Six Word Stories (20)

The presence of light has such power. It can illuminate or bind us.

Darkness shreds in the presence of even a single flame.

It sets a mood and tells a story.

It’s an element that shouts volumes, with just a whispered presence.

Light is energy. Without it, growth is impossible.

Nature has a way of reclaiming what man uses and then forgets.

It doesn’t see our castoffs as no longer needed, it knows that it’s all still a part of the matter making up this world.

We can’t separate it out.

As nature reclaims its own pieces from the aftermath of us, it has its own stories to tell us.

Will we take the time to read them?

Stones remember, even when understanding is lost and history is forgotten.

Stones remember.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photos sourced from unsplash.com

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The Purpose In Just Being You/Divine Purpose Magazine

My article, ‘The Purpose In Just Being You,’ has appeared in the Spring 2021 Issue of Divine Purpose Magazine.

It’s been exciting to see my first article published, and I thank the Editors are Divine Purpose for including my piece this quarter. You can find the magazine HERE at ISSUE.com. The article appears on page 22.

Also, a huge thank you to my friend Jackie for helping me with editing. I learned so much from our back and forth, and treasure the time you took to invest in me. THANK YOU!

Joy

Found in simple spaces
when lights have dimmed to ease
weariness of day from shoulders prone.

In the morning beams
where radiance sings
reserving stage for feathered accompaniment notes.

Shimmers in the shadows
like the fuzziness of heat,
but greats in bells that chime with chirping mirth.

Often hid amid
wide open space
blending with a magic you can not trace.

Given to the few
who look beyond circumstance
to find the lines God painted beneath.

Even when awash,
paying untold cost,
finding treasure hid and hold relief.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Six Word Stories (19)

Why is spring so fraught with rain?

Why does it pour and spatter and spit?

Dissolving snow and rinsing grime from my window pane, it’s like He knows the earth needs a good morning shower.

Or is it grief, a liquid love?

Does He weep for those who have fallen asleep in the cold shadow of winter’s rest?

Does He weep to awaken those who sleep in Gethsemane?

“Will you pray for me?”

The heavier the pour, the more of His tears I can hold to my heart.

I know He already prays for me.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo’s sourced from unsplash.com

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Love Is

Something felt and
something done.
An action filled emotion.
Understood
by not a one.

Something that was broken.
Something
to fill its cracks.
Something that’s so human
yet everybody lacks.

Something that is given,
flowing free
from Calvary.
Something overlooked
by lost humanity.

Hell is something’s absence,
a solitude of soul.
Hell on earth
refuses
to give something control.

Something
beyond our passions.
It pushes past our fear.
Something so elusive,
yet need is crystal clear.

Something that lingers,
still present
on our world.
Something that is woven,
into every atom curled.

Something is a someone.
He set the world
to spin.
Yet He made my soul,
To him, I am akin.

Someone who is calling,
wooing
humankind.
Back into arms
that are with something lined.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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When the Kids Are Home

  1. Plush rug of red hues
    Toes settle in to fibers
    Food crumbs giggle felt
  2. Satisfying thunk
    As toys tossed in to trunk
    Sound of spill down hall
  3. Peanut butter smile
    Handprints left on window, wall
    Kiss smells of childhood

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Six Word Stories (18)

I used to sit in the field making wishes on dandelion fluff.

I once rolled through the tall grasses, collecting the white seeds on my clothes and dark curls. Helping them spread as I ran back to the house, arms outstretched.

“I can fly!” I would cry, and daydream of Peter Pan and Tinkebell.

It was my life’s spring.

Now I watch my own children wading through puddles. The freshness on their cheeks and sweaters always flavored with a hint of damp growth when coming home from an evenings play.

But I still dream of fairy wings and mermaid foam.

My sisters and I used to rub our cheeks yellow with dandelion buds, and weave tiny field daises in to wreathes for our head.

Now I watch my own girls pick wildflowers and supervise as all kinds of pretend soups are mixed in sandbox buckets with sticks that are just as much magic wands as they are spoons.

The right now is there spring.

The scent of fresh tree blossoms might hold different meanings for me then they once did. But it doesn’t matter what age you are, if you listen closely with your heart they will share wisdom with you.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photos sourced from unsplash.com

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Spring Sunday

The passing winter mourned,
as busyness begins.
Remember friend,
dispute the sun
over rushing never wins.

Still, need for peace.
Yet thirst for rest.
Take the day God gifted you.
He knows what man needs best.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

I find myself pressing in to the simple things of life. Constantly reminded that my spirit has been calling for quiet for years, and now that I have it, it shouldn’t be abandoned. I never imagined God would use a pandemic to gift me rest. Despite the pain of isolation, he has helped me flourish in the last twelve months. I write this as my reminder to not forget.

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Six Word Stories (17)

Tunnels, arches, trails, these things hold a fascination for me.

They beckon.

“Come explore, come and learn, come experience our adventure.”

But in adventure, there is always change.

Change of self, change of place, change of perspective.

Is it worth it, this stepping into the known?

Dare we?

If we don’t dare, we will never know what we have missed. But the question of what if will always hang there.

I don’t always dare. But sometimes I am lent a bravery not of myself and jump in feet first.

Sometimes I am swept away to places I never dreamed of. Places I never wanted to go. Places of pain.

Sometimes I land in the middle of tumultuous beauty and breath-taking experiences. I am still learning to be thankful for both.

When those experiences look arching waves, may God help me find the blessing beneath life’s crush.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photos sourced from unsplash.com

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Tresses

Tips bright with borrowed light.
Soaked every strand,
took command.

Roots show through in ashen huge
whisper of years demands,
open hands.

Wisps array
as standing troops,
gently falling into loops.

Crowning character.
Grounding finger,
through tresses linger.

Catching thoughts
in webs
of morning knots.

Pulled and furled,
twist or braid,
spreading gray is unafraid.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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