Scars (Luke 6:37)
Every battle leave a mark
Every blow leaves a scar
Every stone leave a bruise
And every stick breaks the bones
Words cut deeply inside us all
Tearing at out fragile souls
Every scar tells a story
Of the battles which we have fought
Judge not then the scars
That others may wear
Condemn then not
For the bruise they show
For we will never know the fight
Their fragile souls within have faced
And for the scars that each of us wear
Forgive those that broke the skin
And find your forgiveness from deep within
The rose is a flower of love.
The world has acclaimed it for centuries.
Pink roses are for love hopeful and expectant.
White roses are for love, dead or forsaken,
but the red roses, all the red roses,
are for love triumphant.
Beauty is a form of genius –
is higher, indeed, than genius,
as it needs no explanation.
It is of the great facts in the world
like sunlight, or springtime,
or the reflection in dark water
of that silver shell we call the moon.
Earth, my dearest, I will. Oh believe me, you no longer need your springtimes to win me over – one of them, ah, even one, is already too much for my blood. Unspeakably, I have belonged to you, from the first. ~Rainer Maria Rilke
Rilke took the words right out of my mouth! Earth is all we have, and it is more than enough, to bring us back to the Lord who made it. Every bit of it–every creature, every flower, every tree, simply everything speaks of God’s glory and His love so that we cannot resist looking for Him and listening for His voice. It was part of His plan, and it works well for to belong to the earth is to belong to Him. These two photos are the last in my series of yard photos from my recliner. The first is a close up of the small pink roses on the arch over the little porch outside my studio. The second is farther away from that arch so you can see the size of a Cécile Brünner climbing rose somewhat. Below it and in the background, the darker pink roses are on top of the smaller arch leading to the secret garden at the very back of my yard. The third one can’t be seen from my recliner. It, the entrance to the backyard, fills the window here by my computer with yet another pink climbing rose.
The highest heavens belong to the Lord, but the earth He has given to mankind. ~Psalm 115:16 ✝