Photo by Basir Seeratvisit Basir's photo blog at
http://www.basirseerat.blogspot.com/
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Write of faith or prayer.
__________________________
You lift me up;
Swift:
Your sword catches the
gleam of my anguish,
cuts the belly of it.
I bleed.
Thank you.
~ Shawn Michel de Montaigne
One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE!If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.
11 comments:
I fear, so
I pray.
I pray that the door doesn't open, and hit me in the head.
I pray.
Prayer: a conversation held with God, whom we assume cares, listens, and responds.
But just whose prayers does God listen to? Does God care enough to hear this woman's prayer? (She's a foreigner, probably not Christian.)
How big is your God? Have we forgotten this story from Acts...
"At Caesarea there was a man named Cornelius, a centurion in what was known as the Italian Regiment. He and all his family were devout and God-fearing; he gave generously to those in need and prayed to God regularly. One day at about three in the afternoon he had a vision. He distinctly saw an angel of God, who came to him and said, "Cornelius!"
Cornelius stared at him in fear. "What is it, Lord?" he asked.
The angel answered, "Your prayers and gifts to the poor have come up as a memorial offering before God."
God takes note of the prayers and actions of those who make an effort to communicate with him.
How big is God? Big enough for Cornelius. Big enough for the woman in prayer at this door. Big enough for me. Big enough for you.
That a door opens is not a threat,
nor one that sets all sinners apart. Her faith is great and her God is good, so open your door and greet her with your heart. Pray with her.
Father, Thank You for teaching me, for growing me up and for keeping me little. Thank You for loving me, for taking care and for free will. Thank You for speaking so gently, waking me in the wee hours and for Your constant Presence. Thank You for listening, for responding and for keeping silent. Thank You for the goodness, for the difficulties and for the quiet. Thank You for the fullness of who You are. Thank You for allowing us to know You. Thank You for giving us a Name, for showing us the Way and for birthing us as Family. Thank You for Your Son, our Savior, our Brother, our Lord and King. Thank You for Your Grace and Mercy. Thank You for Love. Thank You for Forgiveness. Thank You for Relationship.
May every day that I live bring atleast one of Your children, one step closer into their relationship with You. May they grow, learn, love, appreciate, cultivate and flourish in the life that they live because of You. May this be a ripple effect that washes through them and into the lives around them, flooding many with goodness, holiness and light.
May Your Glory dwell, here on earth as we await the Day of Your Return. Bring understanding to those You've called, not to fear but to trust and anticipate with Joy, this Day to come.
My Love, Life, Heart, Soul and Flesh; be Eternally Yours. In Jesus Name, Amen.
~This is my prayer tonight :o>
Love the truth that Don has shared. Acceptance, Love and Truth...that's how Jesus invites each and every one of us.
She knelt in prayer and tried to remember the rituals of it. But all she could do was kneel and let the tears fall down one after another. It didn't matter anymore. She didn't care to pray or offer thanks or beg for forgiveness to a God as cruel as this one. None of her other prayers had been answered, why would these matter?
For two years she had nursed him. She had feed him by hand, bathed him gently, given all the care one could. And every day she had knelt and prayed and begged for a miracle. And every day he got just a little worse. Until at last his breath stopped and his heart stopped and at last the eyes of her son no longer looked at her with love or care or with anything at all. She had not said a word to God since.
Then kneeling there suddenly she took a ragged breath and without even knowing she was doing it she bent forward, offered her forehead to the ground in an act she had done thousands of times, and with out even knowing it she offered up a single word in prayer. “Why?”
“He knows no more pain.” Were the words that filled her mind with blinding clarity.
And she knew this small prayer had been answered, she had been given a miracle.
LoL Irish - I LOVE it
Beautiful, Laura Jayne ;o).
haha Irish....
don't you dare say i don't have faith. i do. just not in the things that you do. I have faith in the bus being 15 minutes behind schedule every tuesday afternoon. i have faith that no matter how simple your name is, teachers will always mispronounce it. i have faith that one day, i will overcome the urge to beat you over the head with a baseball bat. i have faith that you love me. i have faith in people. in humanity. so don't you dare say i don't have faith.
You lift me up;
Swift:
Your sword catches the
gleam of my anguish,
cuts the belly of it.
I bleed.
Thank you.
Post a Comment