Yesterday was my birthday.
Birthdays have always been special. I wonder where the tradition began to celebrate the birth-day of a loved one? I remember as a child wondering why the mother didn’t get special mention on them. I can’t say why the impression moved me so young. Likely because I figured she did all the “work” that day. I figured it wouldn’t hurt for her to get a few balloons and some cake too. I went along with tradition and kept my thoughts to myself, but I mentioned it to God and asked for a special blessing for my mom anyway.
The older I got, sadly the more I argued with God about how He made me. Birthdays after the age of 18 were not a welcome thing to me for many years as a result. I had missed the “big picture” – errrr at least the truer one. Then about 10 years ago, God began to show me who did all the “work” putting me together. Using many words directly to me intimately but with His Word in many scriptures like the one above. One in Romans stuck out too, talking about how the pot shouldn’t argue with the potter about how it’s made. I began to submit to changing my thinking. The result? My birthday has a different element of celebration now.
A group of 25 people met up for dinner to celebrate me. I didn’t resist. Why do we resist taking love in? This is one change. I don’t resist love like I used to – by the Grace of Yahweh! I’ll tell you a secret though…shhhhh…lean in…
I went to celebrate them! Them and all those who could not make it there. Many more of them. I would not be who and what I am without all those Adonai used to mold and shape me throughout my 40 plus years. I celebrate them and Him who made me. It’s another change. Perspective is everything. It’s not about me. Never was, but He means to make sure I know I’m His and that makes my worth beyond reckoning. It’s the difference between truth and trying to be true.
I recently heard a different perspective on prayer too. It resonates with the same frequency of the change in celebration for me.
One was asked, “what do you ask God to do for you when you pray?” Response:”I don’t ask God to do things for me; I ask what I can do for Him.” You see it? So small a tweak, but the whole picture suddenly comes into focus.
I am basking in the love showered down on me everyday from the same One who used that love to mold and shape me before I entered my mother’s womb. I basked in the love of those who called, texted, sang, sent messages and pictures, and came to dinner last night; the same love that shaped and wove them too. I let it in, and let it pour out of me too.
I celebrate Life. L’Chaim. It still includes a special mention of my mom. But it includes every single life that has brushed up against mine and held me safe and fast in a womb-like love throughout my life. So I celebrate them, celebrating me. I celebrate Him who made us all, wonderfully – His works are wonders – I do know this well!
Thank You Abba, for Life!
♡ Grace and Shalom in Yeshua the Messiah ♡
Oh God bring such a beauty
Of riches and heavenly plain
That marks the Ester woven
Within a nation vain
Pull now upon the heart strings
Where pain and complaint employ
A glass seen half but empty
Full now with ‘Kingdom come joy’
Let fall upon this maiden
The rain of Truth en-robed
That hearkens heavens whispers
Where fog and Sinister probes
Weave masterminded wisdom
Behind the creative eye
That searches till she’s breathless
The Kingdom in Your sigh
Behold this child like maiden
Whose in Your choicest will
The glory and honor now due You
While temporally still
And every maiden be still and know
Your Kingdom seems slow in show
Yet full of strength and quiet power
Your Kingdom’s on the go.
Grace and peace in Yeshua the Messiah
“If an authors writing doesn’t come with an invitation to be “chewed on” – “dug at” and delved more deeply into; then it hasn’t come from the right Source. “ – LRV
New Story continued…
As with all dreams they come with an awaking; seemingly startled from other dreams. One releases and another picks up almost half way through its telling.
Sakira became aware of her feet.
Walking – yes – she was walking.
Behind or before was kept from her. Only ahead could be captured and held. She knew this place from the vantage of foggy Grey. Now the world around her took a deep breath and blew the brume away. In it’s wake… color and life began to bleed and drip and invade.
And there stood a tree.
Empty but for a few reluctant leaves on its skeletal frame.
Reaching ever up up up to the Up Everlasting.
As if it could pull it straight through the airy blue.
The tops looking so flimsy; yet unafraid of their purpose.
Wrapped around it seemed a smooth skin.
Until it fell ever closer to its heart.
Then like it’s tears had fallen and hardened;
Like the liquid flesh of the blue orb; it fell closer to its deepest vulnerability.
Rivulets of hardened tears – thicker with the years – till at last on the surface – meeting where all its growth sprang from – they seemed to disappear.
Tawny browns and tans; until the more the gaze drew up to its reaching hands; the deeper the hues began to glow. Copper and burning ember but only against the vast blue of up!
Hinting at colors only the Circle of Fire can know with intimacy.
Oh, what a tree! Had it always seemed so unknown to me?
Indeed every shrub and bush in this form of death gave life a push!
Some unknown calling out from Winters press.
More beautiful naked than fully clothed somehow.
Crimsons, reds, oranges and browns fell deep into the pools of her eyes and became!
The hard surface of the earth seemed to suddenly hold itself down in a dying protection to the heart of all the life that springs from it.
Oh! The song of continual awaking that flowed beneath the surface of all things!
Only the Father-All could begin to know such notes and tones! He must mean it!
The grass with its greenful attempts at a take-over to be released from its blond death.
Yet patient – so patient to allow the blond sleepiness to let go.
Letting go of its snowy rest – slowly the greensward of breath crept up in an inhostile take over. It seemed to beg for something to crush it – wind, rain, and feet!
All sorts of created feet! As if to say,
“You can not bend me too far – or cause a crushing blow! Never too much can one thing weigh me down nor waters overflow! For if I wash away or die where I lay; I will find another place to stay. There’s nothing wasted in the heart of the Father-All and what He means – He means to stay. ”
All these thoughts began to make themselves an introduction to Sakira’s mind. But more than into the mechanisms of her intellect they bled into her heart. Apart from any conscious intent on her part, she began to be introduced to the Father-All. All that the Darkcloud had seemed to do in attempt to smoother found itself a hopeless failure. For something that was wants to live without Purpose will only hold on until Life finds its way in through death!
Suddenly that dreaded idea of “ending” too began to take on color and death has a hue all is own and beauty itself is but it’s sister.
It was not the morbid flippancy that Sakira had seen in others towards death – with its strange fascinations towards darkness. Instead Light overtook its scarey features and swallowed it up in one colorific swoop.
As all this awareness began to engrave itself on her heart…a butterfly, florescent blue took flight from her feet, from whence her first awareness at the beginning of this dream began. It hovered at her face for a brief moment of greeting before it alighted on an unseen breeze and rose up to its disappearance. Taking with it her last unconscious breath… and she awoke.
“A good story will have such an open-ended sense to it; that the readers own imagination can “pick up” where it “leaves off” and keep reading without the help of the first writers assistance. ” – LRV
Part 14 coming soon 🙂
For those just joining this adventure; click the link below, scroll to the bottom of the pages until you get to part 1 and enjoy!
Grace and peace in Yeshua the Messiah
New Story continued…
Meanwhile over the River Fraken-Flo and into the plains of Grace-Field; rainbows rode on a breeze. The tops of long grasses among the marshes bent and blew in the prismatic breath of it. Scores of unending plains now became a motley of colors. Motion set off the hueific turns of bush and stalk; rock and dirt; leaf and stem. Trees sparsely jutted about in tribes, giving shade to Grace-Field’s creatures. As far as the eye could see; to the Great-Waters, this land had held little invitation; but was not without its secret treasures. For here, the butterflies remained, though in scarce numbers. The breeze brought with it a renewal of their essence and cocoons began to cling to every stalk and stem. The din of chimes and clinking glass orchestrated Grace-Field’s symphony. Like a great psychedelic organism – Grace-Field answered the boy-lad King’s voice and sang his song – like a lost love returned.
For the butterfly was a prayers bird.
Spoken as a transformed living word. Reflecting the Father-all’s heart of Intention; as all things that begin at crawling and finally upon His breath take flight in beauty. Grace-Field became a flotsam of reflections of the pith of Life answering His will. The age of Intention had been cocooned here; long thought dead – but death in itself is Life…intended. Whispered in groans, upon the skeletal remains that harkens the Father-all to breathe the breath that calls forth Life back into old bones. Often called by the name of suffering – but answering at full attention to the name of Joy.
The ebb and flow of the King-lad’s melody rose up in harmony with fragile wings full of power. To the eye of an Imagemen the appearance though beautiful, could easily be written off as inconsequential. Yet, in the eye of an Imagemen the appearance of things often blinded. The intonations of the boy-lad’s song; sang a tune that required more than ears to hear or eyes to confirm with the sight born of a field of cocoon-born creatures. Once confined to crawling and slated to die; encased in a bosom of a death that vibrated in thrums of freedom called Life. Hence as they emerged they have no recollection of ever having crawled in the first place – they did not lament what was. They rose up and flew as if they never knew their once ground-bound limitations.
Aside from the beauty of color and resonance that rode on the winds and wings of proclamation; far more was awakening in all of Irlivadad from Frakenland to beyond the Great-Waters. The very orb of its existence spun in the Father-all’s hand; everything cast its gaze on the King-lad…watching…waiting.. in a flotsam of lambent winged glory.
Part 9, next week 🙂
For those just joining…click the link below, scroll down to the bottom, click ‘next page’ and begin at Part 1…enjoy!
Grace and peace in Yeshua the Messiah ❤