pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Tag: Love of Christ

GIVING THANKS while sick for Thanksgiving


This photo is not a well-focused, balanced, artistic photo. It is just my snapshot
of homemade chicken noodle soup, made by my super caring husband.
It is one thing I have to be thankful for while I am sick on my favorite week of the year.
And there are so many others.
My cozy home, with the Christmas tree up, and a comfortable recliner from which to enjoy it.
My soft lavender robe, and just-as-soft tissues for my nose.
A family member who will be doing a Thanksgiving meal “porch drop” for Keith and me,
and other family members who offered the same
and friends and students who have offered food and help and loving words of encouragement
and who check in on me just because they are selfless souls who care deeply
and a doctor able to see me on the same day I called
and insurance to pay the doctor and the medicine
and a comfortable spare bedroom for Keith to sleep in so I don’t keep him awake with my cough
and WhatsApp to keep in touch for free with my daughter in India
and the amazing, gentle care she is receiving for a herniated disc, from grandmotherly women
and doctors making daily home visits to the room she is renting from these women
and the ease of heart it helps me feel while she is there alone and in pain and without my help
and the Father of All who is no less there than He is here
and the vast array of birds and fun critters outside my huge windows that let in all the light
and loving souls in my life who share their beautiful words and prayers and sentiments and lives
and parents who passed on, but left themselves in unspeakable ways right here in my heart
and children who struggle, but l.o.v.e. in all the ways afforded to them, and who I proudly call my own
and granddaughters who give joy in ways I never could have imagined
and their daddy who is not just an in-law to me
and music
and poetry
and books
and life
and Jesus in the nativity beneath my tree, and His saving cross at the top
and the Word of God
and the Lamb of God
and the love of God
and no period, because there is no end




WHAT THE JAMES WEBB TELESCOPE CAN’T SEE

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Exposure to the vastness of our world
reveals the limitations of my brain.
As gleaming glows of galaxies unfurled
have come to light, I cannot even feign

to grasp a tiny bit of what exists,
or visualize what else may be out there.
For as the search continues to persist,
we’ll surely find more great unknowns elsewhere.

Here’s me, my feet fixed firmly to the ground;
my tiny world spills full with those I love.
My eyes and heart lift up to God, spellbound
at what He made that I can scarce dream of.

This God who spoke unending realms to be,
sees fit to whisper words of love to me.  

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

“When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars which you have set in place: What is mankind that you are mindful of them? Human beings that you care for them?”
~ Psalm 8:3-4

HOLY WEEK

Photo by Vanderlei Longo on Pexels.com

The week leading up
to the most sacred of our
Christian holidays

looks back on events
saturated with the love
of our Lord Jesus,

impregnated with
prophesies being fulfilled
in His light and life:

Some, miraculous.
Some, endearing.  Some, baffling.
Others, horrific.

A dizzying week.
A hill of execution.
A crucifixion.

But 

I believe that the
road to Golgotha began
in a feeding trough

where a virgin girl
gave birth to a baby boy
who already knew

the way.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

He is risen, indeed!

My Years of Teaching

Water for Ishmael American Schools wall banner, painted by Andrea Price

There are the teachers
equipped with knowledge, and the
skills to impart it

There are the teachers
with a passion for learning
that is contagious.

There are the teachers
who delight in (and well-wield)
books, maps, and whiteboards.

I am gifted with
none of that. But I love, and
love assists learning.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

CROSS OF CHRIST

My place atop the Christmas tree
may seem a lofty place for me,
but humbly, I point down below
through greenery and lights aglow
to manger scene that holds the Christ
who paid the price in sacrifice
for every woman, man, and child –
this perfect Lamb – this undefiled
Rescuer, Redeemer, God
I represent, and richly laud.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

Written in response to Walt Wojtanik’s prompt at Poetic Bloomings to write about Christmas from the point of view of an inanimate object. If you look closely, you can see the cross that tops my Christmas tree.

A COMMON THIRST

They come to my city from distant lands –
Homelands. 
Their reasons, many and varied –
most, too heartrending to ponder. 

They arrive parched –
a desiccation born of dearth and death.
Thirst knows no race, class,
religion, or language.
It knows only burning need for
a well of hope from which to dip.

The ache of a woman,
isolated in a strange new residence
and unable to connect to life-giving resources,
drowns in unanswered questions.
She holds no words to pose them,
and no near ear to hear
her broken attempts. She thirsts
at the well of understanding.

The profound pain of parents
daily delivering their children into
the hands of strangers
who struggle to teach and to reach
these children who hear only indistinct sound,
and see the blank stare of confusion.
Parents, unable to engage, thirst
at the well of advocacy.

The fatigued fret of the soul weak with illness
who has no visible path to wellness.
The one whose world is silent,
limited, and invisible.  This soul thirsts
at the well of wellbeing.

The yearning of a man
to make known his skills,
let alone make use of them to provide
as he once did. To make known his intent
to be self-sufficient.  To be quickly found to be
hardworking and capable.  He thirsts
at the well of opportunity. 

The deep craving of the foreigner
to make known their honorable intentions.
To prove they are grateful and giving;
loving and fun-loving; brave and tender.  They thirst
at the well of accurate perception.

They arrive parched from a common thirst –
a thirst ready to be quenched
in a city flowing with Water for Ishmael.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

In Genesis 21:14-20, we read of Hagar and her son Ishmael, who were sent to the desert to die.  God heard the boy crying from thirst, and He provided a well from which to drink.  Water for Ishmael is named for this scripture passage.  WFI’s intent is to quench the thirst of the “strangers in the desert,” by following the instructions of Leviticus 19:34: “You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.”

If you would like to give to our mission: https://waterforishmael.kindful.com/

WOMAN, WHY DO YOU WEEP?


How do I respond
to such an oblivious
question of this man?

Why, sir, do I weep??
I have been weeping nonstop
for the last two days.

What I lived Friday
I can never un-live, nor
ever put to rights.

And then, yesterday,
the loss began to sink in.
I could not face it.

Now, today, even
His buried body is gone,
and my life, with it.

You ask why I weep?
What kind of question is that?
How can I not weep?

But I don’t say that.
All I can muster is, “Where,
sir, have you laid Him?”

Compassionately,
almost playfully, this Man
says only my name.

I nearly collapse.
Only one Man has kept my
name safe on His lips.

The tears continue,
but they are no longer the
tears of yesterday.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

“Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?” Supposing Him to be the gardener, she said to Him, “Sir, if you have carried Him away, tell me where you have laid Him, and I will take Him away.”  ~ John 20:15

Untitled 17-syllable “waiting” poem

Image by Robert Allmann from Pixabay

“Father, forgive them. They know not what they do.” ~ Jesus Christ of Nazareth (Luke 23:34)

Tortured at their hands,
my Messiah didn’t wait
for apologies.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021


In response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2021 April PAD Challenge: Day 17 – Writer’s Digest (Day 17: Write a Waiting poem.)

“RACE CARD”

Photo by fotografierende on Pexels.com

We need new mantras –
new voices of conviction.
We are not playing.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

In response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2021 April PAD Challenge: Day 12 – Writer’s Digest  (Day 12: 6-word poem [were given 6 words from which to choose at least 3 to include in the poem])

HE IS RISEN!

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Pondering the blood-drenched tree
There but for His mercy, me
Tear-stained face, I bow the knee
Hallelujah! He is risen!

Low, for me His blood was drained
Love entombed, yet not contained
Absolution, as ordained
Hallelujah! He is risen!

(c) Marie Elena Good, 2013