To Your Silence

Here I am Lord
I have brought the world and my day with me
What a motley crew arrayed before You
But not in vain.

We come with a clatter
My noise, our noise,
To the Silence.
The deafening roar
To the hallowed stillness.

Whisper in the chamber of our meeting
Where we tent with You,
Hope for the dying,
Faith to the listening,
Love to the willing.

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THE VISITORS

What did they say?
The men that came, then went their way.

Seeking the One all people long to see,
They left their hearths, these Wise Men Three.

“Where is He?”; the question echoes through ages long.
As He seeks a home ‘mong busy throng.

We prayed, sang and offered gifts beneath a tree.
Because He’s come for hearts, He’s come for me.

Where is He of blessed event,
Now the festive limbs are spent?

Has He found a hearth to call a throne?
Has He your heart to be His own?

©2015 Joann Nelander

THE VISITORS

What did they say?
The men that came, then went their way.

Seeking the One all people long to see,
They left their hearths, these Wise Men Three.

“Where is He?”; the question echoes through ages long.
As He seeks a home ‘mong busy throng.

We prayed, sang and offered gifts beneath a tree.
Because He’s come for hearts, He’s come for me.

Where is He of blessed event,
Now the festive limbs are spent?

Has He found a hearth to call a throne?
Has He your heart to be His own?

©2015 Joann Nelander

Hidden Gifts

Be attentive to the small.
Diminutive things hide gift,
Less the glory,
Inviting in simplicity
And in need,
Making room for God to move
Upon the empty places,
To spend Himself.

God will not keep company
With vain glory,
Nor suffer the competition
Of the arrogant will.
The humble,
Empty of self,
Win the Heart of God.

 

©2012 Joann Nelander

The Visitors

What did they say?
The men that came, then went their way.

 

Seeking the One all people long to see,
They left their hearths, these Wise Men Three.

 

“Where is He?”; the question echoes through ages long.
As He seeks a home ‘mong busy throng.

 

We prayed, sang and offered gifts beneath a tree.
Because He’s come for hearts, He’s come for me.

 

Where is He of blessed event,
Now the festive limbs are spent?

 

Has He found a hearth to call a throne?
Has He your heart to be His own.

 

©2015 Joann Nelander

 

 

To Your Silence

Here I am Lord

I have brought the world and my day with me

What a motley crew arrayed before You

But not in vain.

 

We come with a clatter

My noise, our noise,

To the Silence.

The deafening roar

To the hallowed stillness.

 

Whisper in the chamber of our meeting

Where we tent with You,

Hope for the dying,

Faith to the listening,

Love to the willing.

 

2013 Joann Nelander

Unusual Gifts

Way back when, I discovered an usual gift, which I exercised for a time. It wasn’t as though, I possessed it. It seemed more like a cooperation, of sorts, in faith.  It started when my friend, Charlotte, came up to me after a prayer meeting, and asked if she could share a vision God had shown her of me. Puzzled, a bit wary, and, definitely curious, I said, “Sure!”

Charlotte described a picture vision. Jesus first showed her a big, shiny apple; as she beheld it, it turned around. On the other side, there was apple pie, apple sauce, apple jam, apple butter, apple fritters, and the array went on and on. Needless, to say, I felt blessed and humbled.

I thanked the Lord in prayer and asked Him, “What about Charlotte?” I had to smile, as I understood that one fruit alone couldn’t describe her. Chiquita Banana danced in my mind’s eye, with a headdress full of beautiful, colorful and exotic fruit. It really did describe Charlotte, for she was a gifted lady with gifts of leadership, counsel and music, to name just a few. Of course, I shared my prayer’s answer with Charlotte, to her delight.

I remember hearing, once upon a time, that what we receive as a gift, we are expected to share as a gift. Not long after these experiences, I was relating the tale, to a friend, who immediately asked, “What kind of fruit am I?” I didn’t expect that, and had no answer for her that day. I took it to Jesus, in prayer, as I said I would. The Lord surprised me with an immediate answer. “Pineapple.” That, too, was a surprise. I guess “pineapple” was not on my short list of normal fruits. I told Esther, and proceeded to tell her what else I heard. I understood that she had been equipped by the Lord with a rugged exterior protecting her in life. This outer toughness had guarded her succulent inner being, so sensitive and sweet. Esther smiled as I spoke, and then said, “I knew you would say, ‘pineapple’.” Since pineapple wasn’t even on my list of fruits that jump out at you, I asked, why the pineapple? Esther said  that throughout her marriage, right up to the present, pineapple has been her daily lunch. I took that as happy confirmation.

When I told this story, others also asked, “What fruit am I?” Each time I hesitantly approached the Lord. He never disappointed. I remember a few answers that were unusual. One lovely, prayerful and generous, lady was identified not by a fruit, but the flower of the fruit, an orange blossom, worn by a bride. When asking, at my pastor’s request, Jesus, answered me, saying, “He’s the dimple in my smile.”  My daughter, Carolyn’s answer, was not a fruit, but the wood of a tree, “The cherry tree, rich, and solid and beautiful.” She went off smiling to get ready for her day. She came back, a few minutes later, obviously taken aback, and in awe. She simply placed her compact in my hand and said “Read the back.” It read, “Cherry Wood.”

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