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I’m talking to you,
My broken-hearted, weary friend.
Run, Run, RUN to Jesus,
And find rest.

I’m praying for you,
My broken-hearted, weary friend.
Run, Run, RUN to Jesus.
There find rest.

Still praying for you,
My broken-hearted, teary friend.
Run, Run, RUN to Jesus,
Take His rest.

by Gwennon
July 7, 2021

““Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take up my yoke and learn from me, because I am lowly and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.””
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭11:28-30‬ ‭CSB‬‬

Everyone, Everyone!


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Everyone wants Heaven.
But few embrace its Lord.
Offending Him throws up a price.
The soul can ill afford.
The Lord of all of Heaven
Pleads souls receive Him now,
Before the awful day arrives
When ev’ry knee MUST bow.
The time to choose is slipping by,
And ends before we know.
Then all the world will sadly see
Few into Heaven go.
For why should folks have Heaven,
Who do not want its Lord?
And who should share the lovely home
Of Him whom they abhorred?
Today, if you want Heaven,
EMBRACE and CHASE its Son,
Who opened Heaven’s door,
Who offers joy and more:
Who calms our inner strife;
Whose favor grants us life.

by Gwennon
June 9, 2021

sparked by a conversation with my friend Charaki, who shared a quote by Mark Batterson, something along the lines of Christians wanting Heaven for eternity, but not wanting to spend time with God right now. I think that idea can easily be expanded to include most of the world. Which is a shame, and will shame most for eternity.

“For whoever is ashamed of me and my words, the Son of Man will be ashamed of him when he comes in his glory and that of the Father and the holy angels.”
‭‭Luke‬ ‭9:26‬ ‭CSB‬‬

The Most Amazing!!!


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Lulls in what I meant and planned to do by now:
OUGHT’s squawking sharp for notice, as if, somehow
Work undone trumps all concerns. But here I bow,
Exposed as broken, faulty clay, needing God—
Nothing more, or less! Though nagging worries gnawed,
Eating away hopes and dreams; though they had awed
Right thinking into defeated submission,
God is meeting me where I wilt, my mission
Yielded finally to His Kingdom vision.

by Gwennon
May 24, 2021

Hebrews 12:2
New International Version
2 fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God [emphasis added].

A Lovely Dream Coming True


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Joyful days are when summer singers throng
Back to my home after a long winter,
And I find me waking up to bird song:
Those sounds that shout, “All is well. You belong!”
Stresses fade away as I remember
Joyful days when these summer singers throng.
Favorite fading memories grow strong:
In “good old days” of bird song I linger,
And I find me waking up to bird song
Again, soaking up musical joy long
After the singers fly off to dinner.
Joyful days begin when sweet singers throng
In the nearby trees and bushes along
The shady parts of my yard. They enter,
And I find me waking up to bird song,
And for a moment, nothing can go wrong
While I soak up sweet songs they deliver.
Joyful days are when summer singers throng,
And I find me waking up to bird song.

by Gwennon
June 2, 2018

And Letting Hungers Rest


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My cancer cells must fade and die today:
Must fade and die without their needed food.
My stomach needs a blesséd, short reprieve,
So cancer cells will have to fade and die.
Though foods may call and offer short term joy,
Some cancer here is scheduled now to die;
And self-control must reign though weakness rise,
And such harsh action makes me want to cry.
While hungers rise and weakness cries aloud,
While everything and nothing calls it off,
Tomorrow this day’s triumph makes me proud,
And proudly I will tally death’s die off.
For cancer cells will weaken, fade, and die,
While my own strength and health today increase.
Though illness lurked and rooted, standing by,
Today with Heaven’s grace, ‘twill start to cease:
Some cancer cells are slated here to die:
My cancer cells must fade and die today.

December 14, 2020

“I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.”
‭‭Philippians‬ ‭4:13‬ ‭KJV‬‬

I hope no one reading this gets the idea that I love starving myself or that I do this often, though my goal is to eventually have two non-consecutive days each week in which I either eat one late meal after giving my stomach 20-36 hours off. Last night, my last meal finished around 10:15. After arriving home late from a class, when my husband offered to make me a hamburger, I thought I died and went to heaven. Of course, I wanted him to make me a hamburger, and it was fabulous! Earlier that day, I ate any number of fruits and veggies and proteins, plus the most delicious chocolate I made myself from softened butter, blood-orange-infused olive oil, sea salt, raw cacao, and raw honey. If you experiment with the ingredients in small amounts, you can find a version you like of this, so long as you don’t mind runny chocolate that must either be eaten all at once, shared with friends, or refrigerated short-term.

After overdosing on sugar regularly for over 25 years, I’m finding my body needs rest. My stomach loves a little vacation from time to time. And I can cannibalize old, weak cells while my stomach relaxes; I can cannibalize the time I would have spent cooking, eating, and cleaning on doing other things instead; and I can cannibalize the money I didn’t spend on extra food for extra yarn for projects, or extra musical instruments. It’s a win-win-win, for sure. At the moment, I am starting to step into the idea of regular, intermittent fasting, but with limited success. I want to enjoy food like Jesus did: eating to live, loving every bite, but training myself not to overindulge over long periods of time. There’s a time for feasting. And a time for fasting. Today is a fasting day, and in His mercy, just a few weeks ago, God gave me this poem to encourage me along the way. I pray it encourages you, too.

Needing Adjustments



Those motes of yours have raised my ire
And filled my heart with dread.
(Of, course, I have my own motes, too,
But dwell on yours instead.)
I’m thinking you should take them out:
You’ve welcomed them too long!
(I understand I also need
To tell my own, “So long!”)
I’ve oft remade you in my mind
Through forceful push and shove,
Forgetting all too soon
God never hates us into love.

Gwennon February 1, 2020

“Either how canst thou [HOW CAN YOU CONTINUALLY] say to thy brother, Brother, let me pull out the mote [SPLINTER] that is in thine eye, when thou thyself beholdest not [YOU YOURSELF CONTINUALLY REFUSE TO LOOK AT] the beam [THE VERY LARGE WOODEN POLE, PERHAPS THE SIZE OF A SHIPS’S MAST, OR OUR MODERN-DAY TELEPHONE POLE] that is in thine own eye? Thou hypocrite, cast out first the beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to pull out the mote that is in thy brother’s eye.”
‭‭Luke‬ ‭6:42‬ ‭KJV‬‬ merged with Gwennon’s commentary

I’m thinking that in these days of rampant polarization and finger-pointing, it might not be a bad idea to consider how Jesus treated people. Reading the New Testament, we see that to the poor and broken, Jesus was always gentle. The only times Jesus even appeared to be harsh were when He was dealing with powerful, self-righteous people (often religious people) whose hard hearts refused to see their need for God or to care for the poor and needy they had the power to help. Maybe just for a moment, instead of focusing on the “wrong” (aka, usually, different) being done by others, what if we turned our weary eyes to something else: “He has shown you, o mortal, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” – Micah 6:8 NIV



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Come into my broken and heal me, Lord God:
My pain is sore throbbing and will not let up.
Come into my broken and weep with me here:
It’s only Your love that can comfort and soothe.

He came to our broken and lived with us here:
He felt all our sorrows and all of our pains;
He came to our broken and cried for our loss,
And paid for our sin with His death on the cross.

Lord Jesus, we thank You for living with us,
And seeing the broken that others may scorn.
We choose to adore you and live now for You;
In Your healing love may we always abide.

November 7, 2018

I wish I were a good enough musician to play this for you on the piano. But even if I could, I have never learned to sing and play the piano at the same time.

This little song wrote itself in the parking lot of church, where I made myself late to the prayer meeting.

All Consuming


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We’re too polarized to cement
Our opinions in agreement.
How I wish that you could only
Turn to Jesus with your sorrows
(Since your angst makes you so lonely),
Trusting Him Who makes tomorrows.
He knows ev’rything—AND CARES.
There’s no short-term fix for problems.
Only God above can solve ‘em.
And He wants to hear your prayers.

Gwennon, November 1, 2020

Composed (hopefully in secret) during the sermon in church Sunday for everyone with whom I may disagree politically. Our hope has to be in Heaven. God is still God. Regardless of government and politics. At times like this, I like to lean on Proverbs 21:1, which speaks of God holding and directing “the heart of the king” “like a watercourse”, turning it in whatever direction He wants it to go. Without meaning to, I have amalgamated several translations. You will want to look it up for yourself. The point is, God is higher than governments, and He is still in control, regardless of what we see. Or think we see.

Just a Nurse?



Just a person who brings comfort,
Just the one that patients trust,
Just the one that people turn to
When their health is not robust,
Just the one that others lean on
To be tender, tough, and wise,
Just the one who follows through
When weaker persons hide their eyes,
Just the one the doctors count on
To continue giving care
When the experts are long gone
You are the one who’s always there,
Just the one who has the answers
That our crisis may reverse,
Just the one who’s well-prepared,
You’re so much more than “just a nurse”!

by Gwennon
August 8, 2020

for Barb Martin, a hero in our community