Are you tired
You won't find it here
in this world,
at best a counterfeit
for a time.
But always the chase,
I can't get no
Its never enough.
when the weight
Is just too hard to bear,
In the nick of time,
staring you in the face,
God sized hole
Then Jesus said, "Come to me, all you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28-30 (NLT)
It is no coincidence that you are here. God speaks to us all the time. If he spoke to you today, would you let me know, with a like or a comment? Thank you! Sometimes I feel like I am lost in space... But then I know that would be impossible, because God knows right where I am. He promised never to leave me. And I believe him. After all, He's God!
In the end of the Sabbath, as it began to dawn towards the first day of the week, came Mary Magdalene, and the other Mary to see the Sepulchre...
Isn't it just like the women to get up early and check on things? In Matthew's account it was the two Marys, in John's it was Mary Magdalene, in Luke's it was the two Marys, Joanna, and other women.
And what did they find?
And behold, there was a great earthquake: for the Angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it.
Matthew 28: 2
Well, they weren't expecting that!
And the Angel answered and said unto the women, Fear not ye: for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified. He is not here, for he is risen, as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay.
He is Risen! He is Risen Indeed!
And as they went to tell his disciples, behold, Jesus met them, saying, All Hail. And they came and held him by the feet and worshipped him. Then said Jesus unto them, Be not afraid: go tell my brethren that they go into Galilee, and there shall they see me.
Matthew 28: 9-10
And isn't it just like Jesus to appear to the women first; women who had little worth in first century Jewish culture, or Roman, or Greek culture, for that matter, and entrust them with the most important news in the universe!
So the enemy thought he had him. Jesus suffered, died, and was buried, for our sin. But Sunday morning came and he went and rose from the dead! Imagine That! And all believers will do the same, and live with him forever!!! That is the Good News!
You can read the whole story in the Bible, the book of Matthew, chapter 28. May I suggest you try the New Living Translation or if you are feeling adventurous, The Message. You can find these and many other translations online at www.biblegateway.com.
He is Risen!
He is Risen Indeed!
And oh, by the way, The tomb is still empty!
And as they sat and did eat, Jesus said, "Verily I say unto you, One of you which eateth with me shall betray me."
And they began to be sorrowful, and to say unto him one by one, Is it I? and another said, Is it I?
Mark 14:18-19 KJV
The Last Supper, the Jewish Passover, Jesus was celebrating with his disciples, the twelve. But one would betray Him, and Jesus knew, and yet He loved him even then. He forgave him, even then.
After the Passover meal Jesus went with His disciples to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray.
And while he yet spake, behold a multitude, and he that was called Judas, one of the twelve, went before them, and drew near unto Jesus to kiss him.
But Jesus said unto him, "Judas, betrayest thou the Son of man with a kiss?"
But Judas couldn't accept His forgiveness. And he went out and hung himself.
I am Judas. I have betrayed Jesus. My sin is why He chose to die on a cross. He hung there for me, because of me.
Do you know sin? Do you know how it feels? It is heavy. It brings death to everything it touches. Death to God's beautiful creation, Death to God's beautiful creatures, and death to us. It brought death to Jesus...
Or so the enemy thought, God had other plans...
Come back on Sunday, for the rest of the story...
Spoiler Alert: It's Good News!!
One of my favorite memories of Easter Sunday, was going to Phipps Conservatory for the Spring Flower Show! My sisters and me would skip down the brick paths, in our patent leather shoes and Easter bonnets. My favorite room was the orchid room. Pink and purple orchids hung from moss covered trees. A thousand panes of glass and blue sky reflected in the pond below. Back in the 60's they had live music. And the organist, dressed in her flowered dress and very, very, large and frilly Easter bonnet played Peter Cottontail and Easter Parade. I imagined that I was Judy Garland dancing with Fred Astaire, through the flowers...
Phipps Conservatory is still around but the organ is long gone, not to mention the organist. People don't dress up anymore, and the crowds are much smaller, hardly the parade that used to snake through the conservatory on Easter Sunday. But sometimes in my dreams, I find myself holding hands with my sisters, the ribbons on our bonnets fluttering behind us, as we skip down the brick path, Fred and Judy just around the bend in the orchid room...
A haiga is a poetic form which blends image and poetry (usually haiku). The painting is one of my first attempts at watercolor, and the haiku was inspired by my painting...
Please visit my store...Humpty Dumpty Cracks and All, makes a great gift A story about a cracked egg and a miraculous transformation, sounds like an Easter story to me...
I have chosen the first line, steel blue night, for my haiku. I was inspired to have a bit of fun with the haiku and so I have also written a troiku for your enjoyment...
steel blue night--
steel blue night--
meets his match
beneath the city
into the cave
the bat man returns
I hope you have enjoyed my haiku and special thanks to Chevrefeuille, the inventor of the troiku which is merely using an existing haiku as inspiration and composing three new haiku. The first line of the original becomes the first line of the new haiku, the second line of the original becomes the first line of the second new haiku, and the third line of the original becomes the first line of the third new haiku. It is really a lot of fun!!
Signed Copies of my book, Electric Pink A Christmas Haibun, are available this December for only $10.00 (free shipping). Just click on Store and you can order one or more copies signed and personalized by me! The checkout is secure and I will ship within 2 days! These are great Christmas gifts and stocking stuffers! The rag-tag nativity story appeals to children of all ages, as do the beautiful illustrations. Get yours today! Merry Christmas!
playing on the beach
the wave chases him
back to his mother
her notebooks full
of empty space
In the old conservatory water splashes from the top of the red brick fountain to the blue hydrangeas and white lilies below. I skip along the path in my patent leather shoes and Easter bonnet. The pink and yellow orchids tangle in Spanish moss. A cactus snakes past a saguaro and ancient pipes - hyacinths and tulips line the Palm Court. Banana plants touch the glass ceiling. The lily pond reflects a thousand panes in deep blue sky . . .
on thin ice
Susan Beth Furst
I am honored to have my haiku and haibun appear in Blithe Spirit, Volume 27, Number 3. Thank you Editor Shrikaanth Krishnamurthy, I am grateful.
I watch my dad on the sidewalk in front of the church. He gives an old man a twenty-dollar bill.
The Pastor asks him why he would give a twenty-dollar bill to an old bum. He will just spend it
on booze, he says.
Because he needs it, my dad says.
The old man takes the money from my dad’s hand, mumbles his thanks, and shuffles down the street
to the corner bar.
I stand on the steps of Mt. Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church in my blue buttoned dress and mary-janes. My father looks up and smiles. I run into the Sanctuary to save him a seat, to the pew in the back, the one we sit in every Sunday, the one with all the scratches.
for his mother
the neighbor’s bare trees
William Paul Remy August 18, 1927 – April 15, 2017
A Journal of English Senryu
Volume 2, Issue 21
the last piece of watermelon
floats in the cooler
The Heron's Nest
Volume XIX, Number 3: September 2017
For those of us that are of a certain age "falling stars" may bring to mind a certain song from times gone past. "wide-brim hat" is a childhood memory of those lazy August days, when we didn't have a care in the world. . .
wishing I had a pocket
Volume 2, Issue 20
Susan Beth Furst is a poet, author, and sometime photographer. Her desire is to glorify God with the gifts he has given her.