“And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good. And the evening and the morning were the sixth day.” Genesis 1:31
…
The sweet breath of spring
rises up to greet the
pure, first light of dawn.
…
The fields dance,
stirring silent butterflies,
rising to decorate the sky.
…
The seas surge and recede,
calling to the waking earth,
It’s a new day!
…
Resting there,
receive the gift,
of the innocence born of God,
of the intimacy known with God.
By Linda J. Humes
Written 1/5/98
Written 10-18-1998
I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys. Song of Solomon 2:1 KJV
You came up, out of the desert, as a pure white rose, born in a wilderness, breathtakingly fragrant. You stood for all that was true, in a land without water, in a world wroth with sin, forged in pain. People searched you out, grasping at your petals, a sweet scent to hold on to, until only the stem remained, circled about with thorns. When it seemed to all, that nothing was left, You bloomed again, as the Phoenix bird, rising from the ashes, lifted high above the crowd, on an unfinished wooden cross. In your final flower, the new petals fell, each bearing the name, of sin and pain, all that was removed, from our condemned lives. The petals falling, willingly given, to redeem the lost, every provision considered, every provision met. First fell shame, for not recognizing, who You were, then guilt, for the pain You endured. There was sickness, depression, fear, sins of the past, broken in travel, to the generations, of the future. On and on they fell, one by one, stripping away hopelessness, giving new life, in the sight of eternity. As the last petal fell, Your Father, our Father, gasped, shaking the earth with His pain, dimming the light from the sky. There You hung, looking no more, than a dry broken twig, soon to be buried, in the bowels of the earth. Yet, inside that twig, lay a seed, a new life, taking root in the earth, preparing to grow, preparing to bloom, as Aaron’s rod, a sign to the nations, of God’s perfect love, in the gift of, the Rose.
Written 11-14-98
Linda J. Humes 