I Write These Things

Pulling from the poetry vault of my earlier years. I wrote this poem at 17 while just hanging out at the Walter Hill dam. It was published on the cover of the Senior Issue of The Liberty Bell, (Oakland High School's newspaper) my senior year, 1977. When we were little, I remember going to the river with Mamma, Aunt Louise and Grandmother and Grandaddy for picnics in the 60s. Reflections I sit here and I watch the rolling river I see the sky of blue above my head The birds a

While in England, we saw many beautiful castles and cathedrals. On our journey, lofty places ornately built for worship. And I loved it all. This door is from Christ Church, Oxford, UK. We were able to go through these doors and experience an Evensong service. But, on our way back home, I began to think of places, simple places that also inspire worship. Our creek, a morning walk, the woods, watching the birds...all made and sustained by God. And so these words came...

God's love exceeds the boundaries of my imagination. Therefore, I can dream big dreams. I can see glimpses of His love in a purply pink sunrise or a red orange sunset. A midnight sky a lit with stars like white diamonds or an overflowing cascade of petunias in an early Spring display on a day with temperatures so perfect you could stay outside all day. Or watching billowy, puffy white clouds float across the blue sky on a soft breeze. The warm sun on my face as the ocean

But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. 2 Corinthians 3:16 This summer marks 40 years since I turned to the Lord. The veil over my eyes was taken away and I found freedom. Freedom from myself. In that summer of 1984, alone in my apartment, I gave my life to the Lord. Having come to the end of myself and doing things my way , I sought to know Jesus. The same Jesus I