The Flight…

I sit and watch the Bluebird                                                                                                                 All day long it flys to and from its home                                                                                           The one in the wooden box mounted on the fence.                                                                       Back and forth                                                                                                                                         in the same pattern –

Across the yard, over the bushes                                                                                                         and lands softly swaying on the upper tree branch.                                                                       Overlooking the field –

From there it can see below                                                                                                                 Although I don’t know how –                                                                                                               The tiny insect.

Then swooping back over the bushes it comes                                                                                and lands on the trellis just short –                                                                                                As if a lookout point.

And then, back to the young,                                                                                                               peering in – the angelic cheering begins,                                                                                         Like a thousand tiny angels voices                                                                                                     The sound of life… new life

And the delivered morsel is given –                                                                                                   Waiting and watching,  it’s starts all over again.

To the same pattern…. all day long.

Now, this is love….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Written in July…

I found this writing  last week after going through the notes on my phone. I wrote it back in July of 2015. Amazingly it describes a situation in our life this past week.God knows all and prepares the way before you.

Hope.JPG I hope you enjoy this and maybe it will resonate with you. xo

(Photo by me….Wall in Asheville)

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Life is ever ending beauty… if we just allow ourselves to see it.

However painful, however devastatingly beautiful or crushing…do you allow yourself to feel it?

We walk the steps of this life in search of what we think is true…Floundering like the fish, yet they know what they are doing…unlike us.

I am coming home again. My heart is coming home… His completely divine presence is too sweet for words  – so I am not able to form with letters….Only to speak from my heart in the form of limitless love and heartache –

To touch…

To look at you in the eyes –

To put my hand on your shoulder as you hurt – 

To sit in silence and completely not know what to say except I love you. 

From Mud to Lotus…

nature 039

It is becoming more “clear” to me of what my eyes truly see….

While laying in bed last night, not being able to see because of an optical migraine, I chose instead of worry, to talk to God.

He showed me that my biggest downfall was indeed my eyesight. For the things I choose to look at are the very things that compare me with others, a sense of not being good enough. Not the right clothes, the right …everything. Even peoples facial reactions…

Sometimes I do art. Mainly portraits. People always say that the “eyes” in my pictures are very expressive. Now I know why…

Although my eyes do look for beauty, that seems to be the only thing I can see. Although that can be taken as a good thing, it is also a weakness, because for most of my life, I’ve expected the same out of myself. Perfection.

I’ve been afraid to look at the whole me. Seemingly imperfections and all…which are now being revealed to me as beautiful too.

Who of us are not completely human. Weaknesses, strengths. It’s what makes us need each other. It’s what gives us a heart. A true loving heart.

Here is a poem I shared with some ladies yesterday.
Called…”See Paris First”….I hope you enjoy.

Much love,
Becky

http://www.belindahollyer.com/blog/?p=485

Remembering Her

Remembering Her

You will see remnants

I promise…

Little things

Scattered here and there.

Tiny treasures from long ago.

Tiny dolls who’s mouths do

Not move

But still speak

Life, yet still

Living on…

Yet not in person

Her love I miss

Her touch

Her hair still seems so soft

In my mind

What a treasure

Yet the tiny treasures are only symbols

Of the legacy of the life

She lived.

Love, her main gift.

Just love

I’ve never missed someone for so long

As her

Yet there are others to come

That my heart will ache for

Or maybe for me, they will