This website is dedicated to someone who saw our need. Although we were good acquaintances, we became heart to heart friends. She saw me and God put the thought in her heart – “this is what you will do this year.” Willingly, she gave me all of her information, but inside, I though “oh, sure, I’ll never hear from her”. Not only did I “hear” from her, but she took care of me for a long time. Sure, people do this all the time – once a week, giving their time. But how many travel 3 hours round trip to do what was laid on her heart? That is called a true sacrifice of time. We will never forget it, nor her. She is still a heart friend, but God has used her else where. She helped me get through the tears, the fears, the joys and sorrows. The pain was exhausting enough, so I applaud her in never letting go until it was time. She has thanked me for the experience, as it has served her well. Gifts can come in all shapes and sizes and can bless more than one. Thank you dear Faith Braaksma, and thank you, Mike for letting her do what she needed to do. I am so thankful. This poem was written during a time when I was having a clear day and wanting to put into words my appreciation and somehow, it came out. This must come first, as many turned aside and it was very hard to feel the isolation. She saved our sanity. Especially the Thursday night suppers she brought!
Thank you forever, Faith and Mike!
REACHING, REACHING OUT
People Passing. Crowds. Families… or a person.
Reaching. Reaching out my hands in desperation.
Reaching out my hands IN love, FOR love.
Reaching FOR love.
Do you love me? Or care?
Please, touch my hands. Look into my sad, hollow eyes.
Touch my eyes. Smile! Breath life into them again.
Reach to the stars and get the sparkles, put them back into my eyes.
I lost the others. Stolen! My sparkles were stolen during grief, sorrows and in the depths of dark pain, silent suffering, stolen life and bitter loneliness covered by a smile.
People passing. Crowds. Families… or a person.
Reaching out my hands – Do you have extra sparkles? Not only do they come from stars, but from warm smiles, and enveloping hugs, and words.
Not just any words. But sparkling words that lift the heart up, lightly, gently, the heart floats, eyes sparkle, showing the way.
Reaching, I see you as you go by. Do you see me reaching? Straining…Reaching…Reaching….Straining.
LOOK, Please LOOK, in the microscope. Do you see me now?
YES, that is me. Reaching up to you! An upside down smile, can you not see??
“Your sister hath need of thee”
Reaching, Oh So Tired of Years of Reaching. Weariness. To weary to reach out.
Is there love? My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?
Reaching has become to much, to hard. Reaching weighs to much.
Straining and reaching. Reaching and straining.
Realization: I am forsaken because of my sins. Die? NO! I am forsaken and can not die until I feel the warmth of God’s love again. Where is it? Did I lose it in
the weariness? Please, forgive my selfishness. Did those passsing by –
crowds, families, or a person ~ take it because I started well,
but finished ungrateful?
OH, A person STOPPED!! They were touched by God. They reached and
reached deeper, straining harder, reaching enveloped me in love, in the
warmth and glow of God’s love. They reached out to me in love, in the warm glow
of God’s Love. They reached out to me. Love! The devine love of Christ.
Suffering long, being kind and gentle, yet so meek. Behaving as if I was a
a worthy sister in need, and seeing it a privilege to serve.
We rejoiced in the truth. Reaching and straining our hands together.
Thoughts and words uplifting, my heart began to bear hope,
and chose to endure – to endure.
To reach for the sparkles in the stars. I kept reaching.
Reaching out my hands to those who walked by.
To the crowds, families and a person walking alone.
You always stopped. You always stopped.
A seasoned word, a smile and laugh of sunshine.
Your gracious, Christ-like love in “never-failing prophecies” –
You held up Christ before me.
Reaching. Reaching in strength to Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith.
Through good days – reaching is wonderful.
And bad days, reaching to Jesus the author and finisher of our faith.
Reaching. Reaching out. Reaching out to those passing by.
Reaching out in life or death.
God used you. He could reach you. To reach me. To reach God and sanity, love and the beginning of a new beginning.
Reaching. Others missed it. Reaching. God never misses reaching out.
To our dear friends, Faith and Mike Braaksma