Aspiring Poet, heartfelt thoughts.I Have Dystonia, bipolar, and an Avid Southern Gospel Music fan

  In the world of Southern Gospel music, few names resonate as deeply as The Nelons. Their harmonies have uplifted countless hearts and souls, bringing joy and encouragement through their music. With the recent release of their final album, "Loving You," we are reminded of the beauty and power of their legacy. As I reflect on their last gift to us, I find myself crafting a haiku to capture the essence of their music and the impact it has had on my life. It goes like this: Final album glows, A testament of love— “Loving You,” a gift, A cherished hymn of praise, Encouragement bestowed. Their voices linger still, Echoes of joy and triumph, As they cross the veil. To sing face to face, With the King in radiant light— They will be missed here. Yet until that day dawns, When we gather once again, Their legacy endures, A melody of the heart. This haiku encapsulates not only the beauty of "Loving You" but also the profound emotional connection we sh

 In the quiet room, Where shadows clung to every wall, I held my precious Hallie toes, As her breath began to still, And in that moment, time seemed to freeze, Leaving only the echo of a heartbeat, And the unbearable weight of loss in my arms. Her spirit, so gentle and pure, took flight, Beyond the pain, beyond the tears, Into the arms of Jesus, Where my hands could no longer reach. My heart shattered, each piece Falling like silent, unspoken prayers, As heaven welcomed her home, And I felt the aching void of her absence. But even in the depths of this grief, A light remains, faint yet steady— The nine days we were blessed to have with her, A fleeting gift, but a precious one. Though those days were far too few, They were filled with love, And for that, we are forever grateful. We are thankful too, that in her brief time, She never knew the harshness of this world, That she was spared from pain, And found her rest in the arms of her Maker, A peace we cling to in our sorrow. In the dark

In this brief sojourn, we know heartache well, A companion that walks in our shadowed wake, Pain’s relentless tide, a ceaseless swell, And in its depths, our fragile spirits quake. We stumble through valleys where light grows dim, Where every step feels heavier than the last, Dreams once bright fade at sorrow’s grim whim, And the echoes of joy become whispers of the past. We falter beneath the burdens we bear, Our hands tremble, our voices crack with grief, Mourning the moments lost to despair, Yearning for solace, however brief. Yet in this crucible of sorrow’s embrace, A song is born, rising from the ache, A melody of hope, a touch of grace, A testament to the strength we cannot forsake. For we are pilgrims on a sacred quest, Strangers wandering through a foreign land, With hearts that long for eternal rest, And eyes set on a city not made by hands. A peculiar people, marked by Heaven’s call, We carry joy like a hidden flame, In the darkest night, when shadows fall, It burns within,

  "Do all things without murmurings and disputings: That ye may be blameless and harmless, the sons of God, without rebuke, in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation, among whom ye shine as lights in the world;"   — *Philippians 2:14-15   The church is not just a building made of bricks and mortar; it is a living, breathing body of believers united in Christ. Yet, how often do we find ourselves murmuring about the physical aspects of our place of worship? The paint is fading, the seats are uncomfortable, the temperature is never quite right. We complain about the preacher’s style, his choice of words, or even his length of sermons. We find fault with the members, scrutinizing their actions, and questioning their motives. But what do these complaints say about the state of our own hearts? When our focus shifts from the spiritual nourishment that God offers through His Word to the superficial flaws we perceive in the church building or its people, we reveal a deeper issue w

I n the quiet corners of our minds, battles rage that the outside world rarely sees. The silent wars within, where mind and body seem at odds, are often dismissed by those who can’t—or won’t—understand. The stigma surrounding mental illness and conditions like dystonia is a heavy chain that can weigh down even the strongest among us. I recently penned a haiku that captures this experience, and I’d like to share both the poem and the deeper meaning behind it: Silent wars within, Mind and body intertwined— Stigma's heavy chain, They dismiss what they can’t see, Yet the pain cuts deep and true. Eyes that turn away, Whispers deepen hidden scars, Mental storms collide, With Dystonia’s cruel grip, But in His plan, I find peace. Through the darkened path, Where the world denies my truth, I hold tight to faith— Trusting in His perfect will, Guided by His gentle hand. The Battle Inside Living with mental illness is often like walking through a storm that no one else can see. The turmoil wi

  Grief is a strange companion, walking with us through the days when the absence of a loved one feels unbearable. The heartache of missing those who have gone before us can be overwhelming, leaving an emptiness that no earthly comfort can truly fill. Yet, in the midst of this sorrow, there is a profound and unshakeable joy for those of us who know that our loved ones believed the record that God gave of His Son.   As believers, we have a unique hope that sustains us even in our deepest pain. The Apostle John writes in 1 John 5:11-12 , “And this is the record, that God hath given to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. He that hath the Son hath life; and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life.” These words remind us that eternal life is not just a distant promise but a present reality for those who are in Christ. Our loved ones who have passed away in the faith are not lost; they are alive in the presence of God, experiencing the fullness of joy that we can only ima

  “He is not here: for he is risen, as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay.” —Matthew 28:6 “But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” —1 Corinthians 15:57   There is a profound and unmatched joy that wells within the hearts of believers when we contemplate the empty tomb. Our God, the Creator of all, is not confined to the grave—He has risen! This truth is the bedrock of our faith, the cornerstone of our hope, and the source of our eternal joy. “The tomb lies empty, My God is alive, not bound, Risen to deliver. Sins are shattered by His grace— I rejoice, my Savior lives.” These are my words that try to encapsulate the profound mystery and majesty of our faith. We do not serve a lifeless idol or a distant memory; we serve a living, breathing Savior who has triumphed over death. The empty tomb is more than a historical event; it is the manifestation of God’s immeasurable power and His boundless love for us. In Matthew