Today it was a challenge to record these poems. I haven’t been sleeping well, my mind seems to think going to bed is the signal to start planning out how to change the world or take on a new career or renovate my childhood home and turn it into a retreat. Wonderful thoughts to contemplate but not helpful when you need to go to sleep. Thank you for taking the time to share my journey, we are all imperfect works in progress, how precious is it that our God loves us just as we are.
Tag: Healing
Day 6: The Blue Notebook
Last night I had a deep talk with God, or maybe it was just an intense crying out to the Lord. Is God personal? Can we truly in all cold-hearted, clear-headed sanity, have an interactive relationship with the Holy Spirit, the Lord Jesus Christ and Father God, the great creator of the universe?
I know I will keep seeking, knocking, asking, longing, pleading, begging, for all of my life. There is a bottomless pit of need inside me. Medication can mask that to some extent, but it’s still there.
‘Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often I would have gathered you under my wings.’
I long to be gathered under God’s wings and held in His mysterious love, safely hidden from the fearful, crumbling world. Cas
Though the night deepens and tempests are wild,
Still I can trust Him, I know He will keep me;
He has redeemed me, and I am His child.
Under His wings, under His wings,
Who from His love can sever?
Under His wings my soul shall abide,
Safely abide forever.
Under His wings—what a refuge in sorrow!
How the heart yearningly turns to His rest!
Often when earth has no balm for my healing,
There I find comfort, and there I am blest.
Under His wings—oh, what precious enjoyment!
There will I hide till life’s trials are o’er;
Sheltered, protected, no evil can harm me;
Resting in Jesus I’m safe evermore.
by William Orcutt Crushing (1823-1902)
Day 5: The Blue Notebook
I pray for the peace of Jerusalem.
I need to be washed with the WORD even if I struggle to make sense of it all. I need GOD, not insanity. I want to have a relationship with God that is fulfilling and alive. Cas
I long for the RAPTURE! It is a twofold longing. I pray Jesus raptures us for LOVE, all for love. Yet, perhaps it is already too late for that because we need rescuing? The world is frightening and falling and failing. Will the Rapture happen for love? Or because the world is ripe for the great and terrible tribulation?
Either way, why ever, God finally says: “Now! Go my Son and rapture your church! It is time! Blow the trumpet! Away to the clouds!”
I can’t express how much I long and yearn and beg for that blessed day when the roll is called up yonder and we, the Bride of Christ, are with the LAMB of God at the marriage supper. Cas
by taking heed thereto according to thy word.”
Psalm 122:6 “Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: they shall prosper that love thee.”
1 Corinthians 15:52 “In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.”
Day 29: Little By Little
Little by Little Cas Reeves 2018 I’d like to make music for you, Lord. If I was a harp how I’d sing, For you my dear Saviour Are so much more, Then even just God, You’re my King. I fell through a hole in the ground To a lost, sad world without words But slowly I rise to my feet, You lift me a little, So gentle and kind. Somehow, I’m less lost And not out of my mind. I write a sentence, a page. Not much, no manic or rage, But perhaps what follows Will be greater than all The push and the drama Before my mind’s fall. Will my words change the world? I don’t know, But the fact that I’m here Goes to show, That little by little, Like a retuned fiddle My words are a song changing me. With my heart fit to burst I come with my thirst And sing, I have a story set free.
Day 28: The Circus
The Circus Cas Reeves 2020 I can barely walk the path before me. I stumble, and I fall, and then I crawl. Like pictures torn from a yellow book, My thoughts are dark, but still, I look. My mind is like performance art, A circus troop that’s full of glee Dancing in the big top that’s me. Where’s the clown? I see the acrobats move faster. The girl standing on the horse And the ringmaster. Nobody is selling popcorn anymore. The monkey lost his jacket long ago. And the little girl who’s only three Who thinks that she is me Rides on her Pa’s shoulders once again. If I had everything, I’d still be poor But I’m as rich as I can ever get Because I live life over and over With a little girl who can’t forget.
Day 27: Enraptured
Enraptured Cas Reeves 2005 God and God alone He holds my heart With His still small voice. His smile shining into my spiritual eyes. Transcending human love He enraptures me. Divine beyond perfection And to perfection and beyond. He is so good to me. I fall in love anew, I run to Him with all of me, The black and red and all my darkness Offered to His light. I am his, Layer upon layer for His own. He is and so I am. Such joy He gives In place of grey despair.
Day 20: At Sea
At Sea Cas Reeves 2014 God took me. He stood me on a beach and said: ‘What do you see?’ I said: ‘The ocean.’ The sea spread out before me, Huge powerful waves, Stretching in a curve on beach As far as the eye could reach And beyond. Endless blue to the horizon. Deep, dark, blue sea. Unfathomable depths hiding worlds. God said: ‘I am the sea What are you to me?’ I stared at the pushing, pulsing, waves, Thought of the encompassing waters Covering the earth. ‘What am I compared to Christ?’ I picked up a small, broken shell, Sun bleached, faded, chipped and incomplete. I held it up to Jesus, ‘I am this shell.’ God nodded: ‘So little shell what have you To do with me? Can you understand my depths? You cannot comprehend Even the shallows, You cannot contain my glory.’ ‘No Lord.’ I agreed: ‘But I can be touched by you.’ I threw the shell And sunk down into my Saviour, Lost in his wondrous love At sea.
Day 17: In The Grey
Next comes medication.
In The Grey Cas Reeves 2012 The darkness and the light They just seem to intermingle. All is grey; all is mute, There’s no sunshine and no night. Beige and cream and soft blues, No black to take me home. Mornings and evenings But no midnight and no noon. I never see the sun Or the moon. Medicated to be calm Take a pill; it’s a charm. Go to the doctors, Get a needle in the arm. Do not think outside the circle It’s there to keep you sane. Do not feel, do not feel all your pain. Maybe twilight, maybe dawn, But never sunshine or night, Stay in the middle, Grey is right. Two plus two equals four no more, Do not say how much you’re hurting, Keep it all inside. Quiet child, quiet child, Find somewhere to hide. Do not let yourself be seen, Wrap your arms around your heart. In the grey, in the grey, Live dead in the day.
Day 16: Abe
I love this poem. So good to share a beautiful moment from my time in mental ward.
Abe Cas Reeves 2015 Abe had holes In the soles Of his thin khaki socks, At the toes and the heel And it seemed sad to me. He asked questions, Wrote notes, On small scraps of paper These he treasured and took To carefully write in his book. Recording his facts Made sense to me In that place you see There’s no clear reality. Perhaps he’s training to be a spy? A young man with a mission? After all, who am I? One night without sleep With me in bare feet I found Abe playing the Beatles. He young to my old But my favourite I told Abe played Lucy In The Sky for me. Then this young man With holy socks And broken mind Like mine He played and sang to me ‘When I’m 64’ And we danced, On our mental health ward Dance floor And a queen Couldn’t have asked for more.
This really happened, no delusion or hallucination. It is one of the few positive memories I have of my times in mental wards. It was a brief interlude I will never forget. Even in the midst of everything God can give us unexpected moments of bliss that still shine bright in my memory seven years later.
Day 5: Talking Bridges
Talking Bridges Cas Reeves 2020 Talking bridges over my troubled waters. Crossing deserts on word camels. Strangers who become closer than friends Carrying the water to my wells. Sitting, huddled by quiet trees, Hoping I am hidden from view. Waiting silently for the next trek Along another emotional Kokoda. Drugged and drowsy To stop the swinging pendulum of mood. All-day breathing shallow, Fearful of the shadows Flicking in the corner Of my fretful eyes. Colouring mandalas Like desperate prayers. Gel pen mantras to safe vacancy. Tired, a traveller never leaving, Always on a journey but staying still. Talking to unravel my wool But still, It’s tangled strings bind. In the end, It’s just me And my broken mind.
Thank you.
Cheryl Reeves Writing - from my shelves of journals 