In this little frozen box, my body starts to melt.
Temperature is no key. I desperately need some help.
My head is an open window, everything goes by.
But when the rain begins to fall, I suddenly seem to cry.
My arms are weak and fragile, yet somehow find the strength
to find a way to live again and let my Savior in.
He’s like the lightning in the sky each time I feel it near,
the beauty of its pretty color sinks beneath my fear.
Remaining now is my base, I cannot stand alone.
Hoping one will rescue me before I’m really gone.
Lift me to security. Take away my years.
Do it before the storm arrives. Hurry, for it’s near.
4-10-89 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)
PS.. This is the poem from which I get my tag line, and has become the description of Me and God. When it was originally written, the word Savior was actually lover. But through the years as I would start to struggle with neurological issues, (and eventually memory issues) it is the only line out of the thousands of poems God has allowed me to write that He has allowed me to remember. By His grace, He has also allowed me to experience more of His beauty even with the fear. And He has lessened the fear too… or at least changed its nature. He can be enjoyed while being reverently feared.