Poetry Party #6

Abbey of the Arts is hosting her next Poetry Party... She writes...

I’ve been reflecting a lot on grief and brokenness lately – I think there is something beautiful in our capacity to mourn over loss, to have an instinctual longing for life, to grow from our woundedness. Below is an image I took at Mt Rainier this summer and then altered in Photoshop as an experiment. Feel free to take your poem on the beauty of brokenness in any direction you please. I look forward to your marvelous gifts of words.

This picture struck an immediate chord with me. I am stepping into God's Call more and more surefootedly - more and more openly. And with so much joy! The dry places are being watered. The barren places are full of growth. It is stunning. It is envigorating. It is also terrifying. Because the picture is one that is in MY mind - of how I perceive myself. I think, as I ponder it all, that in GOD'S mind, it is blooming and lush and there are birds and animals and JOY raining down everywhere in showers of petals and leaves...

I guess you need to know this... Years ago, I started down a path towards vocational ministry. It was hard. I was young and stupid. I did not have supportive mentors and encouragers. I was beaten back, beaten down, ignored, chastised, vehemently rebuked for daring to try to be a pastor (after all, I am female!) and even scolded and told I had "no gift for ministry" -- and in my confusion, I believed these voices of condemnation...
NO MORE!

(Anyway, having said all that... Here's my entry.)
HERE WE GO!


Never say never.

Once I said I'd never climb again.
I said I wouldn't try to scale
the heights
the depths
the rough places
of caring and listening
of preaching and teaching
of serving and pouring out.
It hurt too much.
Even though the Call was unmistakeable,
the Pull relentless,
I was afraid. I said NO.

It's been years.
The branches that bore fruit are starting to bear again.
The places that were pruned give new growth.
And here I am...
Back in harness.
Full of challenge.
Full of joy.
I am doing what I was MADE to do.
It's amazing.
It's freeing.
It's all God.

This time, though
I climb with focus and intent
I climb with steady progress and thoughtful plans
And that safety harness?
Yes. You bet.
Jesus hasn't let go of me yet!


Deb Vaughn

I'm a little peahen...

Christine of Abbey of the Arts has offered a little poetry challenge this week. I am going to take her up on it!

Here's her challenge:

I had such fun with my first Invitation to Poetry posted a couple of weeks ago and loved reading all of your contributions so here is another invitation for you, my wonderful readers, to add your own words to the image below. This is a simple collage I made in about five minutes during a design elements class I took while at the art retreat, but something about it really speaks to me — the tension between the open cage and the open feathers speak to me of the promise of freedom. What does the image evoke for you?

Freed from the cage that bound me
Freed from the cramped quarters
the rules
the waiting...
Allowed to wander
to seek the path You designed...
My life a patchwork of seeming sameness...
block here.
block there.
day in.
day out.

"Peahens don't strut," you say.
"They don't have the need to.
It wouldn't be natural.
So, just get used to that cage
and be happy."

Suddenly!!
Wait - God unlocks the door! I spread my wings!
I show my stuff!
And wonder why I didn't see
for all those years
that I was ready to fly...

Deb
Freed
Flying
Grace