Sorting through old stuff is fun! I've always enjoyed seeing my history in old journals and keepsakes. My parents have been dejunking our garage this weekend (finally! that project's been on hold for some time) so Saturday when I got home from work, I found a nice stack of boxes at the end of my bed (And I thought I'd seen the last of my stuff, apparently not!). So this Sunday afternoon I've been leisurely sorting through them, remembering my years growing up. The good times, the bad. Just all that life has held for me thus far. It's very entertaining :D
This recent box I've been sorting through contained journals and notebooks..so OF COURSE, I've stopped to take a gander at the good ol days. While reading in one of the notebooks that I use to take church notes in, I stumbled across a poem I wrote in 2004. It's about love, loving a person to be exact. And anyway it got me thinking about how many opportunities we have to give love to others. It doesn't have to be romantic love. In fact, most times it's not. So I've just been reflecting today on how important it is, no matter if we've gotten hurt or dissappointed by love, to keep giving it.
IF
If I could see you just once more
I'd jump right up and sing
Just as the sweet red robin does
when first announcing spring
And if your gentle smile
could again greet my face
I'd run each weary mile
and win the steady race
Yet, if only that warm hand of yours
Could once again hold mine
I would service all the poor
And make their faces shine
But if, my love, forevermore
There you were meant to stay
If t'was surely God's will
still content I would remain
For I believe in love
But first I trust God's sense
To believe anything above
Could be unfit precedence
So take comfort dearest
And trust in God's firm hand
That to me he'll bring you nearest
And my love to you he'll send.
~Christina Beacham (written Aug 24th, 2004)
I'd jump right up and sing
Just as the sweet red robin does
when first announcing spring
And if your gentle smile
could again greet my face
I'd run each weary mile
and win the steady race
Yet, if only that warm hand of yours
Could once again hold mine
I would service all the poor
And make their faces shine
But if, my love, forevermore
There you were meant to stay
If t'was surely God's will
still content I would remain
For I believe in love
But first I trust God's sense
To believe anything above
Could be unfit precedence
So take comfort dearest
And trust in God's firm hand
That to me he'll bring you nearest
And my love to you he'll send.
~Christina Beacham (written Aug 24th, 2004)
1 comment:
The Bitter and the Sweet
A young girl sat inside the door
With windows dark and curtains drawn...
Her tearstained face turned to the floor,
With swoolen eyes and features torn.
Outside the door the Old Man watched
In silence, as her plight he viewed
Concern and Kindness filled his Gaze
Yet all his thoughts from her withheld.
Then suddenly at no behest,
Towards the old man she does turn
And from her gaze He could attest
to what within her heart did burn.
He nodded once, then gave a smile,
Of sadness. Yet remained without
The doorway where the light of day
Did shine and brightly dance about.
"My child" Quoth he, "I see that you
Are feeling out of sorts today,
But come and walk a while with me.
The sun is bright; the birds are at play."
"Old Man," she replied with trembling tones,
"How can you use such words of bliss?
"You know the cause of all my grief,
"How can you stand and presence this?!"
"Dear one, do not misunderstand.
I do not put your past aside,
But rather than focus more within,
I beckon you with arms stretched wide."
"Come, let us bask within the glow
Of light without your dark abode.
I'm sure you'll find, more than you know,
This light can lighten all your load."
"Oh sir," said she "I cannot go,
Without these walls. I fear it so!
For 'twas out there I came to be
Encompassed by such misery!"
"Please, won't you come inside my home,
And comfort me in my sad state?
For I feel lost and so alone.
Is that too much to contemplate?"
The Old Man's eyes grew shiny with tears.
He shook his head, and gave a sigh.
"I'm sorry, child." he lovingly said.
"But it is much too dark inside."
"Yet comforting I have and more
If you will just lift up your head,
And bravely step outside your door,
And leave behind sweet sorrow's bed."
Reluctantly the girl arose,
And gave a small, yet eager nod.
She reached the doorway then she froze,
Unsure upon which path to trod.
"But Sir," She said, what is my fate
When first I step without this frame?
Was not Misery my fate?
I dare not suffer more the same!"
"Sweet, little one," came his reply,
"I make no promises today.
But you will find what you've left behind
Has made you stronger than you say."
She dried her eyes, and tenderly
The old man's offered arm she took
And arm-in-arm they walked away
From the dark and miserable nook.
She gave a slow and measured sigh,
As glancing back, upon that place.
And while she thought of days gone by
Bright sunlight played upon her face.
Written For Christina
By TimmyBim
Remember: The only way to make the finest chocolate is to include the BITTER and the SWEET.
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