I know this world is far from perfect.
I am not the type to mistake a streetlight for the moon.
I know our wounds are deep as the Atlantic.
But every ocean has a shoreline
and every shoreline has a tide
that is constantly returning
to wake the songbirds in our hands,
to wake the music in our bones,
to place one fearless kiss on the mouth of that new born river
that has to run through the center of our hearts
to find its way home.”
― Andrea Gibson
Photo by Serena Hagadone

shepherd of love

‘Twas dawn when the shepherd wakened, …
rubbing sleep from his tired eyes;
Glancing over his shaggy flock,
he found a chilling surprise.

He knew the two who had wandered,
fleeing from his wise commands.
Fearing the worst, he clutched his staff
and rod in his calloused hands.

The shepherd set out that foggy morn,
a rugged path under his feet
Until he reached the rock-strewn spot
where treacherous trails meet.

When he peered over the cliff’s edge,
a heart-rending scene met his eye;
On a sharp rock below, the mother
sadly watched her little lamb cry.

She bleated a warning to her son,
trying to reach him in vain’
Her panic and fear subsided not
’til the Good Shepherd spoke her name.

Jesus, the Shepherd, is longing
to carry each lamb to His fold.
He loves them more than His own life;
To Him, they are worth more than gold.

When you pray for your child, keep trusting,
Your Shepherd will faithfully guide;
Depend on his loving provision ~
With him, you can safely abide.

Keep your eyes on the Shepherd of Love;
His strength will carry you through.
No matter how weary your spirit,
He will never abandon you!

©Connie Faust
Photo by Marge McCoy

“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto your own understanding; In all thy ways, acknowledge Him, and He will direct thy paths.” Proverbs 3:5 & 6

mother’s hands

It’s the time of year when we take pause and consider one of God’s most beautiful gifts — mothers! This week, we celebrate motherhood and all that goes along with it. I thought this beautiful poem by Connie Faust, along with a lovely photo courtesy of Serena Hagadone would be a wonderful way to start out the week. We hope you enjoy!

Mother’s Hands

Quieting busy little hands
Fingers within her own entwined
Nothing compares with Mommy’s love
to give her child peace of mind.

School days, early morning risings
Watching for the big yellow bus
Walks her child to the corner
Pats down his hair that’s always mussed

Mother’s hands send a cheerful wave
Then she returns to daily chores
School-day’s close will find her waiting
with love to greet him evermore

Her face a-lit with cheery smile
Happy that her little boy’s home
Knowing how short her years with him
Until the time when he will roam

Day after day, the years pass by
As he grows “in wisdom and grace”
Then suddenly he’s a young man
Anxious to take his rightful place

Now tiny hands that played all day
Are big and muscular and strong
Ready to begin that journey
Where mother’s hands can’t go along

Who knows what challenges he’ll meet
Familiar roads or far-off lands
He’ll follow each path with courage
He learned the way through Mother’s hands

When for the last time, he comes home
And finds his mother’s hands are still
He knows until her final breath
Her hands were doing her Father’s will

Poem by Connie Faust
Photo by Serena Hagadone

Easter is …

Easter is…
Joining in a birdsong,
Eyeing an early sunrise,
Smelling yellow daffodils,
Unbolting windows and doors,
Skipping through meadows,
Cuddling newborns,
Hoping, believing,
Reviving spent life,
Inhaling fresh air,
Sprinkling seeds along furrows,
Tracking in the mud.
Easter is the soul’s first taste of spring.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Making Wishes: Quotes, Thoughts, & a Little Poetry for Every Day of the Year

Photo by Cheryl Cook