Here is a poem that spoke to my heart when I was younger.  Today, less often, maybe more often than I realize.


by Robert Mezey

It is deep summer. Far out
at sea, the young squalls darken
and roll, plunging northward,
threatening everything. I see
the Atlantic moving in slow
contemplative fury
against the rocks, the beaten
headlands, and the towns sunk deep
in a blind northern light. Here,
far inland, in the mountains
of Mexico, it is raining
hard, battering the soft mouths
of flowers. I am sullen, dumb,
ungovernable. I taste myself
and I taste those winds, uprisings
of salt and ice, of great trees
brought down, of houses and cries
lost in the storm; and what breaks
on that black shore breaks in me.


I Believe

Jesus Loves me.

Jesus saved me from drowning in sin.

Jesus Lives.

God Loves me.

God created the heavens and the earth and me.

God gave us the Bible.

Jesus finds each of us where we are.

I cannot see God, but I can know God through his wondrous creations and through Jesus.

God knows what lies within my heart; I cannot deceive him with words or quiet prayer.

God gave me Martha.  She and I are soulmates, meant to Live and build a family together.

God has blessed our family.

I have not earned God’s blessing; we have all received through grace.

God gave me Today.

Not a Psalm 1

How do I praise you father?
How do I speak my gratitude?
I cannot return your grace.

You whisper to me in the quiet hours each morning,
before the first diamond of light sparkles on distant peaks.

You walk with me through the forest,
where tears of rain touch the fingertips of tall trees.

You give me strength to climb the mountain,
where I gaze far and marvel at the miracle of your creation.

You stand beside me by the ocean
where I feel your power in waves that crash against the reef;
I feel your love,
as those towering waves become soft blankets covering my toes.

Father, you sit beside me in the late of day.
As I watch the sun bleed her life across the sky,
I recall the blood you shed for me,
and your promise of a new day.

How do I praise you father? How do I speak my gratitude?
All that I have, all that I am or ever will be, all that is good is from you, Lord.
I cannot return your grace.