The Rubbish Heap

007

 

At one time I so dreaded

Growing old, fearing regrets

Dumped in a dark rubbish mound

At my memory’s back door.

 

Would I regret choices made,

Opportunities lost,

Journeys not yet taken,

And friendships forsaken?

 

But now, after the pain

Of fifty years,

Some joys, some tears,

It seems there is some gain.

 

What’s outside I won’t deny,

But the dark heap seems to have

Become a small green hillock

Of soft grass where children play,

My wife delights in the sun,

And friends long known or new made

Bury things of no more use.

 

I guess it is a little

Untidy, but it doesn’t

Seem to smell much any more

And it does give me something

To look at from my back door.

© Johan Rich 2009

Image – Di Wilson

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Promises over our children

We had a Children’s Church pow-wow today here at HCC. In between video clips, training material, tea, cake and play-dough, we spent some time praying for our children and those who work with them on Sundays. These drawings are promises over our kids that came out during that time…

CCPW - KA

Bridge Builders by Kandas Ackhurst

CCPW - AA

Hands of Promise by Abi Ackhurst

CCPW - DW

Each one unique, yet knit together… catching the wind of the Holy Spirit! by Di Wilson

CCPW - HW

Outside the Box by Hayley Wilson

CCPW - KA2

by Kandas Ackhurst

CCPW - TS

They will be His smile, His hands and feet, His movement and His voice – Thobani Sojola

Overflowing Love

Jesus loves kiddies and our kiddies love Him back!

Drawing by (a much younger than she is now) Nikita Wilson

Image

CATCH

The Wall

Hiding safe behind stone walls, the thick door

Bolted , unyielding. None in, nothing out.

Safely afar off, cool, firm and secure,

I could watch, listen, and never be touched.

Nobody’s pain could reach me to disturb.

No one could unsettle my small silent space.

True some tried: dancing, singing and laughing,

They enticed me to want a taste of joy,

Tempted me to hope, but I knew better.

They wrote and questioned challenging me to think.

They beat at the door and battered the walls

In angry power hoping I would fear,

But I stood firm. My pride shielded me.

They offered me promises to believe,

But I clung to the safety of my doubts.

Behind thick walls, my solid door bolted.

Then the unthinkable: there came a child

Whose name meant love.

Like a grass shoot cracking a paving stone

She found the way in.

Now I am broken, softened, all undone.

I float rudderless, completely adrift.

In this wide open world that is freedom.

Johan Rich is the photographer and writer of today’s post which touches on the adoption of their beautiful daughter, Thandi – pictured here as a toddler.