You Were There

I have been reviewing life, the past few years of my life, and tracing God's faithfulness to me at every step of the way. Truly, all that I am, all that I have, all that I hope to be I owe to His faithfulness to me in the past, and in the face of uncertain days, I rest my heart on the promise of His faithfulness in the future.

In my reviewing of these past years, I came across a poem I wrote during one of the most painful times of my life. It isn't good poetry, but it was written after a moment when I caught a glimpse of His goodness in a very special way, and the realization of His faithfulness, the realization that He is always with me, meant much to my heart right then.

It's taking time to go back and view our ebenezers, to count our blessings and to see His faithfulness that gives us strength and courage. I want to share some of these ebenezers, share some of God's faithfulness with you, so that you, too, might take courage.

In the darkness of the night
I saw your hand.
In the midst of the storm
I heard your voice.
When I thought I was all alone,
You were there.

You knew the answers
To the questions in my heart.
You understood it all
When I had no words to explain.

In face of my pain
I saw your hand
In the middle of my sorrow
I heard your voice

I can trust you with my heart,
You understand every part
When I thought I was alone
You were there.

- by Chantel Harding

Virtuous Maid

Addressed to a Young Lady

Sweet stream that winds through yonder glade,
Apt emblem of a virtuous maid -
Silent and chaste she steals along,
Far from the world's gay busy throng;
With gentle, yet prevailing force
Intent upon her destined course;
Graceful and useful all she does,
Blessing and bless'd where'ere she goes,
Pure-bosom'd as that wat'ry glass,
And Heav'n reflected in her face.

- Cowper
Painting by John William Waterhouse

The Other Answer

Sometimes
in the very middle of the howling winds of my wants
I remember
how short a distance I can see
and Who knows what truly brings me joy.
And so I ask
the One who sees
to choose my inheritance for me.

And then
my Abba
says "No."

I am cut
and bleed
and weep
and die
(silently)
(inside)
and discover, with some surprise,
that heartache
is literal.

Suddenly, I remember
that I asked Him
to say that "No"
if it would bring me joy --
and I begin shading my eyes
to see it coming.

- by Elisabeth Adams

On Tenterhooks

Hope

is such an inconvenient
and painful and
inconclusive thing
that I can't help wishing I didn't have it.
But He says,
"I am the God
of all flesh.
Is anything
too difficult for Me?"
Well, no!
So, Lord --
in whose hand
are our hearts
like water-courses --
have Your sovereign,
impossible,
impeccable,
wholly loving,
possibly painful,
always glorious will
DONE!

- by Elisabeth Adams

From a grandfather and a great-grandmother

I received the following letter and poem from my grandfather recently. The poem is by his mother, my great-grandmother, and excerpted from a book-length collection of work which I helped him prepare for publication. This seemed timely to share, as I am sure to not be the only one in need of such encouragement and comfort.

Life right now...is very...strange. Strange by definition of being unusual and foreign to anything I have dealt with or known how to deal with in the past. Part of it is the result of being in the military, and our country being at war; part of it is the result of living in a fallen world where there is so much evil. And sometimes one cannot write about the valley's path when still in the middle of a seemingly-never-ending piece of it. You just...can't. At such times contentment and peace are found in the simplest of things: the completion of another day, one decision well-made, one fiery dart extinguished.

I am moving. The house is packed, the bookshelves are bare...only problem is, at the last minute plans changed and now I do not know where I will be living. I leave you with this letter and poem. Hopefully I can write you from a new home soon. We'll both be surprised to find out where that might be, though!

Natalie,

So many times when there is a problem in my life, I glance through my mother's poems. I seem to always find a poem that brings me peace and comfort. I am getting close to publishing these poems and I am so grateful for your wonderful work....

My Mother was a prayer warrior. She did not have to know all the details just know someone needed prayer and she went on her knees. Throughout her life she was the first person I called when I needed prayer. There is another prayer warrior in this family and I depend on her greatly. This person is your Mother [his daughter]. God will work out problems in our lives. I hope your Great Grandmother's poem is a comfort and encouragement to you today.

Committed to Him

Into His hands I commit my soul’s yearnings
Into His Omnipotent hands….
Longings and dreams that He’ll direct for me,
Placed in His Omnipotent hands.
Into His hands, Omnipotent hands,
All I’ve committed is safe in His hands,

Into His hands I commit sins and failure…
Into His merciful hands:
Trusting the blood of Jesus my Savior:
Cleansed by His merciful hands.
Into His hands, His merciful hands
All I’ve committed is safe in his hands.

Into His hands I commit every heartache…
Into His loving hands:
Bitterness, hurt, and anguishes of spirit --
Healed by His comforting hands.
Into His hands, His comforting hands.
All I’ve committed is healed by His hands.

(c) 2008 Willie Mae Hutchins

Thirsty

I was thirsty, so thirsty,
A desert all within.
Dry and barren ground-
My soul was deep in sin.

Nothing could I find,
To soothe my weary soul;
Nothing to quench my thirst
Nothing to make me whole.

Water, Living Water,
Spring up into my soul-
Change me completely,
Living Water, Make me whole.

I was broken, so broken,
Bound in chains to death and sin.
Lost and blind and broken-
No hope was found with in.

Nothing could I find,
To satisfy my soul.
Nothing could quench my thirst,
Nothing could make me whole.

Water, Living water,
Oh, spring up into my soul!
Change me completely,
Living water, make me whole.

Then I found the Living Fountain,
And His peace sprung up in my soul.
He filled my life, and changed me
His blood cleansed and made me whole.

His is all I need,
To satisfy my soul-
He alone can quench my thirst,
He alone can make me whole.

Water, Living water,
To soothe my weary soul-
Changing me completely,
His living water makes me whole.

My brokenness, He bound up,
From chains He set me free.
He came and found me,
Opened my eyes so I could see.

He is all I need;
He satisfies my soul-
He alone can quench my thirst,
He alone can make me whole.

Water, Living Water,
Springing up into my soul.
Changing me completely,
His Living Water makes me whole.

A spring of life He came to offer,
Water to heal all thirsty souls.
Freely His grace to you He offers,
His blood can cleanse and make you whole.

He is all you need,
To satisfy your soul-
He will quench your thirst,
He alone can make you whole.

Water, Living Water,
Will spring up into your soul.
Changing you completely,
This living water makes you whole.

Come to Him and drink this Water.
Let Him spring up into your soul,
Cleansing you from sin and sorrow.
Rejoice! For He will make you whole.

He is all you need,
To satisfy your soul-
He will quench your thirst,
He will make you whole.

Water, Living Water,
Springing up into your soul.
Changing you completely,
His living water makes you whole.

- by Chantel Harding

Musings on the New Year

This piece was written by a dear friend of mine, "in the wee-smalls of December 31st, 2006", as she put it. I will always remember her reading it aloud at our 12th Night Revel (here, too) last January, the firelight playing over her face, and the faces of so many loved ones gathered around...

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord,

...Plans to give you a future, and a hope. - Jeremiah 29:11

It's Time to move;

Out of an old year,

into a new one.

It's time to pack --

It's time to square away our lives,

Pack up old baggage,

Move forward, or continue onward.

Time to clean the cobwebs

out of the attics & closets of out souls:

to bury the dead, the hatchet -

hate, old hurts,

old sins, dead sins,

dead works, dead self.

Time to make a bonfire for the old year --

To pile on the wood, hay, & stubble from out lives,

To relegate to the ash heap the chaff,

The broken shards,

the unworthy priorities --

the business of life that stirs us like leaves in the wind.

Time to prepare to give away our lives, our souls, our selves.

Time to pick up what's good, cherish it,

pack it carefully into memory:

Days with friends and family,

Blessings,

triumphs,

Halcyon days,

Those days when God inexplicably reached down

into our lives and souls,

New Faith, tested faith, joy,

Character-changing trials,

Hope, dreams,

And Love.

Time to plan a prominent place in the New Year

For more of the same:

More time with family and friends,

More love for others,

More opportunities,

More worthy pursuits.

More Faith, more Hope, more Love.

More joy, more peace

-- more peace in waiting.

More kindness, & rejoicing with others,

More humility, grace, & selflessness,

Patience & forgiveness,

More truth, more strength,

More sensitive hearts,

Endurance for the race.

More ways to serve,

More awareness of His Spirit.

More room for God in our relationship with Him,

More of Him in our relationship with others,

More of our dreams in our own life -

for that too is His.

Time for a New Year --

not filled with resolutions,

but full of less -- and more --

and Life.

J. Arrendale, Dec 31, 2006

Waiting for Treasure

My arms are empty

My fingers cold

My heart waiting

To a hold a treasure untold

No warm soft being

Nurses at my breast

Tiny fingers don’t curl

In trust around mine

I am alone

Waiting

Hoping

For the day a baby that I hold

Will be my own

Born of love

Pain, tears and hope

A child formed by God’s warm loving hand

Trusted to me, my husband

To love and to hold

Until we must let go

Someday my arms

Won’t be empty

They will hold sleeping

Squirming & squealing ones of all sizes

Someday my fingers won’t be cold.

They’ll be warmed by a big manly hand I’ll hold dear

And tiny fingers will cling to us both

Someday my dream will come true

Of a man who loves God so much and me too.

Of children He’ll give and I’ll be thrilled

For now my heart is solely warmed

By my Father above

And the darling babies and their mommies

That give me a glimpse,

A taste of the painful bliss

A family truly is.

- by Anna Thelen, May 28, 2006

I wrote this after my friend Tracie had her fourth child, a baby boy, Ryan. I am very blessed to have five younger siblings, and so enjoyed each of their babyhoods (at least the ones I can remember!) Ryan has been a special blessing in my life as well.

Think not...

Think not...

That thou hast found true peace,

if thou feel no burden;

nor that all is well,

if thou have no adversary;

nor that thou hast attained to perfection,

if all things be done according to thine inclination. [...]

If thou come to be

So valliant and long-suffering in hope,

that when all interior comfort is withdrawn,

thou canst prepare thy heart to suffer still more;

and dost not justify thyself,

as if thou oughtest not to suffer such and so great thing,

but acknowledgest Me to be just in all My appointments,

and praisest My holy name;

then thou walkest in the true and tight way of peace,

and mayest entertain an undoubting hope

to see My face again with great joy.

---St. Thomas a'Kempis

("The Following of Christ", book 3 chapter 25)

- submitted by Ruth Weichmann
photo submitted by Anna

The Pathway I Seek

I know not the path I must travel,
I see not a way for my feet.
Ahead I only see shadows
Obscured is the pathway I seek.

I do not know all life's answers,
And where I travel seems rocky and steep
Still I am striving to follow,
And find the pathway I seek.

I do not know why there are shadows,
Yet of one thing I can be sure,
Jesus has travel'd there before me
And He knows the path is secure.

I do not know where He will lead me,
Only that with Him I will always be safe.
He has promised never to leave me,
And His promise He'll never forsake.

Each day I learn more to trust Him,
More fully in all that befalls.
His will for me becomes my will,
And I will follow were ever He calls.

In every trial and testing,
That shows me that I am so weak,
He gives me more grace to follow
For in Him is the pathway I seek.

- Chantel Harding

Response to "Under the Mystery"

Tabitha posted this comment and poem after reading Ruth's article last week. It was definitely worth publishing here so that all our readers can see it. - Natalie

I had written this poem in a desire to encourage a family who had gone through a miscarriage last summer. I spoke from our own family's experience of losing babies to miscarriage. I know that our experience is not the same - you knew your baby longer than we did, but I hoped that this would be an encouragement to you, just the same - mostly because of what we have to look forward to in eternity.

Little one, you slipped away
Before you ere were known.
By the ones who loved you so
And in whose hearts you'd grown.

We missed those tiny baby hands
And little baby feet.
The softly wrinkled little brow,
And tender mouth so sweet.

We missed first words & toddling steps
The baby clothes and toys,
And all the extra tiny things
And precious little joys.

The excitement we once knew
Is replaced with tears of sorrow.
But we grieve not without the Hope
Of a joyous, new tomorrow.

For now, our hearts anticipate
The day that we will meet.
Not here on earth, but very soon
At our dear Savior's feet.

You're safe at Home, dear little one
Tenderly carried all the way,
By God, whose perfect plan for you
Is now fulfilled in life's short day.

How sweet to know you're not alone
But rather fully blest.
Your eyes behold our Savior's throne
And in His arms you rest.

You're in our hearts & loving thoughts
Dear child that we never knew.
And by God's grace, when life is done,
We'll share the joys of Heaven with you.

In loving memory of the little ones Home safe with Jesus, still in our hearts.

- Tabitha Beals

Give Me Grace

Give me the grace to care
Without neglecting my needs,
The humility to assist
Without rescuing,
The kindness to be clear
Without being cold,
The mercy to be angry
Without rejecting,
The prudence to disclose
Without disrespecting my privacy,
The humor to admit human failings
Without experiencing shame,
The compassion to give freely
Without giving my self away.

- Author Unknown

The Soldier's Wife

There, two stand in the door,
And embrace for one last time.
War has called one far away to fight,
And the other to fight at Home.

One will fight on a Sandy Plain,
Far across the Sea,
She will fight on the home front,
Facing battles as great as He.

For the Soldier's wife is a Soldier too,
With battles daily to meet.
For staying at Home is almost as hard
As fighting across the sea.

She is home, but she is not
Though busy her day will be,
A part of her heart is with her man,
In the sandy place across the sea.

She fights for courage to hope,
And for strength to keep going on
When she seems all alone-
And time seems so very long.

Battles to smile, battles to laugh
When tears began to run,
For the memories made in years past,
Before the war had begun.

She has more to face than most,
For the future is unknown.
And praying, longing, she waits
For her man to come home.

- by Chantel Harding
- photo of Staff Sergeant John Baker with his wife Ashleigh

Every Moment

Each moment I have is Thine, O Lord.
Please mold them as Thou wilt.
Let each one be filled with Thee,
And in Thy mighty hand be stored.
Let them not be wasted, O Lord
On things that hold no good.
Lord, let them only be for Thee
Teach me to do what Thou would'st.
Let my heart be joined to Thine,
Make it wholly yours,
Change my life to be like Thine,
Let me never stay the same.
Take my life and mold it
Each moment of every day
Until only You are seen,
In all I do and say.

- by Chantel Harding

Safe With You

Lord, here I am before You now
I've something to say to You
I have brought a few things with me
And there's something I must do.

I've brought along my hopes and dreams
I finally see the need
To surrender them into Your Hands
In order to be freed.

For when I hold them oh-so-tight
And close my fists around
I cannot lift my hands in prayer
No praise with them is found.

And when my eyes are held so still
On what I want someday
They fail to focus on the blessings
You showered down today.

So here I am with empty hands
And eyes focused on what's true
Please take my longings, hopes, and dreams
I know they're safe with You.

- by Laura Moninger

My True Love Hath My Heart

My true love hath my heart, and I have his,

By just exchange, one for the other given.

I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,

There never was a better bargain driven.

His heart in me keeps me and him in one,

My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides;

He loves my heart, for once it was his own,

I cherish his, because in me it bides.

His heart his wound received from my sight,

My heart was wounded with his wounded heart;

For as from me on him his hurt did light,

So still methought in me his hurt did smart.

Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss;

My true love hath my heart and I have his.

Sir Philip Sydney

True Love - Part One: Fear

I fear the sun will not come up
while it rises in the east;
fire carries across the sky -
but it does none of my fears release

When it meets the crest of dusk
stealing daylight from my dawn,
when it ceases to be just us,
I welcome night with a yawn.

My fears will not assuage the day;
tear me while in the night I weep.
"The sun has forgotten soul-filled men."
I groan and then repeat.

I fear my blood will soon run cold,
and I'll rest under earth
while the dancing of mankind will continue
and all forget my birth.

I fear the contentment of those in love.
I fear the pain they dread.
I agonize that I'm not seen
where the greatest pleasure lives.

I'd question the shining of the sun.
I'd question the going of the sea.
You could tell me all my life
all will be: I would hardly believe.

I still fear to open hearts
and learn love once anew.
The ones that can be bored with me
I keep, and I have to...

I fear I'm seen for what I'm not.
I fear that they will think
that I don't struggle much at all,
when and I do and I ought.

I fear most love; this grinds
against my very grains.
I fear the dawning of the sun
across the rising day.

I don't believe the sun will shine
even if it crawls across the skies.
I'm a man who disbelieves the things
I've experienced all my life.

- Author Unknown

As St. Valentine's Day approaches, along with spring's new life and hope-giving warmth it seemed timely to begin sharing a series of posts from various members of the YLCF Team on True Love, courtship, singleness....all those topics girls think on and dream of...and battle through.

To begin, this poem aptly captures the often choking fear, cynicism, broken dreams, and desire for hope that many young women experience during their single years. All of us have things we are afraid of--the question becomes, "What will we let rule us?" Will the fears win or love?

I fear the contentment of those in love. When I first read this poem, I could identify completely with this stanza. Love and pain are inseparable and I honestly was not sure if I wanted to have anything to do with either of them. Yet you long for it...yet you fear it...and love becomes the most amazing thing in the world.

1 Corinthians 13 speaks of True Love. God's definition is not seen much in our culture. And even though romantic love is only one facet of Love, I've discovered that our attitude toward it often reflects our approach to all love. If we fear the pain of a heart entangled, it is not just caring for a young man that we avoid. That tendency will carry into all our other relationships.

Love is not an option. Let us not fear any love--most especially "that most holy between man and wife"...that which opens the way to great pain and yet great blessing. Isn't that true of every deep, honest relationship?

...to be continued

A Christian Wife

“Far, far beyond all computation is the good which a pious, consistent, Christian wife can accomplish in the heart of a husband who truly loves her.”

-St. Elmo, by Augusta J. Evans


A Wife
His house she enters, there to be a light
Shining within when all without is night;
A guardian angel o’er his life presiding,
Doubling his pleasures and his cares dividing;
Winning him back, when mingling in the throng
From a vain world we love, alas! too long,
To fireside happiness and hours of ease,
Blest with that charm, the certainty to please.
How oft her eyes read his! her gentle mind
To all his wishes, all his thoughts inclined;
Still subject—ever on the watch to borrow
Mirth of his mirth, and sorrow of his sorrow.

-Rogers, quoted in St. Elmo, by Augusta J. Evans

A poem for a new year

New Year 1945

With every power for good to stay and guide me,
comforted and inspired beyond all fear,
I'll live these days with you in thought beside me,
and pass, with you, into the coming year.

The old year still torments our hearts, unhastening:
the long days of our sorrow still endure.
Father, grant to the soul Thou hast been chastening
that Thou hast promised the healing and the cure.

Should it be ours to drain the cup of grieving
even to the dregs of pain, at Thy command,
we will not falter, thankfully receiving
all that is given by Thy loving hand.

But, should it be Thy will once more to release us
to life's enjoyment and its good sunshine,
that we've learned from sorrow shall increase us
and all our life be dedicate as Thine.

Today, let candles shed their radiant greeting:
lo, on our darkness are they not Thy light,
leading us haply to our longed-for meeting?
Thou canst illumine e'en our darkest night.

When now the silence deepens for our harkening,
grant we may hear Thy children's voices raise
from all the unseen world around us darkening
their universal paean, in Thy praise.

While all the powers of good aid and attend us,
boldly we'll face the future, be it what may.
At even, and at morn, God will befriend us,
and oh, most surely on each new year's day

- written in the Gestapo prison, Berlin, by Rev. Dietrich Bonhoeffer

A Happy New Year!

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more,
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

~Alfred, Lord Tennyson