Shield on the Battlefield

Raise up the blood-soaked shield of faith on the battlefield,
And do not yield to the enemy, for your destiny is sealed
By the God of heaven and earth, in whom you have trusted,
To whom the surety of victory belongs for which you long,
And this has become your battle song sung long and strong;
He is your Beloved, in whom you live and have your being,
Seeing all from small to grand and tall, every inch of ground,
Hearing every sound, even the pounding of your very heart;
And your Beloved has given you the better part of his own,
Even as he has sown seeds of love, joy, and peace . . .
Look to his banner and fight on in the light of his bright face!

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Monday Update

Thankfully I was able to sleep through most of the night, though I woke up earlier than I wanted or intended. The morning has been very rough, yet not as much as other mornings. I have put in a call to my psychiatrist concerning the akathisia from which I currently suffer. Hopefully, I pray, he will call me back. Of course, I will call again if he does not call me this morning … and I will keep calling until I get ahold of him.

Holding onto hope by faith is very difficult at times, but I keep trying to tell myself that “this, too, shall pass.” It is, as I’ve said before, an extremely tough row to hoe. The effects of akathisia (at its worst) practically paralyze me on the inside, but God has been very gracious and good. Generally speaking, the days and nights are getting better and, like now, I am able to write and read without feeling like I’m coming completely unglued.

Of course, there must be an answer – in other words, cure – for my plight or, at least, I keep telling myself. And naturally I keep praying for some cure and return to normalcy. This leads me to once again thank my family, friends, readers and fellow-bloggers for your thoughts, encouragement and continuing prayers for me. Words to adequately express my deep gratitude allude me. I can only offer my sincere, heartfelt thankfulness.

More later…

Now in the Sacrament of the Present

Feeling tired and, at the same time, wired in the morning is seemingly just part of akathisia (as well as depression and anxiety). By the grace of God, I was able to sleep through the night, though, and the days are slowly but surely getting better. All of this is new territory for me. I’ve never experienced anything like this before and would not wish this on anyone.

Sharing my struggles openly and honestly is therapeutic as long as I can keep my thoughts straight. Otherwise I am just spitting in the wind. (God help me!) But can I count this as merely one part of my life journey? And should I ask myself what I am supposed to learn? But it’s difficult to know what the purpose is and what I am supposed to learn when thoughts race through my mind with no cohesion.

At the very least, I know that I am becoming more and more sensitive to the struggles of other people. Perhaps this is the lesson, if there is one, and so maybe in the final analysis I am to be more empathetic with others and reach out to help them so far as I am able. Certainly I am willing, and if I can do nothing else, at the very least I can pray for them.

Thus far in my own predicament many people have surrounded me with love, encouragement, and prayers. For this I am deeply grateful, knowing that it all has and continues to help immensely; therefore, I hold onto hope by faith, believing that this, too, shall pass. (I mean, of course, this unique predicament in which I find myself.)

For now, I can only take one step at a time, moment by moment, day by day, without fast-forwarding into the future. So, perhaps, another lesson I am learning is to live more fully in the present, trusting almighty God to carry me along this path in love, mercy and grace. For this, I am also learning to be sincerely thankful – that is, to be grateful in what might be called the sacrament of the present moment.

More later. . .

Let It Rain

Clouds full of promise, filled with blessing,
Rain down on this parched land so thirsty
With mercy born of angelic love and grace;
Speed your message to these lips of ours
So that we may drink and surely live again
As we continue on our journey here below,
Here below, plodding onward and upward
To heights hitherto unknown to pilgrims,
Pilgrims in search of a new Eden on earth
. . .
Lord, have mercy, and let it rain, let it rain

With All the Bells of Heaven

As I’m reeling from feelings of uncertainty and anxiety,
You come to turn my mourning into dancing, prancing
Like the deer across the mountain slopes of your love
From above, even as you give me a newer song to sing
Long into the night free from the fright of every blight
With promises of more than a share in unending care,
So how can I not sing in the comfort you bring to me?
And with this, joy wells up with all the bells of heaven!

Happier Days Are Coming

Happier days are coming, blooming within the soul
Of the one who waits expectantly with living hope
And expectation in anticipation of fresh joy untold
With bold confidence that happier days are coming,
Looming large on the horizon as prayers bear their
Weight in heaven above, from where all blessings
Flow as sacred wind blows, rushing in with answers
To supplications made in humility with the ability
To believe, relieving distress and dismay with rays
Of bright light flooding every part of the heart now
. . .
Happier days are coming, blooming within the soul
Of the one who waits expectantly with living hope
And expectation in anticipation of fresh joy untold,
So be bold! And hold on! Happier days are coming!

Waiting is the Hardest Part

Waiting for you is the hardest part,
As it tears at the fabric of the heart
That is already in the clutches of love
Above all else, my dove, and it makes
For an excellent bout with doubt,
Wondering if he is really worthy,
Asking if there will be only disdain
Such that this waiting is but in vain,
Pulling at his very spirit to abstain;
Ah! But have we come this far in life
So rife with pain to throw away gain
Of love to be found in the sound
Of our two hearts beating as one?
So shall we meet and seat ourselves
Neath the same sun with love begun
And discover together if our destiny
Lies along one common path or two;
But waiting is still the hardest part,
Tearing at the fabric of this heart . . .