Mortal Calls: Spirit Rescues

Every now and every then

Frustration finds my heart again.

Meaningless tasks never end
Unanswered prayers a bitter friend.

Never sure what each step brings
Blessings hidden in darkened wings.

My heart knows, ignore such things
But I still hear what Mortal sings.

Mortal tries hard to reclaim
Retelling heartache and of pain.

Dreariness and my life's rain~
I know the thoughts I should refrain!

Mortal calls, "Follow us please.
Come back once more to earth's reprise."

Silent whispers in the trees.
The Spirit's movement in the breeze;

With open arms to withstand,
He brings me back from sinking sand.

Reminding me that in His hand~
The Master has a heavenly plan.

Jan Bagwell

God Bless

Despair to Peace

Do you ever feel rather lost and alone?
Family and friends living lives of their own,
That no one knows what you're going through,
Whether real or imagined, it seems real to you?

Life can be hard with it bruises and blows,
And you've tried hard not to let them show.
But there's hope if you're feeling down in this way
For God gave you a gift you can receive today.

God said He would never leave you alone.
So He sent His Son, Jesus, from His heavenly throne,
To come here and provide salvation for your soul
And take the fragments of your life and make you whole.

There's only one way to go from despair to peace
And that's by asking Jesus into your heart for release
From the guilt of your sins you've committed against Him,
So the gift of His Spirit can freely come in.

God's gift of salvation can mend any heart,
And your outlook on life will have a fresh start.
He'll wrap you in warmth and in His arms you'll know
His love is forever, and He will never let you go.

Jan Bagwell

God Bless

My Little Boat

Is 'faith' an easy word to say?
Step in my little boat.
It's not too much to look at but,
was built, so it could float.

Now hold on tight! We're sailing,
across this mighty sea!
And don't look back like Lot's wife did -
it's just You, God and me.

We know the storm clouds darken.
We know the sea is rough.
We see the storms approaching.
We know it will be tough.

The wind picks up around us -
in torrents, pours the rains -
despite our bailing water out -
the water level gains...

The breaking waves crash over us,
our future starts to dim.
Our work is less than futile but,
our hope resides in Him.

Raging tempests circling in
this blinding, windy squall -
the typhoon winds are deafening -
blowing horizontal.

Rain freezes, pelting bullets -
they stab us like a knife.
Grasping tight to what we can -
we hold on fast to life.

Pulled muscles, cuts and aching joints -
now steal away attention -
spinning, tossing, sea-sick, stunned -
we lose sense of direction.

We cower ever lower then.
Some refuge? There is none.
Our prayers drown in the breaking waves.
Our words lost, every one.

Now most give in about this time -
high hopes, the world sees.
Their dreams are carried off in winds,
their souls to sinful seas.

In life, we've often sacrificed -
but our life, never gave.
We just get blown around a bit -
and tossed from wave to wave.

But now alone, we shiver -
and drenched so thorough, wet -
stunned speechless, we both see, a
familiar silhouette.

Saving us from certain death,
with grace for all who sinned -
and walking on the water now,
He calms the sea and wind.

Life's futile ocean's much too wide -
for tiny boat and I -
but God gives grace to everyone -
whose faith is not a lie.

Is 'faith' an easy word to say?
Step in my little boat.
It's not too much to look at but,
with faith, will stay afloat...

Jan Bagwell 

God bless 

Apron Strings

When I was young,

I often clung,
to many little things.
I'd reach up high,
again retie,
my mama's apron strings.

I sometimes did,
what mom forbid,
although she'd make it clear.
Thoughts still linger.
I remember,
through each fleeting year.

Acquainted still,
her stories thrill,
with many left untold.
I can't go back,
though mem-ries track,
to years I'd rather hold.

I'm lost in thought,
it can't be caught,
despite my futile search -
mama singing,
mama bringing,
this small boy to church.

Though I was touched, 
and changed so much,
through Christ, the perfect One -
I cannot stay,
time slips away,
from all that she had done.

I try to grasp,
and hands I clasp,
around those many things -
but mem-ry strands,
slip through my hands -
just like those apron strings.

I miss her so.
Emotions show.
There's moistness in my eyes.
I can't withhold,
though I am old,
my oft guilt-ridden cries.

Though sometimes sad,
I'm always glad,
whenever I think of -
my mama's cares,
my mama's prayers,
and her most precious love.

Jan Bagwell

God Bless