Today’s
guest blogger is my BFF Margaret Moore.
She is a retired English major, wife, mother & Grammy. She loves God and looks forward to seeing Him
in the afterlife, hoping to clear up a few nagging questions. I hope you'll feel free to leave a comment for Margaret. Thanks...
How does God
speak to you? He’s always speaking, you
know, to His children. Sometimes it’s through what we see, such as intricate
details or sweeping scenes in nature, sometimes in what we hear from other
people, sometimes a whisper but other times a shout. I’ve known a few lucky ones that heard Him
audibly order them to “Pull over NOW!” or “Squat down”, and obeying Him has
saved their lives.
I’ve heard Him
a precious few times through promptings or insights, even compulsions. Hearing
from God seems often to come to me when I am desperately seeking direction. And
I’ve found Him to use the fewest possible words (with one exception) to get the
point across…things like, “Trust me”, “Go to that house”, “This is important”.
He’s even caused laughter to bubble up in me in a time of deep despair. Boy, that
was unexpected. But God often does the
unexpected. Like the time he put a poem
in my mind…
No, I assure
you I’m not a poetry writer, never have done it (o.k., a few limericks way
back), and never felt inspired to write verse.
But this time was different and I wasn’t the REAL author: I was having a
meltdown, an anxiety attack I believe, but I just “happened” to be registered
for a Silent Retreat the next day at a nearby monastery. The quiet days slowly
brought peace into my whole being as I contemplated, prayed, and often just
walked.
One day I
was walking by a neglected garden full of dead things. But there were many
butterflies flitting around, most with pieces of their wings missing. Suddenly God
filled my mind with a complete poem, not just an idea, and I almost ran to a
nearby bench to write it down in my journal before I forgot any of it. Never
have I experienced anything like it. It’s called “Broken Wings”.
I flee to
here, a broken thing
In need of silence, guidance, calm,
rest from my turbulent emotions
seeking God’s unfailing balm.
The garden
draws me.
In I stumble
blindly seeking some release.
God opens up my swollen eyes
to show me clouds of butterflies.
Resurrection,
new life I now can see
in them…could this be, too, for me?
I closer look at God’s lovely things.
Why, some of THEM have broken wings!
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| Photo by Cindy West McGregor |
