Shaped valleys with his hand
Watches dassies at their play
And yet sees all of life unfold
Your voice is in the cry of a newborn
In the playing of children
The sigh of a mother
The voice of a father
From the first breath to the last
The wind in the peaks to the ocean spray
I've found you in the scudding clouds,
The forests
The timid disas hidden near streams.
The mountains are your cathedral
The skies your glory
The stars your crown
And I - I have walked on the mountains
Seen you in their beauty and harshness
God of this amazing creation
I have loved finding
Endless places we've explored
Fires we've shared and stars we've counted
Through all of life and now to beyond
I hear a call to come higher up, and further in.
------------------------
I wrote this poem for John, father of our friend Mike. Towards the end
he was bedridden, and one morning I was praying for him and his
family, knowing how hard it was on him to know what was happening and
that his time was short. This poem wrote itself. John died of a brain
tumour about 2 months later. He was a most amazing man and you can
meet him at http://mybraintumour.blogspot.com/
Tonight I was reminded of the poem, and of the fact that we can lose
God in the busyness of every day. In doing the every day stuff.
How sad it is to not hear the voice of God, of our Creator. To miss
out on sharing this one and only life with Him.
I want to lean upon you. I want to hear your heart beat and the
whispers of friendship and the shared laughter of your love. Again. I
miss you.
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