To all who step
Within the Vine
I pray you find
Space
Calm
Peace
and
Something of the Lord
An echo of His voice
A waft of His fragrance
An unmistakable whisper
A gift
With His signature
For you
A Glimpse to reassure
He knows
He loves
He cares
Enjoy a Wonderful Christmas
A New Year pregnant with possibilities
Be prepared to know God
Intimately
Words and Photographs © Denise Stanford 2011
I see a snowflake
Unique by design
Lace frost
Descending
Settling
Upon my sleeve
In a moment of madness
I long
To Hold
To Keep
To Possess
But with
One touch
It is gone
Obliterated
Erased
Another settles
I am still
I watch
Perceiving
More than I see
Of the beauty
Soft
White
Delicate
Crystalline
Catching the light
Water drop
Transformed
With full impact
A lesson is
Driven home
Hold lightly
To all God Gives
Unclasp the closed hand
Withhold the crushing
Allow His Grace to fall upon you
Do not try to possess
But be possessed
Do not try to own
But be owned
Do not try to lead
But be led
The mantle of Spirit gifting
Settles
About you
Treasure
Deeply
Savour this Mystery
These cannot be earned
Nor purchased with mere gold
You cannot make them your own
‘Hold Tight’
‘Try Hard’
Do not belong here
They are heavy ownership words
They are
False impression
Fear Full
But accept
Open
Be the Present Witness
Allow Him to hold you in the moment
Allow His Blessings
His Grace
To fall Soft
They are entailed
Gifts Bestowed
By Generous Heart
You cannot own
For God shares them
Allow them to be
Light
Freely Given
Freely moving on
When the Spirit wills
Enjoy
Delight in them
Do not suffocate
The Inspiration
It takes
Willing
Longing
Whole heart
Wanting
Loving sighs
Gentle breaths
Trusting heartbeats
To be led
Submitting
To His
Creative Adventure
Live soft with God
Allow His Spirit
To alight
Like gentle zephyrs
Upon your soul
Arousing to flame
The fire within
Words and photograph © Denise Stanford 2011
Snow photographs © J Stanford 2011
Inspired by Teaching at Barrabool Hills Baptist Church
by Matthew Jacoby on Matthew 19 v13-26
“…For with God nothing will be impossible.”
Then Mary said, “Behold the maidservant of the Lord! Let it be to me according to your word.” And the angel departed from her.
Luke1 v37-38 NKJ
God has created
In you
In me
A precious Gift
And yet
We wrap and rewrap
Re-gifting ourself
Again and again
Never having truly
Opened
Or
Owned
The True Treasure within
Are you willing?
To settle long enough
To allow
God
To pull those beautiful bows
To unknot the string
To break the seals
To peel back
Layer by layer
To tear the pretty paper 
Unstick the stuck
To open the box
Discarding the lid
Revealing the ordinary
Are you
Willing to withstand
Unpacking
Though complex
And
Sometimes painful
To change the order
To Challenge
The treasure may be
Deeply hidden
Disguised
Wedged tightly
By packaging that
Holds
Hides
Confuses
Confounds
You
God’s Treasured One
No bran tub
No lucky dip
Finding the treasure within
Finding the fullness
Of all God wants you to be
May take
Time
Effort
God’s own Spirit
Will Divine Truth
From falsehood
Will enable
Will empower
Will make possible
If you are willing…
Words and Photographs © Denise Stanford 2011
It’s a sleepy little town
Not far from Canberra
Nestled amongst rolling hills
Secure in a time warp
Steeped in History
Braidwood, NSW
Each November
Patchwork quilts
Of every shade and hue
Are hung from iron lace rails
An airing of Australian quilts
Truly a sight to behold
The whole town
Enjoys the gathering
With markets, old car displays, open gardens,
Art exhibitions, rug displays
And quilts
Angels hang in St Bedes
Raphael stirs the waters
More quilts hang quiet
Making stained glass dowdy
Most quilts are cotton
Some crazy quilts are of embellished silks
But I am entranced by the Waggas
These are Woollen quilts
An Australian tradition
Sometimes the wool is in the piecing
Men’s fine suiting
Scottish tweeds
Sometimes woollen blankets
Are used as wadding between cotton layers
The market is busy
Alive with
Colour
Creativity
Anything to do with patchwork
Nothing to do with patchwork
We find a sheltered spot for lunch
Taking in the delights
Tasting fresh country produce
In fresh country air
As quilts flutter in sunny breezes
Many appreciate the hard work
That makes them
There are conversations
Stranger talks to stranger
Finding just one thing in common
They are strangers no more
Outside a shop
I linger over a rack
Where quilt tops hang
Made in another age
They await new homes
A new opportunity
To be joined with stitches
To make the finished comforter
Music drifts on the air
Buskers and Line dancers
Old showing the young how
Braidwood celebrates Tradition
I add a new hope
To my bucket list
Before I die
I’d love to see one of my quilts
Aired at Braidwood
Words and Photographs © Denise Stanford 2011
To find out more about ‘Airing of the Quilts’ at Braidwood,NSW click here
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You’re my cave to hide in,
My cliff to climb.
Be my safe leader,
Be my true mountain guide.
Free me from hidden traps;
I want to hide in you.
I’ve put my life in your hands.
You won’t drop me,
You’ll never let me down. Psalm 31 v 3-5 The Message
Ssssh
He knows
He hears you
He knows your turmoil
He knows
All that bombards
Your heart
Your mind
Your soul
He knows all you fear
He knows all
Still your tongue
Quieten your thoughts
Silence alarm
Wait for Him
To bring you to peace
To bring a dawning
Of quiet supplication
Without word
Without thoughts
He knows what you want
Better yet
He knows
All you need
Allow Him to read your heart
Be known
By Him
Words and photographs © Denise Stanford 2011
He led you out of your dark, dark cell,
broke open the jail and led you out.
So thank God for his marvellous love,
for his miracle mercy to the children he loves;
Psalm 107v 13-15 The Message
Imprisoned
In dark thoughts
Pain
Failure
Weakness overwhelming
No escape
No Light
Cold loneliness
Crushing guilt
Cry out for God
Be found by Him
Alone no more
Walk with Him
Be Strong
Be Free
Be Thankful
In Him
Words © Denise Stanford 2011
Photographs taken at The Old Gaol, Harrow, Victoria, Australia © Denise Stanford 2011
I love archaeology
A tiny golden bell lost in Jerusalem some 2000 years ago during the Second Temple period and has been found among the ruins near the Old City. Source: AFP
Finding
Seeing
Shadows of the past
I read an article
In The Australian
Found here… Link
About a tiny golden bell
Found beneath
The ancient City ofDavid
It causes me to think…
Along the streets and alleys of old Jerusalem
Sat the beggars
Bundled in rags
Hidden from view
Only a hand
Extended
Begging
Pleading
Awaiting jubilee
Sometimes
The beggar hand
Would reach
For the ringing hems of rich men
Hoping for their fortune
To fall
For it is there
Tiny bells of pure gold hang
Singing out God’s favour
Perhaps today good fortune
Would favour the brave
Perhaps today
One of those bells would fall
Into a beggar hand
In his household
The rich man’s wife
Keeps a handmaid
Plying needle and thread
Her job
To stitch and restitch
Each piece of gold
Secure to the fine woollen hem
To ensure God’s favour
Does not fall
From her husband’s coat
But another man
Walks Jerusalem’s
streets
No gold hangs from His hem
Another woman comes
Risking all
Shame
Condemnation
Her lost dignity
To reach for His hem
Her need is great
A woman whose duty is
To care for her husband
Her sons
Her household
This woman could do none of it
Because she is cursed
The blood constantly staining her linen
Sets her apart
Making her unclean
According to theTemple
Unclean of spirit too
Unable to touch or be touched
By her husband
Her sons
Unable
To care
To cook
To keep house
Unable
To cradle
To caress
As she so longs to do
Unable to join the sisters
At the market
At the well
Unable to celebrate
Unable to join Prayers
To the Sacred
This woman
Unable to touch or be touched
Sets out to reach for His hem
The hem from which God’s grace falls
Not golden bells
The crowd is thick around Him
Rough
He, a Rabbi
A Teacher
A Good man
She afraid of staining
His good name
His Sanctity
But still
Compelled she follows
Throwing herself to the ground
Into the camel dung
A beggar in the dirt
She crawls
Reaching for His hem
Hung about with
Golden Grace
God’s mercy hoped for
God’s mercy found
With the lightest touch
Her fingers stroke the rough wool
In that moment the bleeding stops
As He feels her touch
She feels the healing
Deep within
No longer stained
No longer unclean
He stops
Looks for her
Raises her to her feet
Holds her
Tenderly
Blesses her
Now made whole
In another street
One tiny golden bell
From a rich man’s hem
Falls
Rolling into the gutter
A tiny golden bell lost in Jerusalem some 2000 years ago during the Second Temple period and has been found among the ruins near the Old City. Source: AFP
Washed
By wind
By rain
It drops
Into the sewer far below
Where
2000 years later
It is found
It is celebrated
A testament to ancient times
All this while
God’s good Grace
Has fallen
Freely, freely given
To those who reach for Him
Words and watercolours © Denise Stanford 2011
Article from The Australian… Link
Photograph: AFP
“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo
“So do I.” said Gandalf
“and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide.
All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given.”JRR Tolkien*
Those who lived to see such times
Will always remember
Sorrow
Injustice
What then?
Do I dwell in the Valley of the Shadow
Burying myself with the dead?
Giving away my liberty
Choosing to be burdened
With grief
With regret
Stabbing a grim finger
At the scapegoat
Whose fault I have made this
Exchanging freedom for fear
Fear of more pain
Fear of death
Loss of control
Or…
Move on?
With determined step
Striding into future
Striding into freedom
Striding into life
With myriad joys
Myriad tears
Do I breathe deeply the
Winds of Change
Drinking long
The elixir of Life
Do I create a new dance?
Stepping out the sorrow
With joy
Signposting courage
Determined to learn
Through
experience
To grow
Through
endeavour
Becoming surefooted
Swift for justice
For God Loves more
He weeps
He Hopes in the Hope
Of Humankind
Decide
His Love the Litmus
For Loving
For Living
For Life
© Denise Stanford 2011
Sept 11 Photos by hankplank
* Quote: JRR Tolkien, Fellowship of the Ring, Book I,
Lord of the Rings, Harper Collins London, 2001 edition, p50
Your thoughts are far beyond my understanding,
much more than I could ever imagine.
I try to count your thoughts,
but they outnumber the grains of sand on the beach.
And when I awake, I will find you nearby.
Psalm 139 v 17-18 CEV
Invite God
To right your life
To write your life
Rest in Him
Allow Him to be your Word-song
His, the sentences
His, the paragraph pauses
His, the full stops
His, the meaning
Form and Function
Metre and Rhyme
Each Chapter full
Enthralling
Dramatic
Thrilling
Mysterious
A Love Story
Your story
His story
Words and Photographs © Denise Stanford 2011
I love your clear-cut revelation
You’re my place of quiet retreat
I wait for your Word to renew mePsalm 119 v 113/4 The Message
Take time
Turn and face
Father God
One who knows you
One who cherishes you
One who longs for you
To spend time with Him
Sharing Hopes
Sharing dreams
Sharing your day
Sharing with you
All the special things
He laid by
To Encourage
To give you Courage
Take Time
Words and Pictures © Denise Stanford 2011
He was found wandering
South of the city
Some time ago
Captured
Taken to the pound
No chip
No one looking for him
That’s where our neighbour found him
Nameless and alone
I heard him arrive home
A Cat’s desperate cry
Brought me to the garden
Certain some poor creature
Lay injured
Needing help
We smiled as she held him
And so it began
Two weeks later
He was on the way back
To the pound
To a fatal end
Some among his rescuers had
Developed serious allergies
We had been cat people
Katy our Calico
Lived to the grand old age of 22
Before her kidneys failed
For a while she shared us with William
A longhaired black and white stray
Adopted us when he was 7years old
He was an insect collector
Specialising in cicadas and stick insects
Living a further full 10 years
From a moth-eaten infected stray
He emerged; a prizewinning longhair
With a plumed tail and an attitude to match
Recently we had been cat-sitting
For several family members
We’d rediscovered the pleasure
The unique company cats bring
So when told of his fate
Words slipped off my tongue with ease
‘Bring him over we’ll have him’
So a 7 year old Tokenise
Came to stay at Hilltop
That first 24 hrs was a nightmare
We, intent upon keeping him in
He, just as intent to escape
More and more desperate until
Pushing out a fly screen he took off
Certain we would never see him again
It was all astonishment when
24 hrs later to the same window
He demanded to come in
We felt it was then that he chose us
We bumped along together
Learning each other’s ways
He surprised me so many times
Teaching me a great deal
Sitting outside the shower
He’d howl loudly, desperately
Until I emerged safe and sound
At night he’d pace a circuit
Around and over our chairs
Until we went to bed
Where he would curl up at our feet
Whenever company arrived
He’d disappear
So when the grandchildren came to stay
We expected to see little of him
How wrong we were
The kids are small
Their arrival is noisy
Clumsy as they drag
Suitcases, coats and teddies to their room
They are arms, legs and laughter
One vigorous ball
That rolls in like the circus
And right there in the middle of it all
Jasper, tail up trotted along with them
On their last visit he sat at the bedroom door
Checking we’d settled them in properly
He didn’t sleep on their beds
Taking quiet body warmth for him self
It was their wide awake company he craved
Next morning there he was
Sitting on the pew at breakfast
Not begging for food
Just watching and listening
Lapping up the busyness of family life
His naming was typical of the opinions he expressed
Our neighbour’s children had started to call him Ziggy
He wasn’t responding to that
We all thought perhaps Oscar might suit
Not a whisker twitched
He was pacing when I suggested Raj
He stopped and gave me a withering glance
As if to say you can do better than that
So when I spoke the name Jasper
With body language and voice peculiar to him
He made it clear I had found his chosen name
Jasper loved to help in the garden
Sitting close by
In danger of being weeded with the rest
I’ve been trying to think how he did it
But he gradually eased me into an evening walk
Around the house and garden
A gentle stroll
Jasper stayed with me the whole time
Keeping company
Like most Oriental cats he felt the cold
He would have loved the log fire we are planning
However events have over taken us
Now Jasper lies in a garden grave
Near the rocks where we’d sit
A few oh so short months
And he’s gone
During his stay
When his character began to change
I thought him depressed
In need of company perhaps
Turns out he was ill
Critically ill
By the time we realised, his infections where numerous
Slow release antibiotics enabled the real Jasper to re-emerge
For a little while
Then we could see how very ill he was
I made the heavy decision to have him euthanized
I held him as he drifted off into the peace for which we
prayed
I still agonise over having to draw his life to a close
Perhaps we could have done something more
But once diagnosed
The vet declared
‘Keep him in at all times’
He would have hated that
Even with our netted enclosure
For years he’d clearly had the freedom to roam
Though we kept him in at night
During the day he’d go out
Visit the neighbours
Many of whom knew and loved him
Or he would lounge in several select sunny spots
The effect of antibiotics would not have lasted
It was a serious virus ravaging his immune system
He was not with us long
Eight Months
It might have been eight years
Such an impact he made on both of us
He had been well loved by others
His pages were not blank
What was written there was a delight to read
I am relieved God has the final say
Over Human Life and Death
I hated that terrible burden
Even for a Cat
I am content to leave it to the Master
Not all is meant forever
Some Joys
Some Blessings
Some Loved Ones
And Friends are…
Just passing through
Vale Jasper
Word and photographs © Denise Stanford 2011
Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome is a virus that destroys
white blood cells, reducing the body’s ability to fight infection
Feline Immunodeficiency Virus or Feline AIDS is passed on
through a bite from an infected cat
The Vets tell us very likely he had been infected long
before he came to us
After an initial infection the virus can remain dormant for
several years
But once reactivated the virus debilitates the cat leaving
approximately one year before the body fails altogether
Testing and Immunisation is available
Though not yet perfected it is better than nothing
Only responsible pet ownership can contain this terrible
infection
Cats cannot pass this virus to humans
I was cosy abed
Turning in warm hollow
I sensed his wakefulness
Voice conspired with brain
Reminding aloud
A lunar eclipse
Happens this dawn
Before I know it
We’re in the car
Bundled against chill morning
Seeking a rare Glimpse
Of a ‘central lunar eclipse’
Earth’s shadow flushing out
A full Blood Moon
In the predawn darkness
We fail to see
Glimpse of moon
Or Eclipse
Heading further west
We realise
We are too late
However the Chilean volcanic ash cloud
Toying with earth’s air spaces
Will treat us to a dawn
Of rosy brilliance
We park along the ridge
Make tea from the flask
We talk
And talk
And talk
Before us the earth rolls away night’s curtain
Revealing once again Bright Sun
Colours from creator’s palette flush
Mists rise like smoke from burnished waters
Of sea and stream
Frost shimmers in the half light
The morning star taking its time
To fade
Everything is washed
With light
The sky
The ground
Us watching
It is beautiful
And I am reminded
How we can hide behind
Day by day routine
Stitching the tongue still
So things remain unsaid
Distances become greater
Life
Love
Eclipsed by ordinary
Until it dawns
We witness again the
Awesome majesty of new day
Acknowledge Creator
Of Time
Of Space
Of Relationship
Then
Something lost
Is found
Words and Photographs © Denise Stanford 2011
“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the
mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this
emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe,
is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.” Albert Einstein
I am no good at Yes or No
As answers
They are never enough
The girl behind the counter asked
Do you do hand knitting?
I hesitate
She is after all
Putting balls of yarn and needles in my bag
But it’s the way she asked the question
I’d never heard it put that way
Hand knitting
Yes I do hand knitting
It sounds so nice
Usually people ask
Do you knit?
Except for a long time now
No one has asked at all
Things are changing
I nod my head
She confesses
“I’m just starting
You know, learning how to do it”
From the look on her face
It’s not going so well
“Stick with it
You’ll get there”
I say
“It’s worth it
In the end”
Is it though
How many times have I started?
With all the hope in the world
Put in all that effort
If I don’t flag or fail
Lose the pattern
My place
A stitch or ten
Or persist
Only to end up with an
Unwearable
Huge saggy
Out of shape thing
That I hide away
Or donate to the Oops Shop
But once again like the wild wolf call
When the rain sleets wet and grey
And the wind carries an Antarctic blast
A distant oh so faint click clack
Makes me want to leap at a sheep’s fleece
With two sticks and call it wearable
Unable to resist
I take myself to the shop
And there I find
Arranged row upon row
Yarns of every texture and hue
Animal or man made
Chunky or fine
Lumpy, tickly, sequinned
Fluffy, freckled or plain
I get so excited
I cannot help myself
Once again I am hand knitting
But perhaps another reason emerges
When I see this photograph posted
On the computer
One of our Grandsons, Toby
‘Camping in pjs and a ma knit beanie!’
I glow with pride
Hope leaps alive
And off I go again
Yes I do hand knitting
After a fashion
And yes dear one
Do try
Again and again
Because it is worth it
… in the end!
Words, Photographs (and Beanie) © Denise Stanford 2011
The revelation of God
is wholeand pulls our lives together.
The signposts of God are clear
and point out the right road.
The life-maps of God are right,
showing the way to joy.
The directions of God are plain
and easy on the eyes.
God’s reputation is
twenty-four-carat gold,with a lifetime guarantee.
The decisions of God are accurate
down to the nth degree.
Psalm 19 v 7-9 The Message
Settle in your quiet place
Unfold the map
Release the compass
Turn to God
Breathe in His sweet savour
Seek from Him
Bearings for the day
Ask Him for directions
Use His settings
To identify the drifts
Ill winds set to drive you off course
Stay True to His compass
Ignore your own
Discover in this day
His cross
Marks True Treasure
Words and Photographs © Denise Stanford 2011
Errands brought me to the village
Where menfolk meet
And ladies lunch
Then shop for dinner
Like a flock of bright parrots
These young people settled
Upon the green
Beneath the trees
To share a fish and chip lunch
The table, greensward
The cloth, crisp white paper
Candles of sunlight flickered
Through overhead branches
Music of birdsong joined
By voice and traffic
Life busy around them
At a time of life when
Adult persuasions tempt them to the core
They escaped school for time out
Together
Delighting those who saw
It was sweet with innocence
And older hearts rejoiced
This salad day moment
Re awakening hope that youth
Was not all ‘gone wrong’
With laughter bright
Respectful
They shared in mature togetherness
Not attention seeking
But safe
Content in this
Down to Earth picnic
Many murmured delight
So proud that our kids
Could do that, this way
Leaving all as they had found
Neat tidy grass
Littered only by autumn leaves
I hope they will find again
Moments such as these
To fill and refill
Memory banks
With precious moments
I hope too that I
Uncomplicated
Will mimic
Capturing the chances
On impulse
To honour ordinary moments
With an unrehearsed
Celebration of Life
Words and Photographs © Denise Stanford 2011
The next one will be shades of green
Verdant deep as shady ways
Daffodils on dark spring days
Sunlight on a new mown lawn
Foliage at summer’s dawn
Wattle blossoms on the tree
That’s how my next quilt will be
But Blue and yellow may be nice
Buttercups and cornflowers pressed
Country cooks in gingham dressed
Light and breezy, fresh and clean
Prettiest quilt there’s ever been
Hung on the wall for all to see
That’s how my next quilt will be
But as I gaze at my rose garden
I see essence of blood and beauty
Summer wine or something fruity
A baby’s smile or forest fire
Sweet first love or deep desire
Perhaps I’ll settle for all three
Yes, that’s how my next quilts will be
Denise Stanford 1996
Words and Photographs © Denise Stanford 2011
This quote is attributed to the
unknown author of The Cloud of Unknowing
I have no idea
Whose heart these thoughts overflowed
Whose experience of God grew them
Whose pen wrote them
I am only so very grateful they did…
Silence is not God
Nor is speaking
Fasting is not God,
Nor is feasting
Solitude is not God,
Nor is company
He lies hidden between them
No work of yours can possibly discover Him
Save only your heart’s love
Reason cannot fully know Him
For He cannot be thought, possessed or discovered by the mind
But Loved He may be
and Chosen
By the artless, affectionate Longing of your heart
Choose Him then
and you will find
Your speech is silent
Your silence eloquent
Your fasting a feast
and so on…
Choose God
In love
For this blind trust
This keen shaft of Longing Love
Will never miss the mark of God
author unknown from The Cloud of Unknowing
Photographs © Denise Stanford 2011
At the crack of dawn on Sunday, the women came to the tomb carrying the burial spices they had prepared. They found the entrance stone rolled back from the tomb, so they walked in. But once inside, they couldn’t find the body of the Master Jesus.
They were puzzled, wondering what to make of this. Then, out of nowhere it seemed, two men, light cascading over them, stood there. The women were awestruck and bowed down in worship. The men said, “Why are you looking for the Living One in a cemetery? He is not here, but raised up. Remember how he told you when you were still back in Galilee that he had to be handed over to sinners, be killed on a cross, and in three days rise up?” Then they remembered Jesus’ words.
Luke 24 v 1-8 The Message
In this moment
Be Willing
Set aside
All
Lay down
Burdens
Needs
Demands
Dig Deep
For Heartfelt
Willingness
To see
To hear
To receive
Into this moment
And Next
By His Mercy
God’s Divine Plan
For Human Day
Words and Pictures © Denise Stanford 2011
Garden dark and fragrant
Orchard of ancient olives
Sandals
Unfastened
Abandoned
Tis Holy ground I see
There is a man
On bended knee
Deep within the shadows
Darkness
Deeper than a moonless night
Surrounds His very soul
His head is bowed
His hands are raised
He murmurs
Deep, Low
Heavy
With pleading supplications
I see Him rise
Looking for those
Chosen
To stand by
But they are sleepin
They do not see his agony
They do not see
The courts of Heaven
In session
With Justice on the table
Demands are made
Who will pay?
Alone He turns
Again into the grove
Falling face to the ground
Wrestling dark angels
He wrestles
For my soul
The mists begin descending
Over Kedron’s
Quiet waters
Swirling fog surrounds
Shadows move
Unearthly brightness shows
I see…
I see…
Is that an angel?
Bending close
Attending His torment
Urging Him on
His prayer continues
Long
The Devil in the Detail
I am
Witness to the contract
This Tryst of Trinity
Even so
I waver
Sleep beckons me away
Like his friends
I fail the watch
The hours whilst He prays
I drift into a slumber
In half light
Dreaming daze
His words pierce
The weariness
I see His meaning plain
The purpose of His prayers
His heart
His soul
Poured forth
In Blood
In Sweat
In Tears
I stand
InGethsemane
Watching Jesus Pray
I hear the words
I own them
My name included there
When to God
In Heaven
He claims
In Me
In You
In them
Then bends
His blood sweated brow
Accepting all
With Willing heart
He takes and drains
That Bitter Cup
In the Garden
Dark and fragrant
He drinks
His Eternal Vow
No matter what the cost
I Will Redeem My Own
Words and Photographs © Denise Stanford 2011
And how blessed all those in whom you live,
whose lives become roads you travel;
They wind through lonesome valleys, come upon brooks,
discover cool springs and pools brimming with rain!
God-travelled, these roads curve up the mountain, and
at the last turn—Zion! God in full view!Psalm 84v5-7 The Message
In this moment
Be Willing
Set aside
All
Lay down
Burdens
Needs
Demands
Dig Deep
For Heartfelt
Willingness
To see
To hear
To receive
Into this moment
And Next
By His Mercy
God’s Divine Plan
For Human Day
Words and Pictures © Denise Stanford 2011
I love patchwork
I love the idea
Gathering together
Worthless raggy scraps
To create stitch by stitch
Something
Beautiful
Warm
Comforting
Cosy
Originally patchworkers
Used cotton skirts, shirts and sheets
Beyond mending
That made it into the scraps bag
Sometimes flour sacks were added too
Sadly these days many dollars are invested
In special designer prints
(Expensive but gorgeous)
To create a quilt
I was a young married mum
In the mid 1970’s
I’d joined a mum’s group
Meeting in each other’s homes
The original purpose of the group was babysitting
Paid for by ‘in-house’ tokens
Hosting a get-together was ‘paid’ in tokens
Each token ‘bought’ a half hour’s babysitting
For single parents or couples doing shift work
Earning tokens in other ways meant
They enjoyed an evening out just like everyone else
Morning, noon and nights
Drinking tea, coffee, wine
Cheese and pineapple porcupines
Pancake nights
Swapping stories, books, clothes and skills
Sometimes we just swapped experiences
Laughing at the crazy things
Pregnant women and children did
One evening hubby and I organised
An evening reflective of the times
A friend at church had a son, a young doctor
Who escaped Uganda during Idi Armin’s reign of terror
We heard a first hand account of conditions there
The sad news became real from this young man’s accounts
It also heightened awareness of the need for medical aid in Africa
Our group grew, evolved
I recall when it was voted that Husbands could babysit
Or help with the voluntary ‘book keeping’
It even survived the ‘Great Token Scam’
When some black hearted souls
Forged tokens!
Scandalous!
One morning was a patchwork coffee morning
That’s where my addiction began
I was introduced to
The old English patchwork tradition
Using papers as backing
To create firm shapes
They are then placed
Right sides together
And over sewn with fine stitches
My first full quilt was a Pyramid Scrap Quilt
Quilted in the ditch – still not fully finished
No designer fabrics for me
In this quilt, nursery curtains, cot covers, aprons,
Shirts, blouses, dresses
From family and friends
All sorts of things
Cut and stitched together
To make a gaudy queen size quilt
I cannot swear to it being all 100% cotton
Patchwork Purists insist upon
Nor did I line up the weft and warp
The horizontal and vertical weaving lines of fabric
It travelled through time and across the world
And remains draped over an old church pew in our dining room
Where my children and now my grandchildren gather for family feasts
From humble beginnings – an heirloom!
Words, Pictures © Denise Stanford 2011
Pyramid Scrap Quilt by Denise Stanford
In this moment
Be Willing
Set aside
All
Lay down
Burdens
Needs
Demands
Dig Deep
For Heartfelt
Willingness
To see
To hear
To receive
Into this moment
And Next
By His Mercy
God’s Divine Plan
For Human Day
God is sheer mercy and grace;
not easily angered, he’s rich in love.Psalm 103 v 8 The Message
Words and Pictures © Denise Stanford 2011
Earth quakes
Rumbles
Moans
Mountains crumble
House of cards buildings
Old and new
Obey the ancient laws
And fall
Choking
Cloaking
Burying
Shattering
Crushing
Lives
I am afraid
Solid ground liquefies
Turning known
To unknown
In the chaos
I pray
Friend standing with friend
Sees his world fall and crush
In desperation
To reverse the horror
He grasps deadly stones
Inspired with inhuman strength
He drags them from his sleeping friend
He will not wake again
I am in awe
Father across the city
Tries to reach his child
The car is swallowed
It quickly fills with liquid earth
He escapes
Running an hour or more
Through carnage
He finds her
Safe, playing in the park
I am thankful
Somewhere a phone rings
A mother answers
Her beloved child pleas
Rescue me
It cannot be done
As smoke fills the wreckage
Sorrow fills the heart
I weep
So many living souls
Lost in a moment of earth’s convulsion
Again and Again and Again
I am humbled
From countries far and wide
Help pours in
When hand reaches living hand
They rejoice in every tongue
When hand reaches unliving
Gentle compassion flows
I am amazed
Mighty winds stir this fragile bowl of earth
In drought
Rain deserts us
But plenty floods
And we are swept away
Firestorms
Burning fury
Withering heat
To those who fight and fall
Tidal waves sweep land
I am powerless against such might
It is Chaos
Constant murmuring
Breaking the surface
Of our fragile order
I am silenced
There are no words
None but His
None but His Word
Wrung from His bruised breast
Whispered in the calm
His Word to our heart
Word that tells of His Order
His Wellness
His Love through the pain
His Love over all
I am heartsore
I am thankful
I am strong
I am restored
Words by Denise Stanford © 2011
Pictures by Charlotte Dyhrberg © 2011
“Don’t be afraid of the childish. It often comes with joy. Don’t be afraid of the old fashioned. It often comes with wisdom.”
Bishop Martin Lönnebo, Pearls of Life, p15, Verbum, 2005
Pictures © Denise Stanford 2011
More…
Awaken sleeper
To the Spirit of God
Awaken and Open
To Him
Dreamer no more
Be Alive to
The Fullness of Him
Many of the Samaritans from that village committed themselves to him because of the woman’s witness:
“He knew all about the things I did. He knows me inside and out!”
John 4 v 39 The Message
Wandering the dark garden
Torch in hand
I spy the silver light of spider web
I stand in awe and watch
Orb spider weaving her wheel
She is large
Her creation is huge
She is common
So they say
To many
She is dreadful
If she were crawling
On me
I would shudder and run
But high above the garden
Busy in her business
Defying gravity
Spinning silver
I can only admire her
Waiting for the wind right
She had abseiled across from tree to tree
3 metres at least
Secured more leaders
Then rested
I watch now as she arranges the spokes to her wheel
At the heart of her orb
She creates a labyrinth
Her own resting place
Then
Spinning a sticky spiral
From outer in
Back legs hook the thread
Crocheting it into place
One deft stroke
After another
Spinning the impossible
Working her way
On and on
Centreing herself
Now and then
She paces the night exercises
Provides
For herself
Her eggs
By morning all would be done
Her orb taken down
Until sun sets
When evening’s breeze returns
And she repeats her manoeuvres
Despite wind
Rain
Bird blunders
Human collisions
Even in zero gravity space capsule
She is Resilient
And in this I see God
In this I see His imagination
In this I see His lesson
No matter how tough life is
I am to work
I am to rest
I am to centre again in Him
Finding the balance
The purpose of Life
In Him
Too easy to turn in horror
Too easy to crush
Too easy to be crushed
By Difficult
Too easy to miss the Miracle
In the Frightful
Words Denise Stanford © 2011
Photographs Ken Stanford © 2011
How to write inspiring
When uninspired
It happens
In a week of ordinary
The stars may not line up
The sun may not shine enough
The rain may fall too much
The pain may be too sharp
The joys too small
The trials too long
What to do when Gloominess overwhelms
When I can’t see
Can’t do
Can’t get past
When I’m too big
The changes too small
When I can’t sings louder than I can
When the flame burns low
When things just don’t go my way
And yet a beautiful week
The sun shone
Rain fell
Stars sparkled
I watched spider weaving
Hubby and I visit Fig and Hoe for coffee
Buying tree and vine
I direct the planting
Using rich compost from worm farms
Food scraps turned to hummus
My house is cleaned
My tummy fed
My ears are filled with music
In Botanic Gardens
On Teahouse Lawns
There is poetry
There is pleasure
Why the heaviness
Who knows?
There is One
I praise Him at Church
I praise Him at home
And because of Him
And I know this sadness will pass
I know it is
All part of the Seasons
The ebb
The flow
All is well
All will be well
My spirit flame will burn yet
Brighter once more
So I praise Him in all things
Including the gloom
The sighing sadness
I praise Him
In the ability
In the Disability
Knowing my way is not the only way
Words and Photographs © Denise Stanford 2011
More Thoughts…
The air is hot and heavy
An ominous stillness settles
Great dollar drops
Begin to fall
Hard
Sharp
They are
Yasi’s tears
Thunder
Mumbles distant
TC Yasi’s Tail
Comes to us now
Far Reaching
2, 3, 4000 kilometres
From FNQ
To Victoria
Hot tropical air
Laden with
Condensed South Pacific
White caps
Meeting
Cool Antarctic summer breezes
They clash
And
Yasi weeps
Storm breaks
Cracks
Rolls
Reports
Tropical Cyclone Yasi
Took its time
Stalking
Far North Queensland
Pouncing in the dark
Rattling
Shaking
Ripping
Tearing
Hot green tropics
Cyclonic winds
Tossing boats,
Splitting houses
Breaking hearts and homes
Snapping ancient trees
Peeling green
Leaving there
Empty sticks
Devastation
But here
For us
No thrashing tail
No tantrums
No wind
No ripping or tearing
But
In thundery clash
Heavy with regret
Fall
Yasi’s Tears
Words and Pictures © Denise Stanford 2011
How well developed then
My soil of Character
The soil into which God’s word falls
The place where His ways establish
As a harvest to feed others
Reception for God
All He would teach
All He would make from
Experience
All he would make from
Blessings
All He would make from
Dark and Difficult times
I wonder what happens when life delivers
Stony Ground
A Roadside verge
Or weedy patch
Not all find themselves
In the possession of ‘Prime Estates’
Deep, constant Soil of Character
Must be cultivated
Difficulty carves Character
No matter what terrain we are dealt in life
There is opportunity
To develop soil ready for growth
Rock turns to soil
Beneath lichen’s determined correction
If single-minded
I can provide good earth
To receive the seed
Allowing it to take root and grow
How?
Meditating on the Word of God
Allowing God to show me through my everydayness
How that Word applies to life as I know it
Wanting God in my life
Allowing His Truth to seep into my being
Turning to God throughout my day
Allowing His Spirit
To influence
To become
Part of me
Part of my life
Part of decisions I make
This is Deep speaking to deep
Innermost not outermost
Timetabling God
Allotting quiet time
Keeps Him at arms length
Making Him
Merely surface stuff
To run off as the day presses on
No matter how significant the moment
If that’s all there is
For the remains of the day
Then there is no depth
No going Deep
Plants don’t convert stone to soil
By merely brushing the surface briefly
Once or twice every 24 hours
They sit with it
Cover it
Influence Tough Exterior
Penetrating surface
Through Tiniest Gap
Allowing moisture to seep in
This is how change begins
Slowly
Gradually
Gently
Constantly
If I fight every change
God brings to bear on my life
If I run from every difficulty
If I avoid each trial
If I pretend all is good
Denying the struggles
Hiding the pain
If I keep busy
If I hide from Ugly Truths
If I challenge every alteration
If I fill my mind with all else but Him
Failing to invite Him
Then how is this stony ground
Ever to become soft tilth
Ground pliable enough
To receive the Word of God
And the purpose He ordained
Words and Pictures © Denise Stanford 2011
Inspired by:
The seed cast in the gravel—this is the person who hears and instantly responds with enthusiasm. But there is no soil of character, and so when the emotions wear off and some difficulty arrives, there is nothing to show for it.
Matthew 13 v 20-21 The Message
Within the Vine 