HALCYON MAGAZINE PRESENTS
Issue 1, May 2013
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From the Editor Welcome to the premier issue of Praise Writers. I am grateful to the Lord for guiding talented writers to exalt His name through stories, poems and articles represented in this magazine! Whether small or life-changing events, the contributors have found reasons to thank Him in every circumstance. Throughout my lifetime, I have discovered that praising God dispels the darkness of depression and hopelessness. After all, He inhabits the praises of His people (Psalm 22:3). In the next issue, I will share an incredible testimony about the power of praise. I hope the content inspires you, and helps to replace any thoughts of heaviness with words of praise. The apostle Paul exhorts us to think on things that are lovely, of good report...and praiseworthy (Philippians 4:8). That is what I have tried to do in launching the magazine. Have a blessed time reading Praise Writers.
Founding Editor monique.editor@gmail.com
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Praise Writers ISSN: 2291-5307 Frequency: Bi-yearly Founding Editor | Designer: Monique Berry
Special Notices
Contact Info
Praise Writers has one time rights. See website for subscription details.
http://praisewriters.blogspot.ca monique.editor@gmail.com
In this Issue Contributors: Anne Anderson; Ed Higgins; Erin D. Johannesen; Frances Land; Gene Fehler; Heather Gillis; Irina Glazkova; Joyce Oglesby; Linda M. Crate; Monique Berry; Phillipe Chatelain; Ruth Parker; Stacey Ivanovic; Tom Sheehan.
Poetry
Non-Fiction
4 No Storm Is Too Great
10 Is It Really Love By Joyce Oglesby
5 6 8 9 15 20 20 21
By Gene Fehler Prayer By Anne Anderson Amazing Gifts By Ruth Parker Crucified By Ed Higgins Pentecost By Ed Higgins The Open Gate By Heather Gillis If They’d Open Their Hearts By Linda M. Crate A Poet’s God By Phillipe Chatelain God, Grey Flies, And Edward By Tom Sheehan
In With Is It Really Love, Joyce investigates the shaky, often porous ground of newly-found love.
22 It Is Finished By Monique Berry The Holy Spirit inspires the author to write a comforting entry in her journal.
Fiction 12 The Garden By Erin D. Johannesen One man gathers the strength and affirmation required to meet the greatest challenge of human existence.
16 The Step By Irina Glazkova Alice decides to fix her life. Before she takes one last step, Alice encounters a stranger.
18 His Plans Are Great By Stacey Ivanovic Sarah, a high school student who never knew God, finds Him through one of His faithful servants.
19 Staircase By Frances Land When unspoken promises are broken, the sweet turns to bitter surprise for the naive and hopeful.
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No Storm Is Too Great By Gene Fehler Although the threat of weather shrieks A warning to my troubled soul, The soothing voice of God still speaks. I know that He is in control. For in the worst is yet the best, And we can sense a saving grace. Winds rip, rains slash; yet we are blest By being held in God’s embrace. One of GENE FEHLER'S thirteen published books is NEVER BLAME THE UMPIRE, a middle grade novel (Zonderkidz, 2010; softcover, 2011). In it,11-year-old Kate's mother is dealing with terminal cancer. The mother's courage and strong faith during her illness helps Kate and her brother and father stay strong themselves during this difficult time. Gene lives in Seneca, SC, with his wife Polly and their two toy poodles. For more visit www.genefehler.com or email Gene at gfehler@att.net.
Image credit: "Daniel Sauceda" | www.geniuzdesign.com
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Prayer By Anne Anderson
Image credit: Lightstock
My grieving bride of barren womb Praying for fulfillment not impending doom I am the husband, watching her tears each day My hands rise up. Father, I pray.
“Why us, God—why? We’re burning out, our marriage is a lie.”
If there is a God, why this trough Her burning breast and sperm rejected cough Why us, God—why? We’re burning out, our marriage is a lie.
“We have two children, Billy and Blue We think we've got a good match at adoption for you. A girl and a boy, aged four and three.” We meet, we greet, we play, we bounce them on our knee.
We made our vows, a child we want to bring to you Our fruitless marriage, makes us failures too Okay, we foster to boost and distract See, we are good parents Father, that’s a fact!
We get a trial, we sign on the line ‘My darling, these gifts from God are yours and mine.’ All we had to do was pray and believe For Gods in charge of the child we conceive.
Then one day, the phone doth ring We knew at once it was your voice We sat and heard your voice bells sing In your glory, we did rejoice.
Just like any other parent, we are blessed Even in the night, we have a completed nest Thank you God, for hearing our prayer Thank you God for our lair.
ANNE ANDERSON is a mature student studying at Winchester University England. She lives in Poole and has been a Christian single parent of two boys for 15 years. God has greatly blessed her and her friends, too.
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Amazing Gifts By Ruth Parker Dedicated to my surgeon Dr. Brad Weening.
Broken, frightened, all alone
So hot inside my aged hospital room,
pain wracks my body
no way to control the heat.
in the deepest, darkest places.
Debilitating migraines scream through my head
No one to turn to.
night after night nausea and throbbing pain.
Nurses in and out
No desire to see family or visitors.
but no time to stop and care.
Physio nurse angry with a non-compliant patient
A kind word never spoken.
pushing against a knee which refused to move
Hospital: sterile, hollow, the smell of antiseptic
more than a couple of degrees.
permeating throughout. Please leave me alone. Body in distress,
I just want to go home.
unable to fathom what had happened,
No appreciation for the amazing job my surgeon had done
never-ending despair.
or for his exceptional talent.
A desire to curl up in a corner and die a quick death.
Easter weekend—poor planning on my part.
The doctor warned it was a very painful operation
The doctor asked, “Are you sad to be in hospital on Easter?”
but how could anything take over so completely?
I didn’t really know.
So all encompassing.
All I could see in my mind’s eye was Jesus hanging on the cross
Would I be all right when this was over?
suffering the most excruciating
Would it ever be all over?
anguish and unimaginable pain
So much agony.
wondering how He knowingly agreed to die
Shove more pills in.
nailed to a wooden cross.
Fear of addiction down the road.
What an awesome, unbelievable, astounding gift
Why did I agree to this?
He gave to the entire world!
RUTH PARKER is a retired teacher living in Winona, ON. She has short stories published in Finding Your Unique Voice. When not writing, Ruth enjoys knitting, creating stained glass gifts, singing in a choir, working out at the gym, and spending time with her grandchildren. Contact Ruth at nruthparker@hotmail.com.
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Image credit: Photoxpress.com
What on earth was I thinking?
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Crucified
Image credit: Lightstock
By Ed Higgins Until taut muscles tear and tendons strain almost off the bone, we can never know the peeled flesh pain of that stretching toward belief those curled fingers knew closing on nails wet red with flow and clot of pierced hands. Only sharper truth piercing that seared brain finally brought the voice of comfort to those who watched in helpless horror. They still saw anguish but later affirmation, too: at this vanishing point of all sin's pain.
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“Until taut muscles tear and tendons strain almost off the bone...”
ED HIGGINS’ poems and short fiction have appeared in various online and print journals including Commonweal, Christianity & Literature, Christian Century, The Mennonite, and The Penwood Review, among others. He and his wife live on a small farm in Yamhill, OR. Ed teaches creative writing and literature at George Fox University, south of Portland, OR. Contact Ed at ehiggins@georgefox.edu.
Pentecost
Image credit: Creationswap.com
By Ed Higgins in wind & flame they felt acknowledgement fill that room stronger than any wind felt before these gales of rushing promise Spirit sent flames astounding light dazzling all who were there not speechless but into
“...forever one tongue of many flaming voices moving all, filling all, powering all...�
all speech forever one tongue of many flaming voices moving all, filling all, powering all with surge of bright burning receiving His love of dove descended blaze.
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In With Is It Really Love, Joyce investigates the shaky, often porous ground of newly-found love. She offers thoughtful, witty insights that illuminate how tricky (and often finicky) meeting someone and feeling "that spark" can be. Joyce recommends safeguards for hearts to keep from falling into the trap of infatuation. Giving detailed signs of the differences between love and infatuation, Joyce walks us through the "process" of falling in love and how to avoid letting false emotions lead the way.
Is It Really Love? By Joyce Oglesby What is love, and how do I know if it’s for real? Who can tell? More than 2 million couples will marry this year, and more than half of those will divorce. Were they really in love or in-fatuation? Truth be told, many of the ones who stay married will remain so, but their romantic status will diminish within six months to six years. None of us can refute the chemistry that attracts a man and woman. Nor should we try. After all, who would want to marry someone who lends no physical appeal and, therefore, stirs no desire for which to enjoy an erotic relationship? Everyone wants red hot romance! Whereas chemistry is an important factor in the selection of a lifetime mate, other ingredients must be weighed in at great, if not greater, measures for a lasting relationship. Otherwise, you will wake up one day to find you were never truly in love; you were merely in-fatuation. Consequently, it begs the question: How can I know for sure if this is really love? For the most part, people seeking a lasting relationship go about it backward. They look for the physical to be the deciding factor in their choice of a lifetime mate, when, in reality, it should be what we are seeking to achieve after reaching other milestones. In working with couples, both married and contemplating the thought of, I have discovered some good rules of thumb to live by to avoid being hurt or hurting another in this game we call “love.”
Get to know the person well with whom you are interested in developing a relationship. There’s much more to an individual than school/college, career, birthplace, hobbies and food preferences. You gain knowledge by interacting at socials, with friends and family, and at church. Discuss critical issues about faith, political leanings, and family histories. Take note of curt, sharp, critical remarks. Keep score of temper flare-ups and especially the ease with which they occur. If these character traits are frequent and/or abrupt … RUN!
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His/her primary focus should be on you. It isn’t that no conversation should ever be about him/her, but if you find your dialogue seems to lean heavily toward one individual, narcissism will likely become an issue in the relationship. When each of you is interested in the other, the scales balance out quite nicely.
Motivation should equal ambition. Talking a big game is typically the only red flag you need. Success will surface in resolved individuals. Typically, if they’re bragging, they’re lagging. While some boasters are indeed successful, quite often their egos are larger than their intentions for love.
Willingness to work through problems is critical as to whether you continue to remain in a relationship. Ask yourself tough questions: Must he/she always be right or get his/her way? Does he/she stonewall instead of finding an amenable solution? Does the same issue rear its ugly head repeatedly? How willing is he/she to compromising in order to resolve a problem? Don’t make the mistake of stretching the truth or getting caught in the denial cycle. It catches up, if not sooner, then later.
Consider consideration. My husband and I have a principle in our marriage that works: You are more important than I am. When each of you looks after the other’s best interests, no one goes lacking. Kindness, courtesy, and consideration flow freely on a daily basis, and all needs are fostered routinely.
Protection, provision, and security are musts for women. Check frequency of and reasons behind job changes, how well he manages his finances, and what his plans are for the future. Any disconnect or ambivalence detected is definitely a sign of a turbulent relationship. Whether love or infatuation, it has all the makings of failure and/or misery.
Respect, gratification, and praise are musts for men. Respect equals love in a man’s eyes. Being thankful for how he provides says you value his worth. Knowing the one he loves is proud of his efforts, how he looks, and the way he loves is priceless in developing layers of love, and it keeps him infatuated over only you. If these qualities are scarce, he soon will be, too.
Reunions are sweet. If you have cause to be distanced by time and/or miles, all reunions should be anticipated. If you find it’s a great relief to have that space and you wish the break could be longer, infatuation might be wearing thin, and love is truly not in place. (Not to be confused with how nice it is to have no demands on you at times. Everyone enjoys that occasionally!)
There are practical ways to distinguish between love and infatuation, but one fundamental principle remains. Until one learns to love with the heart of Jesus, real love is difficult to recognize and a heart could be inviting annihilation. Knee-bound guidance and confirmation is a great place to begin before falling head first into an unwise relationship. Protecting one’s heart from insult and injury is not rocket science. Mistakes might still occur, but simply taking the time to develop a relationship piqued by infatuation can line up a heart to discover true love. JOYCE OGLESBY is a respected author and speaker, Today’s Woman columnist, and radio and former TV personality. Life as a pastor’s wife, mother, grandmother, and entrepreneur has enhanced her expertise and passion to preserve the family unit. Whether she’s writing her monthly column, hosting her daily radio talk show, Just Ask Joyce, or speaking and/or teaching workshops or seminars, Joyce has a unique gift for connecting with people. Her spiritual roots create a solid biblical foundation on which to build open and honest communication in relationships. Listening audiences come away with hope and a renewed sense of purpose for life situations. She has authored various books related to marriage and family. Visit her website to learn more at www.justaskjoyce.com. Contact Joyce directly at joyce@justaskjoyce.com, or 812-989-8175.
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The Garden By Erin D. Johannesen The garden is an ancient dwelling place of the Holy Spirit, a haven for prayer and contemplation. Deep within this tranquil environment, one man gathers the strength and affirmation required to meet the greatest challenge of human existence. e treasured every visit to this tranquil place. Divinity was reflected in every winding vine, every leaf and bloom. If he gazed heavenward, he could feel the warming sun break through the canopy overhead. If he closed his eyes, he could hear the distant tread of the garden’s creatures scampering through the adjacent orchard. The rustling leaves and swooping birds could not distract him from his purpose here; the steady drone of lively insects served to quiet his mind. With each deep, full breath, he could detect the aroma of ancient bark and moss. He felt at one with this place, with all creation. In this solitude, he sought companionship, reconciliation, rest. He sought advice and wisdom, love and strength. These are the gifts he received here, because he asked for them: an overwhelming sense of peace, a calm, a contentment that overtook his physical body and lightened his spirit. And in that time, he emerged from beneath the plentiful branches with a renewed desire to fulfill the purpose of his life. Much had changed in his world in recent days, and his opportunity for respite in the secluded, sacred space no longer existed. The demands of his daily life left him longing to be encompassed by the garden’s bountiful foliage. Never in this life had he felt so alone, whether in a crowd or at rest with his closest companions. Never before had he felt such doubt or despair, such emptiness. There was only one place for him to spend this night, only one chance at hope. The garden was overgrown now. As he led the way through the orchard, briars grabbed at his garments and scratched his ankles. There was only stillness here; no playful creatures now, no wind in the leaves. His quiet corner, his favorite space, could not be found, so wild were the weeds. And so he settled on the cold ground, cushioned only by his clothing beneath him. For hours he sat, hands alternately pressed together at his heart, then covering his wet eyes. From whom did he hide his anguish? No friend could see, nor foe; he felt as alone as he always was here. No sun
shone now; it was the moonlight that slipped through the branches of these towering trees. And even less light reached to the edges of this place, where those who pledged to pray with him, those who swore to be diligent and watchful, those who loved him, were quiet and still—and asleep. Trembling, he wiped the sweat from his brow and from his lips. He lowered his hands to the earth and swiped them through the twigs and dead leaves scattered about. A stone, smooth and gray, lay there among nature’s rubble, and he clutched it, feeling its cool weight in his palm. He slowly traced his fingers along the rounded edges. He rubbed his thumb along its smooth face. He pressed one hand to his heart, and his breathing slowed. Kneading the rock between his hands, he rose and stood tall and strong, with his eyes directed upward. He dropped it in the dust, and lifted his palms toward the sky. “I am alone,” he whispered. You are not. “I am afraid.” I know. “There is so much hatred and deception, mistrust and evil.” It is true. “It is hopeless!” You are hope. “It is so dark!” he cried. You are the light. At his feet, the moonlight danced along the pond’s surface. With a deep inhalation, he closed his eyes. He remembered the majesty of this garden, the wonder of it. A small breeze blew the hair from his face. He could still detect, beneath the odor of dust and mold, the sweetness of the trees that existed long before he was born and would be here long after his death. He allowed peace to enter his body, to fill his lungs, his heart, and his head. He let this serenity warm him, soothe him. He crossed his arms over his chest as if to hold it inside, and then he waited.
ERIN D. JOHANNESEN lives near Chicago, Illinois, with her husband and three children. A lover of writing from a young age, Erin's work was first published in elementary school. While her themes have changed over the years, her passion for sharing stories has never wavered. Contact Erin at erin.m.johannesen@gmail.com.
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The Open Gate By Heather Gillis
The gate is open All you need do is enter There is nothing to fear The circle of birth, life, and death does not matter
The gate is open All you need do is enter There is nothing to fear The duties of work, life and the everyday do not matter
The gate is open All you need do is embrace the feeling There is nothing to fear The joy of living, loving, and being is all that matters
The gate is open All you need do is forget the troubles of everyday life There is nothing to fear
Image credit: Photoxpress.com
Sit back, close your eyes, breathe deeply, and just be with God
HEATHER GILLIS was born and brought up in Glace Bay, Nova Scotia. An avid reader and journal keeper throughout her life, Heather has recently begun to write poetry. She is a member of Whitney Writers Ink, and participates in public readings of her work. Heather lives in beautiful Cape Breton Island with her husband, Gordon.
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The Step By Irina Glazkova Alice decides to fix her life. Before she takes one last step, Alice encounters a stranger. Together they will encounter a life-changing experience that will open their eyes.
A
lice stopped, looked around, and moved closer to the edge. The cliff is high enough. Nobody or nothing can stop me now. She was so engrossed in her plan that she didn’t hear the nearing hoofbeats. “Excuse me, Ma’am? You need to get back on the trail.” warned a park ranger. “You’re standing on a cliff that can collapse at any moment,” He got off his horse and approached the woman. “Are you okay? Can I help you?” “Back off or I'll jump!” The ranger paused and cocked his head. The girl looked familiar. He wanted to know why, but for now, he needed to get her safely away from the edge. “See, I've stopped,” he promised as he took a couple steps back.
Image credit: Photoxpress.com
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Alice raised her voice. “Listen! You don't know me! I've come here to fix everything once and for all. There is no other way to do this! Now you get out of here!” “So, you need to fix your life. But I can see that something is stopping you from jumping.” “My faith in God–what's left of it!” Alice was shaken. “I don't even know your name! Why am I talking to you?” “Are you a Christian?” “Yes, or was, but He gave me more than what I bear. I tried to fight. But I cannot do this anymore!” The park ranger wanted to tell her that there is always a hope that God will take care of everything. Suddenly, the cliff collapsed. Both fell into the water, arms flailing about. Alice felt the plunge. In a few seconds, I’ll be facing eternity! Within seconds, the man grabbed her and brought her tothe surface. “Hold on to me!” exclaimed the ranger. “We are not far from shore!” Alice grabbed his arm. A few minutes later, they reached the shore, shivering and thoroughly exhausted. “Do you still want to die?” The man furrowed his brow. “Now, I see that the Lord wants me to live. He brought me out of this. But now I am hungry.” Alice lied. But she did not want to hurt him anymore. After all, he saved her life. “Here take this. While I bring us something to eat,” he took a zip-lock bag out of his pocket, “please take the Bible out and give me the bag.” While the ranger explored the area, Alice opened the Bible. He returned a few minutes later. “Here are some blueberries,” the man said giving her a whole bag of berries. “There is a trail which leads to the field,” he said noticing that the girl wasn't interested. “Thank you so much.” She thanked the man without looking at him. They ate in silence. He was looking at Alice curiously. She seemed to be aloof and reserved.
“Why did Fred Lassard give you his Bible?” “I see that you've read the first page. Tell me how you know Fred Lassard.” Alice shrugged her shoulders. “We went to the same church, he left few year ago” “You must be Alice D'yeux,” he said nervously. “How did you know my name?” the girl looked puzzled. “Today, when I first saw you, I knew you looked familiar. I also noticed surgical scars on your left arm and right leg. But I was not fully convinced until I saw your eyes. The right is green, and the left is blue.” “Well, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She paused. He looked familiar. She had seen him somewhere. That smile, posture, body language—Fred Lassard! “Wait a second. Are you the oldest son of Patrick Lassard?” Fred nodded. Alice looked confused. “But how? Why are you here?” “I tried to run from everything I'd done. I didn't want to follow God,” confessed Fred. Alice raised her voice. “Everybody thinks that you moved to Iceland.” “That's what I told my parents to tell everybody who would be curious,” he said looking away. “Some church members told me that you did excellent on your finals and graduated with nice GPA. But what happened to you?” “I continued my education, got a job as a home-care worker, and did a post-graduate program that did not go well. So, I dropped out. The client harassed me, and my family is not being supportive. They told me to suck it up. I moved here few days ago and got a job at the post-office.” Alice’s disappointment was evident. “You've been through a lot! But let's agree on how God works everything for good. Did you know that there is a church nearby? I’m going to attend. Especially after what we've faced today!” Suddenly, an approaching horse ran towards them. “Blessy, over here!” The animal stopped for a moment and then galloped towards Fred. Alice laughed. “I guess God really does provide.” “Let me introduce you to my incredible horse, Blessy.” “She will bring us home.” He paused and looked at Alice. “Are you able to ride her?” She nodded. Although several years had passed since she went horseback riding, Alice got into the saddle without any difficulties. Fred helped Alice on the horse. “I need to get out of these wet clothes.” “My dear, you got luck of the Irish! My sister recently dropped off some of her clothes for donation. Moreover, I don't want to leave you alone.” Fred squeezed her hand. “Let's go! Let's start fresh lest we forget that we are the children of God. Who is always with us!”
“He gave me more than what I can bear. I tried to fight. But I cannot do this anymore!”
IRINA GLAZKOVA is living and working in St. John's, Newfoundland. Originally from Russia, at 17 she moved to the USA for one year. Irina has a degree from Memorial University of Newfoundland, major: Marine Biology, minor: French. She loves going to church and writing. "The Step" is her first story written in English. Contact Irina at irinaglazkova89@gmail.com for feedback.
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His Plans Are Great By Stacey Ivanovic Sarah, a high school student who never knew God, finds Him through one of His faithful servants who teaches her to continually seek His daily presence in her life.
Image credit: Photoxpress.com
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his morning, like every other Saturday morning for the past two months, I trudged up the hill from my house to the nursing home for my weekly volunteer work. If it were up to me, I’d still be in bed. As it is, I can’t graduate high school without volunteer hours. Today, more than usual, I was wishing I was anywhere but on my way to a nursing home to clean up after and help old people. As soon as my required hours were over with, I would be out of there. That was my plan. God seems to have different ideas. Now I know to follow His plan, rather than my own selfish ones. I arrived and checked in as usual. Normally, I cleaned and kept some residents company. Today I was in the main hall where I would help with the Bingo game later that day. Irene, one of the older ladies in the building, asked me to roll up and pack her knitting, and then help her from the main hall up to her room. Together we slowly made our way up the corridor. In her room I set the roll of knitting down on the top of the dresser. Once she was nestled into her reading chair, she asked me, “Would you please read the bookmarked page to me for a little bit? My new prescriptions are not in yet and the font is quite small.” “Of course.” I grabbed her worn out Bible off the shelf and read from the instructed page. “1 Corinthians, Chapter 1, Verse 4. I thank my
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God always...” I read on. I was never a religious person, and was surprised at the peace I felt while reading these words. When Irene told me to stop, I put the Bible back. “Thank you,” she said. “Not a problem,” I replied. “Do you read that every day?” “Of course,” she explained, “it’s good for the soul. Where would we be without God?” I repeatedly thought about what she had said for the rest of the day. I never gave God much thought. Why was He so important to her? For the next few weeks, each time I visited I read a little more to her until one day I finally asked for an explanation. “Why do you have so much faith? What has God done for you?” I’m not sure what compelled me to ask, but I needed to know. She explained how for years she had been going to church around the corner. “It was a very homely and supportive community. I met my husband there, and God brought all those people into my life. They supported me through a lot of trials.”
“Why do you have so much faith? What has God done for you?” It was only the beginning of her explanation. At a young age, Irene lost her younger sister and father in a house fire. She and her mother went through hard times financially, and her relationships throughout her life were often strained. But she credits God for getting her through it all. It’s because of Him that she married a wonderful man, and had immense support from her Christian family. “Life will be hard no matter what,” she explained, “but with God, He will provide everything you need in though times and high times. It’s only because of Him
that it’s worth the struggle. At the back of your mind, you know He allows it for a reason for it and good things will eventually come.” It made me wonder that if He had the power to make such a difference in her life, perhaps He could help me, too. She spoke of His guidance in her life with such admiration. I felt that I needed God; Irene might have been just the push I needed to seek him. The following Sunday marked my first trip to church. Never have I felt so welcomed. Within minutes, everyone around me had introduced themselves, invited me to Bible Studies or prayer groups, and even started asking if I would be interested in getting together for coffee. I saw the same love for God in their eyes as I had seen in Irene’s. The presence of God was incredible. Soon after I began to pray, I could how God was there for me. Stress was fading away and I had more patience. I spent more time volunteering and reading scripture to Irene. Even after my required volunteer hours were fulfilled, I stayed at the seniors home. I met a wonderful man of God. James is the most respectful man I have ever met and he treats me like a princess. My thankfulness to God is on my lips every day for my relationship with James. With God’s help, it’s only grown stronger. I now see I have God to thank for all things. Irene passed away a few months later, shortly before her 90th birthday. I was not there at the time, but was told that she passed peacefully in her sleep. I thanked God for this woman. She was a true servant, without whom, I may not have known Him. I’m sure she is happy to be spending eternity with Him. If only a year ago someone had said my faith and love for God would be this strong, I would have thought them crazy. I was just trying to complete my high school volunteer hours. God obviously had other plans. Irene, without even knowing it, brought my heart and soul to the Lord.
STACEY IVANOVIC is a young writer working through school and procrastinating on studying in order to write. Her veins are constantly filled with caffeine. She currently lives in the beautiful but cold province of British-Colombia, in Canada with her family.
Staircase By Frances Land A woman lost her son and faith in God. But her belief is restored when her granddaughter is saved by what could only be a miracle.
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God shows up at strange times, doesn’t He? When it feels like His presence has left, He will show Himself because he truly cares. When my son died at the age of twenty, I lost hope that God was ever there. I knew that he would go to heaven, but I thought that if God—if He really did care—would know that I loved my son too much to let him go so soon. However, one day my faith was restored when my 3-year-old granddaughter came for a visit. She is a sweet little thing, full of life and always smiling; it is hard to believe that she had lost her father only months ago. She was running around on the deck of my second floor apartment that has a little stairwell leading down from the deck to the shared parking pad. I was watching her from the kitchen—one moment she was running across the deck and the next she was gone. I dropped my mixing bowl and ran out onto the balcony. She had fallen backwards down the stairs. That fall would have broken the arms and legs of any adult; so what would happen to a three year old? I dashed down the stairs to find her crying at the bottom and clutching her hand to her head. Thinking that the worst had happened, I slowly pried her small hand away until I could see her head. I parted her little curly locks to find a tiny bump—no blood; nothing but a tiny bump. I picked her up and cradled her close to my chest to calm her and slow my tears. God had been there for me the whole time. It just took a miracle for me to see it. He blessed me with a beautiful granddaughter, an amazing daughter-in-law, and the best son in world. He is absent but I know he is watching—and so is God. FRANCES LAND is fourteen years old and attends Sir Winston Churchill Secondary school in Vancouver, BC. She has always enjoyed writing and jumped at the idea of being able to write for a such an inspirational sounding magazine. Frances has spent her life in Vancouver but would enjoy to one day move to Europe. She hopes that her writing will one day inspire people in many different ways. Contact Frances at frances.writer.land@gmail.com.
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If They’d Open Their Hearts By Linda M. Crate The awesome power of the ocean eroding rocks, reminds me that His hand is even greater still — it seems so odd that someone with such power would entrust us to make the choice to find Him instead of forcing our hand, making us bow before him enthroned in the beauty and majesty of His glory, one that men could never know in all their greedy and sinful desires and ways, their lust for things often overpowering their common sense. He truly is an awesome God with the power to move mountains, and yet people want to ignore that; they want to blame him for all the world’s catastrophes without realizing that there are always consequences for wrong doings and some things don’t come from God but from the depths to tempt us away from the one that loves us, but people are too apathetic and busy to want to listen to a message that there is a God that wants to love them, one that will hold them accountable for their actions in the afterlife, it makes me wonder what holds them together in their darkest hour, and why they think anyone could struggle through life alone.
LINDA M. CRATE is a Pennsylvanian native that came from Pittsburgh, but she was raised in the rural town of Conneautville. She has an English-Literature Bachelors from Edinboro University of Pennsylvania. Her poetry and short stories have been published in a myriad of magazines both online and in print.
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A Poet’s God By Phillipe Chatelain A poet's God is emotion. The power, the grace By which inspiration Fills his brain, flexes his fingers, And escapes through the pen In the form of Letters adorning leaves of paper. This sacrament is celebrated regularly In veneration and awe of his existence. A poet's God Blesses His children With a voice and free will. The former, to speak truth And spread originality Through this land of the sentient. The latter, to enjoy life's finer pleasures. A poet's Heaven Is not distant. It can be explored by the living. It is individual and equal at once. A poet's Paradise, Adorned with the gifts of his blessing, And upon His creations, These humble words are bestowed.
PHILLIPE CHATELAIN is a poet from the Bronx and editor of In Parentheses. He prides himself on finding a balance between crucial self-reflection and expressions of awe or disgust toward the outward world. His biggest astonishment is the seamless unity of existence connecting all living things. His plight with humanity stems from their role in obstructing this unity.
God, Gray Flies, and Edward
Image credit: Photoxpress.com
By Tom Sheehan The fields are wet with hunters, fish float on my stream, gasps of a tree root exaggerate the song in my ears. Clouds lean on a last bright out ring of moon August lets go of. Friends continue to carry themselves away in black dress, their slow straps mocking the plight of brown grass. When we fished the Pine River you trod like an Indian, when you broke twigs it was to start a fire. The gray ghosting flies you tied all winter tumbled slowly, like a pigeon a hawk cut in the speed lane, hackles dusting light gray the first sliver of sunlight, the last bare sword of it cutting water. Next May the mayflies will consecrate the river all over; the river will turn, I will wake early, hear His voice from above say, “We’re here.” TOM SHEEHAN has 20 Pushcart nominations, and 340 stories on Rope and Wire Magazine, and a recent eBook from Milspeak Publishers, The Westering, 2012, was nominated for a National Book Award. His newest eBook, due 1/15/13 from Danse Macabre, is “Murder at the Forum,” an NHL mystery novel. His work is in/coming in Rosebud (6th issue), The Linnet’s Wings (6th issue), Ocean Magazine (8th issue), and many internet sites and print magazines/anthologies.
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It Is Finished
Image credit: Lightstock
By Monique Berry
O
ne Sunday I heard a pastor talk about sin and repentance. At the time, I was burdened with guilt for giving in to certain temptations. I reasoned, Good Christians don't do these things. Even though I truly repented, it was hard to believe that He saw me in a positive way or that He would want to use me. But after the Holy Spirit lead me to various scriptures, I penned the following entry in my journal:
A crown of thorns for sins committed by thought. Nail-driven wrists for sins committed by past actions. Nail-driven feet for sins committed during your walk of rebellion. A pierced heart for unforgiveness towards myself and my fellow men. I needed to rise up and walk in the life He planned for me. He died once to destroy the works of my enemy. I needed to stop giving my accuser the victory. IT IS FINISHED. If I have truly repented, there is no need for me to live in the tomb of guilt and regret. It's true; my Savior paid an unimaginable price for my sins. But He is risen! He is within me, rejoicing over my triumphs. I need to reward His sacrifice by living in joy, victory, and thankfulness. If you have been encouraged by reading this, please email me at monique.editor@gmail.com. It would be a blessing to know that another precious soul has been touched by The Comforter. MONIQUE BERRY is the founder of Halcyon, Praise Writers, and Twisted Endings magazines. She also founded the former Perspectives and Christian Perspectives magazines. Monique has published stories and poems in The Sitter’s Companion, Rock Bottom Journal, and Searching for Answers Anthology. She is the contributing editor for AndWeWereHungry magazine, and the workshop leader of a local writers group “First Impressions.” Monique lives in Hamilton, ON, Canada. Contact her at monique.editor@gmail.com.
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Image credit for opposite and back cover: Photoxpress.com
Monique? Why do you continue to crucify the Lord? IT IS FINISHED. Why does your mind bleed from the mental thorns of the past? He laid a crown of thorns on His head; Jesus already received the necessary judgment for sins committed in your mind—known and unknown. Why do you crucify yourself with shame while remembering your past actions? His hands were nailed to the cross; Jesus already received the required judgment for all the sins committed by your former actions. Why do you crucify yourself with guilt for walking in unrighteous ways? His feet were nailed to the tree for sins committed in your rebellious walk. Why do you pierce your heart and bleed with worry and unforgiveness? His heart was pierced for sins committed against others—times when you lacked compassion and forgiveness for yourself and those who were weak.
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