JUST YOUR PRESENCE HERE.
COME TO TAKE ME IN THIS CHAIR.
THE SILENCE IS LOUD.
AND YOU ARE IN MOLECULES.
I WOULD SACRIFICE SLEEP TO REST HERE WITH YOU.
TO FEEL YOU FILLING IN ALL THAT HAS BEEN EMPTIED OUT IN THE DAY.
TO BE WASHED IN YOUR LOVE.
LAUGHING TEARS TUMBLE.
JOY IS WET AND I'M SO...
RELIEVED.
TO SIT ALL ALONE AT YOUR FEET.
THE PLACE WHERE ALL I AM ASKED TO BE IS YOURS.
ALONE,
BERNADETTE
listening
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
On Sacrifice So
That a God so big.
Would send a Son so humble.
To dye a death so excruciating.
For a girl so lost.
And a life so derailed.
With shoes so full of shame.
And a heart so full of the grave.
That it was so hard to receive.
The gift that was so undeserved.
The way He stretched His arms so wide.
And said. "This is so finished."
Because God so loved the world.
That He gave is only Son so beloved.
Jesus,
Bernadette
a repost
Would send a Son so humble.
To dye a death so excruciating.
For a girl so lost.
And a life so derailed.
With shoes so full of shame.
And a heart so full of the grave.
That it was so hard to receive.
The gift that was so undeserved.
The way He stretched His arms so wide.
And said. "This is so finished."
Because God so loved the world.
That He gave is only Son so beloved.
Jesus,
Bernadette
a repost
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
On Spring Snowstorms and The Son
Let's just turn our faces to the Son.
Because it's snowing here today, and we are frustrated.
Waking to a white world, shaking our heads no.
Born and raised in Montana.
And still saying "No."
To Snow.
Are you smiling?
Do you ever wonder at the way God put it all together?
Us yet buried in the death of winter.
Cocooned away in grey.
Waiting for this struggling burst of beauty, color, and...
FLIGHT.
Longing for wings so much it makes our skin hurt.
And how we must wait on the Lord because He's the weatherman.
He keeps us tucked away in holy hibernation.
Quietly.
Hidden.
Away.
Until it's time to try.
To Fly,
Bernadette
Because it's snowing here today, and we are frustrated.
Waking to a white world, shaking our heads no.
Born and raised in Montana.
And still saying "No."
To Snow.
Are you smiling?
Do you ever wonder at the way God put it all together?
Us yet buried in the death of winter.
Cocooned away in grey.
Waiting for this struggling burst of beauty, color, and...
FLIGHT.
Longing for wings so much it makes our skin hurt.
And how we must wait on the Lord because He's the weatherman.
He keeps us tucked away in holy hibernation.
Quietly.
Hidden.
Away.
Until it's time to try.
To Fly,
Bernadette
Monday, March 19, 2012
Eucharisteo
For time away.
Coming unplugged.
All for the sake of a Boy.
Who needs fun like air.
Water drops hanging liquid orbs off those endless lashes.
Him smiling all gums and teeth everywhere.
This is what twelve looks like.
Remember?
For focused time on the two youngest.
Hanging off my arm and...
"Thank you for this, Mom. Thank you, forever."
Coming home again.
Knowing every country bump on our lane as we arrive in the dark hours of morning.
For that feeling of home.
The way the laundry looks familiar lumped in soft piles on the floor of the mudroom.
A soldier making pita bread in my kitchen.
His hands full of dough, and us talking and laughing.
Just that I got to watch my three oldest worship God together.
Her voice singing Jesus.
A Return.
The SilentDeep on bass, and the Kind and Compassionate on the drums.
The rhythm he keeps, a steady cry to be noticed, singled out, loved.
Me just overcome with the honor of knowing them.
Bowing low at the throne to confess, again, all my inadequacies.
Falling short.
The StrongSoft getting her baby lambs, and sharing the adventure with dear friends.
The two of us sitting in the darkened loam of the shed at six this morning.
Bottle feeding and talking, and her kissing them on the head.
Blonde beauty dressed in her dad's carhart jacket and sitting on a five gallon bucket in her pajamas.
And the spring snow that flies these thick flakes of white wonder.
The sky close enough to touch.
Staying up most of the night to finish a good book.
Coffee.
Missing my son gone back for school.
Holding him tight and close in my prayers.
All this eucharisteo.
And for writing.
Because it holds the world still long enough.
For me,
Bernadette
Coming unplugged.
All for the sake of a Boy.
Who needs fun like air.
Water drops hanging liquid orbs off those endless lashes.
Him smiling all gums and teeth everywhere.
This is what twelve looks like.
Remember?
For focused time on the two youngest.
Hanging off my arm and...
"Thank you for this, Mom. Thank you, forever."
Coming home again.
Knowing every country bump on our lane as we arrive in the dark hours of morning.
For that feeling of home.
The way the laundry looks familiar lumped in soft piles on the floor of the mudroom.
A soldier making pita bread in my kitchen.
His hands full of dough, and us talking and laughing.
Just that I got to watch my three oldest worship God together.
Her voice singing Jesus.
A Return.
The SilentDeep on bass, and the Kind and Compassionate on the drums.
The rhythm he keeps, a steady cry to be noticed, singled out, loved.
Me just overcome with the honor of knowing them.
Bowing low at the throne to confess, again, all my inadequacies.
Falling short.
The StrongSoft getting her baby lambs, and sharing the adventure with dear friends.
The two of us sitting in the darkened loam of the shed at six this morning.
Bottle feeding and talking, and her kissing them on the head.
Blonde beauty dressed in her dad's carhart jacket and sitting on a five gallon bucket in her pajamas.
And the spring snow that flies these thick flakes of white wonder.
The sky close enough to touch.
Staying up most of the night to finish a good book.
Coffee.
Missing my son gone back for school.
Holding him tight and close in my prayers.
All this eucharisteo.
And for writing.
Because it holds the world still long enough.
For me,
Bernadette
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Happy Birthday, Freedom Journal!
One year in the life of a freedom journal.
Words tapped out for the world.
For ONE.
One heart no longer hidden.
A life that says, "Here I am, Lord. Send me."
With sweat dripping down her back.
In an old chair that rocks her only comfort.
There have been days...
When I have known that Jesus set me up.
Thought I would just paint pretty pictures of freedom.
Too late, realized.
The picture He gave is what He asks of us all.
To hang our lives outstretched.
Naked and...
UNASHAMED.
No. He alone bore that burden.
Wearing our names right there on His heart.
The names of souls who would swing great blows on the nails.
While He interceded on our behalf.
So we could live in all this great billowing freedom.
Free from the tyranny of the enemy of our souls.
Freedom that Jesus purchased on that terrible, beautiful day.
Yes...
To live FREE.
That is our mission, friends.
Should we choose to accept it.
Bernadette
ps
Freedom Journal is taking a vacation! I'm taking some unplugged time to be with my family this coming week. Thanks to all you freedom fighters out there who read and comment and support and pray and encourage... and don't mind so much that I write in run ons and fragments. :) Love you all!
Words tapped out for the world.
For ONE.
One heart no longer hidden.
A life that says, "Here I am, Lord. Send me."
With sweat dripping down her back.
In an old chair that rocks her only comfort.
There have been days...
When I have known that Jesus set me up.
Thought I would just paint pretty pictures of freedom.
Too late, realized.
The picture He gave is what He asks of us all.
To hang our lives outstretched.
Naked and...
UNASHAMED.
No. He alone bore that burden.
Wearing our names right there on His heart.
The names of souls who would swing great blows on the nails.
While He interceded on our behalf.
So we could live in all this great billowing freedom.
Free from the tyranny of the enemy of our souls.
Freedom that Jesus purchased on that terrible, beautiful day.
Yes...
To live FREE.
That is our mission, friends.
Should we choose to accept it.
Bernadette
ps
Freedom Journal is taking a vacation! I'm taking some unplugged time to be with my family this coming week. Thanks to all you freedom fighters out there who read and comment and support and pray and encourage... and don't mind so much that I write in run ons and fragments. :) Love you all!
Friday, March 9, 2012
Ode to Scripture
Sing me songs of Jesus.
and His written Word.
Hide them in my heart, Oh God.
Draw me closer to You, Lord.
Word of God speak.
Your Words of Life to me.
that I might fix my eyes and heart.
and soul and mind on thee.
Wrap me in the Psalms
so I can feel Your grace.
Instruct my heart with Proverbs
so I will know my place.
The Gospels are the light house
Acts the bulbs that shine
Ephesians says you love me
Revelation, the end of time.
That Word that came from Hebrews
Today was just for me.
Scripture is the sharpening tool.
The Way that makes us free.
Bernadette
and His written Word.
Hide them in my heart, Oh God.
Draw me closer to You, Lord.
Word of God speak.
Your Words of Life to me.
that I might fix my eyes and heart.
and soul and mind on thee.
Wrap me in the Psalms
so I can feel Your grace.
Instruct my heart with Proverbs
so I will know my place.
The Gospels are the light house
Acts the bulbs that shine
Ephesians says you love me
Revelation, the end of time.
That Word that came from Hebrews
Today was just for me.
Scripture is the sharpening tool.
The Way that makes us free.
Bernadette
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Open Prayers...Join Me?
This old chair with sun streaming through the windows turning the whole room on. I close my eyes and let the Son shine on my face, and in my mind we walk through fields and fields of gold. Our fingers gently caressing the tops of a whole harvest, and together Jesus and I pray for the lost. For this one. And for that one. For my brothers and sisters across the globe who are sitting alone in the dark. Lost. Crowded by lies and pain and slavery.
We pray for them.
Children starving to death from lack of food all around the world. Children here in America love starving and without protection and the teaching of the things of God. Whole societies drowning in the flood of evolution and the wicked lie that they are just mud between Darwin's toes. Cruelty that has stolen the hearts of God's children away from Him as they sit in school learning that they are nothing more than an animal. Surviving in a jungle and wild with out a loving Father to protect them.
We pray for them.
For the persecuted church and for their families. I don't know their names, but my heart is with them just now. My spirit leaps at the thought of those suffering in chains for the sake of the Gospel. For God's sake. I hang my head in deepest pangs of mingled sorrow and pride. Give them strength to endure, Lord.
Let's pray for them.
For those suffering chronic illness and pain. For those trapped in beds of depression. For their families too. Grace and Peace. Healing power of Christ. And the acceptance of the Sovereign, and His perfect will and plan for His beloved children.
Can we pray for them too?
For the younger generations, Lord. For those who cut themselves because it hurts less than the world somehow. For the lie that beauty is achieved by starving yourself to death, or throwing your guts up into a dirty toilet. For those enslaved to pornography and its shame chains. God of heaven, we beg You to action. Hurting hearts in great need, Lord.
Pray.
Jesus is seated at the right hand of His Father. Our Father. He is interceding on our behalf, and friends, let us stir each other to prayer. The harvest is plentiful. The needs are great.
The time is now,
Bernadette
We pray for them.
Children starving to death from lack of food all around the world. Children here in America love starving and without protection and the teaching of the things of God. Whole societies drowning in the flood of evolution and the wicked lie that they are just mud between Darwin's toes. Cruelty that has stolen the hearts of God's children away from Him as they sit in school learning that they are nothing more than an animal. Surviving in a jungle and wild with out a loving Father to protect them.
We pray for them.
For the persecuted church and for their families. I don't know their names, but my heart is with them just now. My spirit leaps at the thought of those suffering in chains for the sake of the Gospel. For God's sake. I hang my head in deepest pangs of mingled sorrow and pride. Give them strength to endure, Lord.
Let's pray for them.
For those suffering chronic illness and pain. For those trapped in beds of depression. For their families too. Grace and Peace. Healing power of Christ. And the acceptance of the Sovereign, and His perfect will and plan for His beloved children.
Can we pray for them too?
For the younger generations, Lord. For those who cut themselves because it hurts less than the world somehow. For the lie that beauty is achieved by starving yourself to death, or throwing your guts up into a dirty toilet. For those enslaved to pornography and its shame chains. God of heaven, we beg You to action. Hurting hearts in great need, Lord.
Pray.
Jesus is seated at the right hand of His Father. Our Father. He is interceding on our behalf, and friends, let us stir each other to prayer. The harvest is plentiful. The needs are great.
The time is now,
Bernadette
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)