There is a reason the world seems more at rest under a thick layer of misty fog.
Anticipation, but first peace. A comfort is found in the weight of what should be its normal state.
By the wrong of one the whole world began to shrivel and die, but the weight of the fog reminds the ground that soon restoration will be found.
Like the temple being pressed down under the glory, the death and decay shall be pressed and destroyed one day under a greater glory.
The habitation of glory. The erasing of all that has destroyed. The pausing of death. Through the mist that reminds of how thick the incense of worshipful prayer should be, the shadow of how pressing the glory should be calls out to us.
Let My praises fill the Earth. Never cease to thicken the atmosphere with that which allows Me to inhabit and shake off all that I have dominion over. All that I have created desires My presence to fall and eliminate for all time the curse that struck down the cycle of life. See the mist. See the fog.
See the way it diffuses the light of the sun. Every ray goes a thousand directions as will my power if you fill the Earth with my praises and worship me.
Let the thickness and beauty of the mist always be a reminder to you of the power and presence of your worship.
©Kristen Garcia 7-2013
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Let the Treasure Return - 6-1-13
Take my hand.
Let me look at you. See you from all vantage points.
Do a little spin and let your dress swirl its colors around.
A small turn and a rush of beauty. Let my hand guide you near me.
You love me. You truly love me.
But yet, I have to work so hard to see a smile. Why can't it come easier? Why can't it be an instant reaction?
Let me hold you close. If I smile enough at you will it eventually be enough to break through the life; the weight of what I have placed on you?
Or has it been so long since you knew deep sourced happiness that the battle will be long and hard fought - yet won - to see it return to you?
It is you I come home to.
Past the thousands of screaming fans that idolize me, but have no desire to remain with my heart - it is you I come home to.
A place of love. Of being searched out in my mind and heart. To a place where I can just be.
To spin you into my arms. To take in the beauty that makes my heart swell. But without my greatest treasure, is all my effort in vain?
Let my love soak in. Know you are secure by my side and just let me take you in.
Soak in my love and let it raise up the smile of a heart returning to unbreakable happiness.
Breathe.
Spin.
Come close.
Smile
©Kristen Garcia 6-2013
Let me look at you. See you from all vantage points.
Do a little spin and let your dress swirl its colors around.
A small turn and a rush of beauty. Let my hand guide you near me.
You love me. You truly love me.
But yet, I have to work so hard to see a smile. Why can't it come easier? Why can't it be an instant reaction?
Let me hold you close. If I smile enough at you will it eventually be enough to break through the life; the weight of what I have placed on you?
Or has it been so long since you knew deep sourced happiness that the battle will be long and hard fought - yet won - to see it return to you?
It is you I come home to.
Past the thousands of screaming fans that idolize me, but have no desire to remain with my heart - it is you I come home to.
A place of love. Of being searched out in my mind and heart. To a place where I can just be.
To spin you into my arms. To take in the beauty that makes my heart swell. But without my greatest treasure, is all my effort in vain?
Let my love soak in. Know you are secure by my side and just let me take you in.
Soak in my love and let it raise up the smile of a heart returning to unbreakable happiness.
Breathe.
Spin.
Come close.
Smile
©Kristen Garcia 6-2013
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Sun comes again
The whitened scars of winter linger,
Yet above the horizon a snapshot of energy breaks through the darkened clouds.
From the crying intercession the Mourning Dove makes as the day breaks,
To the songs of praise and the reflection of glory the rest of nature pours forth before the first light of the morning,
Every life that has breath, every life that contains color reaches up and sings out.
The warmth of a Southern breeze - the power of a sunrise - the laughter of a child - the atmosphere of life and growth emerging from the rest of the cold - the rejuvenation of our souls.
©Kristen Garcia 3-2013
Yet above the horizon a snapshot of energy breaks through the darkened clouds.
From the crying intercession the Mourning Dove makes as the day breaks,
To the songs of praise and the reflection of glory the rest of nature pours forth before the first light of the morning,
Every life that has breath, every life that contains color reaches up and sings out.
The warmth of a Southern breeze - the power of a sunrise - the laughter of a child - the atmosphere of life and growth emerging from the rest of the cold - the rejuvenation of our souls.
©Kristen Garcia 3-2013
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Southern Comfort I
Southern Comfort I
The warmth of the air that wraps around me is an envelopment of your love.
To breathe in deep the warmth so that it not only wraps around me but fills me from the inside out.
The caressing of my hair reminds me of the beauty you find in me, and the rest I find in that moment of tenderness can never be replaced.
The tears that fall when your heart is broken from your day, broken for what I have still left to have healed is a side you only wish more could appreciate - but I know where they come from. I know their worth.
The quietest moments where you show how you have learned my heart; my soul; my deepest desires and never cease to amaze me in how you orchestrate the surprises you have for me. Always perfect. Always humbling.
To end the winter early, feel the sun's warmth, to feel a Southern breeze that revives long ago memories - a deep desire so that I can feel your showers of love more and more.
To smell the fragrances of spring; the sweet aroma of the fall - the Earth sending it's quiet petitions to you - and to grab a moment of the beauty. The lingering of the cologne that reminds me you have not so long ago been through that which was made for our enjoyment - to call of your glory.
Let the sun rise. Let the birds sing praise in the early sunrise. Let the colors of the sky proclaim the immense beginning of an artist with the greatest palette to be mixed.
And the beauty of it all - for me. To bring the greatest treasure - a smile - to my face because it sets your heart ablaze. The smallest of things the most valuable of them all - and you move everything possible to capture it.
©Kristen Garcia 2-2013
The warmth of the air that wraps around me is an envelopment of your love.
To breathe in deep the warmth so that it not only wraps around me but fills me from the inside out.
The caressing of my hair reminds me of the beauty you find in me, and the rest I find in that moment of tenderness can never be replaced.
The tears that fall when your heart is broken from your day, broken for what I have still left to have healed is a side you only wish more could appreciate - but I know where they come from. I know their worth.
The quietest moments where you show how you have learned my heart; my soul; my deepest desires and never cease to amaze me in how you orchestrate the surprises you have for me. Always perfect. Always humbling.
To end the winter early, feel the sun's warmth, to feel a Southern breeze that revives long ago memories - a deep desire so that I can feel your showers of love more and more.
To smell the fragrances of spring; the sweet aroma of the fall - the Earth sending it's quiet petitions to you - and to grab a moment of the beauty. The lingering of the cologne that reminds me you have not so long ago been through that which was made for our enjoyment - to call of your glory.
Let the sun rise. Let the birds sing praise in the early sunrise. Let the colors of the sky proclaim the immense beginning of an artist with the greatest palette to be mixed.
And the beauty of it all - for me. To bring the greatest treasure - a smile - to my face because it sets your heart ablaze. The smallest of things the most valuable of them all - and you move everything possible to capture it.
©Kristen Garcia 2-2013
Friday, January 11, 2013
No Other Way
I love that look you give me - even when you just sit back and let me have my *moment*. Even at the end of my patience the look on your face can still make me laugh.
The way you shake your head at me when I just toss my hand up and shoot you The Look. You know all too well just where the end of that will be. And that's probably why you're still a good sport about it all and still chuckle while I'm going on and on.
The way you know just what to say when the world is spinning around me that will grab the hand of my soul and pull me out of the chaos and show me exactly how to take back control over my world.
How every now and then I can steal a dance with you, a snuggle with you, how you will steal away from your duties to meet me for lunch.
And still, you continue to give - from the depths of your heart you give. You find a way to out-do yourself every year - finding that one thing close to my heart and getting it to me quietly for my day when others miss it or don't know its the day to celebrate.
How in a moment's breath you can extinguish the fire of my fury so that I have nothing to later regret or apologize for and so I do not damage your reputation. The last thing I want is to give you something that would force you to make excuses or explain why you have attached yourself to me.
Its that excitement of seeing you every time I can. How you still steal my breath away, how you still can move me to tears with your graciousness and the beauty of your love. The small whispers in my ear to keep my mind racing about what's coming for us, the places we will go, the experiences we will have.
There are days I wonder if you know me too well, but that's the beauty of it. My insatiable love for you wouldn't be the same if that wasn't the case.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
©Kristen Garcia 1-2013
The way you shake your head at me when I just toss my hand up and shoot you The Look. You know all too well just where the end of that will be. And that's probably why you're still a good sport about it all and still chuckle while I'm going on and on.
The way you know just what to say when the world is spinning around me that will grab the hand of my soul and pull me out of the chaos and show me exactly how to take back control over my world.
How every now and then I can steal a dance with you, a snuggle with you, how you will steal away from your duties to meet me for lunch.
And still, you continue to give - from the depths of your heart you give. You find a way to out-do yourself every year - finding that one thing close to my heart and getting it to me quietly for my day when others miss it or don't know its the day to celebrate.
How in a moment's breath you can extinguish the fire of my fury so that I have nothing to later regret or apologize for and so I do not damage your reputation. The last thing I want is to give you something that would force you to make excuses or explain why you have attached yourself to me.
Its that excitement of seeing you every time I can. How you still steal my breath away, how you still can move me to tears with your graciousness and the beauty of your love. The small whispers in my ear to keep my mind racing about what's coming for us, the places we will go, the experiences we will have.
There are days I wonder if you know me too well, but that's the beauty of it. My insatiable love for you wouldn't be the same if that wasn't the case.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
©Kristen Garcia 1-2013
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Just a Carpenter
Just a carpenter - who saw the menial day to day life of work and surviving from the common and the meek.
Just a carpenter - who learned how to take a raw, rough timber and create a strong and magnificent instrument.
Just a carpenter - who sat in the crowd and heard the week to week musings of the priesthood he would eventually school.
Just a carpenter - who could with tender precision smooth out even the knots of any board and make them fit for great use.
Just a carpenter - who with words could paint a story like the enriching color of stain on a masterful creation.
Just a carpenter - who was King.
©Kristen Garcia July 2012
Just a carpenter - who learned how to take a raw, rough timber and create a strong and magnificent instrument.
Just a carpenter - who sat in the crowd and heard the week to week musings of the priesthood he would eventually school.
Just a carpenter - who could with tender precision smooth out even the knots of any board and make them fit for great use.
Just a carpenter - who with words could paint a story like the enriching color of stain on a masterful creation.
Just a carpenter - who was King.
©Kristen Garcia July 2012
Saturday, June 23, 2012
It's always the little ones. . . .
It is never really the big dreams that are the hardest to keep sight of.
It is the smaller dream. The one that every now and then you come close to truly holding in your hand that are sometimes the toughest ones to fight for.
One moment you look and the path to its full realization is in view, and in the moment it takes to breathe it is gone.
The small dreams are the closest dreams. The ones you can almost reach out and touch. The easiest ones to pour your entire heart and soul into - and yet - the dreams that when gone, crush you the deepest.
It is easy to abandon the small dreams. The ones you get a taste of. The ones you can see right in front of you.
To keep the large dreams out beyond the Now means as much as you pour into them, there is also the knowledge that they are so far out that the setbacks do not crush you, only motivate you to try another avenue.
Its the smaller dreams that when crushed make you wonder if the grander dreams are possible. That if these small things - so imbedded in your heart - are crushed one after another after another how will it be possible for even greater to come.
At what point do you finally abandon what is in your heart? What is that last crushing blow?
It is the smaller dream. The one that every now and then you come close to truly holding in your hand that are sometimes the toughest ones to fight for.
One moment you look and the path to its full realization is in view, and in the moment it takes to breathe it is gone.
The small dreams are the closest dreams. The ones you can almost reach out and touch. The easiest ones to pour your entire heart and soul into - and yet - the dreams that when gone, crush you the deepest.
It is easy to abandon the small dreams. The ones you get a taste of. The ones you can see right in front of you.
To keep the large dreams out beyond the Now means as much as you pour into them, there is also the knowledge that they are so far out that the setbacks do not crush you, only motivate you to try another avenue.
Its the smaller dreams that when crushed make you wonder if the grander dreams are possible. That if these small things - so imbedded in your heart - are crushed one after another after another how will it be possible for even greater to come.
At what point do you finally abandon what is in your heart? What is that last crushing blow?
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