I Believe

The stars that fill the sky at night,
They do not ask, who gave them light?
The birds know too, Whose song they sing,
Their ancient verse, blessed by The King.
They sing, and never ask, nor plead,
For no one’s permission do they need.

Oh to be as free as that bird,
To sing a song that none has heard,
To sing that special song of Love,
As a child, to God above;
To let Him know I Love Him so,
How sorry I am, that I did go:
Away from His Love, away from His Light,
So very far into the night.

But when I got to where I’d roam,
I tried so hard to get back home;
Back to His Light, back to His Love,
Back to our Home, so far above.
But then the path, I couldn’t see,
I felt that all was lost to me.
Until one day, in deep despair,
I bitter wept, entrenched in prayer:

Then, like a breath, without a form,
A spring time scent, without a storm:
I sat in time, but I was not;
Far gone from present care or thought.
My body numb, I could not feel,
As I look back, I felt unreal;
And then a calm from head to toe,
Like peaceful Summer waters flow.
Like drifting in and out of dreams;
The happy sound of birds and streams.
This Peace had wiped away each tear,
A quiet only the soul can hear;
And let me know, and let me see,
The path was still in front of me.
While ear could not hear word was said,
I knew my home was up ahead.

And then, much like a gentle breeze,
The kind that puts the mind at ease;
With warmth that gives the heart a tug,
Enveloped me much like a hug,
Then eased me back into my place;
A hug and tear, in time and space.
My senses back, feelings returned,
I won’t forget the lessons learned;
For He who made each world and star,
Is always near, and never far.
And Christ who stands at unseen door,
Has walked upon this ground before;

And so my song is here my friend,
About God’s Love that has no end;
The song I sing, of greatest Love,
To my Father in Heaven above;

And so my song He did receive,
Because that I believe.

©2018 Ann Moore, All Rights Reserved

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Repost of “Picking Autumn, Apples, and Fun”

I originally posted this in October 2014. This is another of my three year anniversary posts. 🙂

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Autumn has always held a very distinct place in my memory.  The aesthetics, the colors of fall, and that particular crispness in the air, are uniquely and wonderfully affixed to my internal memory wall.  Therefore, focusing on the good and positive things of Autumn, what comes to mind is the annual picking of apples.  The smells that are associated with fresh apples is beyond amazing! 🙂 Whether it’s from apples hanging on trees, rolling around under trees, or being carted off by tiny hands with big smiles, the aromas are far better than any fragrance modern society can offer.  The memories, however, which flood in at this time of year when passing by any apple cart, are infinitely priceless.

From a young age I can remember climbing up apple trees, and tossing down the best looking apples to my siblings or my Dad.  They, in turn, would put the apples into the classic wooden bushel baskets.  Soon, I would be joined by other brothers or sisters, who wanted to pick the apples instead of catch them. Somehow we would end up with enough apples, laughs, scratches, and contented stomachs to last until the next Autumn.

From the orchard to the kitchen – my memories go from one to the other very quickly. Being in the kitchen during harvest season, with all of the canning, preserving, and baking, has to be some of the most comforting memories.  I remember so many times, returning home and stepping inside, from cool or blustery weather outside. The wave of warmth that hit me upon opening the door, accompanied by the smell of fresh baked apple pie, was unlike anything else. Those sensations are not soon forgotten!!  I suppose that is why apple cinnamon fragrance candles are so popular.  Yet they do not yield the same experience as the real thing, at least not for me.

There is something so amazing about a fresh baked ‘goodie’ from the oven; the anticipation that mounts while the aromas smell more wonderful each passing second. A person’s self control is definitely tested; otherwise, the pie would never make it out of the oven in one piece. I could see our family members sneaking off with the aroma-laden-wonder, and making short work of destroying all evidence. (with apple-crumbed smiles of course) 🙂

I thank God for the memories!! They are all around me. When I walk down a path in an apple orchard, and see all of those wonderful apples, smelling the sweet aromas, and watching families create memories, I see my own Dad and all of us kids crowding around the trees.  I hear the laughs, and see the smiling faces of kids, and I see a little piece of heaven.  I see my Dad and hear him saying, “Hey, look over here, this tree is a good one”.  🙂 🙂
© 2014 Ann Moore