Mary, Virgin, Mother of God,
The perfectly fashioned,
And tuned instrument,
A violin,
In the hands of God,
As He plays His music
For the Son.
©2012 Joann Nelander
Mary, Virgin, Mother of God,
The perfectly fashioned,
And tuned instrument,
A violin,
In the hands of God,
As He plays His music
For the Son.
©2012 Joann Nelander
Lord , make of me, a vessel,
Filled to over-flowing with my God.
Transform my water,
That becoming wine,
I may be poured out
At His will and direction,
As medicine and libation,
For body, mind and soul,
Ever joyful in purity,
And grateful in thanksgiving.
Amen.
©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
The music of God is all about us. When I listen in the Spirit, my heart sings.
With these pages, I wish to share the lyric of the songs I hear in the silence of my prayer.
The music of God is all about us. When I listen in the Spirit, my heart sings.
With these pages, I wish to share the lyric of the songs I hear in the silence of my prayer.
I live to love you more, O Lord.
Until now, O King,
I labored long for little.
I trusted to myself,
And drew life
From diminishing waters.
Famine and draught
Were upon the land,
For Sin had dried the well of plenty.
My nights were beset with worry,
And the day exhausted my meager stores.
I drew my energy
From the food of swine,
Never in short supply,
For the world, the flesh and the devil
Fed upon me,
And left, as my swill, their refuse.
Never satisfied, I cried.
My avarice outstripped my pride.
Only my growing greed kept stride.
Clouds descended
As night became my guide,
For hope is a thing of prayer,
And my prayer ceased
As from the Sun, I’d hide.
Death, the abode of Sin,
Fought to claim its prize,
And I, all but entered in,
Save for a memory,
Gleaned, as I remembered simpler times,
And leaned upon prayers said for me.
How now to thank
That faith-filled lot,
Who pled for me,
And spoke of He
Who bled to free.
I live anew,
Tears, my livery,
Shed in wanting You.
Feasting in abundant banquet,
My bread, Your Body, my Kingly Core,
Now and forever, in Eternity, O, Lord,
I live to love You more.
Copyright 2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
I left You long ago,
To wander in a world of choices,
Bombarded by alluring voices.
I left at home
All cords that bound,
Proudly casting off all staked to holy ground.
I soared mounting the wind,
On Icharus’ wings waxed proud,
‘Til sun and heat spoke Truth aloud.
I left You long ago.
Now in swift descent I fall,
Humbled, hoping to be caught by Lord of All.
Opening my eyes on rising:
“O Lord, anoint me
With the oil of gladness.”
Bathing and breakfast
Follow with forgetfulness.
My heartfelt entreaties
Fade from memory,
As day draws me
To familiar action.
You, my Friend,
Do not forget.
Your pleasure
Is my sanctification,
And Your delight,
My consolation.
Singing my soul
Invites me
To join her prayer.
Harmonious melody
Ascends to the throne of God,
Born aloft on angel wings,
Echoing the forever
Praise of seraphim,
And I, bowing head and knee,
Rejoice before the Lord of all.
© Joann Nelander 2012
All rights reserved
Way back when, I discovered an usual gift, which I exercised for a time. It wasn’t as though, I possessed it. It seemed more like a cooperation, of sorts, in faith. It started when my friend, Charlotte, came up to me after a prayer meeting, and asked if she could share a vision God had shown her of me. Puzzled, a bit wary, and, definitely curious, I said, “Sure!”
Charlotte described a picture vision. Jesus first showed her a big, shiny apple; as she beheld it, it turned around. On the other side, there was apple pie, apple sauce, apple jam, apple butter, apple fritters, and the array went on and on. Needless, to say, I felt blessed and humbled.
I thanked the Lord in prayer and asked Him, “What about Charlotte?” I had to smile, as I understood that one fruit alone couldn’t describe her. Chiquita Banana danced in my mind’s eye, with a headdress full of beautiful, colorful and exotic fruit. It really did describe Charlotte, for she was a gifted lady with gifts of leadership, counsel and music, to name just a few. Of course, I shared my prayer’s answer with Charlotte, to her delight.
I remember hearing, once upon a time, that what we receive as a gift, we are expected to share as a gift. Not long after these experiences, I was relating the tale, to a friend, who immediately asked, “What kind of fruit am I?” I didn’t expect that, and had no answer for her that day. I took it to Jesus, in prayer, as I said I would. The Lord surprised me with an immediate answer. “Pineapple.” That, too, was a surprise. I guess “pineapple” was not on my short list of normal fruits. I told Esther, and proceeded to tell her what else I heard. I understood that she had been equipped by the Lord with a rugged exterior protecting her in life. This outer toughness had guarded her succulent inner being, so sensitive and sweet. Esther smiled as I spoke, and then said, “I knew you would say, ‘pineapple’.” Since pineapple wasn’t even on my list of fruits that jump out at you, I asked, why the pineapple? Esther said that throughout her marriage, right up to the present, pineapple has been her daily lunch. I took that as happy confirmation.
When I told this story, others also asked, “What fruit am I?” Each time I hesitantly approached the Lord. He never disappointed. I remember a few answers that were unusual. One lovely, prayerful and generous, lady was identified not by a fruit, but the flower of the fruit, an orange blossom, worn by a bride. When asking, at my pastor’s request, Jesus, answered me, saying, “He’s the dimple in my smile.” My daughter, Carolyn’s answer, was not a fruit, but the wood of a tree, “The cherry tree, rich, and solid and beautiful.” She went off smiling to get ready for her day. She came back, a few minutes later, obviously taken aback, and in awe. She simply placed her compact in my hand and said “Read the back.” It read, “Cherry Wood.”
The music of God is all about us. When I listen in the Spirit, my heart sings.
With these pages, I wish to share the lyric of the songs I hear in the silence of my prayer.