yet ... strangers. Can I belong to them too? You were among them, and I was refreshed at the feeling of You near me always, celebrating with us. And You were. So that I might turn the blessing back up to praise with every acknowledgment of the evening, praying from that day forward that my speech may be well seasoned with the richness of You.

Thank you.

Me

I am a cat
because I hate cold water on
my skin in the morning
and I land on my feet when I fall because
someone’s always there to steady me

I am a bird
because I hate feeling
trapped in a space too small
when I’ve wings to spread because
someone taught me how to fly


I am a fish
because I hate turning around
to look behind me all the time
and my life is swimming long and hard because
I’ve an ocean to discover

I am an ant
because sometimes, no eye
can see my insignificant existence
but still I walk this endless road because
I’ve a world to see

Be my light.

Andie

she was my early birthday present in the summer
unpromised and unexpected
sent to this place she feared to call home, feared to begin again

and I learned her name on accident
when I met her one warm, summer day
and when the clouds
were lazy, parting, and rolling along the boundless sky
which stretched forever and ever, much like we would

and she reminded me of someone I once knew, someone
who loved all that she did
smiled at the same joy
...hid from the same fears
fell in love with the same Jesus
her spirit was ignited with Him
with life, with vigor
with energy, and joy
happy to be alive, living to tell of every yesterday

her hair was the color of earth, cascading wildly over her shoulders
untamed, without care
and her eyes were pulled from the sky
blue and clear
her voice ascending as though carried by wind, her face
kissed by the summer sun
her soul flying

...and I was so afraid it would not be enough
for me, so ordinary, to come along and only be myself
until she told me that’s what she loved most
and so we came to be, she and I
a sort of inseparable, uncomplicated pair
taking risks, and hiding away
reaching for what memories meant
discovering laughter enlightened
dreaming, promising, wishing on invisible stars
laughing and pretending
...disappearing
to a place where we could only go together, a place
where we met without guard, where she listened as I spoke
and I prayed as she cried
where words were not necessary to converse
and tears spoke so freely
where she was herself, and I myself
and that was all we knew...

and aside, when I was in the quiet of my room
alone, embraced by shadows
I would call on the Giver of this gift and praise Him
for her, exalt Him,
asking to never take her away, ever
...but He did
for just a while
and though my eyes saw her day after day
my heart did not, for she had left that place and locked the door
walked away unknowingly
or perhaps it was I that walked away
the day I cried and broke
part of me dying
begging our Father to bring her back fully, but instead He kept her
at distance, that I might learn to pursue others too
that I might hope for her
learning of what it meant to hold on and not let go

and I did
by His grace and strength
renewed in spirit, and able to acclaim His name in thanksgiving for her
my sister and my friend...
Andie.

Required Post - Poetry 242 - Response to Visual Prompt

Sweet and endless,
undying rows of early lavender
stretching without limit, and becoming
the bittersweet scent carried by playful winds
becoming air
and richly lavishing the Tuscan earth in shades
of fragrant, flowing purple
from their emerald stems, to their bending
floral peaks, arching over in the summery breeze
as though bowing
to the goddess Sun above their finite heads
and they sing
enchanting songs of old Italian tales
as rugged fingertips to brush their soft and velvet points
breathing deeply from the flow
of healing aromas, fresh and wild
and they cannot help but to
tilt their heads toward the boundless sky
to close their eyes for a long moment and
smile while clouds tumble away like fear in the morning
gladly walking the eternal paths of lavender in
a world unlike their own.

When my world begins to crumble, I am being built and refined.
When I fall to my knees in weakness, I am being made strong.
When I cry, I am being taught to rejoice.
When I stumble and fall, I am being upheld.
When I begin to give up, I am being sustained.
When I am lost, I am being found.
When I am afraid, I am being comforted.
When my heart breaks, I am being restored.

Save me, Jesus.

To Be Mine

I can save you tonight
if you’ll let Me in
your world crumbles before you
the faster it spins
I’ll reach down to hold you
keep you from shaking and
teach you more of what it means
to be Mine

you cried out to Me when all you had
was not enough to make you glad
to be alive, to be where you
lived the only way you knew
and I watched as tears fell free
watched as you surrendered to me
give up now
you’re not your own
let me shape you, make you fit for Home

I can save you tonight
if you’ll let Me in
your world crumbles before you
the faster it spins
I’ll reach down to hold you
keep you from shaking and
teach you more of what it means
to be Mine

there are gray skies
above your head today
and if you’ll let Me I’ll
blow them away
because you can’t see
what’s coming next
but I do
and I won’t make you guess
your mind is weary and
your body’s weak
but I’ll be here waiting
until it’s Me you seek

Jesus, save me tonight
I'm letting You in
my world crumbles before me
the faster it spins
reach down to hold me
keep me from shaking and
teach me more of what it means
to be Yours

A Glass Made Heart

Talking to you,
Just as we are,
Empty promises never made,
Words from the heart,
Spoken in pain,
Like photographs left to fade

Who knew we’d make it that far,
Till we stumbled and fell,
And my hand slipped away from yours,
Losing my hold,
Seeing you go,
Is it worth trying anymore?

Someone take me away from here,
Away from this heart,
That’s broken in two,
Tell me where I went so wrong this time and,
Help me get back to you

Time slips away,
Before our young eyes,
Hold on just tight enough to let go,
And I’ll pray for you,
Since we’ll be apart,
Something I’ve wanted you to know

You once took me away from here,
Away from myself,
A glass made heart,
Tell me why it had to be this way and,
Keep me from falling apart,
That’s all I’m hanging onto,
All I’ve ever known,
All I’m letting go of,
A glass made heart.

untitled

are you strong enough to hold me, Jesus?
Because I’m falling so fast
and wishing I was made for more
than this daily living in loss and
pain so overwhelming, too often does it take
control and I lose myself
to something no one knows exists
but you, because you have eyes that see beyond the world’s
and I break to a million fragile pieces
stepped on and crushed because
I am not strong enough to stand on my own
and these tears
I know so well, becoming part of me
again, when I thought hope lingered still
be near me, Jesus, because your love
quenches the deepest thirst of this weary body
gives life
to my tired mind and empty spirit
wash away my humanness
make me yours again.

Last Dance

we were dancing away
the worries and doubts of yesterday
forgetting life beyond the floor
of the ballroom and begging for more
music to move us around
hearing the rhythm, feeling the sound
we twirled and spun
not remembering if we ever had that much fun
closing our eyes for just a while
and dancing like it was going out of style
the tapping of shoes on slick wooden floors
music seeping through windows, and cracks in the doors
knowing tomorrow would hold us too tight
for us to ever let go and dance again like that night
so we soaked it in
the innocence of ending a spin
the rhythmic feeling of hands in hands
brothers and sisters, friends
wishing life were as simple as a twirl
mutual fun between a boy and a girl
why did we have to grow up so fast?
why couldn’t we let nights like those last?
so fresh and so free
wanting nothing but just to be
how we were before time could take us away
the music played
and we danced because we knew if we tried
we could escape from the world for just one night
one more time around the floor
danced like we never did before
our eyes fixed on Him and my hands in your own
knowing one day we’ll dance Home.

An Unlikely Love Story - 2nd Samuel 25

My name is Abigail, and I am but a humbled servant, with a story to tell you. A story of love, perhaps, if that is what you would like to call it. I, however, would not so boldly choose to use the word, but rather, tell you in truth how it came about to be. For love does find the strangest of ways to settle in one’s heart, and though the route taken was not in any woman’s eyes ideal, I would not have desired it any other way.

I remember the vibrance of the sun that morning, to be unlike any other I had seen in quite a while. The brightly glowing orb rose timidly over the flat horizon, stretching endlessly for longer than eyes could fathom, and all of creation was still. For a moment I lay there, marveling at the feeling of the warm light caressing my weary face and aching muscles, and unwillingly did I force upon myself, the burden of letting my feet to the cold surface of the floor beneath, so as to answer the gentle knock heard from the door. I was uncertain of who it might be, arriving at our lowly home at such an hour, and made haste to the door while wrapping a shawl about my shoulders. My husband, Nabal, had long left that morning even before the sun had risen over the plains, though it was no surprise to me to wake and not see him there. He did not care to be at home, nor did he care to be in my presence for that matter. I confess to you I often found myself wondering if he ever did love me. I do not suppose he did. For what is love when the hand you once took with great joy, you then disown entirely? Though it was no matter; I trusted gladly in my Lord.

The knock came once again at my door, as I hurriedly made my way to answer to its impatience. And upon opening it, there stood before me three men of very unfamiliar appearances, all of which carried swords and a wealthy amount of garments and armor, as though prepared for battle. I did not fear them, yet questioned inwardly their reason for coming. Uninvited, they stepped into my home.
“Might I be of service to you?” I asked of them, and in reply they began to tell of an event that had taken place not hours before their arrival. They spoke of their master, David, who had sent ten of his young men into the desert to greet my husband, who they knew had been shearing his sheep at the time. David, who would become king not long after, was very fond of the friendship once established with Nabal, and took great joy in exchanging the favor of protection over livestock and belongings when needed. They had done so for ours before.
The men went on to say that upon their message of greeting sent to my husband, Nabal was quick to deny the fact that he was ever once associated with their master. “Who is this David?” he boldly inquired. And was harsh and rigorous with his words. Nabal declared he would refuse to grant their request of gifts, which they asked of in return for their favor of watching his possessions, for he doubted their relation to David as being his servants.
This message to me of my husband’s misdeed was altogether appalling, and I was enraged to hear of his unkind and selfish, false assumptions. I wasted no time. I felt as though it was my duty, as the wife of this man, to redeem the peace between our family and David that once stood so firmly. To lose it, would be to risk lives, and I was not willing to do so.
And so I took it upon myself to gather our finest of goods and nothing less of that. Two hundred loaves of bread, two skins of wine, five dressed sheep, five seahs of roasted grain, a hundred cakes of raisins, and two hundred cakes of pressed figs. Though it was the majority of what we had as ours, it seemed to me that I must give what I could in order to save that which Nabal had so carelessly thrown away. These, I loaded onto our strongest donkeys and left to deliver them to David.
“Go on ahead; I’ll follow you,” I instructed the men, and left without telling my husband.

The sun rose high in the boundless stretch of ocean blue above our heads as we swiftly, or rather, as fast as the donkeys cared to move us, made our way along the desert like plain, and eventually descended into a valley, traveled through the passages of gently rolling hills, and into a mountain ravine. Upon our unexpected arrival, David and his men were quick to meet us there, and their rugged faces softened upon seeing me and the gifts I bore to them. I dismounted my weary donkey and fell to my knees, bowing before David in submission, my forehead pressed toward the dusty earth beneath. I had not the words to express my inmost apology, my deepest of regret for the unkind act in part of my husband. I placed my hands on the soiled straps of his sandals, and titled my head to meet his eyes.
“My lord,” I cried, “let the blame be on me alone, and hear what I have to say. May my lord pay no attention to that wicked man Nabal. He is just like his name - a fool, and folly goes with him. But as for me, your servant, I did not hear of this until its message was sent to you. Forgive me, master, and let this gift from your servant be given to the men who follow you. Please forgive my husband and his misdeed, for peace was never more desired for such a time as this.”
David looked upon me with gentleness, and understanding was in the soft ascensions of his voice. I do believe he took to heart my plea for pardon. With remorse and regret in his own words, however, he spoke to me in reply.
“Praise be to the Lord, who has sent you today to meet me. May you be blessed for your good judgment and for keeping me from bloodshed this day, and from avenging myself with my own hands. Otherwise, as surely as the Lord, the God of Israel, lives, who has kept me from harming you, not one male belonging to Nabal would have been left alive by daybreak,” he paused, troubled at my reaction. I must have expressed a look of surprise, for I did not believe that David, the man he was, would even for a moment consider murder as a source of retaliation. For that time, I feared him. He continued with contrasting tone.
“Go home in peace. I have heard your words and granted your request.”

I returned in the evening, when all of creation was settling for the night, and the cool desert breeze swept over my skin like a child’s breath, and both my body and mind were at ease. When my home had become visible, with the glowing amber lights in the windows, I knew that Nabal was not there alone. He was hosting a feast, as he did most often, and was not himself when I returned and came into his presence. Among the lively music and aromas of food mingling with the bitter scent of wine, I found him sprawled on the floor, leaning lazily against the wall behind him. A group of men had encircled him, laughing and mocking his absurd behavior, for he was drunken with wine. They parted slightly to let me through, and I stood before my husband, Nabal, disgraced and ashamed of his indulgement, his immoral conduct. This was the not first time, but it would be the last.
Morning came, and when he was sober enough to listen, I spoke with my husband of the events which took place the day before. I expected a loss of temper on his part, for that which I had done did not please him. But he did not harm me with actions nor words, only became cold to me, and avoided, neglected, my presence at all costs. To say he disowned me, would not be saying enough. Mornings, he would rise and leave without word, and not return until dusk, where he worked through various tasks alone. And at night, he would often fall asleep in the stable, where the golden straw would cling to his beard and hair, and the animals were his only company. They were, perhaps, enough.
But ten days later, the Lord struck my husband, and he died. I wept bitterly.

Word of Nabal’s death traveled rapidly, and reached David and his men in a short time. David, upon hearing of my loss, sent his servants to my home once again, but with very different intentions than last they came.
They arrived one morning, with word from David, a message I had not too soon expected, or expected at all, for that matter.
“David has sent us to you to take you to become his wife,” they said, and rather bluntly so. And a sort of wave of assurance washed over me; I welcomed it with thanksgiving and willingness.
“Here is your maidservant,” I replied, “ready to serve you and wash the feet of my master. Let us go.”
And away we did, to David, and I offered myself to him as his wife and servant, living a life of utter submission. And undoubtedly would I say that I felt more certain at that moment, than I ever had in my entire life.

Of A Jewish Captive - Auschwitz - Day One

try not to breathe.
the air is tangible and heavily
laden with smoke and evil unseen
thus far, but it is drawing nearer to we
who are bound captives, there’s and
unfree.

take hold of my hand.
our legs move with human speed
upon the damp and fallen, wicked land
where we stumble and fight to stand
tall again, like them, shoulder to shoulder
man to man.

look not at their eyes.
we are what is left, and what will be
the trembling and unjustly despised
and we wake only for sake of another try
another chance, to uncover the lies, and still
we know not why.

make yourself strong.
the suffering souls cry out during
the night and ache until the rising dawn
and the road, seemingly endless, grows long
intensely venomous, pain erasing the sweet old tune
of our only song.

no, they will not win.
our eyes left clouded in a veil of
smoke and feet deeply rooted in sin
the stench of blood and blackened skin
because of the abyssal pit of anger they were in
for to them, it meant
more than to live.

I Know This Place...

I know a place where peace is lavished
abundantly on the weary, and on
the broken hearts and souls of hungry people
who seek something they cannot see
searching, looking, pleading
for something, but they don’t know what
and still...
they cry out from the wrathful
shadows which hide their eyes like tumbling vines
in reverence, and stretching their arms
to reach what they cannot see
and releasing tears once forgotten undoubtedly on
purpose, why do they come here?
I know this place
where something holds them a little
tighter, when they need it the most
a little stronger
for their fragile hearts and tired minds
broken spirits, frail bodies
unending pain lost because they came here and
did not leave
and I know that place...
I've been there before.

Greater Than Ordinary

there have been those who could walk
the endless walk of faith
and those who have lived to triumph over
fire and grave
and I’ve stood here watching as those they call
something great and powerful
while it seems I’m nothing at all
there have been those who could speak
the words of a saint
and those who fought to be heroes over
thunder and rain
and I’ve stood here watching as those they call
something strong and remembered
while it seems I’m nothing at all

oh, Jesus, why am I here as only me?
what can I say
so that it’s you that they see?
I’m humble and broken
of deepest devotion
make me loud so they hear you
soft so they feel you
and teach me, make me, mold me
to greater than ordinary

there have been those whose lives
were scarred and touched
by the dreams once unlived, then made real
they’ve seen so much
and I’ve hoped alone that I wasn’t too late
as they go and become
while it seems I’m nothing great
there have been those whose lives
were thought of and free
as the stories pour forth endlessly and age with time
reaching me
and I’ve hoped alone that I wasn’t too late
as they speak and outlive
while it seems I’m nothing great

oh, Jesus, why am I here as me?
what can I say
so that it’s you that they see?
I’m humble and broken
of deepest devotion
make me loud so they hear you
soft so they feel you
and teach me, make me, mold me
to greater than ordinary.