Pero tú, oh YHWH, eres escudo alrededor de mí; eres mi gloria y el que levanta mi cabeza. sa

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Hannah's Dream

This video contains the session we captured with Hannah a few days ago. Hannah loves, did I say Hannah LOVES Keith Urban? This session is one I will remember until the end of my days. What a special angel Hannah is. Thank you to Hannah's parents Mike and Gail for bringing her to her session and helping so much. A huge thank you to Hannah Serritt for bringing her horse, Lucy and items to decorate the set. Also, thank you to Martin Real Estate for the use of their lot and Lavender Mountain Hardware for the hay bales to complete her set. This was a very special session that took a lot of things coming together to create HANNAH'S DREAM!

Thanksgiving Of The Soul

In the dark stands a row of bicycles chained to iron railing. Water drops from the rain pelting down, run rivets across the frames and onto the ground.  Men, women and children, file into the chapel to hear a Thanksgiving message. Here, the décor is clean, pleasant and simple. Inviting.  In this chapel, you hope enough folks file in so that you won’t even have a seat.  

Here, in this chapel, you won’t sit down next to someone and wonder "What is the brand of that tantalizing cologne?" Here, your nostrils will come alive to the scent of humanity.  Folks are vocal and voices of “Amen!” can be heard. The rafters ring with “I’ll Fly Away” and the solemnity of “Amazing Grace My Chains are Gone” drifts into the city streets. In this chapel, a soul finds rest and receives a message of hope, simply stated, and presented with such clarity it will stop you in your tracks. Here, in this chapel, I feel sure my Father walks the isles with a kind smile, knowing, someone has gathered His sheep.
At night’s end, folks shuffle out, into the rain and return whence they came. Some leave on foot, and some leave on bike. The rain continues to pelt. The cold and the wet you can feel to the bone. But, there’s warmth here, that outdoes the cold. They don't leave the same. They came hungry and they came cold. Here, nourishment is offered for body and for soul.

He said to him the third time, “Shim‛on, son of Yonah, do you love Me?” Kĕpha was sad because He said to him the third time, “Do you love Me?” And he said to Him, “Master, You know all, You know that I love You.” יהושע said to him, “Feed My sheep.-John 21:17

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

"Frederick is My Name"

Three men.  The common thread shared among them is blatantly obvious.  Ten feet and the distance is closing. It's too easy to just nod and walk on, averting our eyes from the heartbreak of humanity. That man with the plastic bag of groceries? That's all he's got. Sometimes, just talking to people, people who have a story to tell will leave you feeling like your very soul has been ripped open. People are lost. People are searching. People are hurting.

Nineteen years old. Daddy- already dead. Nineteen years old. Mama-dead, gone.  A young man stands alone, too old for the system, yet too young to have a foot hold in life. Too young and no one to show him how to rise above the hand of cards life has dealt him; the circumstances born in. The cycle begins:  Alcohol, drugs, homelessness. LOST. The next thirty four years will bring little change. He extends his hand, a hand worn by age and hard, hard living. Rough, rough skin. A face withered from living life in the outdoors breaks into a toothless grin. The stench of alcohol escapes with his greeting of “Hello ma’am”. I raise my eyes to his. I try to peer beyond his sunglasses. I know why he wears them.  My soul literally feels broken into a million pieces as this “Black Sheep” as he calls himself, shares bits and pieces of his story. “Frederick” he says. Not Freddy, that’s the other guy…not Fred…”Frederick”.  That’s the name he makes sure I know. The name he wants brought before my Father.  The name he repeatedly says “Always, remember Frederick in your prayers ma’am.” This man, who seems so much older than his fifty three years, wants to make sure “Frederick” will be lifted up, not forgotten.

 “Frederick”, sir, [Black Sheep]  sir, my Father, MY FATHER searches out the lost sheep, that ONE sheep who isn’t safe in the fold. Are you a believer Frederick? Do you know the Father?”  He says he does. He folds his hands to represent prayer , looks up and points up with his hands still folded and talks about “God”.  He knows who his Creator is. Still, Frederick wants to be on someone’s prayer list.  “Every day pray for Frederick. Say my name.” The prayer list grows, to include Frederick, Freddy and the third man too.

I fought tears walking back to my car. I don’t fight them while remembering this man and his friends.  I let them fall. They solidify that the hurt of humanity is raw. I hope it doesn' heal. I don’t want to forget…

 Luke 15:1-7 Then drew near unto him all the publicans and sinners for to hear him.And the Pharisees and scribes murmured, saying, This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them. And he spake this parable unto them, saying, What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost.