Crafty

Sometimes I can be a little more than a writer. Sometimes I'm a seamstress and make fun things like this and post them to pinterest...

(EB is  my initials)

or I like to paint... at those moments, I do things like this...

I suppose I'm a jack of all trades. I suppose the point is to have fun thought, isn't it? If you aren't having fun, then what are you doing with the life God has given you? We all have things we love doing, and I think God likes to use those pleasures for his glory.

ALL FOR HIS GLORY!

Emily

Life is Full

Life is always changing, isn't it? Like the tide, it never stops flowing, and always keeps moving, changing and shifting like shadows. You can't grab hold of it and tie it down to keep it still for a moment. Pray, wish and dream, but nothing ever changes. There's nothing to be done. Life is full of changes.

Lying awake at night, sometimes I get that sinking feeling in my heart that something good is about to come to an end. I can never quite get the feeling to go away. So instead I stare at the ceiling and wish with all my heart for time to stand still for a moment so that I can hold on.

Sometimes something good is often followed by something equally wonderful. It's moments like those where your heart is most fragile - torn between two worlds, both so good and yet they cannot coexist. To have one, you must let go of the other. I often like to remind myself that I can come back to the place where I left off, but that's not so true. Life, after all, is constantly changing. so in the end, my heart still shatters into a million pieces and tears well up in my eyes as I fight to let time keep moving, to let those good things slip through my fingers and grab hold of the next good thing with both hands holding tight.

So good night. It's night for me as I'm writing this, anyways. When you read it, this moment will have passed, just like all the others. But maybe that's why I love writing so much. It immortalizes time and forces it to stand still and flip back and skip ahead. I love books in that way.

Growing Seeds

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Here they stand, washed and clean

wearing white

Shining keen.

On the lawn, in the yard,

bold faced front,

smiles large.

And if you ask, you’ll hear them say:

Jesus, only way.

As infant babes, they made a stand,

all rejoiced,

all was grand.

In that way, they grew to know

a man, a savior,

and the world, a show.

So him they claimed as right and true,

but if you knew…

In their hearts they doubt the promise -

whitewashed tombs

like the psalmist.

If they sin, their worries sway.

Will he forgive?

Or send away?

Does one trespass weight the more

and blacken hearts to the core?

So deep within they hold the bones

to front a mask,

to shield the moans.

This in mind, they pray and plead

others see

only potent, godly deed.

And so go on, empty, broken sepulcher

living what they wish they were.

Spiting words to say and deeds to do,

still they stumble,

faults they eschew .

To their knees they come,

Savior and Lord,

But have faults won?

Heart so willing for His gain,

but flesh so weak, causing pain.

How can it be that perfect God

Should love a man?

Making fine a packed dirt clod

I glory in that this love, this creed

Depends not on perfection

But a growing seed.

Persisting on, watered, starved

Into the ground, it’s slowly carved.

And as it carves a hard won place

To the sun,

It lifts its face.

And even when the drought does come

The roots still cling

Though watered only some

The tenuous grasp is enough to hold

And reap the treasure of life worth gold. 

Emily Bergstrom

5/3/2013