He's like the lightning in the sky each time I feel it near. The beauty of its pretty color sinks beneath my fear.
Lives pour throughout the century,
A plea to survive the struggle.
Tragedies overwhelm the soul.
Evil attempts to smuggle.
There is no open road for sin
To take control of the Lord’s.
The temporary false hope
Convinces evil to try a little more.
Consistent, persistent,
Never willing to waiver,
Evil loses to the very enemy
Shielded by the Savior.
Praise You, Lord, for Your faithfulness.
12-30-2004 Thursday
Written by Gail Brookshire
Afraid and alone,
You abandoned me.
You left me alone.
Just when I needed you,
You turned your back.
You said you would
Always be there for me,
But you were nowhere in sight
When my tears fell like rain.
There’s nothing left to do now,
Except be glad I made it,
And find a way to survive.
Hoping I heal.
Praying I smile.
Yearning to live.
Desiring to Love.
Maybe someday I’ll forget.
I’m already working on forgiving.
I have to forgive you.
You weren’t the only one to abandon me.
I abandoned myself.
I don’t want to be abandoned anymore.
I’m afraid I won’t make it.
It hurts to be deserted.
9-23-2000 Saturday
Written by Gail Brookshire
Tragedy implanted into a heart of strength,
A heart so compassionate and true,
Always considerate of others,
And dedicated to following a Savior too.
Love tries to mend what has been done,
But the truth that God reminds us
Is pain and memories have been grounded
And will always be a part of the heart
To ensure avoiding a repeat.
Ugliness along the way touches others.
A soul is seeking to survive the pain.
Love and more love, and plenty of patience
Is what the afflicted soul will need.
For God will renew the heart with strength
Built uniquely from that tragedy.
And when the soul stands up,
There will be no tearing down
What God has built so strong.
9-22-1999 Thursday
Written by Gail Brookshire
Could love be dead?
Could it be gone?
Is it something I should
Be letting pass on?
I just can’t believe it’s still there
After all the years I played.
Love must be a miracle.
A survivor of all that’s made.
It must be a souvenir
That you just can’t throw away.
It must be the misery
That finds a brighter day.
It must be a memory
Of which we’ll never release.
Bringing us to our pleas
Of the moments on our knees.
We love it for all it has to bring,
And all we can say
Is love is such a mystery,
But the best thing to come our way.
6-2-1992 Tuesday
Written by Gail Brookshire
PS. I am grateful God taught of His true love
In my Savior Jesus Christ! ❤
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