Dad's sweet pathway home

On my way to work in the early morning hours of the 7th of April my mind was focused on the fact that I knew my dad was about to take his leave of this earth and it was only a matter of time before I received the phone call from my sister verifying what we were all dreading.  I looked at the sky as I always do at a certain point of my drive and looked away distracted but slowly looked again at the sunrise that had broken across the sky.

I have never seen a sunrise quite like that one; the colors were intense, so crisp, so brilliant, so yellow, so blue, clouds so white and full of volume....yet it was so light and so incredibly soft, so soft that it reminded me of a sweet, soft........receiving blanket.   Yes, a receiving blanket,,,and I knew in that moment, this was my Father's sky sent by his Father, the Almighty Father, to welcome dad home.  My breath caught in my throat and tears flooded my eyes and I wanted to take a picture...but I knew that I was not supposed to...I was supposed to just see and know.  It was a gift given to me.

I made it to work just a few minutes later and waited for my sister's phone call...it came very quickly, no surprise.

I will miss him, I will always love him, he was a good dad and a good friend and I will always be grateful for and cherish my glimpse of his homecoming sky.   

Morning in theHigh Hills 

In the quiet of the morning
     when the sky is clear and white
and dawn's soft hush has slipped
     across the solitude of night,
When the last pale star has fallen
     and the East’s a rosy glow,
          streaked with lavenders and orchids
               with a touch of indigo.

When the colors all are blending,
     there is no defining each,
And the sun peeps up appearing
Like some plump and pinkish peach,
There is nothing quite so moving,
     quite so silent, quite so strange
          as the Lord's most recent wonder—
               birth of morning on the range.

I can't quite seem to fathom—
     I can't help wondering why—
I was placed amongst such beauty,
     all this solitude and sky.
Now, I see you ride before me,
          as my feet trod earthly sod,
I watch you vanish in the sunrise.
          Go with God!

© 1993, Dee Strickland Johnson, revised 2007

      Dee Strickland Johnson gives permission for the use of this poem for a personal ceremony.
      Please give the author credit when reciting or printing this poem

It was good to be in the house of the Lord.

     We have attended a large church in Jacksonville, NC, for about 6 years.  The church is listed as the 14th fastest growing church in the US and now has 2 campus sites with 5 or 6 services between the 2.  I have never been a person to like crowds but the message and the music and family has kept me there.

     Lately I have become "ill at ease" in my spirit with some of the "show" and "performance" in some areas of the church; not wanting to be there but at the same time missing the blessing I knew I could receive.  We cannot get into any of the Christmas Eve (3 tonight and 3 on Christmas Eve) services because we did not get tickets in time and without a ticket you cannot get in.  Boooooooo!  This did upset me a bit but we decided to go this morning to a local church that was advertising that "Bethlehem Morn" would be sung by the choir.  We have visited the church before and for me it is stepping back in time to a church I grew up in and I have gone forward since then and do not wish to go back but we decided to go there and hear the cantata.  

     It was what it is, a country church filled with country people; people that loved each other and have grown up and old together.  The choir was small and with the exception of one woman, was a senior choir.  I put aside my "choir director" opinionated side and sat back to enjoy these people and what they had worked so hard on to bring to us. No one was off key, a few voices stood out and they did not always hit the spots they should have hit but they sang with love and togetherness and it was a sweet time.  I reminisced a bit about my days directing a choir and the blessing I would receive when I listened to my brothers and sisters singing.

     About half way through the cantata I was struck by the age of this choir and how they had all grown up together and had families together and had grown old together and now some are frail and stepping away into their eternal home and it brought tears to my eyes.  They sang with the heart of a family.  When the song "We are the Reason" came along there were many tears in the audience, the choral members had done their best and had brought the message to life in our hearts.  I, the lone ranger, lifted my hand (they don't do that there) and bowed my head and listened with a grateful heart and gave thanks for the "gift".

    I don't care where you go or how you came to be there....if your heart is in the right place you will be blessed by something the Lord brings to the service.  Tracy and I enjoyed our morning at that little church and were blessed even though we know that is not the church home for us.

     I don't know if I will ever have the opportunity to direct a choir again and I don't know if we will stay at the "big" church where the music and message are still good or if we will find that the Lord has led us to another house of worship but I do know that this morning, it was good to be in this particular House of the Lord.

https://www.facebook.com/home.php

Whose glory is it?

I was three paragraphs into a good write when I was re-directed to look at what I had written.  My good write about God and what He had called me to do had become a self centered pat on the back.  Self righteousness in all my justified glory.  Smug in my role as a judge, a prophetess, a warrior for the Kingdom of Heaven!
It is times like these that I loathe my earthly sinful soul.
I feel an urge to write it but not in this glorified guise of God picked goodness.
I am nothing and He is everything.

I would love to write.  By the time my mind has chilled from my daily grind........it is time to go to sleep to garner new strength for another day.

Nobody to impress but myself I guess, so it is left unwritten.

comforted

We re-watched the movie, "Letters to Juliet\" tonight; a lovely, sweet, romantic movie which touches my heart in many ways.  Both times that I have watched it, I have been brought to tears by a poignant scene where the older beautiful Claire comforts a sad and confused Sophie with nary a word, just a touch of the forehead and then Claire brushes Sophie's hair as a comfort.
Life is so tough, even cruel at times and I would love to hear the sound of my mother's voice or feel the touch of her hand on my forehead or have her brush my hair in comfort, or to just be alive, back in my life.
I am falling into the "older woman" category now and am learning to give comfort that is so needed in this crazy race we call life but sometimes.....I would love to be comforted.............

What I Do Have

I wish I had the wisdom you need,

I wish I had the words you need to hear to get you by;

But my strengths are my strength, my faith, and my haven of rest.

These are yours..........if you have need of them.

Most of all, you have my friendship, my respect, and my undying love.

drowning

Drowning....in someone else's sea of lethargy and idleness......