God

Episode 39: Trusting My Instincts – A Pathway Through Grieving

by

In Episode 39 of my podcast, Journey from Grief to Healing, I share several small victories and how my first mentor gave me permission to trust my instincts. M tells me that my instincts are a gift from God and are one way that God use to communicate with me. She encourages me to listen to the voice of my instincts and trust them on my grieving journey.

You can listen to Episode 39 on your favorite podcasting app or click here for Episode 39

Don’t forget to hit the subscribe button to receive notifications of future episodes.

The House of Christmas, a Poem by G. K. Chesterton

by

The House of Christmas by G. K. Chesterton

There fared a mother driven forth
Out of an inn to roam;
In the place where she was homeless
All men are at home.
The crazy stable close at hand,
With shaking timber and shifting sand,
Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand
Than the square stones of Rome.

For men are homesick in their homes,
And strangers under the sun,
And they lay on their heads in a foreign land
Whenever the day is done.
Here we have battle and blazing eyes,
And chance and honour and high surprise,
But our homes are under miraculous skies
Where the yule tale was begun.

A Child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam;
Only where He was homeless
Are you and I at home;
We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
But our hearts we lost – how long ago!
In a place no chart nor ship can show
Under the sky’s dome.

This world is wild as an old wives’ tale,
And strange the plain things are,
The earth is enough and the air is enough
For our wonder and our war;
But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings
And our peace is put in impossible things
Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings
Round an incredible star.

To an open house in the evening
Home shall men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless
And all men are at home.

Today’s Poem: The Gentle Water Bird by John Shaw Neilson

by

The Gentle Water Bird

John Shaw Neilson

In the far days, when every day was long,
Fear was upon me and the fear was strong,
Ere I had learned the recompense of song.

In the dim days I trembled, for I knew
God was above me, always frowning through,
And God was terrible and thunder-blue.

Creeds the discoloured awed my opening mind,
Perils, perplexities – what could I find? –
All the old terror waiting on mankind.

Even the gentle flowers of white and cream,
The rainbow with its treasury of dream,
Trembled because of God’s ungracious scheme.

And in the night the many stars would say
Dark things unaltered in the light of day:
Fear was upon me even in my play.

There was a lake I loved in gentle rain:
One day there fell a bird, a courtly crane:
Wisely he walked, as one who knows of pain.

Gracious he was and lofty as a king:
Silent he was, and yet he seemed to sing
Always of little children and the Spring.

God? Did he know him? It was far he flew?.
God was not terrible and thunder-blue:
– It was a gentle water bird I knew.

Pity was in him for the weak and strong,
All who have suffered when the days were long
And he was deep and gentle as a song.

As a calm soldier in a cloak of grey
He did commune with me for many a day
Till the dark fear was lifted far away.

Sober-apparelled, yet he caught the glow:
Always of Heaven would he speak, and low,
And he did tell me where the wishes go.

Kinsfolk of his it was who long before
Came from the mist (and no one knows the shore)
Came with the little children to the door.

Was he less wise than those birds long ago
Who flew from God (He surely willed it so)
Bearing great happiness to all below?

Long have I learned that all his speech was true;
I cannot reason it – how far he flew –
God is not terrible nor thunder-blue.

Sometimes, when watching in the white sunshine,
Someone approaches – I can half define
All the calm beauty of that friend of mine.

Nothing of hatred will about him cling:
Silent – how silent – but his heart will sing
Always of little children and the Spring.

Source

The Secret ~ A Poem by Ralph S. Cashman

by

The Secret

Ralph S. Cashman

I met God in the morning
    When my day was at its best,
And his presence came like sunrise
    Like a glory in my breast.

All day long the Presence lingered,
    All day long he stayed with me,
And we sailed in perfect calmness
    O’er a very troubled sea.

Other ships were blown and battered,
    Other ships were sore distressed,
But the winds that seemed to drive them
    Brought to us a peace and rest.

Then I thought of other mornings,
    With a keen remorse of mind,
When I too had loosed the moorings,
    With the Presence left behind.

So I think I know the secret,
    Learned from many a troubled way:
You must seek him in the morning
    If you want him through the day!

Source

A Hymn, a Poem by G. K. Chesterton

by

A Hymn 

G. K. Chesterton

O God of earth and altar,
Bow down and hear our cry,
Our earthly rulers falter,
Our people drift and die;
The walls of gold entomb us,
The swords of scorn divide,
Take not thy thunder from us,
But take away our pride.

From all that terror teaches,
From lies of tongue and pen,
From all the easy speeches
That comfort cruel men,
From sale and profanation
Of honour and the sword,
From sleep and from damnation,
Deliver us, good Lord.

Tie in a living tether
The prince and priest and thrall,
Bind all our lives together,
Smite us and save us all;
In ire and exultation
Aflame with faith, and free,
Lift up a living nation,
A single sword to thee.

Source

Love ~ A Poem by Sarah Flower Adams

by

Love by Sarah Flower Adams

O Love! thou makest all things even
In earth or heaven;
Finding thy way through prison-bars
Up to the stars;
Or, true to the Almighty plan,
That out of dust created man,
Thou lookest in a grave,–to see
Thine immortality!

Source

An Inspiring Quotation by St. Teresa of Avila

by

Trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

Teresa of Avila

“The Secret” A Poem by Ralph S. Cushman

by

The Secret

Ralph S. Cushman

I met God in the morning
    When my day was at its best,
And his presence came like sunrise
    Like a glory in my breast.

All day long the Presence lingered,
    All day long he stayed with me,
And we sailed in perfect calmness
    O’er a very troubled sea.

Other ships were blown and battered,
    Other ships were sore distressed,
But the winds that seemed to drive them
    Brought to us a peace and rest.

Then I thought of other mornings,
    With a keen remorse of mind,
When I too had loosed the moorings,
    With the Presence left behind.

So I think I know the secret,
    Learned from many a troubled way:
You must seek him in the morning
    If you want him through the day!

Today’s Poem ~ Consumed in Grace by St. Catherine of Seina

by

Consumed in Grace

St. Catherine of Siena

I first saw God when I was a child, six years of age.
the cheeks of the sun were pale before Him,
and the earth acted as a shy
girl, like me.

Divine light entered my heart from His love
that did never fully wane,

though indeed, dear, I can understand how a person’s
faith can at time flicker,

for what is the mind to do
with something that becomes the mind’s ruin:
a God that consumes us
in His grace.

I have seen what you want;
it is there,

a Beloved of infinite
tenderness.

Source

Poem for Today ~ Renewal of Strength

by

Renewal of Strength

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

The prison-house in which I live
Is falling to decay,
But God renews my spirit’s strength
Within these walls of clay.

For me a dimness slowly creeps
Around earth’s fairest light,
But heaven grows clearer to my view,
And fairer to my sight.

It may be earth’s sweet harmonies
Are duller to my ear,
But music from my Father’s house
Begins to float more near.

Then let the pillars of my home
Crumble and fall away;
Lo, God’s dear love within my soul
Renews it day by day.

Source

Verified by MonsterInsights