quiet. hush.
another warrior..
soldier of the Cross..
has just stepped over
into Heaven.

another nail of victory
has been pounded into the
rough-hewn Cross of our
Redeemer.
faithful to the end.
endured the shame.
walked the walk. unwavering.

monica went to bed, and
awakened in Heaven.
no more weight struggles.
no more program.
no more diets.
no more brokenness
and concern
over her children.
no more fears over her
money situation. free and
delivered and victorious and
stamped with the Blood of
Christ. in Heaven forever and ever
and ever and ever. completely
whole.

hush. quiet.
do you hear the angels'
choir? the roar of melody
across the Heavens for another
child who has defeated death and
darkness?

i'll miss you, monica.
i've always loved you.
welcome Home, faithful
servant.

fellow soldiers.
march. stamp your
boots to the sound of
our glorious Savior Who
will someday bring us Home,
too. stand tall. grab my
hand. know my love for you.
i am weak and broken and
utterly imperfect, too.

"Savior, like a Shepherd lead
us..." sing with me. hear
the breath of God as He hovers
over us. "much we need Thy
tender care"...yes, Jesus, yes.
we need You. yearn for You.
our boots are muddied. our souls
tarnished with self and indecision
and fear.

"precious Jesus, precious Jesus...
Thou has bought us, Thine we are.."
yes. Lord.
THINE! all Thine.
amen. amen.

hush, quiet.
listen to the soothing
music of the angels' choir
as they shepherd us for
Heaven. like they did for
monica.

rest. warriors. rest.
listen. hear the crushing music.
feel the earth shift as broken sons and
daughters, empty and now, triumphant, rise
from the ashes of deep affliction and
searing pain. see the victorious and
cleansed as they rise out of the
ashes.

listen. quiet.
a new song. radiating from
hallowed corners of a reckless, and
calloused world. choirs. with raised
hands to the Savior of the universe. the
only One who understands the correct chords
and rhythmic chanting of the lost and
struggling and redeemed.

stand.
shout.
paint across the sunrise your
deliverance from the cold wilderness
and deep waters from which you've come.
trace the arc of a rainbow. the promise of
beautiful, happy tomorrows.

sitting by my sister's bedside.
a hospital in berkeley, ca.
chemo and a stem-cell transplant
accomplished. courage oozing
out her fingertips. her eyes. running
down her cheeks. wet with triumph
in spite
of illness that has taken her to death's door.
suddenly, her white cells rising.
a miracle. dreams really can live.
thank you all for praying. for standing
by us. sharing in the victory.

i left jan's side
to fly to irvine, ca. to keynote the
international convention for exodus.
gays and ex-gays reaching for peace
of mind and spirit in a brutal environment
of judgement and condemnation. trying
to do God's will. to understand truth.

for me, attempting to share
pure, untarnished love that promises
healing for any and everyone's
woundedness; kissing the deep scars of
shattering isolation. embracing their pain
as they did mine.

i am not gay.
i only know that the complexities
in them match, on a different level, those
in me. i know what the Bible says. and
i filter that through the loving heart of God
who calls all of us to rest. to lying by still
waters. Jesus remembers we are made of
dust. He understands our frame.
(ps. 103:14)

home at last.
regrouping with my children.
heading for the gym, and a fast,
racing six miles. my eyes filling
with tears as the gal behind the check-in
desk crawled over the counter
close enough to hug and kiss me,
and i, her. two single mothers
collide with love and commonality.

i love you, fellow warriors.
run the Race.
breathe even
with the consolation
that you will never
be alone.

it was thursday.

my oldest son, home

from college for the summer.

we headed for the gym.

all my children and i love

the deliverance that a good

workout brings. taylor to the

weight room. i, to the cardio

area.

it was a day that put a fist

in my stomach. two miles,

and i headed toward the women's

locker area. 10p.m. barely making

it to the bathroom in time

to lose every piece of food in me.

hoping no one was there, too. listening

to my sickness.

stumbling to a sink.

cold water on my face.

when looking into the mirror,

i saw this beautiful, hispanic woman.

cleaning. a crease between her eyes.

you, okay?

her two english words.

i threw my arms around her neck.

buried my hot, wet face into her

shoulder. two women. miles and

miles apart; yet, at this exact moment,

we were bound by love. a force so powerful.

stretched across eternity by the God of

the universe.

pushing myself away from her.

what do i smell and look like?

her face warmed by kindness

and concern.

oh! love of God.

beautiful. amazing. enduring.

bound by pure, untarnished sacrifice.

the Cross. Redemption.

sing, Jesus, sing.

wipe away the darkness and

corruption. until our boundaries

are erased. and music resounds

to the breadth and magnitude of

God's passion.

i was done for the night.

sitting in the downstair's

area of the gym lobby.

beat. demolished. empty

of all pride. my feet no longer

resounding the torch of rhythm.

suddenly,

i see the same hispanic

woman. straightening chairs.

she looks up, and sees me.

her face breaks the universe

with love pulsing from her.

i return the smile. she,

motionless, and i.

miles and pain and

corruption all around us...

but cleansed.

two women.

apart. but bonded...with

powerful oneness. all because

of Jesus. His glory. His

Song.

"For I am convinced that neither

death nor life,

neither angels or demons,

neither the present nor the future,

nor any powers,

neither height nor depth,

nor anything else in all creation,

will be able to separate us

from the love of God

that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

~Romans 8:38-39

copyright Judy Silverstein 2009

used by permission

pain is a gift!

it hurts. it scrapes our

egos and hearts against rock-

hard boundaries. but...

it forces us to tilt our eyes away

from ourselves to others. and

ultimately, toward the face of

God.

pain kneads in us a softening

of our rigidity. our criticisms.

our wilful bent to define our own

journey. leaving God on the sidelines.

believing ourselves far more adept

than He at putting the pieces together.

i have never marched in

the band of suffering with joy and

acceptance. in time, i start kicking and

screaming. i go from shock to an immed-

iate sense of rebellion and fear. believing

that God needs my help to peel away

this claustrophobic tightening of what i

want vs. His will of defined hardship.

i always think of brock, my second born.

standing in the door of the laundry room

where i was folding clean clothes. he had

just returned from kindergarten.

mommy,

someone said something mean

to me today.

really?

my face looked sad.

that must have really hurt

your feelings.

it did.

i folded this five year old

little wonder into my arms.

brock, life is sometimes mean

and hard, but Jesus always, in time,

fixes everything.

i am just now really coming out of

years in the wilderness. and silence.

always writing and speaking publicly

that darkness comes, BUT Jesus never

leaves us there forever. that we will always

laugh again. the sun will diffuse the

darkness. yet, this wilderness felt like

forever.

stop the pain.

turn off the sun, moon. the stars.

close all the stores. tell the policemen

to go home. paint the windows black.

today,

again, i promise you that pain is

a gift. it purifies our souls. gives God

a chance to prove Himself: that love

ALWAYS wins. miracles ARE raised

out of ashes. we can really appreciate

the gifts He has saved for us only if we

have lived with pain.

take pain's hand.

make her your friend.

believe....always...that darkness

does NOT last forever.

today,

as i read your loving comments

on facebook and my website, i

have tears. your love warms my

spirit where wounds once lived.

Jesus is my Song.

the ONLY One who can paint

beauty and purpose in our lives

if we embrace the pain, and wait

for Him to create the sunrise.

dance with me.

take my hand. i love you.

remember that God's

love binds us together.

and our acceptance of

suffering ultimately brings

God's brand new, fresh

tomorrows.

"Dear friends, do not be surprised

at the painful trials you are suffering,

as though something strange is

happening to you.

But rejoice that you participate

in the sufferings of Christ,

so that you may be overjoyed

when His glory is revealed."

~ I Peter 4:12-13 (NIV)

Michelle Meiklejohn

freedigitalphotos.com

soldiers.

marching.

marching.

when our babies are

laid in our arms, there is

nothing like it. so tiny. cooing.

the smell of burped milk .

gifts of God's, to us. we

are MOTHERS!

paint our dresses yellow.

hang the flags on every post.

celebration begins!!

yet..her baby suddenly

gets more attention than ours.

or one gets the croup. nights of

walking the floor. exhaustion.

husbands and babies and the world

to impress and please and nurture.

our children go to kindergarten

and others hurt their feelings.

my oldest was in first grade.

a rainy day. i had my other three

in car seats in the back.

mommy, will you please walk me to class?

please?

and another quiet

please.

finally i took

his sweet, little hand and we

ducked the rain, and dashed into

school. i suddenly could see that

he had tears streaming down his cheeks.

i fell on the floor beside him.

i began to weep. i had not

imagined that this was such a painful

day for him. i wonder why, i thought.

and even as i type this,

my eyes are filled with tears.

every mother has some sad

memories. and somehow,

when it comes to our children,

those don't fit.

scratch them out.

wrap them in paper.

color them black, and

throw them into the river.

i wanted us to be HAPPY!

no troubles. no yelling. no spankings

by dad. warm cake at bedtime. adven-

tures. the bigger world where we all

stood on some higher level of peace

and wholeness than those around us

with all their problems.

however.

along. the. road.

every mother hits the wall

of hardship and pain and worry

and imperfection and concern.

babies become toddlers, and

toddlers grow and end up in

junior high school where hormones

start going crazy. all kinds of

things can begin happening. at eighteen,

they are supposedly adults, and making

their own choices. and NONE of us

EVER always make the right and per-

fect decisions.

my children are my rising sun and setting

sky; my moon and stars and quiet, evening

breeze. my four sons are my everything.

and i believe every mother reading this feels

the same about her children.

but they aren't perfect. don't always make

right choices just as we didn''t and don't.

motherhood has thrown me on my face.

across the carpet of my bedroom floor, and

taught me to PRAY. a mother weeping over

her children.

i love the line,

forgiveness is an act of worship.

mostly forgiving ourselves.

forgiving all the tense moments

when we could have handled our

children better. forgiving all our imper-

fections when we started out sure we

would be perfect. forgiving our children

when they step into some deep hole,

and we don't know how to pull them out.

louie giglio was talking about how inconceiveably

BIG our God is. how He spoke the universe into

being and breathed stars out of His mouth that

are huge, raging balls of fire. our God who knitted

our human bodies together with amazing detail

and wonder. we can trust the God who has the

power to hold us all together when things seem

to be falling apart.

held together,

one cell to another,

by the Cross.

mothers are soldiers.

marching. marching.

always striving to live with

forgiveness as our act of worship.

i throw my arms around you.

i especially dedicate this column

to all the single moms who have

marched on turf most others cannot

understand.

marching as to war!

the enemy cannot have

us or our chilldren.

I corinthians 13

"Love never fails...

and now these three remain:

faith, hope and love.

But the greatest of these is love."

~I Corinthians 13:8, 13

hans urs von balthasar:

"i say to you, blessed is he who

exposes himself to an existence never

brought under mastery.

who does not transcend, but rather

abandons himself to God's ever-transcending

grace. blessed are not the enlightened whose

every question has been answered and are de-

lighted with their own sublime insight.

blessed, rather, are the harassed who must

daily stand before enigmas and cannot

solve them. woe to the rich. although nothing

is impossible with God, it is difficult for the

Spirit to move their fat hearts.

the poor are willing and easy to direct.

they do not take their eyes off their

Master's hand to see if He may throw

them a morsel from His plate. so careful

do the poor follow His promptings.

God's grace is unpretentious, but

the poor are satisfied with little gifts."

i've been spending

much time among the poor

since will died. i love this

quote from someone i don't know:

we have walked together

in the shadow of a

rainbow.

it's been hard,

and i can tell you

only a few have stood by

my children and me.

BUT HOW BLESSED ARE THOSE FEW!!!

those who have helped us

have taught me things i never

could have learned any other way.

i kiss every check. and my children

have learned to love giving because

we know the thrill of receiving.

wave your flags.

paint the sky red.

dance in the street.

grab a hand and squeeze it.

smile in every face God 's beautifully

created.

Jesus makes a way.

did you hear me?

HE MAKES A WAY.

give, and you will receive.

God promises.

if you are afraid today.

cannot see any way through.

keep your eyes on the Master's hand.

and sing! yes, SING!''

music is bursting through every

fresh, new flower. listen. and

join the choir. and feel the warmth

of my hand in yours. you have written

love all over the walls of my life. oh,

how i love you all!

" Ask and it will be given to you;

seek and you will find;

knock and door will be opened to you.

For everyone who asks receives;

he who seeks finds;

and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.

Which of you, if his son asks for bread,

will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish

will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil,

know how to give good gifts to your children,

how much more will your Father in heaven

give good gifts to those who ask Him!

So in everything, do to others

what you would have them do to you,

for this sums up the Law and the Prophets."

~Matthew 7:7-12 (NIV)

"Come, all you who are thirsty,

come to the waters;

and you who have no money,

come, buy and eat!

Come, buy wine and milk

without money and without cost.

Why spend money on what is not bread,

and your labor on what does not satisfy?

Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,

and your would will delight in the richest of fare."

~Isaiah 55:1-2 (NIV)

i noticed the

mailman was by

the mail boxes.

are you almost done?

give me two minutes.

you have to be very smart

to be a civil servant. did you know

that?

i hate this job.

do you know that 40% of all

these homes are receiving

unemployment checks? 40!!

i wish i was on the other side

of the world, playing golf.

that's why i believe in Jesus.

i hang on to Him in these

dark times. He's my only

hope.

quietness.

no words in response

to what i said. just more

genuine grieving for the

suffering. tinged with rage.

here we are.

God's children.

suffering. striving. and

He is working to remind us

that without troubles, we would

forget the desperate need for Him.

His grace. His Presence.

a thread wrapped around our

hearts. pulling us toward

Himself. our dependance on Him.

strong arms long enough

and wide enough to hold

us all.

a ribbon of love

tied around our wrists.

drawing us in. the warmth

of God's broad shoulders and

steady beating of His heart that

stretches around the wide, blue

sky.

this next week,

my sister starts her "kamikaze"

chemo and stem cell procedure.

terrified. i, her partner. almost as

fearful as she.

my daughter-in-law

who miscarried her first

baby, and is put on bed rest

with this second one. weak

heart beat.

you?

your wounds?

terrors? battles?

march on, soldiers.

march on. shout the

victory call. join with

each other. a united

choir. bind the forces

of the enemy in Jesus'

Name. stare into the dark

abyss of chaos and despair.

fighting. fearless. daring.

i can hear the music.

the clap of thunderous joy.

higher ground.

rising.

out of the mist. the chill.

my hand in yours. yours in

mine. pass the cup of love.

victory reigns. stand steady.

alleluhia. allelluhia.

amen.

"Who shall separate us from

the love of Christ?

Shall trouble or hardship

or persecution or famine

or nakedness or danger or sword?

As it is written:

'For your sake we face death

all day long; we are considered

sheep to be slaughtered.'

No, in all these things

we are more than conquerors

through Him who loved us.

For I am convinced that

neither death nor life,

neither angels nor demons,

neither the present nor the future,

nor any powers,

neither height nor depth,

nor anything else in all creation,

will be able to separate us

from the love of God

that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

~ Romans 8:35-39