Friday, October 30th, 2009...11:24 am
Heart Talk
(A High Calling Blogs Random Act of Poetry)
The words of my mouth
reading a story aloud
to the child on my lap
but though I read
every word perfectly
I do not know
the storyline,
my mind on less
important thoughts
though the child
is on my lap.
The words of my mouth
asking “How are you?”
to the friend on the phone
but though she pours
out the real answer
I do not hear,
my mind on less
important thoughts
though the friend
is on the phone.
The words of my mouth
chatting with the neighbors
on the driveway telling
of aches in the hips
and strawberries that the deer ate
but though I nod
at their daily lives
I do not hear,
my mind on less
important thoughts
though the neighbors
are on the driveway.
The words of my mouth
are not the same
as the words of my heart.
Father, change me . . .
Here is something very simple about relationships… Nobody will listen to you unless they sense that you like them…
When I am talking to somebody there are always two conversations going on. The first is on the surface; it is about politics or music or whatever it is our mouths are saying. The other is beneath the surface, on the level of the heart, and my heart is either communicating that I like the person I am talking to or I don’t. God wants both conversations to be true. That is, we are supposed to speak truth in love.
- Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz, page 221.

...to Know-Love-Obey God



3 Comments
October 30th, 2009 at 3:52 pm
Can one call conviction beautiful? I love this poem, the sentiment, the truth – it needs time, time to sink deep into the same prayer – change me…
October 31st, 2009 at 5:41 pm
This poem really resonates with me right now. The Lord has been dealing with me on rest, slowing, being present in each moment.
Rarely am I , present . . .with that child and his story . . .even my husband at times.
Father forgive me . . . change me.
Learning to rest in Him,
Michelle
October 31st, 2009 at 10:04 pm
Father, change me too. Take this stony heart and make it new…
Love this one, Monica.
And you know how I love Don.
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