I’ve Got Your Number

Tired and exhausted,
I attempt to rest in Your hands.
My body so weak and tired
That only Your healing touch understands.
Nightfall, thunderstorms, pouring rain…
They fall together.
Yet I will take shelter with You
In all forms of weather.
Life speaks to even my dream
And I vision Your sight.
Trust in You and Your Son to come,
And He’ll be my Guiding Light.
Underneath the sky and moon,
I rest my soul to slumber.
If there is a need that arises,
I know I’ve got Your number.

3-20-2000 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire

TWO SIDES

If in consideration
I find someone here,
I shall but find myself
Full of cheer.
For solitaire is a state
I have to inquire of.
For one moment I am seeking an escape from
What I never receive enough of.
If the misunderstanding
Finds your comprehension,
Please listen ever closely.
You must pay close attention.
Inside a little shelter wall
I built for self protection,
I’m surely regretting my motion,
For I’ve found self destruction.

2-27-1990 Tuesday
Written by Gail Brookshire

I Missed Church Today

I’m sorry, God,
I missed church today.
I went out and visited with my neighbors
and heard them talk of pain.
When what I really needed to hear,
was of Your sheltering us from the rain.
I didn’t get to hear the songs
the choir always sings.
I only heard the wickedness
that rock and roll can bring.
I heard the little children cry
from something in vain,
where I would rather hear them talk too loud
as they’re corrected again and again.
I didn’t hear the preacher say
to do what we know we should.
Instead, I heard the encouragement
to do what makes me feel good.
I wish I had been there to give You praise
and give money to the church.
But instead, I was just wasting time
learning things that can help me burn.
Please believe me when I say I’m sorry
and that I wish I had been there.
I pray that I will be there next Sunday
and hope You know that I still care.

4-21-91 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)

Flight Within The Love

Sunday… The eagle soars high in flight. Floating through the air. He soars in peace of mind. Not a care in the world. He doesn’t notice the world below him. The world in trouble. Instead he reminisces in the midst of his luxury of quietness. All he can hear is the sound of the wind going by.

As he passes through a cloud within each flutter of his wing, it reminds him of all the souls who have came and went so quickly in his life. And just as great as the impact of the breath-taking beauty of the cloud is, so were the souls of each friend that meant so much. It’s an empty, yet fulfilling emotion to have flown through so many clouds. They were the only value of the flight. For as each one went by, they caused such wind to swift up on his face, bringing tears to his eyes. And as soon as they were out of sight, the eyes were drying, but the memory of the cloud would always linger. For each cloud had its own unique shape and form. Its very special characteristic.

As the eagle is soon exhausted by the flight of passing clouds, he remembers there is a world below without clouds. For you can’t even see through the storm of the life to view a special sentiment. But even so, the eagle also remembers that this is the storm that keeps him from having to be haunted, by the reality that the clouds have moved on without him, because he’s not of their world and as much as he wishes he could be one of them, he has to be saddened to know that there will always be passing clouds for as long as the skies hold up. And they will be new ones each time. They will never be the same. He’ll only have the beautiful memory of each cloud.

So it is only natural that the eagle chooses to occasionally touch ground with reality and shelter himself from the rain, that the clouds will bring. But whenever he misses the unique feeling of flight within the love, all he has to do is look up and they are there. And if the world below just happens to be crashing with thunder and lightning, and stealing his view of what he loves, all he has to do is keep his spirits up, to have the strength to lift those wings of his and fight his way through the rain. He will rise above the storm and be once again in the midst of his luxury of quietness.

How wonderfully exquisite it must be to have that freedom. I envy that eagle to a point, but then again feel so very sorry that he cannot bear the storm and vision what it’s like to see the rainbow after the dark. And the fresh washed soil of the land giving love to the trees, who have roots and share such beauty. They would give such support to the eagle and even have room for nesting on the arms of their limbs. They would never leave the eagle without love and support. Then again the eagle may be giving in to the fear of the tree falling or being broken by the wind. A storm can be overpowering for a tree, as the storm gets stronger and the tree gets older. If only the eagle weren’t so insecure about the stability of love, he could have the exquisite beauty of care.

As you relax and view the eagle in flight, do you see him looking down from time to time? If you were the eagle, would you continue to fly or nest in the tree? I would make my home in the tree and occasionally when I felt the need, I would fly.

1989 Written by Gail Brookshire
(published in Flight magazine # 3, Spring ’94, pages 103-104)
(by the grace of God)