Broken Wings

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!

                                  

Photo by Cindy West McGregor