You are the…
Song for my verse
Pet for my cat
Wheels for my trip
Train for my track
Clean for my mess
Star for my play
Feet for my dance
Sun for my gray
Race for my car
Ball for my game
Boat for my sail
Last for my name
Brand for my cards
Laugh for my tears
Go for my slow
Balm for my fears
Kiss for my lips
Joy for my heart
Have for my hold
Till death do us part
Copyright 2015
Niki Moran
gleaningthenuggets.com
The beautiful, ever forward-moving waves on Oahu…
Sometimes when we try to move forward in our lives, we feel like this wave: battered and broken into a thousand different pieces. Perhaps it didn’t turn out the way we had planned, maybe it was so much harder than we thought. And we are left shattered. Sometimes disappointment makes us feel like this:
The sea, oh, the sea,
does it really want to keep crawling back
to the shore
its foamy fingertips clinging to the sand
only to be pulled away once more?Must it constantly throw itself
against its long loved lover
in a rage
when it knows the role in life
the shore must always play?(Niki Moran, 1984)
If you are there, as I have been lately (February is the worst winter month!), here’s a little encouragement for battle weary souls:
“Forgetting what is behind and straining for what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” Philipians 3:13-14, NIV
“Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised.” Romans 4:20-21 (NIV)
And for the more secular among us, the late, great Fleetwood Mac:
“Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow, don’t stop, it’ll soon be here. It’ll be here, better than before, yesterday’s gone, yesterday’s gone. Don’t you look back!”
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Recently
I’ve been taking a spot of tea
And it seems to me
That the British may be
More familiar with civility
Because of the activity
Of sitting down to tea at three
Who would America be
If instead of coffee
Whipping us to a tizzy
We sighed languidly
With a little pastry
And let the world dissolve quietly
With a little spot of tea at three
Paul Simon is celebrating his 70th birthday today. Just hearing his name, much less his music, stirs up such wonderful memories of my youth. I spent hours hovering over his records as they spun on the turntable, imbibing the glorious harmonies of Scarborough Fair; the tender, brokenhearted lyrics of April Come She Will; the delightful whimsy of The 59th Street Bridge Song-Feeling Groovy. I could go on and on. For many, his songs light up something within us and our souls swell with each beautiful chord, each lovely sentiment.
Oh, how he inspired me to write! He graciously unlocked the door of his heart so we could see, hear and feel how he experienced life. He created a yearning in me to do the same. In honor of my muse and mentor’s birthday I’d like to share one of my favorite poems. My writing will never deck the Music Hall of Fame or appear on a Best Seller list but for today I’d like my little creation to be a tribute to Paul Simon, who always challenged me to reach greater artistic heights. Thanks, Paul, for sharing your gift!
How Could It Be?
There are so many that I see your face
Why am I blessed to know your sweet grace?
To watch you smile in the blue of the morning
To witness the grandeur of your thunderhead forming
To see you twinkle behind my son’s eyes
And your peace on his face in the night as he lies
How could it be that I have eyes to see
What is hidden from everyone except you and me?
There are so many times that I feel your touch
How could it be that you love me so much?
To feel your caress on my cheek in the breeze
And the wash of your warmth when on bended knees
To feel your presence, so lovely and true
As we sing to your glory and give praise to you
How could it be that I am blessed to feel
The one love in the world that is truly real?
There are so many times that I hear you speak
How is it that I have what wise men seek?
To hear your laugh in a sweet mountain stream
Or your whisper of comfort at night as I dream
To hear you speak when I read your Word
As you share with me mysteries I never have heard
How could it be that I made the choice
That allows me to hear your loving voice?
There are so many times, Lord, that I know you are here
How can I tell all the ways you are dear?
All I can say, Lord, is thank you, my Friend
For making my sorrows all come to an end
For shedding your light on the sad likes of me
And blessing my life with your tender mercy
How could it be that I know the One
The Great I AM, God’s only Son?
-Niki Moran, December 2002
Gleaning the Nuggets 