Beverly's Moody Musings

God’s Art by Beverly Russell July 21, 2008 God’s fingers gently shaped my child’s nose, Glided over her cheeks and molded her ears; Yet those same fingers carved the magnificent Grand Canyon. God’s breath started my child’s life, And His winds stir the ocean waters Sometimes gently, sometimes... Sign in to see full entry.

Note: I wrote this poem when I was 16. I’ve been busy with home life, so I dug this up so I could post something. I hope you enjoy it, but do bear in mind my tender age at the time I wrote it! My Prayer with You Dec. 5, 1984 Lord, I don’t know just what to say; I’m not sure exactly how to pray, But... Sign in to see full entry.

A Child’s Perspective Dad, Mom, why can’t I play now? Why do I have to do that? Why do you make me clean up? You’re mean! Father God, I have questions too. If You don’t like sin, why did You make our nature so sinful? Since You are omnipotent, why don’t You stop child abuse? starvation?... Sign in to see full entry.

God’s Child (?) Questions Two essential questions haunt me: Am I truly “saved”? Why can’t I trust in God? After the tsunami in Asia, I went to church for the fourth time in recent weeks, sure that the end times were here. After listening to a passionate sermon and being moved to tears, I headed to... Sign in to see full entry.

Whirlwind May 2008 spinning-- dizzy-- can’t hold on-- want to stop and breathe! Somebody help me! I want to rest! I want to live, want to have fun again. The frantic gyroscope is twisting and pulling me apart. Help me, Jesus! Be my Master. Save my sanity. How did life get so out of balance? It’s... Sign in to see full entry.

Danger! Watch out! Skidding Spinning Flying toward a wall of grass Bracing "Jesus! Jesus!" I cry desperately for help SLAM The sleeping child wakes crying Mom powerless to help The car flips, rocks, settles "B, are you all right?" "Turn the car off!" --thoughts of fiery death "Can't get out-- get me... Sign in to see full entry.

The Weight of Sin Some things in my past still haunt me, Times when I spoke or acted disgracefully. My conscience pricks my heart with shame; With sorrow and guilt, I acknowledge the blame. Why was I so thoughtless and unkind? These memories I'd wash from my mind. Please imagine my feelings--I'm... Sign in to see full entry.