Turn the Page Ballad

Words spoken . . .you promised never to say

and he’s hurt and turned away.

Broken dreams widen the gap

Between wedding vows and the life you unwrap.

A single word frozen like a knife,

Ready to cut the oneness committed for life.

But, he turns, his hands cup your face

The condemnation you expect—grace.

“Do we stop the story here or turn the page?

Am I still your knight, ready to engage,

Fight whatever battles that come our way,

Bend my knee to lift you up and pray?

Do we allow this struggle to make us stronger.

And hold on for just a bit longer.

Do we turn the page?”

Teenager caught between holding it together and living a lie.

No longer sure whether to live or die.

You’ve been told that anything goes

And your drinking is just being one of the Joes.

You stagger home to your mother’s worried embrace,

No longer able to meet her eye, such a disgrace.

But, she cries out to the one who hears.

Seeking hope through her many tears.

“Do I stop the story here or turn the page?

Do I continue to love him through his rage;

Lay him upon the alter of your care?

Let go and have peace that you are aware.

Do I allow the struggle to make me stronger

And hold out for just a bit longer?

Do I turn the page?”

Your heart cries out to know the truth!

What’s your story, what will your life produce?

The only way to ever know the answer to what happens in the end

Is to turn the page and let a new day begin.

Do you allow life’s struggles to make you stronger

And hold onto the truth just a bit longer?

When faith is fading fast

And you’re sure your role has already been cast

Turn the page your story is not done

God’s the author and he has already won!

He knows our darkest page,

His son turned it and death lost its sting . . .

Do we stop the story here or turn the page?

Hold onto each other in prayer.

Hold onto each other in prayer.

faith grace hope poetry song writing

Pictured Here is You

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Wall to Wall.”

My walls look so different now that I have a frozen teenager. I have no photo to change, no memory to add of Jonathan. I see the pain in his eyes, that no glossy smile can hide. In time, the rest of the photos will catch up and pass him by. Adult Daniel and Natalie smile back at me. . . grandkids laugh and play, but Jonathan’s photo has no update.

His growth is now captured in snapshots of how you and I live differently. Hang snapshots of love, forgiveness , generosity, and  hope on the wall of your soul–they are my new photos of him.