He Is Not Here; For He Is Risen

I have often tried to write a poem about Easter. I have never been able to.

There is so much to the crucifixion and the resurrection. Where would I begin. Would I write about the Garden of Gethsemane, where He prayed, "Not my will, but thine." Would I tell of the betrayal of Judas and the Last Supper. Would my poem tell of Jesus' trial where Pilate found no fault in Him. The suffering from the whipping, the crown of thorns they placed on His head. The sound of the hammering of the nails in His feet and hands as they placed Him on that wooden cross. The thud as the cross was placed in the ground between the two crosses which held the two thieves.

I also think about Mary, the mother of Jesus, standing there watching as her son was crucified. The tears that must have ran down her face  as she stood there helpless. The spear that pierced His side. And the blood that ran down Jesus' feet to the foot of the cross. That precious blood from the lamb of God who was without blemish, but on that day He became sin for us.

Would I tell about the greatest love story ever known. In John 19:30 He said, "It is finished..." No man took his life from Him, He laid it down willingly.

And the tomb where they laid His body, but on that resurrection morning, death could not hold my Saviour or keep Him in the grave.  He rose again that I might have eternal life.

 

"Beyond the Cross is a tomb that is empty

You won’t find Me there anymore

And beyond the tomb is life ever-lasting

And hope forever more."

 

 

The World Of Quilters

Shelley, Karen, Terry, Judy, Glenda, and Candi

 

Thursday, March 14, a friend of mine, Judy Newcom, had invited me to join her at a quilter's show in Pigeon Forge, TN.

To begin with I'm not a quilter and I don't sew unless I lose a button. But, I love Pigeon Forge and it was an opportunity for me to spend time with Judy.

I grew up watching my mother quilt. She supplied our family with the warmth of her quilts from the time she was old enough to learn how to stitch until the day she went to heaven. Beautiful quilts, all stitched by hand and love. I can remember her sitting up her quilting frames in our living room and relatives coming over. I'd watch them spending hours and hours until their work of art was finished. My mother quilted all of my sons a quilt and they still use them, even though they are worn with age. I believe their quilts give them a comfort that no other blanket or quilt could do.

Quilting is a work of art and quilts have stories to tell. Each quilt is different even if it has the same pattern, because the stitches and material that a person uses are like their own personal fingerprints and techniques.

I enjoyed watching the ladies that I was with. They would get so excited over different materials and patterns.

And I thought about the legacy they would be leaving, as my mother left her legacy of beautiful, handmade quilts. Their quilts would be a treasure and a reminder of the time and love that went into their wonderful patchworks of  art.

 

 

 

 

 



 



 

Beautiful Tennessee

After The Rain

North Carolina Sky After The Rain

Psalm 147:8

Who covereth the heaven with clouds, who prepareth rain for the earth,

who maketh grass to grow upon the mountains.

New Beginnings

I know it's hard to believe, but Spring will soon be here. Springtime was always a time of new beginnings for Jerry and I. It was always a time of renewing and making plans.

We would always get Spring Fever as the days would start to warm. As we would see the earth coming alive from  it's long winter's nap, we would be filled with good feelings and a reviving in our hearts.

 

I'm praying that this spring will have new beginnings for me. I still have a lot of loneliness and I'm sure that is very normal. Sometimes even when I'm around people I feel a loneliness. So I'm praying that there will be a renewing in my heart as I celebrate this spring and Jesus' resurrection on Easter Sunday.

 

 

Song of Solomon 2:12

The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come,

and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;

 

 

 

Daffodils In The Wind

Dance little golden daffodil

You don’t have to stand so still.

The wind is bringing in the spring

For I wake to hear the robins sing.

The beauty of your wistful way

Invites the sun to shine today.

You tell me spring will soon be here

And new beginnings are very near.

Time to awaken from winter’s cold
And show your beauty for all to behold.

-Patricia Rice