Happy 17th Birthday 1-31-2012

She emerged from the knitting place, and her first touch was mine.  She came slippery to my hands, and changed everything.  Seventeen years have gone.  A daughter fills a mama's heart with hope, and I remember standing by her cradle late at night singing that song from the Sound of Music.  "Somewhere in my wicked childhood, I must have done something good."  To have such a girl.  A girl who...

Dreams big dreams.  Reaches high and hard for heaven.  Brings it down somehow, and fills this home here with it.  Music and painting.  The way she makes the Shoulders laugh.  Pulling him into her, and all of us.  How she reads her Bible at night and in the morning.  Teaching us how to live chasing after God.  The way she inspires this heart.

The way she still holds my hand sometimes. The way she likes it when I pull her long ponytail through my fingers.  The way she still lays her head in my lap, and the way I am still amazed.  This girl become woman gives me strength and lives a life that says, "Don't be afraid, Mom."  A daughter who calls me up higher, who believes in me and plants seeds of hope in me while breathing life into my silent dreams.  When did Sarah become my friend?  And how can I begin to count such a blessing?

Happy Birthday to the song of my heart.  Sarah, I love you.

Mama

Tic Talk

Sitting now in the too late.
Listening to the clock talk.
Tick.
These few short minutes.
Before I go to bed.
Lay down head.
Take time.
Just to sit alone with Jesus.
And be still.
Shhh...
Still.
The only place my heart is truly known.

And loved.

Bernadette

COME, FOLLOW ME.

A Thanks...

For Your blood, Lord.
For the holes in Your hands.
That my life put there.
For a Love so pure.
I have to close my eyes tight sometimes.
Because I might burn up in You.

Thank You that You said it.
"COME.  FOLLOW ME."
And thank You for the faith You gave.
For me to put my hand in Yours.
And isn't that The Way?

Peter, James and John were fishing.
Andrew was following John the Baptist.
Bernadette was drowning in the dead life.
When Jesus said.
"COME.  FOLLOW ME."
Whew.

Thank You,

Bernadette

Fly Away

There do come days.
When it hurts too much to speak.
To Jesus.
About the weight that crushes your heart walls.
Because you know.
He knows.
And you wish you could fly away.
From a God Who hides His face sometimes.

And leaves you feeling alone.

Bernadette

Foul Trouble

Brother's and Sisters behaving badly.
Lashing our black stripes to the referee.
While our children play a game.
And learn.
That technical fouls aren't shameful.
Because we parents are foul.
Sitting on our bleacher butts.
Reliving made up glory.
While the whistle blows.
And the referee goes.
Up and down the court calling "Foul!"
We squint blind at his eyesight.
And ask which way his stripes run.
Lose sight that there is a person under the zebra.
Instead, we act like animals.
We whip him hard.
And I.
Ride home in fading light feeling just...sick.
At what we've all become.
When the whistle blows.
How we call foul everywhere but here.
HERE.
Reach and slap and block and charge!
Stench of soul.
As the whistle blows.

And Jesus calls, "Foul!"

Bernadette

Word of God, Speak.

Oh, Word of God Speak.
Into all that crowds the mind.
The heart.
Soul
Ushering in such madness.
Stealing us away.
From You
From Your still small voice.
Oh, Still Small!
Speak now.
That we may forever hold Your peace.
Word of God.

Speak.

Bernadette

UNDER THE WINGS

It seems long.
Since I have been Here.
In this Place.
Right under Your wings, Lord.
Feeling the rush of Your Life.
All into mine.
Tears stream.
Washing the dirt of this day.
Away.
The living in a world that is strange to me.
Where my light flickers dim.
So I hide beneath Your feathers.
Letting You fly high over this little life here.
Rushing Wind.
Fanning dying ember to flame again.
Covering me.
Father.
You cover me.
Making me new.
And strong.
And real again.
Heart of stone.
Melting at the sound of You.
Calling me Daughter.
Calling me Friend.
Calling me.

Yours,

Bernadette