The Big Reveal

This past weekend, Robert and Ryan and I stood on the front porch and watched the crescent moon finish the picture of fall. Jupiter and Venus are very close, and the southern sky is incredibly clear this time of year. Making three distinct shapes in the sky, so bright and beautiful.

When investigating the very bright stars, I discovered that Jupiter and Venus have been close before in history, so close they almost seem as one star. There is a christian scientist that has researched the time of Christ, showing that around the time of his birth, Jupiter and Venus were that close. If they were, it gives a scientific explanation of that 'star of wonder, star of night, star with royal beauty bright.'

I like to think though, that God might have created the planets simply to help announce the birth of His son, the saviour. It is much like a parent would decorate for a birthday party, or a new parent preparing a nursery. Perhaps He did not use the existing planets but prepared a special star. I like it that it is a mystery, and our wisdom cannot fathom the reasons, nor the preparation.

I also thought of the shepherds in the fields, late late that night. keeping watch over the flocks.

They are the first to know. The lowest, least educated people are informed first. and they are informed in the middle of the night, when the synagogue rabbis and the Roman soldiers and the royal Jewish families are sleeping.

So many of the realizations I have had came from times when I have been awake and all the world is sleeping. Something about the quiet of the night that makes the Spirits' voice loud and clear in my mind. Times I have to read and study usually occur at night, when the house is quiet and I am alone with my thoughts. The best songs are written then, the realizations I have about life and love. The quiet talks with God, the scriptures, the tears, and many revelations.

I have learned that those moments of insomnia are to be treasured, not dreaded. That winter can come and I can enjoy the cold wind on my face. Knowing that some of those long, cold, nights, the Spirit will nudge me awake, and I will see the Father's face.

Reveal

Jupiter and Venus are shining through my window
And its 2 a.m.
And I woke with the noise of silence all over
and I cant find a friend

for the worlds frozen over, and all of the clover
Is now a blanket of solid white.
so the sleep that was waiting for me
will wait a bit longer tonight

For tonight I am open and free
reveal it reveal it reveal it to me
Since I cannot see what you want me to be
Reveal it reveal it reveal it to me.

take me out of the familiar
and take my spirit high
So i can be ready right when you call
Like those shepherds on Xmas night

On the fourth watch of the night
wont you call to me?
I will hear your voice over the storm
and let me walk with you, out on the sea

Sometimes it seems like the night is held fast
and morning never comes
But I will hold fast to the hand of
the one and only risen Son.

For tonight I am open and free,
Reveal it reveal it reveal it to me
Since I cannot see what you want me to be
Reveal it reveal it reveal it to me
Reveal it reveal it reveal it to me.

The Road

I am learning Italian. I bought the bullet and purchased software that uses visual cues. Plodding through the lessons, I realize that my grammar is atrocious. So it goes. But hoping that in the future I could ( at least,) read a bit of Italian, I continue.

My language quest is really about the future. The P.h.d I plan to pursue in the humanities. The dream trip to Rome and Venice and Florence that I plan to take with my hubby and son . The thought that perhaps, I might be able to read Giacomo Puccini's opera libretto in the
original language.

The saying "all roads lead to Rome" is appropriate for me, it is what I am planning for.

The challenge this week is "the road." So I must produce a song or live in shame. Mermaid #2 is already hard at work on her own "road."

Roads are so applicable to life. They are long, they are windy and you never know where there might be a dead end, or a sharp hairpin turn. Sometimes so smooth, like glass. Sometimes like driving in New Mexico. (ugh) Sometimes the google map is completely wrong and takes you the long way. Sometimes your Garmin is way off base. Sometimes you have to trust yourself to choose the road you need, and sometimes it is chosen for you.

The very unexpected aspect of the road draws us. Turn a corner in Rome and you will see modern apartments, but turn another corner and there is the Pantheon. The road to the Spanish steps is lined with mall-like stores. The roadways in Venice are water, and they are very dirty, but the next turn shows the Doge's palace dome. Whether mundane or marvelous, the road is something to be ventured.

Road trip, anyone?


The Road Knows

I asked the wind as I saw him on my way,
Where will you take me, and I heard him say
Oh, only the road knows.

I asked the trees in the forest of green
What do you think tomorrow might bring?
And the leaves shimmered…
“only the road knows.”

And the road, goes on and on
And the road, winds on and on
Singing never ending songs

I asked the sea, to search its’ depths for me
And find the answers that I was bent to seek
the waves crashed and I was told
Only the road knows.

I asked the stars shining above
Where would I go, and when would I find love?
And they called down to me
Go ask the road.

and the road, goes on and on
And the road, winds on and on

I asked the road to open up to me
Answer my question and give to me some peace,
But it sang, ‘follow me’
And you will know, just what the road knows.

And the road, goes on and on
And the road, goes on and on
Singing a never-ending song
Only the road knows.
Only the road knows.

Hope

What a funny little word to blog about. Four teeny tiny letters that keep us going, day in and day out. Whatever our religion, background or belief, hope is the one thing we all share.

We have started something new, and mermaid number 2 and I have decided to write weekly to get our songwriting chops back into shape. Each of us will take turns deciding a one word or phrase to write about, or an idea. Last weeks word was "glass" and my song was in my last blog. This weeks' word is harder, both to write about and to maintain, the word is "hope."

why is it that we are all so caught up in hope? You cant see it or touch it or feel it. Yet it is all around us and in everything we do.

When we are children, we hope for the future, we hope we are older, we hope for Xmas to come...right now! Time, though, has a way of changing that. Then we hope for others' future, hope for the world, hope for eternity. We live and learn and experience joy and pain. Yet hope remains as palpable at 50 and 60 and beyond as it did at 5 and 6.

As far as my life is concerned, only one thing has stood between me and hope, and never for long. It was my past. I could use the past to become bitter, as I have experienced terrible sadness and tragedy and physical pain. Or I could use the past as something to hold tightly to, as I have also experienced incredible joy, thrills, excitement and opportunities that few see.

I choose to hold to neither, but to live well for this day. Hope, it seems, must have its way.

Hope springs eternal in the human breast
Man never Is, but always To be blest
The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come. -Alexander Pope,An Essay on Man, Epistle I, 1733

Couldn't have said it better myself.

Let It Go

There is a gray cloud in my way
I saw it on the sidewalk as I stepped out today
And I heard it crying and raining down
And I couldn't pick my eyes up off of the ground.

But tomorrow is a new day
New hopes are rising and the gray clouds fade
And there is a better time coming, if I will be bold
Turn to the future before I grow cold

But I know, the winds are going to blow,
I'm going to leave the past and let it go.

The open box of Pandora's, started it all
she shut the lid quickly, then she heard a call,
something tapping on the inside, making us know
That hope must follow trouble, wherever it goes....

But I know, those winds are going to blow,
I'm going to leave the past and let it go.

Don't know if its wise, Dont really know at all..
But I am going to listen to hope, whenever she calls,
So if she comes knocking on your window tonight,
Tell her I will be waiting in the morning light...

Because I know, winds are going to blow
I'm going to leave the past and let it go.

Mermaids Tears

I was sad today, no particular reason. My family is getting better, we had a great visit with my extended family and a fun, busy weekend. But never the less, today I was blue.

So many things I should be happy about, so many to be thankful for. There was a time I would have been ashamed to be sad. But the older I get the more I realize that life and feelings should be experienced as they come. As we experience the happy so do we experience the sad, each in its own turn. Sickness sometimes turns to healing, and sometimes joy changes to sorrow as well. There is a time for both.

I can see the jar of sea glass on the shelf. Sea glass is also known as 'mermaid's tears,' which I find rather beautiful, especially since I am feeling blue. Sea glass starts as sharp clear broken pieces, then spends years of tumbling in ocean waves, softening the sharp edges of shards of broken glass. The edges smooth, and the color mellows from clear to opaque, as the water is infused into the core. The result is a lovely glistening jewel on the sand. Trash is transformed to treasure.

We experience the highs and lows of life, and as we do our sharp edges are burned away. We are transformed into treasure. Our traumatic metamorphosis in the sea allows us to find the true beauty in our souls. Our purpose is better understood, as we are refined and revealed. We are created and we are transformed. So the hard times come and the great times come and each prepares us for the bigger picture.

So I embrace those "mermaid tears" when they are flowing and the 'mermaid songs' when I am joyful. After all, they are really my true self.

Sea Glass

There is a jar of sea glass
On the bookshelf in the living room
And the colors range from red to green
To aqua shades and teal and blue

And all the glass in the jar, tells a story
Of each piece and its’ shattered broken past
But the beauty within a shard is revealed
As it is tossed and thrown to the sand at last

For We are all shattered and scattered
Taking our chances on the salty sea
Crashing over seas of joy and suffering
Love and loss and life to see….
And the sand is polishing, the waves are washing
Taking us to places never seen before
Preparing all of us for a different purpose
Becoming what we all were created for.

And the glass is no longer clear or whole
It is in pieces in the time and tide
And the colors play with light and shade
Revealing the journey over oceans wide

For we are all born, clear as crystal
And we are all meant to break and go
Scattering out, over deep wide oceans
Changing into something better than before….

For We are all shattered and scattered
Taking our chances on the salty sea
Crashing over seas of joy and suffering
Love and loss and life to see….

And the sand is polishing, the waves are washing
Taking us to places never seen before
Preparing all of us for a different purpose
Becoming what we all were created for.

Angels

My birthday was last Wednesday, and Mermaid #2 gave me a lovely journal and a devotional book. She is a traditionalist when it comes to literature, so the book was The Imitation of Christ, By Thomas a Kempis. Originally written for monastics in the 14th century, the language is beautiful and very "King James." I am a sucker for anything renaissance/restoration, so a perfect gift for me.

During my last night's reading of that devotional tome, I started thinking about quiet service. About the angels that run around on earth, and just do good works. Quietly, not drawing attention, they love and give and make a difference.

I call myself blessed to know, love and be best friends with 3 ladies that are quiet and gently serving, serving. Each in her own way takes extra care with her family, her friends and the people she meets. Quietly, mermaid #2 teaches and reads and prays and serves. Loving and selfless, mermaid #3 mothers in a gentle way everyone she meets, while serving in her quietly gifted way. Not drawing attention, mermaid #4 offers solace and rest and hope and love, and gives gives gives.

So many people aspire to be something great, something seen and heard in a grand way. But the lives of quiet service are beyond worth. We sometimes forget that the unseen and unheard service are the things that are most prized with our God. I would like to pay a tribute to the women in my life, my Mom, Grandmother, Sister in laws, Mother in law and my close dear friends that have touched me in a quiet way that has changed me forever. Changed me to be more giving, less selfish, more generous and less worried about what others might think of me when I am more like Christ.

I wrote this song for Rikie when she moved away. She has always sounded Angelic, but people don't always know that she also has other angelic qualities, working diligently to serve God through serving her family and friends. She is such a loving, gentle mom, and I love her dearly.

I like to think of the four of us as those spirits in Hans Christian Andersons' The Little Mermaid, going around the earth helping quietly, not asking for things in return. They have shown me that the seen is so much less important than the unseen. And I am so grateful, as my mermaids continue to show me what it means to serve, really serve, and know that quiet service really does matter.

Cry Like An Angel

When words are unspoken when heartaches run long
When the mountains are misty and the heather is gone
When winter has frozen your heart to the core
You can cry to me softly, without any words.

Cry like an angel, sing like the sea
Cry like an angel, come cry to me
Dance like the fire, and soar like a bird
Cry like an angel, when there are no words.

When miles are between us and leagues still remain
The river will guide you back home again
When miles are between us and the storms rage and roar
Use the ocean to send your message to shore...

When your soul grows so tired and lonely with fear
Cry out on the western wind, and I will hear.

and Cry like an angel, sing like the sea
Cry like an angel come cry to me,
Dance like the fire, and soar like a bird
Cry like an angel...when there are no words.

Joy in the Morning

The last few nights we have been up all night. Robert has been ill and Ryan has been ill and we have not slept. Excruciating to wait until the morning comes. Sleep is elusive and loneliness is your only companion. After a while you run out of things to pray about, and the prayer becomes a mantra, of "Lord, let me get to sleep!"

But then I was looking through a letter this afternoon...I had put it away to think and pray about it. It was from a friend who has seen some lonely times and has a living testimony to share. She and her husband are adopting a child and I sat and just cried tears of joy and relief.

(of course that is easy to do when you are working on 2 hours of sleep, but I was very happy, too.)

I love to vicariously watch some one's journey from sadness to joy, from darkness into light and from night to morning. I read scripture to Ryan last night, it said "though the sorrow may last through the night, joy comes in the morning."

Much like the dark of night, the sadness that consumes us is consumed by the sun that rises in the east. My friend has always had the metaphor of the caterpillar on her blog and emails. A caterpillar lives and cocoons and then,must think...'this is all there is.' But the darkness of the cocoon is short lived, and the caterpillar must be very surprised, awakening to change and to beauty and to flight.

I thought last night about the garden and about loneliness, and sleeplessness and terrible sorrow. I thought about the lonely nights for the disciples..Friday night, Saturday night. No joy to be found in those mornings. And the nights: long, cold, dark, hopeless and helpless.

But Sunday, Sunday always has a way of coming. And the caterpillar awakens and the night is gone and the Sun rises. And the Son rises.

So I am happy for my friend and I am happy that her morning of joy has come. Welcome, Elora, you are greatly loved, you are greatly wanted. I am ready to see you fly.

See You Fly

In your cocoon
Cozy like a womb
We are waiting for you, keep waiting for you

A love deeper than the sea
A crown of victory
We are waiting for you, keep waiting for you

For God is sending you right into our midst
Keeping all the mysteries hidden in his fist
Finally letting go and looking to the Sky
He has plans for you
And I cant wait to see you fly

Shining like a light
Like a beacon in the night
Hope is calling to us, calling to us

When the night was dark
There was always a spark
When Love was looking for you, and we were looking too.

For God is sending you right into our midst
Keeping all the mysteries hidden in His fist
We are letting go and looking to the sky
He has plans for you
And I cant wait to see you fly

There is coming a day
When I will see your face
And I will look at you, and God will be there too

You will spread your wings
And our heart will sing
Music that will rhyme, our story written before time..


For God is sending you right into our midst
Keeping all the mysteries hidden in His fist
But we are letting go and looking to the sky
He has plans for you
And I cant wait to see you fly

Edge of the World

It has been a month since I last blogged, and it seems like a constant whirlwind of activity has been going since then. Our vacation to the caribbean cancelled, the hurricane and its aftermath. Our spontaneous trip to california..my husband very ill. Then school starting, the finishing touches of our recording and the non-stop care of my special needs son.

As my husband has learned this month, there is a link between suffering and compassion, between pain and understanding. The ability to empathize only comes through experience. We are innately available to serve when we are offered the opportunity to suffer.

Oh, but it is so hard! Trying to reason through pain. Trying to "figure it out" and solve it ourselves. It never works. It never will.

Mostly because pain doesn't come to bad people or because we do wrong things. This is one of life's hardest lessons; pain is no respector of persons, or time, or money. It comes to us all in its' own measure.

After we suffer, we want to close ourselves off. Take no risks. Make safe choices and be careful to not offer too much of our hearts and minds and souls. Failure might happen and pain with it. But right then, right then, is the best chance we have to make a choice to risk again, and be so useful to others as well as ourselves.

I look at my son and I realize that everything he does is a risk. Life itself is a risk to a special needs kid. A risk to try since he has so many fears. A risk to love, as he is so intensely involved in others souls that he cannot extricate himself. A risk to fall and a risk to fail. But he takes the chance everyday, and he is strong, strong, strong, and I love him for it.

I hope he continues to chance and risk and love. I hope he sails to the edge of his world and beyond. Most parents want that for their children. I want him to be happy, but I know he will share in suffering in this world. When he does, I hope that he continues to sail, and continues to keep his heart open. Thank God that He allowed His own son to suffer for us.

There is a lot of open water. Want to dive in?

Edge of the World

Go to the edge of the world
Out where the ocean is crowned with island pearls
And the sirens are singing free
They are calling to you and calling to me

At the edge of the world
Ride with me, let your wings unfurl
Keep the horizon in your view
the edge of the world is out there waiting for you

go to the edge of the sea
Walk down the shore and into the deep
Treasure is waiting there for you
If you hold your breath and dive into the blue

Go to the edge of the night
Catch a ride on a chariot taking flight
Before that golden orb comes into view
The edge of the night is out there for you

Columbus knew, and I do, too
That the edge of the world is just a point of view
Sure it is safer when you stay
But adventure is yours when you sail away

at the edge of the world
Ride with me, let your wings unfurl
Keep the horizon in your view
The edge of the world is out there waiting for you.

Song of the Siren

Summer is fading. I realized today that school starts for us next Wednesday. The beautiful, carefree, swimming pool- pruned days are waning. The sun is still bright but it is getting darker earlier, and the nights are shorter now. As summer gives up its' fight with fall, there is a sweet moment that I wish could extend just a bit. Just another night of warmth. One more swim. One more day of rest. One more moment of peaceful reflections.

The Persieus meteor shower is to be outside tonight. The stars always seem to reflect the time and tides of the seasons. Falling from the sky, even the stars know that the time of summer is closing. God's design of seasons determined by the moon, the tide and the relationship of the earth to the sun.

It is quiet in the house. My son is being a fish in the bathtub, and my husband is resting. During the peace, I cannot keep the songs from flying through my head. Curse or blessing, the gift of music is ever present, just dulled slightly by noise or chatter. But when I really listen, music is there.

As the sun descends into the darkness progressing outside, I cannot stop the time or tide or night or fall approaching. But I can listen, really listen to that sweet sirens song of nature. Fill my spirit with the peace-filled sounds of summer. And listen for the song.

Song of the Siren

Look out of your window tonight
Get out of the shadows and dance in the light
The archers strings are taking flight
Sing a song, sing a song of the sirens tonight.

Look out of your window today
Smell the salt water take in the spray
Dance out on the open waves
Sing a song, sing a song of the siren today

Sing a song of the Siren
Sing a song of the Sea
Sing a song of the Siren
Sing it loud, Sing it to me

Sing when night is falling
Sing when the day breaks clean
Sing when the ocean is calling
And the sky is on fire and the waves billow green

Look out on the open sea
Raise your voice and sing with me
there is a place where we can be....
Starlight and shadow, sky and sea

Look out on the horizon clear
Listen well and you will hear
The Sirens' song is drawing near
Sing a song Sing a song of the siren's so clear
Sing a song Sing a song of the siren tonight

Listen to song of the siren at
www.cdbaby.com/sirenssong2

track 15

the Silk road

My son and I went shopping yesterday. After buying loads of very cheap markdown nike clothing for him, we went to the Misses section. He was patient and let me look for a long while.

He found a dress for me, all silk, with all the colors I love woven in. Aqua and fuschia, bright yellow and cobalt. So beautiful. (he has exquisite taste...some girl is going to be very lucky to have him as a husband) I tried it on, and unfortunately it was an extra large.

At one point last year, I was an extra large size, but lost sixty pounds. I am more of a small now. So I was a bit disappointed. But looking closer at the seams and the way the dress was made, I realized that it was easily altered. I have been sewing since age 8, (thanks, MOM!) so with that knowledge I happily made my purchase.

(Ryan picked out for himself a dark green basketball outfit, which he has worn now for 2 days straight. i made him remove it today to wash it, but he is planning on wearing it tomorrow as well. )

So with a bit of effort, something beautiful that I love will fit me perfectly. Without me working on it, though, it will remain on the hanger, as a beautiful but non-functional garment.

So much of life is what we put into it. We can choose that dress and leave it in the closet. We can have an aquaintance that never becomes a friend. Neglect the nagging voice that tells us to visit someone, or take a meal, or listen, or forgive? Leave things unsaid and unspoken. Fill ourselves with regrets.

We can look at life or we can participate. We can throw up our hands and give up, or we can fight that urge and give and pray. We can ask for more to do, or we can sit back and let others do.

I wrote a song about the travels of Marco Polo. he and his father and uncle did things that people just 'did not do' in those times. They travelled to parts of the world that were dangerous and hidden. They saw things, marvelous things that the western world had never seen. They opened up a route of trade that enriched both the east and the west. But the catch is that no one really believed Marco when he returned from his travels.

Perhaps no one but ourselves will know how much we gave or tried as we approach the twilight of life, but there is one that understands. He is preparing for me a silk garment that will fit perfectly, and I cant wait.

The Silk Road

Light the candle and I will pen
A story of a journey and back again
A book of secrets dark and long
A pathway to the Kublai Khan

From Venice where my book begins
To Genoa where it will end
And juxtaposed between the two
Lies a road unknown but to a few

And I will tell a story bold
Follow me down the silk road
Of eastern nights and treasures untold
Follow me down the long silk road

I travelled over the great Japan
And to the islands of Andeman
From the coldest days I could endure
to the turquoise nights of Neyshabur

The things that I have done and seen
Now seem but long forgotten dreams
but the road that leads to eastern sod
is truer than the tales of Sheherazade.

The Sea Wolf

I took my grandmother's mandolin out again today. I am trying to learn the tremolo, which is the rapid movement of the pick over the mandolin strings. Right now, it is not going so well. I have the chording down somewhat, but the tremolo is so difficult. A practiced hand with a mandolin is so wonderful to listen to. Unfortunately, my hand needs more practice.

So much of who I am really is very similiar to who she was. Musician, people person and friend, she was a light to the people that knew her. Her heritage is passed to me, and I must continue her musical legacy. Her other great-grandaughter, also a namesake, (Libby) has I think inherited a few musical genes as well.....but time will tell her gifts. We are all products of our heritage, whether we embrace that or not.

We recently went on a video shoot (our first!) for our Safe Harbour song. A fellow named Scott Self took us out on his handmade spanish wood boat. A sailboat. A work of art. A labor of love.

His heritage belongs to the sea, and the people that dwelled by the cliffs in England. Pressed into military service, they refused, and lived along the shoreline, fishermen and scavengers. They would mobilize for sea rescues, and were referred to as 'Sea Wolfs.' The Sea Wolfs sailed to America for a better life, and while settling in the Gulf coast city of Galveston, their surname was shortened to 'Self.' The last name of Self is the most common in that area. Our Captain that day, Scott Self, and the boat was called the "Sea Wolf."

The girls and I thought it appropriate that we write Scott a song, and dedicate it to the Sea Wolfs of the past, and the present. Our own ties to the sea provide a nice, fitting background for a tribute.

Sea wolf

Lend me your ear and I'll tell you my tale
Of my people from England whose eyes looked for sails
From Lands End to Portsmouth they looked to the seas
For wreckage to plunder; their hard lives to ease


Set sail, oh Seawolf, to lands far away
To a new port of call and a bright temperate day
This new land brings promise we never have known
a place to call our home

The journey was long and the waves were so high
But a new day of promise was fresh on their minds
Deciding to press on through the foam
They were trying to find a place to call home

So I hear them tonight on the sea
The voice of my people and time’s mystery
Saying ‘fly on the sea wolf, and claim our fame’
‘Remember our spirit, remember our name’

We will sail on the Seawolf to lands far away
To new ports of call, and bright temperate days
This new land brings promise we never have known
A place to call our home.
Copyright 2008 LeighAnn Heil

Scars and the Communion of Souls

We just returned from a trip to dallas to see mermaid #3...fabulouso. I was so tired that I did nothing for 3 days afterward, but a beautiful trip non-the less.

Sometimes in the wee hours of the a.m., when the house is quiet, songs have a tendency to be written. So, at 6 a.m., when Hil couldnt sleep, she wrote the lyrics to a song, which of course I finessed and wrote music to in the afternoon.

We also spent lots of time in the pool, with syncronized swimming to weird music (Journey and I think there was a song by Skid Row) and lots of laughing. Over the weekend I noticed a scar on my face from the week before. I had put sunscreen on that was untested, and my super-sensitive skin reacted with a lovely burn. Now there was a bright red scar. Yuk.

I continued to think on scars over the weekend. Hilary was very ill when she was young, and in the process of healing she incurred some scars. In order for her life to be saved, the scars were a trade off.

Then, I thought about my own scars. The surgery scars I have. A scar that allowed my child to be born. The scars on my face from my car accident when I was 19. The miscellaneous scars on my hands from burns, cuts and insect bites. They are all there still, reminding me of bad times and good times. Scars are sort of the odometer of my life, recording all of the mileage for me.

But back to the song. The song title is "this communion of souls." Scars are universally a human condition. Rare is the person who has lived for 20, 30,40 years without some sort of scar. They are a something that we all can commune over. We all know the initial pain, the slow belabored healing, and the lingering reminder of the event. It is literally etched into our skin or on our hearts. Seen or unseen, scars are always there.

The word communion is also a word that I relate to worship. To Christ. I wonder why, the maker of heaven and earth, chose to retain the scars in His hands. I am sure that the Father, (or Jesus Himself) could have remedied those. Why not come back completely perfect? Why show Thomas those hands with the nail marks still in place? Could be many reasons, including the fact that the scars themselves gave testimony to the death and resurrection. Might have been to prove to the disciples that He was the Messiah. Might have been the badge of honor that Jesus decided to keep.

I really dont know the reasons, but it humbles me that Christ kept those scars. It means He was fully human and understands completely when I am knocked to the ground. It says to me "LeighAnn, you were worth every second of pain that these hands took for you." Or perhaps, like Hilary's scars, the scars are simply there to remind of how our lives are saved.

What a gift we have to bear with one another our scars and hurts, and what a blessing healing brings. Stiched across our hearts are the 3- silk sutures of friends, family, and a gracious God.

Communion of Souls

copyright, Hilary Walton, LeighAnn Heil 2008

Let me tell you my secret
That’s been burning in my heart
With words so frail and broken
I don’t know where to start

But you are there to listen
As I offer up my soul
With caring words to comfort
And a hand for me to hold

Chorus:
This communion of souls
Is a rare gift to find
Friends connecting more than heart and mind
As life spins around me, I know you’ll be true
Cause I’m sharing my soul here with you

As life ebbs and flows
In my heart I will know
You’ll heal and you will mend
You’ll fight and you’ll defend

You read between the lines
To the places in my mind
Where few can go
Yet your words are never cold

Bridge:
If people stopped and tried
Could they have this gift we know?
This heaven here on earth
That strengthens as it grows

Chorus:
This communion of souls
Is a rare gift to find
Friends connecting more than heart and mind
As life spins around me, I know you’ll be true
Cause I’m sharing my soul here with you

SEAcrets

It has been a while since I have had a chance to post. My computer went down and I was computer-less for a time, then got sick, then my son, Ryan had a birthday. Life works that way, ebbing and flowing.

Perhaps it is why I love the sea so much. High tide and low, the deep and the shallow. The very mysterious, huge, wonderful part of it all. Dangerous and beautiful. A force to be reckoned with, a joy to behold.

This Sunday we chanced to hear a sermon about Jonah. The sermon theme was rambling, but I think the main point was "embracing change." I dont really find that theme in Jonah...matter of a fact, I dont really understand what he was talking about at all. Looked over during the sermon to find my super husband asleep. (asleep in Jesus, he would say)

The Jonah story has always fascinated me with its' main setting being the sea. Jonah runs from God and takes a little cruise. Then the storm. It must have been a storm like no other, as the sailors on board the ship are praying, and praying hard. They have to wake Jonah up! (perhaps he was listening to the same sermon as my hubby...) Jonah admits it is him causing everything and they throw him overboard.

I have been in a riptide before, panicking about being swept out to sea. It is a terrifying feeling. What seemed beautiful and peaceful the moment before, suddenly becomes the scariest place on earth. I imagine Jonah praying, going under the waves, and God saves him. Not through the method Jonah would have preferred, I am sure. The fish is not a punishment, not a method to help Jonah "embrace change"...the fish is salvation.

I like to think that when we are living our lives, it is much like a long sail, a long journey on the sea. Full of beauty, full of peril. Beautiful times with red skies at night. Hard times with red skies in the morning. Through all the storms, God is there. Even when we choose to run from Him and choose our own way. He is still there. He is there when the wind is whipping and when we are thrown overboard. When we need Him most, He saves us, but not always in the way we want. I heard a song recently, and it reminded me of the sad event with Crystal's brother....Sometimes He calms the storm,

Sometimes He calms the storm,
With a whispered peace be still.
He can settle any sea, But it doesn’t mean He will
Sometimes He holds us close
And lets the wind and waves go wild
Sometimes He calms the storm
And other times He calms His child

And sometimes He just sends a fish.

Seacrets
copyright 2007, LeighAnn Heil
I am the star that rises from the sea
I bring men dreams, that rule their destiny.
I bring the dreamtides to the souls of men,
The tides that ebb and flow, and ebb again.

These are my seacrets they belong to me
The mystery of sirens, the seacrets of the sea
These are my seacrets, they will always be
The mystery of sirens the seacrets of the sea

I am the loralei low-a-down
With coral and with pearls, upon my starry crown.
I am the crystal stream that rises in the waves.
The mystery that haunts, the silent rocks and caves.

I am the song that lingers in the nightime air
When the moon has risen, over waves so fair
i am the long haired maiden with harp out on the sea
I am the siren singing, this is my mystery.

These are my seacrets, they will always be,
The mystery of sirens, the seacrets of the sea.