I’ll Be Right Here

You Just Need to Learn to Swim The water’s cold and my legs are cramping with pain and fright. Darkness surrounds me as I gasp for breath and try to stay above the surface. The hope of help swiftly eludes me in the distance as you shout, “You just need to learn to swim. You just need to learn to swim.” Hell of a time, my friend, to shout from the pier of life that my not drowning depends on my ability to suddenly sprout fins and save myself. Where did your gust of bravado, your clear candor of indignation with my failure to save myself, force itself so loud and clear from the core of your soul to mine? Only you can look deeply enough into yourself and question what higher authority gave you confidence to speak so assuredly without humility or shame that day to spew those careless words into the ocean. Words of no more meaning than the sea spray they so quickly became. I have thought and prayed on this for a long time and this I know. The Higher Hand of God in one gentle wave lifted me softly to the shore of life and bathed my wounds in the sunshine of His Light. His saving Grace is not new to me, for it is a journey we have been down many times together. So the scenery changes and the questions are reversed. Perhaps He wanted you to learn something. This is your question, not mine. And I will leave it at that. I still have not learned to swim, and so far God has not made it a prerequisite for my survival. I have not and never will know why you chose to speak those words, but I am most assured they were not from God’s mouth to your ears. I would still like to walk the beach of life with you, as a friend. But the pier of my life is much too long, and often shaky, for us to venture together again anytime soon. May God bless you and keep you in His Holy Light. Butterfly Where does one begin to express the rage, horror, dismay and damage done by those in our society who prey on the vulnerability of women? What you take in your wonton days and nights of lust leaves a chasm in the damaged soul and spirit of your helpless victims. Families, friends and most of all the victims can suffer for years in search of answers, and in search of the strength to move past that fateful encounter. Deep depression and seething rage can often creep into her very essence, draping her mind and soul like evening shadows until God’s beautiful butterfly loses her wings and can no longer fly. Light flights of thoughts and happiness dancing in the sunlight are diminished and nearly extinguished. Without wings how can she fly? Sometimes the only thoughts are those of survival. Pure, simple in your face - survival. But God is Great. He is Good and He is always our salvation and rock of support. Through His great love He saves her from your wickedness. He revives and heals her. In His great Glory, He restores her beautiful wings and provides sunshine on her face and allows the wind beneath her wings to lift her to even greater heights.