Listen, there's a tale I want to tell,
of courage, bravery and love.
It's a tale I think you all know well,
A story given from above.

It was cold and brisk that September day,
The vibrant leaves flying in the air.
Orange, red, and yellow, we say,
Looks like a woman's golden hair.

The mountains rise up majestically,
Surrounding the valley so small.
And nestled in the foothills, what do we see?
A little cottage in the trees so tall.

Out the front door bounds a little child,
A girl, with long red hair.
What's she doing out there in the raving wild?
She's a baby with a childish air.

Ten coins jingle in the pocket of her dress,
Such a small and measly amount.
Those small, ten coins are littler than less,
But to the girl its too much to count. For the special pennies is all she has to feed herself each day
Yet, the food it brings will go by fast
For this girl who can never pay.

Soon the girl stops to relax in a large open place
Tis a forgotten field, covered with tall grass
That's filled with peace and grace.

Then, she sees something up ahead
A man with a long, grey beard.
He stands there as if he is dead,
And the girl notices something weird.

He's surrounded by thousands of bird cages!
All filled with silent birds.
The girl sees them as empy pages
And wants to fill them with words.

The girl quickly got up from the ground
And politely called, "Excuse me, sir?"
The man quickly flipped around
His mind caught up in a blur.

"How much to buy the birds?" she asked aloud.
He replied, "Fifty coins at least."
She was disappointed; sadly she frowned,
And headed back to the trees.

"How much do you have?" the old man called.
"Only ten coins,sir."
He wssn't disappointed, not at all.
Instead he said, "Take 'Em. There yours."
She was so happy!
She gave him the money. The only thing she had.

The old man watched,he found it funny.
She let them all go, and wasn't sad.
"Why'dya do that?" the man asked, confused.
"Those birds were sad. Not free.
The sacrifice was hard to choose, But now the birds are happy.

The man and the girl looked up
As the birds took to the sky.
They once were bound, but someone drank the cup
And now the birds can fly.

Creamer

Creamer

I was walking through Hannaford yesterday in search of some creamer for my mom. I soon found it and delivered it to my mom, proud of my quick find.

Now, every object in existence reminds of something, like pistachio shells remind me of my grandma. Creamer reminds me of  ministry…the ministry of my parents.

I love my parents. Though they are not perfect, they are parents, and I love them. Not love them like ‘smile real big, make your eyes as big as watermelons, and beat your long lashes, and they’ll give you everything you want’, or like ‘just exist, do the dishes once-in-a-while, and let them brag about you to their popular Christian friends who think you’re cuter, smarter, and more spiritually wise than their own kids, and they’ll leave you alone.’ No, I honestly, seriously, legitimately love my parents. There are so many things I admire about the. First of all, they are patient. From poop- filled diapers, to midnight panics, to random confessions, my parents have been patient and so kind……well, dad can be a little harsh at 2 am. I am so thankful for the way that they have been patient and worked through so many things with me. Another thing I admire about my parents is their loyalty to each other and their marriage. They have remained faithful to the vows they made 14 years ago. They have given me the perfect example of what marriage should be. My mom has been so submissive to my father and the things God has asked of him, even in moving fourteen times. I want to be a wife that is just like her someday. I want to follow my husband wherever God leads him, and ONLY where God leads him. My dad is also a strong pillar in my life. He takes such good care of me, my sister, and ESPECIALLY my mom. He is tender and kind to her, caring about every detail for her. He stands up for her, and does his best to give her all that she needs, including a caring husband. He’s shown me what to look for in a guy someday. I am so proud of the love my parents have given one another, every day. The third, and I’ll say most treasured thing I admire about my parents, is their great love for the Lord, and their ministry to other people. Being the daughter of a pastor, I get to see all the different people my parents have discipled, encouraged, and led in the ministry God has given them. I love how the coffee pot is always full (the creamer always ready), or the bed always warm, or the phone always on. I love lying in bed, and hearing all the voices of friends in need, being encouraged by my parents. But I know, as they’ve said time and time again, that this is not their ministry, it’s the Lord’s. HE is doing the work in others’ lives through them, and THAT is what makes me proud.

There was no greater joy for me, than to be there two Sundays ago, and see my father’s installation. No greater joy than to see my daddy beaming. No greater joy than to see my mom’s happiness through her joyful tears. No greater joy than to stand on the stage, hand in hand with my family, and to see the whole church rise before us in their support of God’s work through us. I will remember that day for the rest of my life.

Thank you, God for my wonderful parents. 

Pictures in the Clouds

What is that, up in the sky?
Shimmering from the sun's light?

Floating in a sea of atmosphere?
Can I touch it, for it seems so near?

A dog, maybe. No wait! A cat!
Chasing some yarn, or maybe a rat!

And there is a lion, so big and fierce!
With a golden mane flowing 'round his ears!

And next to him, there stands a deer,
panting to get a drink by the pier.

His tongue laps out so gracefully,
As he lifts his head and bends his knee.

And then, in all of his majesty,
A mighty whale skims across the sea!

The King of the Ocean is what he is called,
We called him something else, and he balled!

So many wonderful shapes to see!
They are magnificent to me!

So, oh! How hard it is to bear!
That all I'm looking at is air!

God's Gift

Writing is not just words
Plastered onto a page.
Nor is it a recipe
On how to live your days.
 Writing is imagination
 Using your God-given brain.
It's recording your thoughts and feelings
And pouring them out like rain.
 Grab a pencil, real sharp
And fill each line, every row.
 Although it's jumbled now
 Your story,in time will be a rainbow.
 Kings, Queens, Knights, elfs,
 And fairies from other realms.
 Maybe a book on flowers and plants
Oaks, willows,and elms.
 Now all of your jumbled-up thoughts
Are begging to unfold.
 Instead of looking rough,
 It's starting to sparkle like gold.
 And when you're done it's time
 To look over everything 
And make sure your words fit together
That they harmonize when they sing.
 Isn't it just amazing, that God In His splendor and might,
 Among many gifts, gave us The ability to write?

At the Cross

When my tears number more than the hairs on my head

And my guilt leads me to a train of dread

I lift up my head and I see

The power of the cross standing before me

When I do not feel like going on

And the hope I once had is suddenly gone

My eyes rest upon a solid figure

That restores my peace and my strength forever

When lies pile up like echoes inside

And I can't find anywhere to hide

I find my strength and solid shield

He's called my name and I will yield

When sin is pounding on my door

And my faith is lying on the floor

I remember the truth that sets me free

The man who gave His life for me

Now I bend a knee to you, my King

And in humility open my hands

They're open and ready for everything

And my feet to walk in different lands

So at the cross I am humbled

At the cross I am renewed

At the cross I 'm befuddled

And so in awe of You

Thanks for the love You've given me

And everything else I see

But the greatest gift you gave to me

When when you set me free

Opposing Worlds

If my floor was the roof

and my roof was the floor

I'd trudge among the empty space

in search of a special door

that would take me away from the nothingness

and the many rocks galore

If my floor was the roof

and my roof was the floor

I'd walk and walk all by myself

as if I was trying to ignore

the feeling of alone~someness

that I had no desire for

If my floor was the roof

and my roof was the floor

I'd gaze up at the sky

and jealously start to abhor

the people walking round there

not caring for what's in store

If my floor was the roof

and my roof was the floor

I'd see a very bright, shining light

at the end of my grand tour

I'd be welcomed inside

the giant glass dome by

a very handsome gnome.

If my roof was the floor

and the floor was the roof

I'd sit and laugh on my bed

at the confused little goof

who wandered inside my glass lamp

and will probably burn to death!

-Paige Phillips

1-29-12

Amazing love

Somewhere, on a cool winter night, a song fillls the air. A sweet, soft, joyful call. It echoes throughout the trees, by the waters, up the mountains and in the heart of every rescued captive.

It's a filling cry.

A warm cry.

A cry that makes you shiver and tickle on the inside.

It's what positions the stars in perfect spots. It's what urges the seeds to reach for the clouds. What keeps the sun beaming, the clouds flittering, the birds chirping.

It's what keeps all of nature in perfect balance. God's love is the backbone of all of nature. His love is indescribable;perfect;amazing. God expressed his amazing love in the only way He knew; He gave life.

He created the perfect paradise with a paintbrush and paint. He gave the ability to think, to breath, to run. He gave us all of the world to enjoy for ourselves. But, because of our pride and our selfishness and our ignorance, we took God's amazing love and we destroyed it. We dirtied our hands and blistered our feet.

We distanced ourselves by thousands of miles. This made God very sad. His children would be forever locked in chains. But, it didn't end there. He humbled himself and took the form of a stinky, filthy human. He died on a cross on top of a hill and all of God's wrath was weighed on his shoulders. He broke the chains of sin with his blood. There was nothing left.

No wrath.

No guilt.

No sorrow.

God's children were free.

Forgiven.