dear nameless people

dear nameless people that call my name
I am relieved of all responsibility to do what you dear people ask of me, relieved of pleasing you. you are not my goal, my dreams for the day, the month, the year.
You are not my business , you are not my joy, my joy-giver, my joy-path, my joy-sustainer, my joy-taker.


Joy- Joy- Joy
I am a joy-producer. Like the sunshine that redistributes its warmth from the sun As it is absorbed and reflected into other things, it must be replenished on a constant basis. The closer to the source the stronger its life. The sooner it is absorbed the more fully it is felt. It is a real presence of light and heat not just a perceived idea or thought, but a real tangible thing.
I am a redistrubutor of God's joy just like the sun's rays redistrubute the warmth and life of the sun. I think the word love sounds nice, but really it is His joy that I feel course through me to others. He has spent many months cleansing me of my own power and strength so He can show himself more fully without me clouding it up.
I must decrease so He can be seen more fully and increase.
 God's Word is so much more powerful than mine can ever be, a wise man said to me recently. How true and yet I still want to glorify myself above Him. Flesh must be put under so Christ and the Holy Spirit can emerge. How humbling that He chooses to use me. O Lord after reading Psalm 76 & 77 I am truly humbled before you. I bow to your will in my life. Those dear people calling me are no longer my masters, you are

Just a wisp of a thought

Gently sleeping the slumber of the sick.
Peaceful creases smooth the worries of a life hard won.
Seen so many ugle words, fill the air around her and yet she chose to rest in the beautiful.
Light dances from her closed eyes, she searches memories of days of joy.
Giggling girls hid among the bedcovers recanting their stolen adventure.
Slipping out the window at night to meet a friend or two, innocent in their intention.
Chasing life that was calling with a doe's breath, hinting of mystery and fullness.
Rich melodic tunes drifting above her bed showing me all the wonders of playing life by ear which she was so fond of doing. Grabbing a snatch of a recognized ballad she loops her fingers around an imagined vessel that breathes life into the stillness of family and friends gathering to join the chorus of crickets.
How she smiles. He is there beside her, her beau for the week. Ready to escort thru gentlemanly gestures the essence of her ladyship.
Grandma how I miss you