Poetry

Power of prayer

/ Joy Lenton / 10 Comments

Do you ever wonder if your prayers achieve anything? Me too.

Sometimes it feels as if our words get no further than our lips, laps or living-rooms.

We feel dry inside.

All life and vitality drained out of us.

Going through the motions.

As if praying is a duty rather than a privilege.

Yet, if we stop and think about it, we are partnering up with God in helping to bring about His purposes on the earth.

The Creator, Sustainer and Lord of the Universe actually invites us to come to Him and share in His own heart’s desires.

To hear what moves Him and be moved to participate in bringing it to pass.

To offload all our anxieties, cares and concerns.

To intercede for those in need.

To help, support, encourage and minister to others.

To co-labour in spreading the news of His tremendous love and grace.

What could be more awesome than that?

It doesn’t rest on our words, our feelings, our dryness or liveliness.

It doesn’t rest on how weary or alert we are.

It doesn’t rest on how much time we spend, what physical position we adopt or if we speak, shout, cry or remain silent.

It rests solely on God’s willingness to work with and through His people in a powerful, life-transforming way.

And that’s a huge relief!

The poem/prayer below was written in sympathy and support for all who may feel like inadequate prayer warriors.

As you read it, please remember that our feelings about how we pray are far less important than the fact that we do pray.

Sometimes, just saying, “Help” or “Jesus” is the most powerful prayer you can utter as it reveals total dependence on Him.

Our prayers rise as incense, a fragrant offering to God.

His Father-heart longs to hear us speak to Him about any and everything.

And His greatest desire is to speak to us too.

So remember, my friend, God cares about your life – each and every aspect of it is very important to Him.

“More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of” ~ Alfred Lord Tennyson

‘Simply being’

Lord,

I am ashamed at the paucity of my prayers

so often brief, wandering or barely there

where are the sighs, groans and moans

of a powerful prayer wrestler

or the quiet resting, grace-revealing confidence

of a seasoned intercessor?

Mine slip out unnoticed, arrows weakly fired

just hitting ceiling, dying expired, or spoken by rote

in a bleary state, I feel like they’re not going anywhere

or very appealing to You at any rate

and I must confess it bothers me when clock-watching replaces

the freedom of Simply Being in Your Presence, at ease

resting, trusting, listening, heeding, instead of these

snatched moments racing against time, weariness or schedule

that scarcely please me, never mind You at all

So I come, bearing a burden heavy

to let fall, lay at Your feet

disposing of my shame and guilt

at Your forgiving mercy-seat

and take up another burden to bear

as for my sister and brother

I long to pray and share

as I learn not to be so much

concerned for my own affairs

as I know I should be

and sense the beating of Your heart

for this world’s grief and sorrow

You’re longing to impart to me

so I can join in prayer to bring about

the blessing of Your Healing and Your Peace

for today and for tomorrow

©JoyLenton2013

Looking back and moving forward

/ Joy Lenton / 4 Comments

As someone in the Autumn of her life, there is quite a bit for me to look back and reflect on.

Time is a great healer, or so the saying goes.

Though regrets can be hard to live with.

Wisdom seems to be an advantage of growing older – some compensation perhaps for the gradual loss of other functions or faculties?

Or is it just seeing through the lens of history and experience that gives us a fresh perspective which seems wise?

Maybe it’s seeing with God’s eyes as He opens our vision to His perspective rather than our own.

Hindsight is a great teacher.

Here are a couple of mini Tuesday tidbits to share with you on this subject:

Wishing

I wish I knew then

what I know now

I could have been a better friend

wife and mother somehow

discerning and wise

knowing bad from good

at least in my own eyes

©JoyLenton2013

Hindsight

Hindsight poem pin for Poetry Joy

Hindsight is invaluable

for the insight it imparts

though a residue of regret

may linger in our hearts

maybe I can learn to start

something new today

in accepting it wisdom

without regrets holding sway

©JoyLenton2013

Day 6 of 31 days  writing #poetryforthesoul on love, loss, life and faith

Being framed

/ Joy Lenton / 4 Comments

Although it’s an inescapable reality, I try not to write much about or dwell upon my life as an M.E and chronic illness sufferer.

It can feel intrusive enough already.

Each day brings fresh reminders of pain and limitations.

A life framed by feelings I’d rather not have.

They can make life miserable indeed.

Though sharing misery is not really my goal or mission at all.

My emphasis is more on God’s grace to sustain, strengthen, heal and restore than on how it feels to be sick.

But I am making an exception today by sharing a poem that was originally featured on my other writing place Words of Joy and is mentioned in the current post there.

It was written at a time when society’s impressions were being greatly influenced by governmental views and decisions and is very much a poetic lament in support of all who live with such experiences.

Sadly, there has been no let up since.

It speaks of the unwarranted stigma and shame that sufferers can experience.

I hope you will come away from reading it feeling better informed and aware, with some insight into the lives of those with ‘invisible illnesses’.

Being Framed

I’ve been framed, boxed, categorised,

sifted, found wanting in society’s eyes

I’m not the woman they think they see,

but an inner person that’s really me

Viewing the image the mirror provides

if I dare to risk, turning away with sighs

Decades of illness have left their mark

and it’s hard to bear living in shaded dark

My eyes need rest I urgently seek,

the brain is foggy, body made weak

Pain and deformity cripple the frame

and it’s hard to remember inside I’m the same

A woman with dreams and a heart to express

all that’s buried within, though under duress

I want to be seen as I feel inside

but external appearance causes me to hide

Days without number I face my fears

that grow as hard to scale as our home stairs,

that this won’t go away and I might not be healed

that the inner joy may be forever concealed

For it’s hard to stay cheerful, harder still to be bright

in a world that pushes us out of sight

We’re the invisible people, out of the game

our only identity is pain and shame

Huge in number, if weak of voice,

the nameless ones who cannot rejoice

until labels and badges no longer apply

and we don’t have to keep asking you, “Why?”

Why not believe us, why not accept

this could happen to you, being sick and wrecked

Your body a tomb for a spirit that’s chained,

a livelihood lost, prison sentence gained

Eyes that accuse, hearts that are hard

do nothing but continue marking our card

Treated with scorn, hostility, derision,

our whole future residing on whim of decision

Fear haunts our days and disturbs our nights,

energy drained further to keep fighting our rights

Please, won’t you listen and heed the weak

as you hear our stories of the justice we seek?

Please remember we are people too,

not numbers, statistics, a warped world view

Lives are at stake as bodies fail,

strong in intent, though our hearts quail

Life in the Slow Lane can be no life at all

when it grinds to a halt against a brick wall

If you know someone who has M.E,

please help them and tell them you see,

you witness their pain, you understand the need

and you won’t turn away, you will pay heed

All we ask is for people to see who we are,

recognising this disease will take us far

into a future where compassion can reign

instead of resentment, sadness and shame

©JoyLenton2013

Despite the negative tone in the poem above, I am very much kept positive and hopeful by God’s continual outpouring of endurance, strength and love. Some days may be really challenging but His grace is always sufficient for every need.

This topic is being aired today as I am guest posting on my friend Mia’s site. I’d love you to come on over and read the full post here.

Day 5 of 31 days of #poetryforthesoul

Climbing strong

/ Joy Lenton / 13 Comments

So much of life can lay us low, bring defeat, discouragement and despair.

As part of the overcoming process we need to be reminded about God’s power to save and pull us out of any pit we may have fallen into.

Remember:

Even if we feel isolated and lost, we are never alone in any battle we may face.

Christ has already secured victory for us at the cross.

It is ours by faith.

His strength and grace are always available.

We are also part of His body.

Each one of us held and encouraged by the wisdom, comfort and prayers of others.

Together we are stronger.

No matter what we go through, we can have hope rising from the ashes of our painful and challenging experiences.

Today, I am celebrating the ability God gives us to support one another to rise above our circumstances.

Climbing strong

We rise up bold

shaking off dust and ashes

for we are the brave and the free 

kicking away the lies

and deceit of the enemy

now in tatters at our feet

as we take our place

together… 

let us embrace

our stories, who we are

how far we have come

renewed, redeemed children

of grace and hope

no longer at the end

dangling on bitten rope

we are…

rising, climbing strong

to the glory that awaits us

and enjoying the view

while we eschew all

that no longer belongs

as part of our lives

or hearts

as one…

being light

being salt 

being hope

bringing encouragement

as truth believers

truth bearers

weavers of story

strong through struggle

tensile with tenderness

love and compassion

as we seek…

above all things

to be true 

to ourselves

our calling

to the future

where hope rests

eternal in all

and nothing else

will ever snarl

trip us up

or make us fall

©JoyLenton2013

 

 

This is Day 4 of #poetryforthesoul Hope you can join me again tomorrow

Unfolding and unfurling

/ Joy Lenton / 8 Comments

Life can get so busy we forget how to rest and relax fully.

Weighed down by stress and strain, it can be hard to really let go, to allow our souls to relinquish their tight grip on the daily grind.

Even during Sabbath our minds can be so preoccupied with the minutiae of mundanity that we sink beneath its weight.

Perhaps we can learn a lesson from the natural world around us.

Plants and flowers are dependent on the provision of daily nutrients, balance in temperature, ambient surroundings and conditions for growth and fruition.

They seem to do nothing much for a while then we see life springing forth where all seemed dormant before.

It is the closing down season for many plants and trees as Autumn winds blow chill, fall must come, and a dying back occurs.

Even as that process is happening around us, we can be cheered by the prospect of new life and growth to come out of dead matter.

Maybe it’s a season in your life too where God is asking you to rest, be still for a while, lay fallow.

Maybe you are restless to see green shoots appearing and all looks bleak and barren.

Be reassured that God hasn’t forgotten you.

God does His best work in the long, slow dark places of our lives as our hearts are made heavy with longing for Him.

This apparent laying aside or closing down is to ready you and make way for abundant life to come – at just the right time.

Unfolding

Purpose unfolding

as petals unfurl

to the sun

welcoming its rays

absorbing heat and light

so are our days

opening anew

pregnant with possibility

radiantly bright

with God’s promises

raining down

refreshing dew-drops

of His grace

to sustain the weary

poured out nectar

that feeds us

sustenance to embrace

for days cold and dreary

knowing there is always

more than enough

for everyone

©JoyLenton2013

No matter what season we may be in, God’s love pours out as continual draught of sunshine into our souls.

We can bask in the light of His presence.

Enjoy the outpouring of grace and mercy.

Rest in His peace.

When shadows loom large, we can comfort ourselves by remembrance of His goodness and provision unfolding for each new day.

Day 3 of the 31 day challenge of #poetryforthesoul

Stay tuned for more to come

And do let me know which ones you like best as they may end up in a future anthology

Indigenous

/ Joy Lenton / 6 Comments

In the hands of an expert potter, clay is something altogether marvellous in the way it can be transformed into objects of beauty.

If we dig our boots or hands deep into clay we get soiled with mire clinging fast to clothes and skin. Unlovely. Hard to shake off. Needing a good scrub.

Our natural clay selves cannot be easily washed clean either.

While we live, breathe and have our being in God, we also remain rooted in earth, dwellers in soil and dirt.

Our fallen earthly nature clings tenaciously to frames bent low by burdens we were never built to carry as knees buckle under the weight of them.

Indigenous

We are indigenous

earth dwellers

rooted long

in soil

hard graft

sweat of brow

aching muscle

tillers of ground

planting seeds

of life

and hope

in dark places

with expectation

one day

we will see

some fruit

in harvest

to come

 ©JoyLenton2013

God remembers that we are dust.

And it’s His Holy whispered breath that enlivens, connects sinews to joints and muscles together as a body to receive His glorious presence.

Surrendering to His promise, we are raised anew with strength, and vigour, lifted out of any pit we may have fallen into, out of the mud and mire. Shaken down, dust-free and cleaned again, with feet set firmly on the Rock.

Dried in the refining fire of God’s Love, purified in the furnace of affliction where scorching flames burn off any dross or detritus gathered from soil-dwelling.

Emerging from its fiery heat bleached clean, fragile pure, awaiting the Potter’s hand to reshape and refashion these earthen vessels into containers fit for His Light to filter through.

Our many cracks, flaws and holes are no impediment.  The leaky spaces and places only allow His Light to shine through all the brighter.

And as we dig deep into the fertile soil of His word, its rich nutrients are a holding place for dormant seed to grow, bursting forth with an abundant harvest at just the right time.

Prayer

Dear Father,

Our earthly nature clings to us like resistant soil. We need to come to You for cleansing and purifying. You are the Potter, we are the clay. Help us to be willing to let You have Your way and not resist Your loving hand upon our lives. And even when we may protest at the way it make us feel when You are stretching  and calling us to come up higher, enable us to surrender to Your will and ways.

May we have a growing awareness that full, lasting change and transformation cannot come about, nor fruit be evident in our lives, unless we are renewed, remade, restored and refashioned as You see fit, into the image of Your Beloved Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Linking here with Nacole for #concretewords., where we write out spirit from a one word concrete prompt. This week’s prompt was:‘Soil’. You are very welcome and warmly invited to join in.

** Day 2  of the 31 day challenge to write #poetryforthesoul

Poetry for the soul

/ Joy Lenton / 16 Comments

Many writers/bloggers are joining in with a 31 day writing focus over the month of October inspired by the Nester.

Though I am coming in to this a bit late, my aim is to present a daily poetic piece for you to enjoy here over the next 31 days.

And what could be more appropriate than commencing this on National Poetry Day?

However, as an M.E and chronic illness sufferer, it is a huge undertaking for me.

And I may have days where I fail to accomplish this goal. I hope you will grant me grace in those times.

I aim to showcase mostly unseen work, but to make it easier on myself this venture will also include those of the ‘here’s one I made earlier’ variety too.

Output will vary. Some will be a mix of tiny snippets, haiku or micro-poetry. Others will be longer stand-alone poems and some will be incorporated into blog posts and reflections.

Knowing my physical fragility, low energy and other commitments, I would really value your prayers and support to keep going with this enterprise!

Each poetic offering will be a part of the emphasis here on love, loss, life and faith.

My hope is that you will join me for this regular slot as I really welcome your feedback on what you like and why.

Now on to the first poem:

Strangers

We are strangers

floating on our islands

of indifference

casting watery glances

at the ebbing tides

of our native shore

life’s waters discharging

sickness, sin, and endless despair

throwing in poisoned bait

and receiving likewise

who will heed the cry

of the gentle Fisherman

saying, cast your nets

into My life-blood

and I will be an Anchor

for your souls?

©JoyLenton2013

Where I’m from

/ Joy Lenton / 22 Comments

Trying something new here today as I link up with the synchroblog over at sheloves.com where we share our heritage stories.

Here’s mine:

I am from..

I’m from hands made red scrubbing with Fairy soap, arms to elbow in suds, wringing, steaming, line-flapping, wind-dancing laundry blowing against my head

From mangle, squeezing out doll’s clothes, now you’ve caught your thumb, before ‘elf and safety was ever thought of or begun

I am from side-to-side dwelling, know each others’ business, doors ajar, lean over garden fences, see your neighbours’ faces and invade each others spaces

And Sunday roast in oven, larder heavy with home-made stuff,  jelly and custard, dripping on toast, sausage rolls, Christmas spiked ham, pickles and mustard

I am from roses abundant, catch petals in a jar, shake well with water, savour the smell with an “Aaah!”  From embracing cats, budgerigars, mice and rabbits and cleaning up after their dirty habits

I’m from chasing on the lawn to capture elusive dreams and butterflies, with hope, expectancy and angels floating in my eyes

I am from scratch and prickle horse-chestnut, making conkers, shaking and climbing trees whose long gone limbs I remember as if they were my own, though they belonged in woodland close to our home

I’m from blue smoke rising, swirling to choke breath out of a room, throw the fags, clink the glasses, toast the Queen, enjoy good times, drown our sorrows and link up for the dance of Auld Lang Syne

From Sunday afternoon snoozes, weekend outings to beach or countryside to admire the view and (hopefully) squeeze in a game or two

I’m from keep quiet at the table and sit up straight and always eat everything put on your plate

And I’m from working class and working hard from dawn to dusk, face lathered, razored, hair smoothed shiny as acorn husk

With dad’s shoes spit-polished and neatly pressed clothes, for no matter how lowly the job a man has to present well, as everyone knows

Mum’s middle class background and leanings shown in books she was reading and the superiority over what she thought or knew. And she wasn’t past pampering her face, leaving imprints of jammy red lipstick staining screwed up tissues in every place.

I’m from giving non church-going parents a rest by attending Sally Army Sunday school, singing, “Jesus loves me, this I know”, with them little realising this was the very best thing for me, as Truth would be rooted, dug deep, to bring life, grow fruit later and on to eternity

I am from East coast flatlands, fenlands, beaches and broads where holidaymakers stream in summer hordes; a cathedral city with cobbled streets, theatres, museums, castle on a hill, parks to play in and hide at will

And candy-floss fairs, sticky treacle pud and hot fried chips to grease and burn the lips. With Fanta, Corona, sherbet fountains, licorice laces and sweets bought to please, rot the teeth and grant parents some ease

I’m from marbles, hopscotch, skip and keep time, roller-skates, hula-hoops, pogo-sticks, reading and rhyme

With Jack Frost nipping inside the pane, hot water bottles, coal fires toasting shins and chestnuts, savouring the heat before we felt cold again

From leaving and cleaving elsewhere, going away and disappear, get a job, get a life, new husband, new wife, divorce, trouble and strife

Having twin sisterly sharing, squabbles, discipline, smacking, sitting legs dangling on chair where we sulked, wriggled impatient, until giggles erupted everywhere

There may not be too many precious mementoes to hang over my bed but I keep a select few tucked away in my head

Adult life meant starting anew when God claimed my heart at 17 years old.  And He’s been working diligently ever more behind the scenes to renew, repair and restore broken memories and dreams, weaving them into a tapestry beautiful to behold

*******

I hope you’ve enjoyed this trip down memory lane.

Now you know even more about me!

There was much to reflect upon, as there always is when you’ve lived a longish life.

Do join in the synchroblog if you can. The template on sheloves.com is a guide but how you express it is up to you.

You don’t have to be poetic at all, that’s just the way I naturally lean.


Not giving up

/ Joy Lenton / 11 Comments

In the midst of our daily struggles we have hope of seeing change.

God arms us with hope and courage to persevere though trials.

Let’s try to encourage one another to keep on keeping on.

Perhaps you are feeling battle-scarred, weary and worn out by life’s challenges.

Too much may be happening at once or long-term struggles can render us weak and discouraged.

If that describes you, my friend, then the poem below is for you.

And my hope and prayer is that you will feel less alone in the fight.

We are surrounded by a host of witnesses that have gone before us.

We are able to rest secure in knowing God sees the bigger picture.

He gives us strength to cope for one more day..and the next… and so on.

Not giving up

Limping and wounded I may be

but I’m not giving up on my destiny

though it’s a war zone, battle, a fight

life is still filled with God’s radiant Light

His word my compass, eternity my goal

hope keeps faith stirred up in my soul

©JoyLenton2013

Sharp side of life

/ Joy Lenton / 13 Comments

It’s been the worst of times and the best of times.

Recent weeks have been a period of great turmoil when it felt like everything that could be shaken was being shaken.

The past I thought dead and buried in memory rose up to greet me with renewed darkness and pain.

The present brought challenge and a pressing need for change I didn’t feel ready for.

Nothing felt safe anymore.

My heart was exposed.

Raw. Wounded. Hurting.

I wrote the poem below to express how it felt.

Maybe you can relate to it too.

Shards

Waterfall of rain

sheets hard and fast

steady on pane

with resounding drum

as I wall up my heart

with frame of glass

encasing erratic thrum

ready to part

and shatter all content within

leaving me raw

exposed, bleeding

vulnerability

all over the place

pain stabbed deep

wounded, lanced

shards sharp

piercing steep

in fiery dance of fury

on softness

exposing traces of all

kept hidden over time

and years

when nothing hurtful

allowed entry in this space

and vale of tears

©JoyLenton2013

Yet…there was a new surge of life within as the frame of my thinking shattered.

The old ways had to give way to deep excavation, renovation, rebuilding and renewal.

Peace and purpose grew from pain.

Shattered life made safe by God’s continual presence.

And Christ bled vulnerable for me and you.

He suffered deep dark pains within so that we could be recipients of His love.

There is nothing we go through that is a mystery to God.

He wants to re-write our history in the light of His grace.

His arms are ready to catch His broken child.

God alone can make us whole again.

Are you willing to offer Him your brokenness in exchange for His desires for you?

I know I can trust no other to mend me fully and set me on the right path again.