Confined in Spring

ACFWEncouragement, Faith, Fear/Doubt, Friends of ACFW, Prayer, writing 2 Comments

by Elizabeth Musser

Lord, how can I complain when I’m confined in Spring?

When a chateau sits in my backyard

When snow white calla lilies curl towards the sun

And lilacs bloom and tulips tilt their crimson heads

And butterflies, like wind, like Spirit, flit to who-knows-where?

When everything outside proclaims this simple truth:

Life wins!

So may I not complain, dear Lord, but pray

Oh, yes, for all the dark and death that hovers ‘round

And pierces hearts and souls with fear and dread

Oh, may I pray with bended knee

And bowed head

That in the midst of this wild frantic thing

The fragrance of Your peace will come

And fill the fear with hope

With courage and compassion

May that sweet aroma of life

Whisper in such a fierce, victorious way,

That many will turn an ear to hear

And listen, really listen,

To the whisper of the wind

To the Spirit’s tug upon a heart.

And wonder if?

If perhaps that age old Easter story

Might be true

And, bending to inhale the hope of cherry blossoms,

Believe.

Oh, may I pray with bended knee and bowed head that in the midst of this wild frantic thing the fragrance of Your peace will come…@EMusserAuthor #ACFWBlogs #poetry #ACFWCommunity Click To Tweet

Elizabeth Musser writes ‘entertainment with a soul’ from her writing chalet—tool shed—outside Lyon, France. She’s asking the Lord to use her words to encourage others during this pandemic.  Find more about Elizabeth’s novels at www.elizabethmusser.com and on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and her blog.

 

 

Comments 2

  1. Now must come the avalanche,
    the mountain-slope is overcome,
    and all around the faces blanch,
    because there is no-where to run,
    except to He who made the hills,
    the Lord of hosts who set the stars,
    the God who in His wisdom wills
    with knowledge that surpasses ours.
    We cannot know why rock and tree
    must now to the deep valley go,
    sliding down the rocky scree
    all in their path laid deadly low,
    but within keening lament
    praise must be the more eloquent.

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