Held

This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell
we'd be held.

This hand is bitterness
We want to
taste it, let the hatred know our sorrow.
The
wise hand opens slowly to lilies of the valley and tomorrow.

If
hope is born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait for one hour watching for our Savior?

This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And
you survive.
This is what it is to be loved
And
to know that the promise was

When everything fell we’d be held.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Hay, Hell and Boolasomething

I just couldn't resist posting from here! I'm sitting in an old mine! In a town called White Cliffs, in the biggest underground motel in Australia, and probably the world. For a claustrophobic thing like myself to go through the doors was a rather bgi step believe me. =) But I didn't *quite* have a panic attack or faint or anything like that and now I'm rather beginning to enjoy the novelty. Scary thought that it *hasn't* collapsed yet and so there has to be an accident sometime and what if it's now when I'm in it?!

Oh dear.

Hay hell and boolgsomething (dunno what the end of that word is...can't spell it for the life of me!) but they're supposedly hot in increasing order...we stopped in Hay and whle looking for a toilet overheard some kids say 'Hey look! there are people over there!!"

=)

verysmall country towns around here....no mobile service...rather...crippling actually. =)

I shall go and catch anAgatha Christy show now...I know I'm dreadful but who cares?! And I shal give more funny stories soon!!

boyboy!!

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