A Half-Decade in Review

I just spent three hours sorting through five year's worth of old blog posts. Ranging from 2020 to now, I went into all 195 documents and categorized them - for your reading pleasure - into five, easily-to-navigate groups:

Artwork, Writing Excerpts, Mental Health, Faith, and Bible Studies (you're welcome).

My brain's kinda fried, so we're not going to have a new post this week. However, with New Year's approaching, it seems like the perfect time to take a trip down Handiworks' memory lane.

Therefore, please enjoy some of my favorite poems/passages the Lord and I have concocted over the years...

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"Finished Forevermore"

The sky was dark

Our Savior groaned

Head weighed down

By a thorny crown.

Limbs outstretched

Nailed to a ruthless tree

Bloodied and torn

He cries in agony.

Gathering strength

Body rises up

For a fleeting breath

Before sinking back down

Lowering weight onto

Gnarled nailed feet.

Head lifts to the sky

Dreary clouds in mourning

Cry drops

Into bloodshot eyes.

Voice like gravel

He cries to Heaven

Forsaken no more.

Torment overwhelms

Gasps grow slow

With last bit of strength

His mind overflows

With images of His children

Whom He loves to save.

Our faces flood His brain

As consciousness ceases

His heart warms

And peace rains down

Swollen lips smile

His work is done.

They are safe

He thinks

Breathing His last

He exhales in serenity

Awaiting the Furnace

Meant for you and me.

It is finished

His soul exhales in relief

His Hell begins

But our Hell ends

It is finished forevermore.

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"Holy Healer" (this one's not super well done, but I love the raw devotion of it)

There is a holy book, a Holy Bible. His Holy Word. Holy is His Name.

His Name is Jesus. 

King Jesus, our Savior, our Healer, our Redeemer.

Nothing I ever say will encapsulate Him.

He is too great, too awesome, too mighty, too glorious.

Who is God?

The Great I AM.

Only in Him may we truly know who we are. 

Only in Him may we find true, boundless, everlasting freedom.

Only in Him may we find true, eternal, miraculous, otherworldly healing. 

Only in Him, in His arms, are we home.

Take heart, in the Holy Healer.

"He shall cover you with His feathers,

And under His wings you shall take refuge;

His truth shall be your shield and armor,"

The sword of the SPIRIT!

We are healing

Safely in His wings, knowing His truth,

His truth that sets us free

And we press on,

Fighting the good fight of faith

Because Jesus never said running this race was going to be easy,

But He did promise that He will stay.

He "will go before you and make the rough places smooth;

[He] will shatter the doors of bronze [that are hindering you]

And cut through their iron bars [that are blocking you from Him]"

All because He loves us, He will stay.

May the Holy One heal,

Provide refuge, reveal His truths,

Nourish and strengthen

As you continue on His race.

Because we are His empowered witnesses,

His lights,

And at the end of our race,

We will meet our Holy Healer, face to face.  

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Random passage I wrote:

The Lord says "I will put my laws in their minds and write them on their hearts" (Heb 8:10). Our hearts and minds are connected because what we think determines what we believe.

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And another one:  

With Light comes clarity, and humility.

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"Cardinal Call"

A flash of red

Soared past my gaze,

Stark against

Deep greens.

Bold calls rang out

From the treetop,

Taunting me like a game

Of hide and seek.

Suddenly He swoops again,

A brushstroke of vermillion,

His cardinal call

Beckoning me

To follow, to proudly soar,

To be the bright red

In a world of faded greens.

But green has been replaced

By gray now,

Bleak skies, treetops

A skeletal brown.

But still I seek

And still I find

That cheery red flash,

Life amongst the grays.

And I hear His call—

To follow, soar,

Proclaim life and love,

Hope.

To present

A ruby red gift

To our tired and weary world.

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"Innocence"

We have lost our innocence.

The purity of youth

Tarnished by age.

We have

Thought

Viewed

Said

Done

Things we should not have.

Things that stain.

But God--

Oh those two small words,

Immense in power--

He says He remembers

No more,

Condemns never,

Forgives in full.

He says

Pure

Righteous

Beloved.

Our innocence was lost,

Now found in a manger of cloth

And infant cries.

Our tainted beings

Replaced

By the Spotless Lamb.

Tarnished

And blameless

We kneel before the Throne,

Innocence regained

By the One

Who saves.

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“The Artist”

Crimson

With a dab of emerald;

That'll be the base.

Dips the wide flat brush,

An arc of pigment graces pure white.

Now where's my cadmium yellow,

My peach, umber, blush?

Paint squeezed onto palette. Mix.

Warm mossy background

Replaced by face, neck, body: soft flesh.

Eyes, my favorite, like pools of honey.

Amber hues dance with golden threads,

Curl around an ivory center.

Perfection.

What about the hair?

Vandyke brown, copper also.

Wild strokes, blowing in the breeze.

Each hair meticulously marked,

Shimmering in the light.

Now where is--

Examines paint-splattered tubes,

Searching, for one particular--

Ha! Found you!

Rich violet cascades.

Glorious. Clothing fit for royalty, I'd say.

Now one last stroke...

A signature emblazoned in the corner,

Two lines, the mark of the cross.

It is finished and it is perfect.

The Artist exhales,

Honeysuckle breath seeps into

The painting. The creation absorbs it

And blinks.

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From my Hebrew studies:

כי לעולם חסדו.

“key li-oh-lam haz-dough”

“For His love endures forever” (Psalm 136).

(This is what the photo above says, actually.)

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"Blooms in the Wind" (a sonnet that took forever to write)

I lay upon a grassy knoll and gaze.

I behold youthful blooms, so fresh, so new.

Like rainbows, blossoms sway in a soft daze,

whirl innocently with winds great and bold.

What was a breeze grows recklessly with haste,

now mighty gusts, relentless, hopeless for

mere blooms to thwart. I know demise awaits

as petals thrash and beauty is no more.

Once radiant, the flowers stood with pride,

now decimated to a fragile core,

the blameless buds flown over the hillside.

Why would the wind be cruel? I do implore.

Perhaps torment ignites resilience,

so next year’s blossoms bloom with brilliance.

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More recent random excerpt:

Change is scary and unknown, but our God is not.

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Hebrew again: 

There's a word in Hebrew called פקד, pronounced pakad. Pakad has a multitude of meanings, but I’ll give you a few: to visit, to attend to, to observe, to number, to remember, and to seek.

This is what God’s doing with us. By His saving grace and Holy Spirit, He's visiting, attending to, remembering and caring for, seeking and numbering and cherishing us.

How blessed are we?!

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Annnddd last one:  

Let God work at His pace.

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Friends, I pray that something stood out to you in this conglomeration of words. And I pray that this new year is full of the Lord's regenerative, restorative, renewing work.