God is good. Today we met the buyer of our home. She has the same first name as our neighbor across the street and her married name is Jackson. Godincidence, of course. She is delightful and loves our home as much as we do.
We will go today to measure our new apartment and make sure our furniture fits and all is in order. This is all become so very real.
I’m working on book number 30. The character in the story is interested in marionette puppets, and I was thinking about how the great Puppeteer is God, and He directs our every minute of life from conception to our last breath. It is His purpose to bring us to belief in Him and we can count on Him to provide protection and comfort through our belief in His Son He sent to redeem His people.
Here is a poem I’m working on:
PUPPETEER EXTRAORDINAIRE
I hold her fate in my hand
Maneuvering the cross
Pulling the strings
Writing the script, dictating her lines,
Ending first, then the beginnings.
Attached to me before birth
She portrays life’s joys and sorrows
I script her inmost thoughts,
Prepare clouds of witnesses to prompt
Her to play her role in my Book of Life .
I call her to come to me early
As Creator- Redeemer- Sustainer- Abba Father:
Every Godincidence, entry. exit, encounter planned
Before she breathed her first gasp
I foreknew she would be a cast member, a star.
Because I first loved her, she follows my lead:
She knelt in acknowledgment to my early call.
To guide, to listen, to act
When she humbly prays for direction
Or wonders where to go or what to do.
Not a hair falls from her head
Not a cough escapes My notice
No fear, no threat, no grief, no tragedy
Will shake her confidence in My strength to conquer
With the end in sight, she knows My Presence.
Even when dark valleys bring grief
And furrowed brows mar her lovely façade
She will know My gentle mercy and grace,
I’ll forgive and forget, when others threaten
In troubles I’ll lead near still waters of peace.
She’ll walk tall in my citadel’s protection.
She’ll cling to the rock of salvation.
The sun shall not smite her by day,
Not the moon by night, I’ll walk with her
No slack in my lines, I’ll bear her burdens.
Her heart of flesh, not stone,
Loves others as herself
Her transforming character brings others along
She’s a heroine, though humble,
Drawing crowds to each scene.
’Til her hair is white with age,
She will radiate joy
Telling my stories, teaching my words
With humility, grace, and wisdom, and purpose
Bringing honor and praise to My Name.
And when it’s time to pay sin’s price,
And denouement and climax meld
Her final bows celebrate
Her life-role so well played,
And she’ll ascend to the final stage.
When My Cross calls her upwards
To My palm’s gentle touch
No sorrow, no pain, no tears mar the scene
For she is my child and Homecoming’s sweet,
Her earth-role is over, complete.
She’ll ascend drawn by strings
Too strong, never tangled
To the place I prepared before she was born
The angels escort her, my throne room she’ll enter
To meet her Master who first called her name.
“Well done, my child, my faithful one.”
Prostrate she’ll fall before the King of King
Who wrote her story beginning to end
A glorious masterpiece,
By the author and finisher of her faith.
She’ll dwell in mansions of glory
Reserved seats only, a grand procession
Every tongue, tribe, and nation will join
The grand finale, in worship and praise
To the One who pulls all the strings.
About the Author
