menopaused 2

As promised last year. I offer writings from the menopaused years. Heart cries penned in the margins. 

The titles are telling: Wait. Stillness. Hope. Broken. Challenge. Winter. Rhythm.

For those currently traveling through this particular season of life, take heart. Nothing can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:37-39).

Wait

Sitting by the lake 
quiet 
having fought 
this week 
against a 
tropical 
depression 
that pushed me 
down. 
Unclear 
why 
but I come to You, 
Father. 
I sit on this rock, 
watch 
water 
moving 
in the wind, 
hear birds  
singing. 
And I wait. 
I wait  
on 
You. 

7 feb 2009—little guilin lake, singapore

Stillness

Empty pen
hollow thought
creativity
	suspended.
I sit in
	restless
	stillness,
traffic below
a reminder that 
the world is
	moving 
	rushing
	speeding by.
Island.
I see the
ocean view.
Ships
sitting
in the bay
going nowhere
for now.
	That’s me?

24 october 2009—singapore

Hope

Moments of clarity  
today 
and a surge of hope 
that this season  
of brain fog 
will pass 
and once again 
I can 
analyze, reflect, 
make decisions, 
create, write. 
Father,  
this season. 
so strange, 
humbling, 
often disappointing, 
where 
worth and meaning 
take a back seat, 
lost somewhere.  
I cannot see. 
Yet I read  
this soul-comforting 
true word given by  
a Dr. Maclaren 
in years past: 
“Feet accustomed to the road to God 
can find it in the dark.” 
Thank You. 
Thank You for solid rock 
beneath my feet 
even in the hazy days. 

27 april 2011—new delhi

Broken

Broken
china bowl
memory
of Singapore—
I sweep the pieces 
then find a 
stray shard
hidden.
Sometimes
I think the
carefully crafted
vessel—
artistic, musical,
dramatic—
has somehow
fallen on the
marble floor
and
lies
in awkward
pieces
scattered
hidden
useless.
Thank You
for taking
each piece
and gently gathering
my life
to show
Your glory
regardless.

27 april 2011— new delhi

Challenge

To give thanks
in the richness,
in the poverty,
in the blue sky clarity,
in the grey cloud smudges,
to say “Yes, Lord”
when I’m awake at 3
and heavy thoughts 
tumble in,
reckless fears
crashing  into
my trust in You.
To bow in worship
when it’s clockwork
and when all seems to
unravel.
Regardless.
No matter what.
Thank You, Father,
in midstream
in the moment
now.

26 october 2011— alabama

Winter

Tree
planted by the streams 
of Your Word
I bear fruit in season
and my leaves
	do not wither
	do not shrivel up
		soft and lifeless.
My leaves
	change color
		then are released
	and the branches
	remain stark and still,
		pointed, hard-edged relief
		against winter sky
	thrusting upward
	in simple glory.
And there is hope
	residing in the winter tree,
		hope for the buds 
		and new green leaves
	of spring.
Alleluia.

1 january 2012—alabama

Rhythm

Lately, the pieces of
     my memory and thoughts
	that were 
s-c-a-t-t-e-r-e-d
     by menopause
     —change of life—
have slowly eased
     back
	into a rhythm.
	     Not that I recall
		every piece
		     of history,
		of journey,
	of things pondered--
but there is
	a stilling of the storm
	a resting with my Savior
		in the boat.
	Acceptance.
	Comfort.
	Hand in His
	     to look out across the waters
behind and before
    	        and 
	   	simply 
	     	     trust.

14 march 2014—new delhi

Related posts

menopaused – Heart cry – Embers – Waiting for the Lord – Job and the Hope of Easter – Rich man’s rain – The new year – On the way to thankfulness – Dare to hope – Wordless – Earthen vessel –