Focusing on You

Jesus, with all that was promised to be true
And always be there,
I pray that You will never be like they were,
No longer able to care.
In all the cruel and selfish things
I irresponsibly do to You,
I pray, Dear Jesus, that You always know
My love for You is true.
Though everything I say and do
Contradict my desire to obey,
I pray, Dear Lord, You would restore in me
A clean and righteous way.
For all the thoughts of evil things
That I allow to come between us,
I pray, Sweet Jesus, that You would win
And help me to just refocus.

8-16-2001 Thursday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Lives Unseen

Lives we never thought we’d live.
Actions we never thought we’d do.
On the edge of an uncertain world,
We struggle to do right by You.
Disappointments unseen by ourselves.
Regrets unpredictable by doubt.
We find only more sin to be sorry for.
Our human nature won’t give out.
Visions of what’s happening.
Sounds of what is to be.
You are the only One in life
Who can truly know and see.

8-8-2001 Wednesday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Jesus, Do You Regret?

Jesus, do You ever regret dying for my sins?
Do You ever regret dying for me?
Aren’t You sorry to see me betray You
As much as I claim to love You?
Don’t You ever get tired of me saying I know You
When it seems I deny You so often?
Don’t You grow weary of me calling on You,
Asking You to forgive me…
Again and again for the same thing?
Don’t You ever think I am hopeless?
How can You ever have faith in me
As evil and sinful as I can be?
How can You bear to love me so?
How do You tolerate my being?
I don’t know how You do it,
Why You love me,
Why You believe in me,
How You can stand to hear my name,
But I do thank You for loving me.
Thank You for believing in me,
Especially when there’s not reason to.
Thank You for not giving up on me,
Or casting me aside like the trash I am.
Thank You for knowing that despite myself,
I love You with all of my soul.

7-30-01 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire


In trying to unclutter my life,
I find myself taking You in.
In trying to improve myself,
I find myself trusting men.
One minute, I’m cleaning up well,
Next minute I find I need space.
One minute I’m enjoying the view,
Next minute I see only Your face
Today I pick up broken pieces.
Tomorrow there will be new breaks.
Today I hold my head up high.
Tomorrow there will be shameful mistakes.
Do You not see a warning sign?
Do You not grow weary of games?
It’s obvious I am not alone.
I just don’t know their names.

7-19-2001 Thursday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Prophets Pen and Paper

Pen and Paper… what friends of mine,
Yet prophets like Moses and Paul.
Despite what could be read between the lines,
They can create works of art.
Though they have horrible and shameful confessions of historical stature,
They can make a mew and beautiful character
Out of the very villain so guilty.
They can explain the nature of what created the evil
And in the same message convey the transformation
Of the demon into an angel.
God’s beauty and magnitude of divine power
Boldly shouts from the pages.
The printed work joyfully embraces its reader.
And the prophets called Pen and Paper
Are serving God with the same holiness
As with love and wisdom in the Holy Bible.
God’s right hand made great warriors
Of even the simplest tools… pen and paper,
Just as He had done with the murderers… Moses and Paul,
Who were later known as great prophets.
Imagine what He can do with you and me,
If we will just believe and let Him.

7-1-2001 Wednesday
Written by Gail Brookshire


Curious of what I have suppressed, I wonder why I ever did.
Why would I be so scared and hurt, that I would keep happy times hid?
Something has happened that is sure, but what has happened has passed.
I need to let go of those painful memories to let the good ones last.
There are so many memories I do remember just because they were so bad,
So why allow myself to forget so much just because it made me sad?
I’ve already lived it and cried. I’ve already survived.
So what is it that I need to remember to get on with my healthy life?
And what if for some reason, I haven’t forgotten anything bad?
Why would I forget anything if forgetting it makes me sad?
I pray, Dear Lord, that You would release anything You may feel I need to know.
And if there’s anything or not, You would help me to let it all go.
I may not understand what I have suppressed, but getting on with my life I want for sure.
Be with me as I may not know just what I am asking for.
Be with me as I may face any demons that may be hiding behind any doors.
And if I should cross an unfair fear placed upon me by threats or events,
I pray, Dear Lord, that You would comfort me with Your love, peace, and Godly sense.
Help me to grow from whatever it is that has held me back thus far.
Instead, replace in me a spirit to know how great a power You are.
Make of me who You want me to be and use me for Your will.
I pray that others would benefit from what You have yet to reveal.
And thank You, Lord, for being there through whatever it may have been.
Just to know You were there with me, let’s me know my God is also my friend.

2-4-2001 Sunday
Written by Gail Brookshire

My Writing Gift

God, there’s a part of me that only talks to You through writing.
Is that wrong, or is that the part of me You made exciting?
I think it’s neat most of the time. I can say how I care.
But it can be problematic in not being able to share.
It’s just so hard to open up and trust. The world is scary.
But I have to get it out somehow, the burden that I carry.
Poetry, diary, short stories, and more I have to write.
I have to get it out, say it in so many ways, till I get it right.
People love my talent, my gift they say I am blessed with.
But rich, famous or not, they have no idea the gift it is.
I learn from me, I confide in me, and only You can see.
And when I feel I have to share, I set it free.
And yet I don’t have to repeat myself with the same news,
Freeing me of the guilt or shame in telling even You.
If anyone is interested in how I feel, they will read it.
If not, I don’t care. Fame, fortune, and attention I do not need.
I just need to write, to put my pen to the paper and flow.
I just have to feel like at least You and I care to know.
So as I write this poem about us, I finish up by saying,
I love it most when I’m personal, when my pen is praying.
For in that treasure I leave behind the secrets of my soul
That can help my son or others keep from losing control.
Just to know someone else felt the way they did
Will have made it all worth while, my writing gift.

1-4-2001 Sunday
Written by Gail Brookshire