Comments on BEHOLD THE COMPLETED SONNET! A TEAM EFFORT. MUSER WINS THE FINALE!

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I am so glad you like the poem. i know your heart must be so heavy.
i know max and i can't even begin to know what you are feeling, but we will pray for comfort for you and Helen. we will remember you both in our prayers as we affirm together that God Was and Is and Ever More Shall Be. He Is the Great Physician. He Is Creator...and Father. He knows when a sparrow falls...He knows the number of hairs on our heads. He knows our comings and our goings. He knows you and Helen, but we can never know the vastness of His mind. Our God cannot be explained in our limited vocabulary, but He can be expressed through the language of our hearts. i am not one to sugar coat reality, Roger, but reality can be changed. God is not limited...He has blessed us with incredible minds...incredible imaginations...that we limit at every opportunity. Helen will be healed, whether by miracle or transformation through death...which is perfect healing. in the meantime, we lift you both up in sincere love through our LORD AND SAVIOR, JESUS CHRIST THROUGH WHOM ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE. AMEN.

posted by muser on May 28, 2005 at 1:27 AM | link to this | reply

muser! I thank you for your inspiring and motivational sonnet!

It is truly inspired, and I am deeply moved by it!  I fluctuate so greatly in my emotional responses to my wife's incurable disease.  I know I ought not to blame God!  But sometimes I am tempted to do so out of a belief that if he really were the Great Physician he would heal her.  I have to remember that he does things in His own way and His own time.  But that is not always easy, either.  So in the meantime, I vent through my poetry and sometimes that can become quite vitriolic.  Thank you very much for your compassion and understanding.  In sincerely love, through our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, Roger Eberle.

posted by Ebb.and.Flow on May 26, 2005 at 9:09 PM | link to this | reply

I am so thrilled to have won this prize, EB...
I loved the challenge of playing The Sonnet Game. The lines you, Talion, Decshak, and A.Norseman wrote were so inspiring that I was able to overcome my shyness and join in. I am so very sorry for your troubles and trials...sometimes life is just plain unfair. I am saddened also that your response to your wife's suffering is to rail at God, as it seems to me you are a Christian. I know, though, when we are suffering from a great gaping wound, we are so busy jumping about in pain that it is difficult to go to God for relief. I know also that when the one we love more than life itself suffers, it is easy to become angry with God because He is supposed to shield us from harm. I want to give you a gift, so I wrote a sonnet for you. I am not a great writer, and especially not of sonnets, but I present this one to you as a gift with a sincere heart...

To be loved is a gift from God so rare
We seek it from the moment of our birth
And if perchance we find our true love fair
We praise God for this greatest gift on earth

When as himself one loves his wife the same
He’s blessed as when he loves God with his all
So why does he on God his sorrows blame
When Satan’s arrows on his house do fall

For Satan hates two hearts that beat as one
And when the two love God, his anger seethes
He longs for love like this to be undone
So he sets out to bring love to its knees

Man will with one breath give to God his praise
Then with the next, blame Him for evil days

(C) 2005 Cynthia Allison All Rights Reserved


posted by muser on May 25, 2005 at 10:52 AM | link to this | reply

Blind faith fed with faint hope revives little:
True sadness lasts much longer day by day. The will, iron mettled, grows more brittle, as health ebbs in shadowsy dusk so gray. Fell cruelty to urge a smiling hope when in great sickness, love diseased grows faint; and portraits hung on empty walls, a trope, dare not with fear or long-lost love attaint. Such paintings of disgrace meagre and bare deflate the stigma of each strident blast which trumps the final judgment where the fare was one time paid by He whose die was cast. If Death defeats the none-to-sullen Muse, my soul will glut it's sorrow on the booze!

posted by Ebb.and.Flow on May 24, 2005 at 12:04 AM | link to this | reply