For You

I know what I gotta do 
I know what I have to say
Though I want you to stay with me
Gotta let you walk away

The purpose is clear
The plans are laid
In losing this life
You're gaining his face

Chorus:
I'm running the race, playing no games
Stretching my faith from the inside out
I'm made for this moment
Destined to move
Laying down idols and living for you

Verse:
Called to be, better than I am
Dare to dream and follow his plans
Walking down the road where others have gone
Might be losing this battle but I'm winning this war

The purpose is clear
The plans are laid
In losing this life
I'm gaining his face

(Chorus)

Oh oh oh...living for you (2x)
Dying for you

(Chorus -piano  only, Chorus full band)

© E. Glover 2012

Sex.God.

Sex with the wrong person leaves you empty, unsatisfied and ashamed. It's more than a physical connection...it's spirit meeting spirit and saying "commune with me, be one with me, let us worship together"
But if there is no love, the type demonstrated through commitment all you worship is yourself, each other and the feeling that will last only as long as your bodies are joined. And if in the intercourse you realize he's not the one, the truth that these puzzle pieces were never meant to join is as clear as when you realize you were trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. But I want the pieces to fit. The freedom to lay with a man and feel no shame after, no regret or remorse...the freedom to know that he was made to fit me and I him...by the Word that spoke all things into existence. I want my life to count, I want my love to count, my sex to be more than just an act...I want it to be worship to my creator that says I can see the big picture now...You are the big picture.

©2012 by Elaine Glover

Rainy days

Gray, rainy day. Frosted glass window pane reflecting not me but my environment. Glass so thick I can be barely see the silhouette on the other side, so thick that the booming voice on the other side is but a whisper...barely audible in the visitors room. Gray suits confirm and conform to the atmosphere that drains all color from the walls. This is the system's way of reminding us who's in control. Shackling more than arms and legs, but reprogramming minds. There is but one window in sight, barred and miniature in comparison to the large heavy steel doors which lead to endless paths. But here, on this tiny window frame sits perched, proud and resolute...a dove with an olive branch clenched in its teeth. A promise fulfilled, that is dry land awaiting me outside these troubled waters. And the realization that these four walls were not designed to contain me but to save me. Save me from the destruction I so easily allowed to prance into my life, save me from the plans I thought to be mine but actually reflect the face of the father of lies. Rumor has it he's on a rampage because the destiny set inside of me when fulfilled would do more than unlock these prison doors...it will abolish this system of mediocrity and make a new generation of status-quo challenging individuals unwilling to compromise for the momentary high. See I'm seeking the promise...the tree from which the olive branch came...its more than the allure of the knowledge of good and evil which has undone our bond to the Father, it is the Life of the Son and the living waters of the thirst-quenching Holy Spirit rising up in me and flowing over for all the world to see. Do you see?

© 2012 by Elaine Glover

Winter

Winter again. It's as if my entire universe is frozen over, snow-capped mountaintops and desolate ice-glazed fields. No fruit in sight, no life sprouting up to usher in spring. At least not above the surface of my soul.
If only seasons of our life were like seasons of the year, with a definitive beginning and end. Then at least hope would be more apparent. But there's no winter or summer solstice in the seasons of my soul. It seems as though time doesn't exist in this dimension...only it does. But perhaps I haven't learned to read it yet. Though there is one who can, for he designed this season for a purpose. He is the Author and I am the pen in his hand. The story's already told in His mind, complete and whole. Lacking nothing.
And I...I'm watching it unfold before my eyes, in the darkest of places I am being fashioned into a new creation and clinging to the promise of a happy ending.

©2012 by Elaine Glover

Weather

Weather. Funny thing how yesterday brought summer like warmth yet this morning as I left for the day the cold winter air greeted me with its familiar chill. I was so hopeful that the winter days were over that I wore yesterday's jacket leaving me exposed and unprepared for the cold I faced this morning. It's as though God is saying clearly to me "this season's not quite finished. Keep your hat, gloves and heavy coat handy or you'll wish you had it in the days ahead."
I finished a book this morning that challenged me to savor the sweetness found in bitter times, to create something beautiful out of my brokenness and to tell my story acknowledging that only I can. It's not for me that I write, though I know it heals to get it out of my mind and onto paper. I write for all those who will read it and need encouragement, the way that others words have lifted me out of dark times. They've encouraged me to persevere, they've comforted me and commiserated with me in my loneliness. They've inspired me and challenged me. In telling their stories they've spoken to me in such a powerful way that I am capable of telling my own.
Perhaps not all at once, because my biography is far from complete...but one day at a time. One triumph, one failure. One love, one heartbreak. One birth and one devastating loss at a time. And I will do it...with every poem I write, with every song I sing. With every line I recite and every word I publish.
I will tell my story because it's not mine at all...it's His. And it deserves to be heard. Weather or not the winter's over. Whether or not I think I'm ready to share.

© 2012 by Elaine Glover

Healing

I realized today that I don't think of you anymore, that the sound of your name no longer triggers memories of what used to be. Another face, another heart, another love replaced it without even trying. Little by little my mind and heart took control back...control I subconsciously gave you over my happiness. But really you're not relevant anymore...not that I wish you any harm but simply don't care. Your happiness doesn't affect my joy...and my joy has nothing to do with you. I'm content where I am, with who I am...

This is the art of healing...learning that you can't continue to put band aids over open wounds, sometimes they just need to be cleaned and left to breathe so the skin can dry and repair itself. Then a scab forms over it and all we can see is the hideous reminder of our trauma. But if we leave it alone, if we don't pick at it...it eventually peels away revealing new, untouched skin. I suppose somewhere along the way I stopped picking at the scab...I can barely see the scar now. A scar that reminds me that he can heal anything, he can resurrect new life from death...if only we leave it in His hands.


© 2012 by Elaine Glover