All Quiet on the Western Front

Pretty quiet these days.
Pregnant with peace.
Feel like I should unbutton my pants.
But I'm not full like that.

You know me.
You know me, Jesus and…
It is enough.
Enough to be full of You.

Your eye is on the sparrow.
Me.
And though I can't see what You are doing,
I know, Jesus, that you see me.

Potter, Your hands make and mold all that I am now.
You are sculpting a surrendered soul.
The warmth of truth in Your hands,
Leaves me stock still in wonder.

And You bend over this one life here.
Thoughtful.  Careful.  Purposeful.
Gentle and warm and sure and shhhhh….
The Master is working.

In all this fat peace,

Bernadette

212

212.
Knows what to do.

When you're splitting in half,
And your quills are standing on end.
When you don't want to be touched,
Because you are…untouchable, unreachable, unlovable.
And you sneer and snarl and…
Dare her to love you anyhow.

212
Knows what to do.

When you've lost yourself again,
And all you want to do is hit the road.
Run for your life,
Even though you know it means death.
When you can't stop choosing what you've always known,
Instead of the good stuff that she offers…her heart.

212
Knows what to do.

When the day comes thirty years later,
And you find yourself sitting cross-legged on the couch.
With kleenex piling up between your thighs,
Because you never got to say goodbye properly.
And you wonder how it can survive raw after all this time.
Grief has a long shelf life.

212
Knows what to do.

If you get stuck in the ditch,
And your life is leaking out all over the place?
When all of you is unsavory and unkind?
When you're just lost and don't even know the sound of your own voice?
When you feel like a failure?
When you've fallen?

Don't worry, now.

212.

She knows what to do,

Bernadette

Cloud Watching

The friend who holds my hand warm through the anguish.
The Word of Truth that often hurts good.
The drawer of my heart and my knees to bend hours behind the closed door.
The One I want to be alone with.

The great Listener, bending down to hear His daughter's prayers.
The Seer of every tear.  Every.  Single.  One.
The Lover of my soul.
The Giver of my salvation.

The One Who gives me breath.
The One Who makes me breathless with His love.
The Delighter.
The Delighted.

And when I am wetting His dear feet with my tears.
And when I am crying for mercy.
For His people, His church, His bride.
Just a puddle of tears and snot?

When I look in the mirror and sigh.
When the dead rise to tell me that I am disqualified and…disgusting?
When my enemy tells me over and over again that I am worthless.
And when I am shaken to my core in waves of weakness.

I know that He is my strength.
He is the One Who fights for me.
His righteous right hand upholds me.
His Word is the mighty sword in my hand.

He has raised me up from the grave.
He has set my feet on solid Rock.
He has given me new Life.
He has birthed me anew.

He knows my name.
He called me by name.
He loves my name and…
One day He will write a new name for me on a white stone.  (Rev. 2)

He is The Resurrection and The Life.
He is The Alpha and The Omega.
He is The coming King.
Jesus.

His Name is Jesus,

Bernadette

"Look, He is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see Him, even those who pierced Him and all peoples on earth will mourn because of Him.  So shall it be!  Amen.  (Rev. 1)

When Your Heart Leaves Home

When your daughter.

Your friend.

Moves away.

And takes your heart right along with her.

You keep your back straight.

Your mouth turned up.

And you walk her to her car.

The one with the GSUS plates.

The one with the bike mounted on the trunk.


You snap pictures.

As if you were at a birthday party.

As if your heart weren't coming apart on the inside.

When her brother takes her into his strong arms.

And weeps with out shame.

His love out loud for this woman.

This sister, mentor, friend.

Or when Little Sister flies to you.

Because the one who prayed her into the world.

Is driving away.

Away.


And you stand watching numb.

Wondering where the little girl in the pink "whim soup" went.

Where the girl at the top of the tree in her best dress went.

Where the laughing, singing, bossing little darling went and just.

Treasuring all these things in your heart.


Your heart…


Driving away like that,

Bernadette

The Blessed Things

Sitting around the campfire.

Laughing.

Reading.

Studying Him.

The Book of James.

S'more S'mores, Please!

A. wearing marshmallow lipstick and making a holy mess.

Girls talking until late in their tent.

Mamas falling asleep praying for dear friends in Panama.

Giant teenaged boys sprawled on the basement floor.  Legs and arms everywhere.

Andrew's eyelashes.

The coconut bra and laughing until it hurts.

A son turning seventeen.

Just…the sun on my skin.

Healing up a bit.

Practicing conflict.

Carrying the Shoulders in my heart and in my prayers while he labors in Peru.

Missing him.

An email from Sarahgirl that made me cry.

Missing her.

All of these.

With thanks, Lord, for…


The blessed things,

Bernadette

The Watchman's Daughter

Little Sister had an asthma attack while jumping on the trampoline.

The Watchman's Daughter was there.

A closing throat, a loss of breath, a purpling of the lips.

The Watchman's Daughter was there.

Little Sister collapsed, and she tried to save her.

The Watchman's Daughter.

The Kind and Compassionate tried as well.

But The Watchman's Daughter was there.

Little Sister could not call for help.

The Watchman's Daughter was there.

The Shoulders gave her a final blow to open up air and life.

The Watchman's Daughter stood watching. 

Little Sister could breathe again, and her face returned to pale.

The Watchman's Daughter was there.

We all circled 'round, waiting for her to nod that she was okay.

The Watchman's Daughter was there.

How do you process such things?

The Watchman's Daughter was there.

How do you ever say thank you?

That The Watchman's Daughter was there?

The Watchman's Daughter was there,

Bernadette

PS

Eternal thanks to SAN for always watching over her friends and family.  Dang, girl!  You are the best!

No Offense…

John Chapter 7

"And he (Jesus) answered them, 'Go and tell John what you have seen and heard;  the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, the poor have good news preached to them. 

And blessed is the one 

who is not offended by me."

My Jesus, Thank You.

For giving sight to my blind eyes.

For cleaning up my walk with You; I was crippled by the world and by sin.  I was lame.

For washing away the things in my life that were unclean and for restoring my body to Yourself.

For giving me ears to hear the sound of Your voice.

For raising my life up from the dead and saving me from eternal hell and separation from You, O God.

For giving my poor life the Good News of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

For taking a heart that was so deeply offended by You, and causing it to rejoice in all that You are.


No longer offended, Jesus.

Rather in love, actually,

Bernadette

Matthew Chapter 5

"Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.  Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account."