His Hand On You

Is His hand on you?
Is His hand on your mouth?
Is His hand on your life?
Is He calling you out?
God chooses His leaders.
He chooses His soldiers.
Where they feel inadequate,
God will make them bolder.
What task is He assigning?
What assignment does He give?
How is He asking you to trust?
How is He asking you to live?

5-31-12 Written by Gail Brookshire
Inspiration: Jeremiah 1-2

Frozen Box

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.
You can read about My Fear of God,
as well as my writing testimony Me and Writing.

A Closer Look

A pen and some paper,
together with a writer,
bringing the world laughter,
hoping to make it brighter.
A rose and a thorn,
together with a hand,
bringing the world love
through a pain to understand.
A clown and a circus,
together with a crowd,
to relieve some tension
by screaming out loud.
A love and a hate,
together with care,
to bring the world moments
by letting us share.

3-8-91 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)

That I Might Stay True

Lord, as I read of your people
and hear their many struggles of obeying,
I want to avoid jumping to judging,
and sincerely begin praying.
Please help me to keep my eyes,
mind, heart, soul, and all on You.
Help me to never take Your glory,
even if I didn’t mean to.
Keep me faithful, pure, and just,
that my holiness glorifies You.
Help me to resist society
that I might stay true.
Finally, Lord, I pray You stay
and never have reason to turn.
I really don’t want any more
ungodly lessons to learn.

11-8-11 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)

Teetering Scales

Balancing between the scales,
they tip back and forth.
I wait to see the bottom line.
The wait is the worth.
Making sure the scales are even
and evenly weighted,
if there was a deception
the results could be debated.
Watching for the scales to slow,
I wonder should I know?
Should I have even tested
or was it time to grow?
God has His hands on the scales
and puts my eyes on the meter.
I wait to see His answer.
For now they only teeter.

11-5-11 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)

Your Back and Forth

So scared to leave,
Yet no desire to stay.
Just going with
Whatever comes my way.
Scared to be alone
Even right beside you.
So secure of myself
But so unsure of you.
So caring and concerned.
Determined to drive fear away.
Soon pride and insecurity
Seem to wish me away.
Yet if I make
One step to the door,
You are quick to insist
What are you trying to say?
Why do you question?
What do you want me to say,
If you want to teach me a lesson?
Don’t want me to love.
Don’t want me to hate.
Don’t want me to belong.
Don’t want me to wait.
How confused your message.
How confused you are.
You expected me to flee
When you’ve raised the bar.
Imprisoned in your confusion.
I victimize myself.
I no longer escape you
When I become your help.

9-2-17 Saturday
Written by Gail Brookshire
Conversational influence