Showing posts with label Prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Prayer. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 23, 2018

Graduation Prayer


A Parent's Graduation Prayer

By Tina Pinson



Precious Son… Beloved to me,
I watch you walk away and I am filled with a sense of pride.
for the man you've become, the man you will be.
You've grown now, and you're heading off into a world to blaze that trail
To live your life.
Much has been accomplished in what seems too short of time.
I'm prouder than any parent could be.
But deep in my heart, in that sheltered place,
I feel as though someone has taken a knife and hollowed my soul.
I long to run after you, to continue this walk together,
But the path is only wide enough for you and one other.
and I know I am not the one who can walk it with you.
Nor the one who should
Oh, but all my senses cry out, begging me to run to your side,
take your hand in mine and never relinquish that hold.
But my feet are planted, and I stand silently in the shadows, weeping,
watching as you walk away.
My hands are limp and empty by my side.
Then in moments of sorrow, I look up and see who walks with you.
I look up and see, like me, you are sheltered under His arm.
Close to His heart. And He'll never let you walk alone.
And my hand, finding the strength to let you go,
Lifts with prayer for your tomorrows,
lifts with praise as I lay you in the hands of the only one who can carry you.
The one who always has.

God.

Monday, December 02, 2013

Now Available

Christmas in Shades of Gray

It's Christmastime. David Pareman lies in his hospital bed, dying. The staff visits him, as does a drug induced cowboy and yellow-eyed monster -- so he believes. But not his children. He fears he'll die alone without a chance to share his heart. 

When Arion, a stranger with vast knowledge of David's life and a shroud of mystery over his own, comes to visit, David thinks he's from the newspaper. He learns otherwise. Soon David is tripping through his past in search of the answer to a soul-searing question. "What in your life merits God answering your prayer?" 

Through his past and those of his children he hopes to reach, David finds little to balance the scales against him. He believes he's no good, with nothing of merit that would make God want to help in him. Then he remembers the truth of Christmas and the love the Father sent to earth.




Excerpt:
The walls are breathing. Breathing... In. Out. Slowly... In. Out. It's rather astounding.
It sounds foolish even to me to say that, but out of the dim glow cast from the light above my hospital bed, I can see the walls expand and contract. Over the whirr of machines, I'm certain I can hear the hiss of an inhale, and the heavy sigh of a released breath that is not my own.
The spot around the little angel that was put in my room to dress up the dingy dappled wall with some Christmas cheer, is the only place that remains unaffected by the strange aberration. That small section where the likeness of a heavenly messenger hangs, sporting her halo tiara and holding her trumpet, does not move. It remains calm and still while the rest of the walls labor to fill plaster lungs.
The pale light on that edge of the room must be playing tricks on my mind, 'cause only an idiot would think that walls could breathe. Only a fool would believe that lumber and drywall would push and contract for breath like the lungs of life. I shut my eyes and rub them. With a deep draw of oxygen from the tube below my nose, I will the aberration away.
With a quick peek, I see the walls aren't moving. Relieved, I open my eyes. The hallucination -- the reaction to my meds -- is over, or so I think until I see a black spot growing on the dingy white walls. I'm certain it's just a shadow, cast from what... I don't know. A shadow, nonetheless. So why is it growing and why is the blackness oozing from the wall in several places?
Meds again. That's it. Meds. Meds to take care of the cancer. Meds for pain. Meds for indigestion from the meds they give me for the cancer and pain. Meds to build up my blood. Meds to keep it from clogging. Meds so it's not too thin. Meds to make me sleep. Meds. All those drugs the doctors have been cocktailing in my blood are like turpentine to my brain, screwing with my mind, altering my thoughts. Redefining my reality.
As the darkness moves slowly down the white walls like rivulets of tar, even the angel seems to lift and sway slightly. I half expect her to drop her trumpet and raise her skirts so they don't touch the shadow coloring the wall. More disturbing is the way the darkness has begun to push across the room like seeping lava, heading toward my bed. The rivulets are now beginning to form fingers, fingers that splay over the floor like long talons extended and sharpened like knives, reaching for me.
I press the vein where my heart seems to thump in my head. Put a hand to the thrum in my neck. Though I am weak, my blood courses. I want to jump out of my bed and run for safety. I'm frozen.




Tuesday, October 02, 2012

Elections are coming...

 

In 1864 Republican Abraham Lincoln was re-elected for a second term as president after a run against Democrat George B. McClellan with Andrew Johnson as his running mate. Did you know there was a switch-up for the vice-presidency on the Democratic side? History is interesting, but how will this election be written in the annals of time? Do you care?

The elections are coming… I can almost hear the groans and see your eyes glazing over. And i can see some one finger waves. thank you

I know... I know... You're inundated with ads and spiels, you're on election overload. Everyone has an idea about the elections. Let's take a poll. Are you tired of it yet? Have you tuned it out already. I get it election information runs in a continuous loop for twenty-four hours nonstop. With alert headlines and special report draws that tell you nothing new. And heaven knows, you don't want to hear anymore from me. You'd rather clean up dog poop. Rather head for the social networks for fun. Anything but  discuss politics.

But have you really paid attention to the news, to what's going on in the world or just across the street?

Before you run away screaming, thinking I'm another political pundit who's going to tell you how vote or force you to see things my way. Let me just say, I know I'd probably have better luck telling you to choose up sides and smell arm pits.

But the truth is... the elections are coming. Only a month away. I honestly don't care who you go in and cast your vote for. Okay maybe I care just a little. But it is not my place to tell you who to vote for and how to believe.

What I really would like to see you do is prepare. Take some time to reflect on this election. Take a look at the issues and the candidates. Don’t just vote party lines because you've been with a party for years. And that's how it's done.

You've been given a great freedom. One bought by the very lifeblood of those who came before you and those who stand on the battlefields today. We're all ready to wax poetic about our Great Country and the men and women who stand in the way of tyranny for us. But we don't take responsibility for the freedom we've been given. And voting is a high honor and a responsibility.

Please take this month to consider your choices, and if you choose to, take some time to pray for this nation, for this world and the hearts of mankind.

You can say you don't really want to get involved, and that your vote doesn't mean squat. You'll watch it from the sidelines, from the fence. Let me caution you by saying if you are unwilling to stand for anything, you will fall for everything. And you will have no reason to complain when things don't turn out.

You may think sitting on the fence frees you from responsibility… consider this, at some point the fence is going fall and you may find yourself forced to sit on the wrong side of the issue.

With all the information flying around you, there is no excuse for not knowing the issues. For not knowing where the candidates stand. Go to their sites read their platforms.

Please Vote Responsibly

Take a stand and if that stand should bring you to your knees in prayer... don't fight it.

if you would like to share this, please do.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Graduation Prayer


It's that time of the year again, when seniors from High Schools and other levels of academia graduate.
It is a lifetime achievement and a new step into the unknown.

Since my children are all grown, I have lived through THE Graduation Angst of watching my children walk through the procession, receive their diploma and know that something had radically changed in my world, just as something would radically change in theirs.

I remember the day vividly. I sat there in the stands watching my eldest in his red robe, fall in line with the others in their matching attire and saw my little boy. Saw the day I took him to kindergarten. I saw days of his life float through my memory. A part of me wanted those days back, but knew that this was his moment to shine. This was his moment to reach for the life I'd, hopefully, prepared him for.




A Parent's Graduation Prayer
by Tina Pinson

Precious Son… Beloved to me.
I watch you walk away and I am filled with a sense of pride.
For the man you’ve become, the man you will be.
You’ve grown now, and you’re heading off into a world
to blaze that trail. To live your life.
Much has been accomplished in what seems like too short of time.
I’m prouder than any parent could be.
But deep in my heart, in that sheltered place,
I feel as though someone has taken a knife and hollowed my soul.
I long to run after you. To continue this walk together.
Continue along with you in this journey that we started so long ago.
But the path is only wide enough for you and one other.
And I know I am not the one who can walk it with you.
Nor the one who should.
Oh, but all of my senses cry out, begging me to run to your side,
take your hand in mine, and never relinquish that hold.
But my feet are planted here, and I stand silently in the shadows,
weeping, watching as you walk away.
My hands are limp and empty by my side.
Then in moments of sorrow, I look up and see who walks with you. 
I look up and see, like me, you are sheltered under His arm.
Close to His heart. And He’ll never let you walk alone.
And my hand, finding the strength to let you go,
lifts with prayer for your tomorrow’s.
Lifts with praise as I lay you in the hands of
The only one who can carry you.
The one who always has.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

I Miss My Rut.

After nearly 20 years in Grand Junction, where my hubby and I planned to buy a cabin in the hills by a lake and live out our retirement in the cool hills of Colorado, my plans were thwarted.

Yes Thwarted. Smushed (if that's a word, if not, I like it) Burned. Erased.

Okay they were changed and they were changed against my wishes. (like I always have a say so.)
And now we live in sunny and HOT Arizona. Did I mention it was HOT.

I had a lovely green lush yard in Grand Junction. Okay honestly, most of the lushness of my yard came from crabgrass which I was constantly battling, because it encroached on everything and I did find it quite irritating the way it could choke out my vegetables. But I had mature trees for shade and flowering bushes to give color and ambiance. Oh and shade for the dogs on hot summer days.

Now, while several people around me, have trees and pools, I have a dirt brown yard with two sheds a half of a swing set, where I grow stickers and weeds and am trying to grow bermuda grass.
How Ironic that I'm missing my crabgrass. Even my dogs don't like to tread in the back dirt. They tiptoe along the edges.

People say that this move is a blessing. I know God's hand is in it, he orchestrated every step. I realize sometimes we all need to get out of our ruts. Frankly, I didn't look at my trailer as a rut. And I miss it.

But in all honesty, here is Arizona, I'm praying for those Springs in the Desert the Lord promises, and I am trying to look at this move as a new and awesome adventure. I believe the Lord has plans for me, Jeremiah 29: 11 isn't my favorite verse for nothing. I believe the Lord has something wonderful for me and mine, I'm just having a bit of a time seeing it.




And though I'm trying to envision how I can change this drab landscape behind my house, and everyone keeps telling me you settle in everything will be okay, I'm still prone to shed a tear for the world I left behind. I bought a couple of trees and some oleander, but rose- colored glasses don't change much when your surveying a dirt yard. I just don't want my life to become that dirt yard, I want the color, the vividness of life. I want this desert to flower.



I'm praying for all the Lord has in store for me and what he wants for me to do. I'm praying for his grace and mercy with me. I know being here will give me more outlets for my writing and since I have a new contract for three books through Desert Breeze Publishing, that is a good thing. I know my husband didn't have work in Grand Junction and moving here gave him the opportunity to continue working on planes like he loves to. Two of my children even moved here as well. Though I still miss the son I left behind, and my grandchildren too. I am settling. I think I am.


But let's be honest, when the mercury hits 117 and I feel like I'm in a sweat tent, and I have to trip out across my back dirt yard just so my dogs will take the plunge into the heat, I find I miss my home in Colorado.

I miss my rut.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Minding My P's & Q's... Lessons from the Writer's Delivery Room

If you missed it on Seekerville... Here it is again.  I hope that my lessons will help make your journey to writing delivery easier. 

You've been in gestation with this book so long, you feel like an elephant. You're wondering if you'll ever get published. Take heart, you're not alone. My little spiel, or long spiel is for you. What I've learned may make your wait easier.





Perseverance— Birth Cycles are ordained

After 30 years in the writer's waiting room, I'm an ace. HA!

It's been a proverbial perseverance coaster ride. (Say that three times fast). I wished I could say I was more up than not. But I'd be lying.

I started writing in elementary school. Won awards for poetry and songs. Published short stories, took writer's courses, finalled in the Noble Theme Contest (Genesis), had an agent ask for me and more.

I still wasn't published; at times it irked me that others were. And they hadn't been gestating as long. Was I a horrible writer? No. It just wasn’t my time. I hated the waiting room. To get by, I threw pity parties, with lots of free flowing whine. Not a pretty place.

I hate to admit it, but envy visited often. It still raises its ugly head sometimes. But I have learned that we all have our waiting areas. We weren't told life would be easy, we were told to persevere.


Prophecy— The Doctor said I was having a girl. God said otherwise.

Let's talk the future. Not omens or Crystal balls, but touching the future.

The legacy of words.

Do you realize the weight the smallest of words carry? Words can build and destroy. Words can paint the truth, just as easily as they can lie.

It used to hurt when people knocked Christian Fiction. It felt like they nixed the novel-- or baby-- I carried. I heard that to really use my writing for the Lord, I should write devotionals, self-help books, or maybe a biography about someone who'd done great things for the Lord.

Huh?

We're they right? I wasn't getting published, maybe writing novels was stupid.

So I tried to write like everyone else thought I should. It turned out bea... u... ti ...ful...ly. NOT.

God gave me my words and imagination. When I didn't use it in the way he ordained, I felt listless. Why? Because I needed to write God's will. There are people I was created to touch. One or a million, it doesn't matter. If I'm not true to the writer God made me, I may not reach them. I may not leave a legacy.

What legacy will your words leave?

Promises— Pushing too hard gives you Hemorrhoids

What a lovely picture.

Consider this… while God promises to meet my needs and give me a most awesome future, he never promised I'd be published.

Say What?

It's the truth. He never said I'd be published. (Never said I wouldn't.) That was a tough to wrap my head around, I couldn't believe God would give me these stories and not let me publish them.

So I did the logical thing… I decided to prove him wrong. I checked out every avenue to publishing. Even self-published my own books, and God saw that they were good and blessed me immensely.

Yeah… and I never color my hair either.

Self-publishing, hmm. I learned volumes, spent volumes and shed a few tears. Does self-pubbing work for some people? A few. Not for me. I ended up in a funk. My brain was all over the place. Words failed me. I thought God was so upset with me, he took my gift of writing away.

Shallow thoughts, but they plagued me. Until I finally laid my writing, my pride, at God's feet and he filled my imagination and life with promise again. A promise to use my words—me –even if I never became published. I also learned I could use some preparation (notice I didn't say H). I had some work to do, some things to learn.

Do I ever pick up my pride and try to get God to see it my way, yeah. But I'm getting better.

Quality – Gentlemen we can rebuild him and make him just like...

We should strive for quality in our writing.

That's a given… but there's another aspect of quality we tend to forget, and that's the quality of the writer within.

I see writers buying into the myth that if they write like that person, they'd get published.

Not true. You can learn from another writer, but sadly when you try to write like someone else, you lose the qualities God formed in you. They're unique qualities, gifted only to you –your tone, your flow. To be used with your character, your dreams and your imagination.

Don't settle for the lie that you're not a worthy writer if you don't write like so and so. Don't sell your writer's soul; the price is far too great.

Quantum Physics— It's Alive… (Mawwwhaaahaaa, cue Frankenstein music)

1. Energy is not continuous, but comes in small but discrete units. 2. The elementary particles behave both like particles and like waves. 3. The movement of these particles is inherently random. 4. It is physically impossible to know both the position and the momentum of a particle at the same time. The more precisely one is known, the less precise the measurement of the other is. 5. The atomic world is nothing like the world we live in.



I should say "Psych" about now to see if you're still with me. 'Cause I'm sure you're wondering what Quantum Physics has to do with anything. Frankly I don't know. It had a Q and a P.

Let me say this, there are those who believe that we use your imagination and thoughts to accomplish our goals and make our dreams come. Some Scientists actually believe our thoughts are powerful enough to change reality. As we believe it.

I concur,  to a point... we can change our reality.

By changing reality, I'm not saying you'll think you're a millionaire and suddenly become one. I am saying, when you use the gifts God gave and seek his wisdom, when you're in constant forward motion, shooting for your goals, your future will probably be brighter. Not always more profitable, but more joyous, more hopeful.

Let me put it a different way. Scripture tells us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds. To do this changes our reality in a sense. Staying in God's word accomplishes this, as does using the mind and gifts he's given.

Consider how it feels when the currents running through your brain are zipping into the dark recesses and firing on all cylinders. Your imagination is on edge. Waves of thought wash over you. You see each section of your story in vivid Technicolor. If you don't get a piece of paper to write on, your head's going explode.

Have you ever been there?

You find a scrap of paper and start to write. The atoms continue to split in the channels of your mind. Electric impulses fire, arcing to the frontal lobe, skittering to the occipital lobe, racing to the temporal lobe and words begin to flow through your brain like a river, forming sentences, paragraphs and chapters. It rejuvenates your mind. Encourages forward momentum.

Who knows what it is that sets a fire in a writer. The necessary current is as different as our stories, as our characters. Every nuance, every particle forms our imagination.

Quirks – My baby sleeps with his fist in his mouth and his rump in the air…

Your characters have quirks. The funnier the better, one might say. Writers can be pretty quirky people, too.

Some writers can't write if they're not sitting in their favorite chair. Others need certain music. Still others wear a certain shirt, use a specific computer or typewriter. Or wear specific socks. Some can only write if they have on their favorite pair of glasses.

Writers are peculiar. Aren't you glad I'm here to tell you that?

Quirks are intertwined in our stories. Some writers want their words to flow a certain way. Some use a distinct style of writing. Dry wit, flowery narrative, meter, rhyme, inflection and passive verbs (I didn't say that) are all part of how some authors build their stories.

I'm not too peculiar. Sure I prefer to use three-ring, college-ruled notebook paper and a #3 three hard pencil—which must be sharpened to a perfect tip—when I write. I'm flexible though, I've adjusted to using college-ruled paper in tablet or spiral form and I will pick up a # 2 hard pencil if I can't have a #3. I won't discuss the things I love to use in writing, 'cause I always get in trouble for them. (Hint—I like omniscient point of views.)

Do quirks make our writing better? I don't know, but they do make a writer feel better. Why? Because quirks are like security blankets. (I'm not talking OCD.)

Quirks, like our qualities, address are individuality, make us who we are as writers and give tone to our voice.  Embrace your quirks?

Quit – Put that baby down or you'll spoil her.

This seems to contradict what I told you about moving ahead and firing up your senses. Because we all know that, Quitters never win and Winners never quit. Au contraire.

Winners do quit sometimes –sometimes they are forced, others, they choose to for a season.

Have you ever gone through a time where couldn't find the words to write a paragraph, let alone a sentence? Have you ever felt so frustrated that you'd force yourself to write and then want to cry? Whether from stress, or just having too much on my plate, I've been there. I had to lay the pen aside and quit writing for a time. And I had to give myself the permission to do so.

When my mother was going through her chemo and stem-cell transplant, and we were running the business and watching grandkids, and one of our children was going through hard times. (All at the same time) I made a conscious choice to sit my writing aside. Not for forever. Just for a season.

I had to quit berating myself for not getting a word count. I had to quit knocking myself for low desire and energy. I had to quit telling myself I was failing if I stopped writing for a time. And strangely, or sadly, it took me awhile to reach that point.

Having said that, if your world is unbalanced and you can do something about it, do it. If it means you have to step out of some position or quit something. Then be a quitter.

Quit that group you started because you thought it might be fun.
Quit going to that study that doesn't hold your heart or attention, God won't strike you dead.
Quit buying into the lie that you have to do everything and you can't say NO.
Quit the things you can that are pulling you apart and zapping your energy. It's okay.
I give you permission. God gives you permission.

Quiet – Shhh, the baby is sleeping.

Maybe you’re the kind of writer who has the radio on and you're talking on the phone while the Television blares and your kids are yelling in the background. Multitasking is your thing. Or perhaps you're juggling. (See Quit)

Scripture says we are to be still. To Quiet our hearts. It's good for our spiritual well-being, and for our mental and imaginational (is that a word?) well-being too.

Do you quiet your mind and let it flow with the dreams and vision God has for you? Do you let your characters take you on trips to foreign lands and lost times? Do you, like the prophet Elijah, slow down long enough to hear God in the gentle wind passing like a whisper through your brain?

Many of us won't allow for down time. We think we're wasting energy if we aren't constantly moving. But taking a break and quieting our spirit, doesn't mean we're lazing the day away.

It could just be the time you need to rejuvenate your thoughts and find the flow and proper structure for your words.

To reach that place where you dwell in quiet, you will need to use this last lesson. It is one of our greatest gifts…

Prayer— How come there's no instruction book with this kid?

If you believe that God has gifted you with imagination and a desire to write, why don't you talk to him about your WIP? Let him show you where your story should go? Why wouldn't you want him to quiet your heart and give you wisdom?

So many times we wait till we're frazzled or near the edge before we talk to God. Maybe we think our little quirk with our Characters isn't worth his time. Or the bridge in that one scene is miniscule when pit against eternity. We forget who created imagination and wrote the first story. Why wouldn't He care about our menial thoughts? He does. We just have to remember to ask. Scripture encourages us to pray without ceasing.

Could that mean there is a reason to pray every second of the day? Hmmm?

You might say your days are mundane. When big problems arise you might ask for help, but you can handle the little things. There's no reason to bother God.

But God wants you to bother him. The more you talk, the more comfortable you feel sharing the small things too.

Don't wait till you're dangling off some emotional cliff, before you call.

Prayer Is Necessary, Say One Now.


After several years of waiting I finally find myself a published author. My book In the Manor of the Ghost is available at the following sites.

Touched By Mercy will be available through Desert Breeze Publishing in Dec 2010 

Friday, March 19, 2010

It's Time for a Knee Party.

If you were Queen Esther or the prophet Daniel, what would you do to help heal the state of America?

Like me, you can probably think of a gazillion things you'd like to do.

But what is the most important step?


Well...

You may never be Queen of a nation like Esther, you may never be asked to put your life on the line. but as a child of God, you have been chosen by the King of Kings.

You may never be a prophet such as Daniel, you may never be asked to advise a king, but you, as joint heirs with Christ, serve the Sovereign Lord of the universe.


You were placed here for such a time as this.

What will you do?

Perhaps the best place to start is by following the examples of the Esthers and Daniels who came before you. It's time to seek the wisdom of God. The wisdom of the ages.

It's time to bend a knee before the Lord and pray.



"If my people who are call by my name will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sins and heal their land." 2 Chronicles 7:14