The Lion's Paws

I am asleep between the Lion's paws - this is my place of safety.
I belong to the Lion, He roars over me. He closes His eyes and yet He does not slumber concerning me,
for I sleep between the Lions paws and His Roar protects me.
I sleep resting within His Mane of Light - He does not sleep concerning me, He roars over me - Roar over me Yeshua Roar, this is my place of rest.

The Cherokee

I have been thinking so much lately about the Cherokee Indians. Although the native Indian people belonged to many tribes, I have been led to focus particularly on the Cherokee and their journey.
I felt angered at the modern day movie depictions of the beautiful Cherokee people. But of course we know that history cannot and should not be learned on a T.V screen - history is made up of moments, complex and simple. Relationships underlie emotional pursuits and personal realities form peoples decisions, how can we ever understand this! We should not even try.
Anyhow - while I was researching the Cherokee Indians, I discovered one of their stories which touched me deeply. The Cherokee were forced from their lands by the new "Americans" aka Europeans who were hell - bent on power, and they were forced to move to a land that they had never seen before. Their own lands had been inhabited by their own people for generations and generations, their lands were fertile and prosperous -  perfect prey for greedy men.
So the Cherokee were forced from their homesteads which connected them to their ancestors and their family members and they were forced to trek some 1000 miles over a 10 year period on to lands they had never seen before. The journey they walked became known as the trail of tears, it is said that the women of the tribe became sad and started to neglect their children. Despair set in and so the elders of the tribe went out and prayed, prayed that a sign would be given so that the women would regain hope and strength so that they could look after the children again. The women shed tears for their kinsmen who were dieing daily, in one of the groves on the journey many Indians wept. After the elders prayed, the following morning the Cherokee awoke to continue their journey and in the grove where they had been crying - miraculously there appeared beautiful roses in the exact places where the women had been crying.
The roses were a magnificent white colour - symbolic of their tears, while the inside was gold, representing the gold stolen by the white man. The petals budded in a circle of seven, the seven petals represented the seven Cherokee tribes who made up the Cherokee people.The Cherokee rose was enough to strengthen the spirits of the tribes women and give them strength for their journey, today this miracle flower, which I liken to the manna from heaven - still buds along the trail of tears which the Cherokee journeyed onward to Oklahoma.

The hunter...

“As the hunter is hunted down, she slays her enemies on sacred ground.”
― Boadicea

Sounds

I love the sound of trains.

We don't live close to a railway line, but a few kilometers away there is a train track that works every so often. While I am often sitting at my computer, I hear the sound of the wheels and the horn - which happens when the wind is pushing in just the right direction.

It is a strange thing, this train sound. 

I don't travel on trains, but I have a sense of the sound of trains.

it reminds me of my grandparents house - they lived next door to the train track and we would go to them on Sunday afternoons, for a Sunday lunch.
We would sit in the kitchen around a big table (they did not have a dining room) and we would eat burnt custard and jelly and then the train would pass by. And no one would hear it, but we would all hear it, unconsciously. 

And then there is the most scrumptious memory that I have of train tracks and sounds. The sound of England, is the sound of a train. England was the very first place I ever traveled on a train and I loved it. I have been to the U.K. so many times that I guess now, trains are a part of the memories.
The easiness of train traveling and the exciting feeling of passing between county's while the greenery rushes by, shoo what a spirit - satisfying memory.

I am learning something about memories these days. Sometimes people dwell only on the negative memories. They are besotted with the hurting, painful, woe is me type memories that seem to follow some around. But I have learned about the redemption of memories. While I may not have had a close relationship with my paternal grandparents, I still have wonderful memories of those Sunday lunches and my memories have been redeemed. 
We are called to stand and enjoy our memories and to allow the light of our memories to shine forth through Yeshua's Mighty Hand.
 
While I may not understand my love of train sounds, I ultimately enjoy this sound and when I can, I stop and listen to the sound of the horn and the rushing steel. As a poet I find that many of my poems feature trains or even centre around train stories. I love this!
One final memory of my train journey - a few years ago my husband and I took a trip on one of the last remaining stream trains around. Within 20 minutes I was sound asleep, although the train ride was suppose to a be a scenic trip through lakes and groves. I can honestly say - there is no sleep for me, like a lulling train riding sleep!
So for now I am enjoying the sound until the next train ride and God is redeeming my memories and filling them with joy that is indescribable!

 

Sabbath Prayer by Marty Goetz

Lucy and Aslan

Misty Edwards, Strings (Lyrics)