For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: This week our topic is Shadows and reflections. Be creative if you feel like it, and fun with this challenge this week. Remember your photos need to be black and white, desaturated, sepia (brown tones) or selective color.
“Take this down,” I said. Two shades sprang up, one more agile than the other, stood poised and ready.
I ran my fingers along a dusty mantel.
How to begin?
“To Whom It May Concern.” Friends.
I hesitated, unaccustomed to the sunlight streaming in through my two windows to the world at large.
I squint into the sunny brightness, the dust motes like butterflies.
“. . . to both a due and hearty thanks . . . .” surely no more, no less rather than to carry on so til grace given is grace lost.
“That will do.”
The shades sprang down from their high perches, still gaping, and light stood like pillars under their cargo.
Even so back to books and lamplight, and Thou, my guardian.
If you knew your days were numbered, what would your last blog post look like? What truth would you declare to the world at large? Would it be one of sweet expectation and hope? One of peace and comfort for loved ones left behind?
Douglas Taylor (1948-2014) entered into glory in June of this year after a more than two-year struggle with cancer. The following was his last blog entry on May 8, 2014. May the God of all comfort be with his wife, Di, and their six children.
The Desired Haven
A rather poignant story is told (some may know its origin). A godly minister was dying, in everyone’s estimation, including his own. But, to everyone’s surprise, he gradually recovered.
But the sensation that overwhelmed him was disappointment. ‘I saw the harbour gates’, he exclaimed. ‘But now I am obliged to remain on the high seas, with my soul battered by every wave, doing battle with the world, the flesh, and the Devil.’
The ungodly world cannot understand this point of view, but should it not be the attitude of godly Christians? Should they not long for safety within the gates of glory, more than anything else?
Jesus, lover of my soul . . . let me to thy bosom fly. Charles Wesley
So he bringeth them to their desired haven (Psalm 107:30).
Communication is the thief of time
When colors scream
Down Mondrian walls
And listening ears
Tear paper thin hearts
On tips of tongues
Forked by overuse
Continue reading “A Passerby Reflects”