Good Friday

"But this is your hour—when darkness reigns."
Luke 22:53

Forgive me
For every sin I added on that day
For every weight my error brought
Forgive me

You did not turn from duty
You did not shrink from pain
You bravely set in motion
The day the world would change.

You gave your life as ransom
You paid the final debt
You bore the Hero's burden
Even until death.

Consider this
O' Earth, as the sun puts out its light
Until the morning dawns
Consider this.

Holy Week- Thursday

"I have eagerly desire to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. For I tell you, I will not eat it again until it finds fulfillment in the kingdom of God."
Luke 22:15


Until

That lovely word that speaks of something yet to come.
And promises that the story still unfolds.
There is more.

I wonder did He see the day
The fulfillment of His vow
A vision of the feast before Him
His friends from all ages passing the cup.

Until.

Photo by Jamie Street on Unsplash

Holy Week- Wednesday

"Be careful, or your hearts will be weighed down with the dissipation, drunkenness, and the anxieties of life, and that day will close on you unexpectedly like a trap. For it will come upon all those who live on the face of the whole earth. Be always on the watch, and pray that you may be able to escape all that is about to happen, and that you may be able to stand before the Son of Man."
Luke 21:34-36

Today seems so real
The things that are
And the things that are not
So weighty.

And yet a day is coming with more weight
Then any since this Holy week, we remember
When all our lists, our errands, and our work
Will come to a screeching halt.

And we will stand wide-eyed
Before an ever dawning
New Day.

Father, please guard and guide us in your care
And may we be able to stand before the One
Who stood for us so many years ago.

Photo by Kristen

Holy Week- Monday

"My house will be a house of prayer, but you have made it a den of robbers."
Luke 19:45

A home is a holy place
Built with rock and time
Tuned to its builder's music
Learned in daily rhyme

Who then would have the nerve
To disgrace the owner's way
To turn his home into a trap
And expect no debt to pay.

Photo by John Cafazza on Unsplash

Palm Sunday

"Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in the heaven and glory in the highest!"

Luke 19:38

Palm branches wave

Expectations run high

Each hopeful heart rejoicing

Longing for their King

Will the prophesies finally be true

In this Man?

Photo by Levi Hernández on Unsplash

You can't rush sadness

You can yell at it

Trivialize it

Patronize it

Or disguise it.

But you can't rush it.

If it settles, as a mist

You can observe it

Acknowledge it

Understand it

Process it.

Eventually, it will burn away.

And you will find yourself 

Where you always were.

In the path of the sun.

Photo Credit

-Kristen Meyer Harmon

The Color of Water

To be Present

Fast.  Available.

Two words that describe our time

And the pressure to think quickly, respond quickly. 

Know within a Google Search.

But what of reflection?

Of pausing and living.

And through time and consideration

Gaining more than knowledge.

Slow.  Present.

Two words that describe our need

To drink deeply.  Live freely.  To Rest

To Run.  To Look and see.  To Be.

And from that time to find

Peace in beauty

Joy in friendship
And communion with God.

-Kristen Harmon

Photo Credit

To Bottle Happiness

I wish that I could find a way
To bottle happiness and stay
Within its grasp, within its sway
For all the moments, all the days

But happiness I find
As impacted as the day unwinds
A state of grace, a state of mind
Not always what I can combine.

Thus, happiness it seems
Is not the measurement of dreams
But rays of a larger grander scheme
That proclaims, protects, this life redeems.

So that one day life will have its way
And put bright happiness on full display
Within it's grasp, its easy sway
Eternal moments, endless days.

-Kristen Harmon

Photo Credit

Lament for a Coffee

Coffee is meant for sipping
Not gulping.

Such a shame to watch its drops
Disappear quickly.

Losing the time to savor them
While words flow in and out.

Sometimes life demands gulping
But it should not always.

Otherwise caffeinated and brimming
We may forget.

Life is not only doing
Life is also being.

And who we are becoming
With each sip.

-Kristen Meyer Harmon

In Search of Truth

Is truth what we see with our eyes?

What we hear with our ears?
How do we know what is true?

Is truth what we believe?
What we perceive?
What life has taught us?

Is truth on the Internet?
In the nightly news?
Can we trust anything we intake?

Is there a deep truth that supersedes all?
Truth that gives oxygen
Truth that keeps the planet spinning

Truth that will one day illuminate all
Truth that is the foundation of all
For there must be truth.

Even amid the chaos and lies
Especially amid the chaos and lies
Truth remains. 

May we have the wisdom to seek it with all our hearts.

By Kristen Harmon

Photo Credit to Michael Browning

Freedom

I have a country
I have a King
I have a song
That I can sing

I love my husband
And our tiny bird
My stacks of books
With their faithful words

I have strong family
And lifelong friends
That make life richer
At each day's end

We aren't home yet
But each day we find
We're one step closer
To that finish line

So while we wait
Life's immortal birth
Dear Lord, I think you
For blessings on Earth.

-Kristen Meyer Harmon

Hope

Hope is like air.
A constant source of life,
Even when we aren't conscious of it.

Hope is like water.
Filling us, sustaining us,
Providing energy as we drink.

Hope is like an anchor.
Grounding us when winds blow,
Reminding us of what we know.

-Kristen Harmon

Truth and Politics

Haters will hate

Tweeters will tweet

“Reporters’ can lie

Beware what you read

Time will reveal

What mere words cannot

True richness is measured

By what can’t be bought

So before you get angry

Before you get rude

Step back and consider

What is true?

-Kristen Harmon  

The End of Days

It is my life that I must own

When I stand before the throne

It’s Jesus blood and His alone

Grants me life, my sins atoned.

Flings wide the gate, and leads me home.

Photo by Carrie Jones

Spring Time Slow

I need for time to drip slow again.

Not painfully so

Not dragging its feet

Impatiently waiting for winter to end.

But Spring-time slow

Slow in the falling of green leaves

The nodding of sunlit trees.

Slow in purpose.

I’m tired of fast

Quickly typing, quickly walking

Too many tasks to accomplish

Too much energy at waste.

I need depth of time

Moments that energize

Sunlight on flowers

Melodies in air

Jasmine blooming

Breezes blowing

Poetry inspiring

Long talks entwining.

Time please drip slow again

Teach me how to linger

Shallow breathing is not living well

I want to breath life deep.

-Kristen Harmon

Let the Stable still Astonish

I often think of this poem at Christmas time.  Enjoy the reflections of Let the Stable still Astonish by Leslie Leyland Fields. 

Let the stable still astonish:
Straw-dirt floor, dull eyes,
Dusty flanks of donkeys, oxen;
Crumbling, crooked walls;
No bed to carry that pain,

And then, the child,
Rag-wrapped, laid to cry
In a trough.
Who would have chosen this?
Who would have said: “Yes,
Let the God of all the heavens and earth
Be born here, in this place”?

Who but the same God
Who stands in the darker, fouler rooms
of our hearts and says, “Yes,
let the God of Heaven and Earth
be born here–
in this place.”

-Leslie Leyland Fields

The Quilter

Our Grandma’s life

Was like a quilt

That time and love

And family built.

Squares added in her years

Growing up in the South

Hours spent shelling peas

On the porch of the old house

Tales of her home

Cotton picking with her brothers

There was always a memory to hear

At the feet of our grandmother

As years and seasons changed

The quilt grew with time

As babies and grandkids

Each added their lines.

Memories woven in

Of summers on the lake

Homemade berry cobbler

And casseroles baked

This quilt is now finished

The work is complete

The seamstress awaiting

The Call from her sleep.

By Kristen Harmon and Jennifer Twomley

Flowers

I read a section of the poem Flowers by Longfellow in a little book shortly before my Grandpa died.   I think it is a very beautiful word picture and calls the mind to think on high things.

"In the cottage of the rudest peasant,
In ancestral homes, whose crumbling towers,
Speaking of the Past unto the Present,
Tell us of the ancient Games of Flowers;

In all places, then, and in all seasons,
Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings,
Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons,
How akin they are to human things.

And with childlike, credulous affection
We behold their tender buds expand;
Emblems of our own great resurrection,
Emblems of the bright and better land." 

-Excerpt from Flowers by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.  Photo by Kristen Harmon

We Judge

Easy to say, easy to do

Compare you to me, compare me to you

My way seems clear, your way a mess

Are we searching for truth, or self righteousness?

Wisdom is good but how is our sight?

Is everything measured as wrong or as right?

Perhaps in the end, much will fade dim

But how we loved and followed Him.

-Kristen Harmon