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Declaration of a Piano Mover - July 21, 2022 

 

On a late spring day in May, a 30 year-long dream came true!

3 men stood in my entryway surrounding the over 900 pound sound board of a gorgeous cherry wood baby grand piano. Two were professional movers. The third was my husband who'd gifted me with my first acoustic piano 26 years earlier. (I’d been hoping for an engagement ring at the time but he got around to it eventually!) 
This instrument was a result of much prayer, patience, and specific timing. Its’ former owner was a student of mine for a decade. She’d graduated and moved to the other side of the country into an apartment too small to house it. I was selfishly grateful she did. 
To get the piano up the short staircase to its new resting place in our front room, it took these guys 20 minutes, two attempts, and a near death experience.  Ok, I could be exaggerating, but it was possible in my overactive mind, as I imagined that almost half ton sound board falling backwards, subsequently crushing said husband. 
After re-assembling and tightening the hardware, the movers took a short rest for lemonade. This gave us a chance to chat. The owner, Kerry, had been running this business for most of his life and loved it. To our surprise, we discovered mutual friends in the music industry. 
Then as normal as any comment about the weather or a sporting event, he said he’d been slowing down due to an aggressive cancer invading his body in its' late stages.  He didn’t have long to live, but for as long as possible, he wanted to do what he loved. 😢 
What does one say when mortality so obviously enters the room? I asked the honest, “Are you afraid?”  Without hesitation, Kerry shared the hope that spurred him on - his faith in Christ and salvation.  He had confidence of his Heavenly home where is no sickness.  I was inspired by his testimony and courage. 
Minutes later, it was back to business, wrapping up the paperwork and off to the next job. I didn’t see him again on this side of Heaven, but I know someday I'll watch him walk the streets of gold in Paradise - whole and cancer free! 

Consider:  How have you responded to the subject of death?   Are you prepared to face your own mortality and do you have an answer for your hope? 

I Peter 3:15 says "Always be prepared to give an answer for the reason for the hope you have... do it with gentleness and respect." 

Maybe someone needs to hear about this hope from you today! 

Breakfast with a side of Bold - March 5, 2022  

My stomach growled.  I scooped a helping of unnaturally yellow scrambled eggs onto my plate with a greasy sausage.  Countless continentals had cured my hunger in the past 25 years as a traveling worship leader.  Being 'on the road' warranted a good number of hotel stays and meals with strangers.   

All were similar, drawing the standard consumers;  the messy haired toddler squirming for the waffle timer to beep as her sleep deprived parent downs two cups of coffee;  the elderly couple in near  silence, smiling kindly, while munching fibrous jellied toast and fruit cups;  the young adult shuffling in stocking feet and sweats, snagging every pastry;  And, the overseer of this grand buffet: the hotel host, scurrying to re-stock the popular items, yet circling with an inner resolve to pounce on curfew at the stroke of 8:59 am.  

This late May experience, somewhere in Iowa, was different.   

A bright-eyed black haired man strolled around casually, making eye contact with guests.  It seemed clear to me that he was available, not just for food, but to chat with interested parties.  I smiled when our eyes met.   He approached me, and inquired how the meal was.  “Great, thanks.  How long have you been working here?”   

He beamed.  “Six months.”  I stated, “You’re just getting started.”  His response immediately intrigued me.  “Yes, I am, but it’s not my final destination.”    

I sensed a spirit prompt and a dialogue shift.   In a few short sentences,  Earle was sharing his recent struggle, challenge to heal from a broken marriage, and questions about God's plan and his future.  Listening fast, I encouraged, offered to pray for him, and was preparing to do so right then and there - 

          - until burnt toast pulled him away.      

A short time later, I was on the road talking with Jesus about Earle, covering miles and lifting requests.     

Sometimes it's not the right opportunity for a public prayer or a long discussion, but you and I can make the most of a moment.   

We will drop a seed.  

The Holy Spirit will cultivate it.  

The Son will shine light on it.   

The Gardner will make it grow.   

"I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow."  1 Corinthians 3:6-7  (NIV) 

Beauty will bloom.    

Just the way He's planned it.    

It's a grand adventure to play a tiny part in kingdom harvest. 

REMAINS - Nov 6, 2021 

We de-clutter basements 

clean cupboards 

shrink wardrobes 

            YOU purify hearts 

We empty wallets 

break habits 

trim bodies 

            YOU purge souls 

We diffuse detectable disasters 

around us 

YOU cure concealed chaos 

within us 

SPIRIT of GOD 

while 

we 

simplify 

will 

YOU 

sanctify 

            expunge  adjust  

                        do what you must 

            so all that's left is 

YOU in us

Three Small Steps  

A sparkling stadium floods with energetic chaos.  They surge in from all directions, hopes high, clad in custom apparel; stripes of blue and gold painted onto their skin.  Some will scream themselves silent urging their team to victory.    

Looking out over 20,000 faces propels my adrenaline to an exhilarating level.  Heart pounding hard, 

I take three small steps. 

My black high heels sink into the baseline dirt as I search for other stripes.  Red and white with stars on navy blue, it waves unfurled and glorious.  Time slows as the flag fills my vision.  Uttering a prayer that I don't twist an ankle and regret the impractical fashion I chose for this monumental moment, I wait for my cue.   My name echoes loud in the huge head set I was given to wear - turning a great hair day into a mediocre one.   No matter.  Hand over heart, pride swells as my voice delivers a beautiful anthem I’d sung dozens of times before in much smaller spaces.   Soaring on the glorious wings of music, I land 89 seconds later on 'the home of the brave', pointing upward to acknowledge The Giver.  Thunderous applause erupts, the first pitch is thrown, and baseball madness begins.  

I consider how surreal this is, as I wind my way through the masses to my husband.   He's found our seats, a stone's throw away from home plate, and a world away from our usual nosebleed section - gifted by the Brewers in exchange for the anthem.  My grinning guy compliments a job well done, remarking how happy he is to benefit from my talents.  Settling in, I glance around again at this collective blur of bodies - unique individuals with families and fears, histories and hurts, talents and triumphs.    

Divine thoughts strike me harder than a swinging bat strikes a fastball. 

What percentage of this mob of souls nearby are aware that the King of the Universe, who spoke them into existence, wrapped Himself in flesh to be a sin-offering in their place, fix their biggest problem, and supply their greatest need?   "How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard?  And how are they to hear without someone preaching?  And how are they to preach unless they are sent?"  (Romans 10:14 -15 ESV)  

If Jesus returned right now, how many here, in this vast enclosure of energetic expectation, would be ready to meet Him or confident to stand before Him for judgment?  If something disastrous occurred that ended all our lives before we reached the next inning, how many are not trusting Christ and headed for an eternity apart from Him?    

I realize this thinking is pretty deep (and kind of dark) especially for a ball game.  Most would advise me to clear my  mind,  munch on cracker jack, and enjoy the event - and I will.   But honestly, I don't want these sacred thoughts to stop.  I believe the Spirit of the Living God plants them there,  shifting our minds to things above,  stirring our words for spiritual conversations,  and moving our talents towards the mission of the kingdom.   I Peter 3:15 (NIV) "In your hearts set apart Christ as Lord.  Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect."   

               I want to be prepared.  God help me speak and act boldly.  Lord, let me shine Your light wherever I am.  

The volume in the arena rises a notch as the runner on third sets his sights on home.  The pitcher toes the rubber,  glances to his right, sees no movement, then addresses the batter.   With daring, the runner takes three small steps. The anticipation of a suicide squeeze causes a frenzy of counsel to resound from many voices. Shared enthusiasm can be intoxicating.    

Imagine the impact of Christ followers everywhere celebrating,  texting, and posting about sins forgiven and an empty tomb like they do about their boy in blue blasting a homer!  What a difference could be made if my own witness heralded half of this passion.  Did the joy of mercy, hope, and salvation ever have to fade?  "One generation shall commend your works to another, and shall declare your mighty acts. (Psalm 145:4 - ESV)   

Like 'the butterfly effect' 

one contagious human impacting a few lives in their circles 

            would impact a few lives in their circles 

                        who would impact a few more in their circles - and so on -   

                                    until millions are touched. 

Every one of the thousands in this sea of humans that surround me has been rescued.  Some may not believe it.  Some don't know it.  Some have never heard it.   I've have been invited, called, and empowered to be messengers of that marvelous truth!  "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in  the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,  teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you...”' (Matthew 28:19 -20 ESV)  "But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.” (Acts 1:8 - ESV) 

Today I took three small steps and a little witness happened on a baseball field to a stadium audience. 

Tomorrow, I may take more small steps of prayer, practice or preparation.   Meaningful witness could happen through a phone call,  a warm chat with a neighbor, or a helpful act to a lonely stranger.  

However it looks, I'm trusting God - and stepping out.            

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Three Small Step Application:  1) PRAY over the referenced passages.  Ask the Lord for willingness,  boldness, and wisdom to recognize opportunities when they're presented.   2) PREPARE your faith story.  Consider writing a short paragraph about who Jesus is to you and the hope of salvation.  Carry it in your purse or memorize it, so you’re ready when the time comes.  3) PRACTICE speaking a basic John 3:16  law / gospel message.  Say it to yourself in a mirror.  Try it on a family member.  Experiment with phrases natural for you - that turn a general conversation about the weather, job, or illness towards something spiritual.   

Grander than a sunset! 

Soft peach, fire orange, hot pink, bright yellow, deep violet, and calm gray.  These are painted in thin strips and large blocks of blending hues across the sky – a glorious feast to my eyes.  Bundles of cumulous clouds hold the last embers of light as I witness another day ending.   In my 48 years on earth, I have seen countless numbers of them and am continually amazed that no two have been exactly the same.  They never are.  The shades, patterns, and placement of color is always different in addition to the balance between the sun’s height and the accompanying atmospheric conditions which change the optical effects from day to day and moment by moment.   Occurring every 24 hours, millions of variations to the presentation of the sunset have been seen and captured by admirers on film, and each is an original work of art to marvel at. 

The same is true of you and me - but on a much larger scale.  We are more beautiful, unique, and creatively complex than any sunset.  The crown of God’s creation, we are made in His image and woven together by His hand. Psalm 139:13-16 reads:

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. 
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; 
    your works are wonderful, I know that full well. 
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place - woven together in the depths of the earth. 
Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

   Years ago, I heard a gifted pastor sum these thoughts up with this sentence: ‘God chose you and me to be His before the world began.”  How inspiring!   Words darted around my mind shouting to be etched in pen,  so I scribbled them down on the worship bulletin.  

Before I was conceived in my mother’s womb. 

Before I lived and breathed, I belonged to You. 

Before the earth was laid, You stretched out Your hand. 

You made me Your lamb before the world began.    

Those phrases became the song *Before the World Began”, found on my first album in 1995. (Hear it @ wendysue.com)

One final thought to chew on:  ‘God never started loving us - He just always did.’  Whoa.  Kind of unimaginable, isn't it?  You and I can know with certainty that we were crafted and designed with love, care and great forethought, and that we are treasured and valued by our Creator.  No one has ever been exactly like us, nor will anyone ever be. 

We are each truly individuals - one of a kind - and oh, so much grander than the grandest of sunsets!   

Only Just Enough - December 15  

"Two things I ask of you, O Lord... keep falsehood and lies far from me;  Give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread.  Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you, or I may become poor and steal, and so dishonor the name of my God."  Proverbs 30:7-9  

Maybe you’re like me and memorized the Lord’s prayer as a young child, saying it far too many times to count usually without thinking much about the words.  'Give us today our daily bread’.  Ok, give me food and clothes.  (Prevent me from starving and wardrobe failures?)   

The author of these verses from Proverbs 30 is Agur, a man not mentioned anywhere else in the scriptures.  Agur's request, however, is quite profound, and sheds great illumination on the ‘daily bread’ concept.  To re-phrase his words, Agur is saying 'God, help me to firstly, live in truth and secondly be content each day with no more and no less than just enough.'     

Occasionally I ask God to reveal His truth and keep me in it.  It hasn’t occurred to me to ask Him for ‘just enough’ daily needs for each day.  After all, isn’t it better to be prepared with a little extra - just in case?  After all, abundance, excess and super sizing is the normal for the society I live in...   

Recognizing God' provision is a blessing.   

Releasing something He withholds is a challenge.    

But requesting He limit my sustenance each day?  That takes a whole new level of trust!   

Imagine exclaiming when my belly is full, my bank account is overflowing, my health is in tip top shape: “Now hold on here, God.  This is too much!  Please won’t you take back such and such so I don't become desperate or proud?"  I’ve gotta be honest and admit my thoughts haven’t spent much time in that place.      

Agur’s writing inspires me.  He understood his limitations.  He knew his tendency towards pride and greed.  In the process of praying for contentment in today, he also prayed for coverage for tomorrow, aiming to prevent what might happen in the midst of temptation.  Can I do the same?  The Apostle Paul discussed these concepts in Philippians 4:12-13, which says  “I know what it is to be in need and I know what it is to have plenty.   I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.  I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.” (NIV) What a sweet reminder that Paul, Agur, you and me aren’t able to pray in our own strength.  All power, wisdom and gratitude are rooted in and spring up from our Lord, the God who took care of my greatest need - salvation!  

Agur’s beautiful proverb has taught me to pray the Lord’s prayer differently.  Now when I say ‘daily bread’, I consider the amount and attitude.  My Father knows exactly what I need, exactly what He will provide each moment, and exactly what I will do with what He gives me.  I fall before Him in repentance, ask for the Holy Spirit's constant presence and remember to lead my heart to contentment in only just enough.  

Song Reflection:  We give thee but thine own,  whate'er the gift may be;  all that we have is thine alone, a trust, O Lord,  from thee.  LSB #781  

Prayer:  Dear Father God, thank You for Your word that guides me into all truth.  I can be impatient, prideful or downright spoiled about the things I want or what I think I need.  Forgive me, Lord.  Help me trust You to provide just enough, and make me content in all circumstances.  Show me how to honor You with all I have been given.  In Your name, Amen.  

Pantry praise - it was my 40th birthday... 

40th birthdays are kind of a big deal.  Surprise celebrations thrown. Cleverly phrased memorabilia purchased and worn.  Entire sections of party stores dedicated to the event, brimming with black as the choice color.  For those arriving at this milestone, emotions run high.  Sometimes they experience anxiety, sadness or frustration over getting older (which may have something to do with being gifted unnecessary walking canes, ugly readers, and adult diapers - ugh!). 

It was a Tuesday in March when mine rolled around, looming dismal and deflated like helium balloons at 12 days old.   Cold rain drizzled slowly from bleak gray skies making the heavens appear to be crying.  I was tired, achy, and crabby after spotting a glistening patch of silver above the trio of wrinkles that the past decade had carved into my temple - but who was counting?   No parties were planned.  Present weren't really expected either, as my darling family was admittedly frugal, practical and low key.  It was also a work and school day.  Life must go on.   

By 7:45am, the husband was driving off with our teens in the backseat, and I was left alone.  I parked my weary frame at the kitchen counter, setting fire to the hungry wick of a cinnamon spice candle in hopes the aroma would liven my mood.  The liquid caffeine I enjoyed most mornings steamed up my favorite mug as I read the white letters on its pink surface: ‘Too blessed to be stressed’.   A girlfriend had snagged it for me insisting it 'had my name all over it.’  Blessed was a term I used frequently.  Family and friends knew me as a glass-half-full kind of gal with an outgoing personality, a generally bright outlook, and a song for every occasion. 

Still today, my emotions were nursing the blues, and happy was playing hide and seek.  Our son, the baby, was a sixth grader, and our daughter was prepping to graduate eighth grade in a few short months.  High school at the next turn seemed a final reminder that the window was closing for that third child I’d wanted. My two offspring were quickly growing up and away and I was perched on top of 'the hill', about to go over.  Presumably, down was the direction I was headed.  This birthday signified the end of a delightful season.    

But maybe it didn't have to.  

Could this landmark occasion be, instead, a wonderful beginning to a new chapter?   Could I think of each new day as 24 hours of fresh opportunity?   Every sunrise ushering in a morning, ripe with possibility?   A song from my childhood popped into mind. ‘Count your blessings, name them one by one.  Count your blessings, see what God has done…’ Moments later, the lyrics had squirmed their way to my lips, becoming a quiet chorus as I grabbed a few sheets of paper and listed numbers 1-40 under the title, “My Blessings”.  Where would I start?  Well, I had woken up breathing, moving and thinking - with a pain-free body.  My husband’s kiss still rested on my cheek where he’d planted it just minutes before.  Our teenage daughter had tossed her backpack over her shoulder with the usual goodbye “Love you, mom.”  Spoken affection.  Music to my ears.  A grateful wave washed over me up as I scrawled in the first five slots on my list:   

Life. Family. Healthy body.  Kisses.  Love.     

The corners of my mouth turned up to smile.  More consideration brought the next thank-filled words:  God.  Faith.  Coffee.  Candles.  Birthdays.   

Glancing around my kitchen, I noticed simple pleasures I hadn’t previously labeled as ‘blessings’:  refrigerator, clean water, towels, light switches.   A short walk through my home brought even more realizations of abundance:  flowers, hairspray, colors, toothbrushes, toilet paper.  Life with each was certainly sweeter and - let's be honest - splendidly sanitary.         

As the minutes moved forward, my sadness moved away, naming came easier, and I reached 40.  But, instead of stopping, I forged on, running out of space before running low on blessings.  The praise, pouring from a pen, permeated my soul, and blasted my blues away.  Happy was found, and it had brought contentment and joy along with it.  Here I'd unwrapped a beautiful birthday surprise!   I secured the list to the face of our pantry door, knowing I would walk past it often.   

Transferring "My Blessings" idea to a journal was the start of a new habit.  Notebooks would later burst with the fullness of God’s favor and prayers of appreciation to the Giver of every good gift.   German Theologian and Nazi concentration camp victim Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “It is only with gratitude that life becomes rich.” I agree.  Discoveries of incredible wealth can be found even in the midst of the mundane, in seasons of sorrow, and in times of trial.   Choosing to see through the lens of gratitude makes all the difference.  Eight years later, that list - without a number limit - is still gracing the door of my pantry.  

Claire at Gate 28 (Stranger Conversations - Devotion #1) 

This April fool's day, the computer glitch at the Denver Airport that cool September afternoon was no joke.   90 minute delays were anticipated.   My typical traveling companion was ready to fill the silence.  I leaned over and grabbed that favorite Canadian partner -  a blond natural elements Seagull acoustic guitar. Standing up,  I explored the space around my seating area, easily comfortable making eye contact with nearby passengers.  An elderly man with a gray haired woman sitting next to him appeared interested.  "You gonna play for us?"    

"As a matter of fact, I am."  After singing my own humorous rendition of 'Leaving on a Jet Plane' with the words adjusted to reflect our delay (and a silly line about airport singers) the bemused man smiled. "I like your lyric changes."    

"You wanted to sing along?  Sorry.  Any chance you are a Veteran, sir?"  I asked.   Turns out he had served in the United States Army for three years.   My handshake and words of gratitude were appreciated.   "You might know this one, then" and I crooned  'God Bless America'.   They both smiled as I loitered next to them for a while strumming randomly until my instrument went back in its case.   Taking a seat next to the woman,  I breathed a sigh.  She finally spoke.  "It's been quite a travel ordeal today."   

"Good material."  I said.  Her confused expression prompted me.  "I lead women's retreats for a job, and have one with a flight theme.   We discuss how delays and re-routes are possibly The Pilot trying to teach us something." 

"Could be" she replied.  "I have learned that I just need to be patient and go with the flow, since I can't do anything about it."  Something inside my spirit squirmed its way to my voice box.  "Well, I know the master Pilot loves you"  I blurted.  

"He loves you too," she responded.  Most conversations stop here at a resolve that sits on the surface, pleasant and somewhat unobtrusive.  But something inside me stirred my attention and whispered a prompting full of possibility.   "Do you know my Jesus?"  It was bold.  Maybe over the top, but... without hesitation, she stated  "I am not sure who He is.  I've actually been questioning His divinity.  I believe he was a great teacher, but I don't really know about the rest.  I attend a church and sing in the choir, but I - just don't know. " 

I waited - willing my mouth to stay shut and my ears to lean in hard.   She continued,  "My daughter wanted to have a long talk this week about it.  She has the same questions I do.  Neither of us have the answers."   

Prayer for gentleness echoed in my core.  "I believe the answers are in the Bible.  Do you read it?"  

"Not much these days" she admitted.   

The next instant,  we were interrupted  by the steward announcing it was time to board.  Her husband stood up quickly.  "How about I pray for you to find the answers?"  She nodded.   I asked her name and she told me.  I assured her I'd have a conversation with the One who knew.   Then they were gone.   

I acknowledged the blessing that perhaps came because of our delay.  One little link of a whole chain of moments, questions, and connections that Claire and I would experience as we make choices, take chances, and exchange words with strangers.     

Scripture reflection:  Mark 13:9-11 *How can we apply these verses to our own open doors?

Song reflection:  "LIving every season with courageous dedication.  Crazy thankful for the way that You've restored.   I've got a thousand reasons for a constant conversation, as I keep on running through those open doors."  from 'Bold' - W. Fluegge - Hear the song at https://wendysue.com/music

Consider: Has the Holy Spirit ever prompted you to respond in a certain way or with specific words? 

"Always Prepared" (article in 'Quarterly' magazine - winter 2015)  

When I was young, I'd sing into my curling iron pretending it was a microphone, dreaming of one day recording my songs and singing for a career.  I began creating music at age 12.  Correction.  GOD began creating music in me!  That was decades ago, and it has been a wonderful partnership since.  His Spirit plants ideas and fragments of melodies; I pray, walk while I sing, dabble on the piano;  He weaves and spins phrases in my mind and through my fingertips;  I work and re-work the notes and lyrics until a song is complete.  

We have created dozens of songs together. Some came from places of hope, joy and triumph. Others were born from struggle, pain or fear.  The music tells the story.  The music expresses feelings, faith, and invokes emotion in those who listen - at least I hope it does.  The music speaks in ways that words alone cannot.  Above all, the music is for Jesus' honor.  'For in Him I live and move and have my being'. (Acts 17:28) 

Besides being a daughter, wife, and mother, I am a writer, a recording artist, a worship leader, and a teacher who mentors future Christian musicians.  These are both my job and my passion.  I choose to serve primarily in the Church, and it has been a tremendous blessing.   Sharing original music, the great traditional hymns, and contemporary songs, while guest leading in worship services, concerts, weddings and even composing special pieces as gifts.  Seeing various parts of the U.S. in travel has been an added perk, and I'm still hoping to sing in all 50 states! 

Some of the most beautiful and memorable moments I believe God used me were bedsides of sick and dying friends.  No stage or lights or microphones - just my voice and our hearts joined together singing hymns and spiritual songs of the Lord's great love.  Scripture was read.  Prayers were lifted for His peace as the sweet melodies danced around the room.  Through joyful tears we talked of how the music in Heaven will be even sweeter. 

There have also been many spiritual conversations with strangers - using my guitar case as a segue - on planes, in airports, gas stations, restrooms and even a hot tub!   Occasionally, I've been privileged to impact a larger number of people at once in a public place.  Grateful for the freedoms here that allow such things.  

I strive to 'always be prepared to give an answer for the hope that I have' (I Peter 3:15)  Recognizing the Lord as the One who brings any favor or invitation that comes my way, I see each one as an opportunity to brag of His goodness.  Every day I remain thankful for these lips to encourage others to live their faith boldly, and I am most grateful for a tongue to sing my great Redeemer's praise!

**Published in Women's Quarterly magazine "Then Sings my Soul" Winter 2015 edition  

"When" - a song written January 2020 

Five years lost 

Abused so badly used  and  now he counts the cost 

Still he stays 

if she could only drop the bottle - things might change    

Day by day further he falls 

The pain goes o - on   It cuts so deep       

the dark within his heart grows worse 

He's not that str - ong  - in fact, he's weak   

Light eludes his sight the more she hurts 

When's enough of such bro ken  (pretend)  -   when? 

 

Three  years young 

Cancer came and drained her life - lullabies un-sung    

Mama's cold 

Asking why a God who's good would mercy withhold  

Day by further she falls 

The pain goes o - on   It cuts so deep       

the dark within her heart grows worse 

She's not that str -- ong   she feels so weak 

drying to the cries the more it hurts 

Will this aching ever end  - when?    

 

At for-ty eight 

I'm running to escape the chains of pain-filled yesterdays 

but seasons End  - one day soon He'll heal  the wounds

and make us whole again 

Love will hold us still until   then -   when it's finally  -  

when

 

*Words/Music by Wendysue Fluegge - For Ray - January 2020