housekeeping.

i woke up this morning

to find

that all the

worrying things

in my life

had already

settled

themselves

down,

in my mind

for the day.

there they were,

seated in the most comfortable chairs,

completely at home.

bickering amongst themselves,

clamouring

for my heart’s attention,

who was more important?

who deserved more attention?

who wore the scariest mask?

i tried to show them the morning light

dancing on the wallpaper,

but,

they preferred the dark.

let’s have some tea,

i said,

a sweet start to the day,

but,

they only drank the bitter waters of ‘mara’.

i tried to show them

pictures,

beautifully framed,

of all the good memories

from the past,

but,

they had images of their own,

not yet developed.

negatives,

where the light

appeared

dark,

and i struggled to

discern the real

picture.

so, i left them there,

in their front row seats,

grumbling for lack of attention

and

i went out,

seeking

peace and promise,

and

somewhere

between

my boy’s laughter on the playground swing,

and giving an old book from the charity shop

a

new

home,

and an old lady’s

petal pink smile

in the dairy aisle,

and sipping spicy, chai tea

in the warmth of

a tea shop,

i walked right into holiness.

mundane grace,

found me

and

smiled at my

unwelcome guests,

laughed at their

false bravado,

and

their dwindling shadows,

and

before i knew it,

light flooded into the corners

where fear likes to

lurk,

and happiness,

kicked melancholy

right out of her favourite seat.

what a commotion that was.

and hope,

sweet

gentle

hope,

walked right up to despair

and said

out!

now!

and,

that was that.

party over.

here and there,

a handwritten promissory note

of future doom

still flaps about in the breeze,

but,

the windows are open

and

hope has a broom.

and,

she’ll take care of those.

she likes to keep things

clean.

— housekeeping.

© Liezel Graham 2018.

It’s been a funny old day.

Perfect for mental housekeeping.

Fortunately, hope, likes to keep things clean.

walking each other home.

and,

perhaps

you were broken,

splintered,

by the twin gifts

of loss

and

grief,

not

because heaven took its

eyes off you

for a year,

or ten.

a holy turning away

when the force

hit your chest

and

the air was driven

from your lungs

with a shock

that never

seems

to

end.

it feels like that, some days,

doesn’t it?

but,

you are not alone.

you

are

not

the only one,

take heart.

all over the world

there are

others,

further back.

searching.

the blessed ones who mourn

in the dark,

seeking desperate comfort.

the sick ones who fear

the dark thing with teeth,

seeking fresh hope.

the incarcerated ones who carry shame

like a disease,

seeking one more chance.

the different ones with DNA

that didn’t follow the rules,

seeking just to belong.

the hunted ones who hunger

for peace,

seeking a safe place to breathe.

all over the world

we

are

broken.

and, someone needs to

shine

the

light.

to hold the lamp

on the journey

home.

to whisper gently,

not long now,

be strong,

we’re almost

there.

—walking each other home.

© Liezel Graham 2018.

I have sat with this one for a while, and I have rewritten it and deleted it, and polished it, and now I am going to leave it as it is.

I think it says what it needs to say.

Liezel xx

(Even in this) My Grace is Sufficient (for you).

How

many

times

have

I breathed

Your Name,

a desperate

holy

declaration

at the

faceless

terror

that

roars

in the night.

Only

to watch it

limp away,

subdued

but not

(yet)

crushed,

because

it knows

the

map

to the

darkest

corners

of my mind

and

it

does

not

give

up,

but

God.

— (Even in this) My Grace is sufficient (for you).

© Liezel Graham 2018.

For those who battle fear and anxiety — especially that faceless 3h00 am terror that threatens to strangle the life out of your faith, but for the grace of a very big God.

Keep fighting.

I see you.

xx

How to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

And,

perhaps

what You meant,

was that I need to

unlearn

this

frantic

becoming.

This search for

position

and place

and purpose,

and instead

learn

how to

just

be.

Like a small child,

delighting in

how red ladybugs

are.

And,

do you know that whales sing

songs to each other?

Especially when they’re

sad.

And,

why is Wales called

Wales,

it doesn’t look like a whale?

To know that

heaven

is right here

and tomorrow

doesn’t have to have

a name

yet,

because

today

is really

all that matters

and

in all of this,

You are

all

around

me,

and

I am loved.

— How to enter the Kingdom of heaven.

Matthew 18 v 3.

© Liezel Graham 2018.