I believe.
This Report excels all other reports.
The Friday of Christ’s agony on the cross,
becomes the Good Friday.
My heart cries, I search for His presence.
the Light shines, tunes of Love
swirls on my Bible verses, I sing.
I turn my gaze toward my Maker,
with remorse for my aloofness all along.

Lamb of God,
Your blood breaks all calcified
sinfulness from this creature of Yours.
Let me not carry
this burden of unbelief.
On bended knees I ask, give
to me Your gift of thankfulness.

“The Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.”
Isaiah 53

This mighty Maker of our universe,

makes mellow flowers in color.

Touchy petals as well.

L. EVAHAN

How shall I verse the Story of a King I do not see,
when all I know is what I read, and in prayer I yield
in adoration unknown, yet known to the heart of mine.
Imagination turned to vision; and the vision to song.

I breathe the breath I do not see. Perhaps if
in earnest I try, the traveling light I could spy.
And what of distant lands, planets and stars,
illustrated for all to learn that they are truly there!

The Spirit of Love Mary received, for us to meet
Jesus the Son. With crucial labor she birthed Him,
in a barn of Bethlehem. That Christmas Day angels
sang Hallelujahs to the King, the Savior of the world.

Lucine EVAHAN 12/2025

Come Spirit of God! Creator of beginnings,
of Heavens and the Earth.
Now the Water appearing which seems
to be there, ready to imbue and irrigate
the soil drenched and ready for Your love.

Come breath of God, come and give life
to my languid soul and heart.
Speak words of love as it was
in Eden, when still intact and pure
at the first rays of morning sun.

The earth is still turning, the ocean waters remain.
Sounds of fear engulf my heart, saying to the flying gulls,
rest awhile on the sandy beach, till I return to my home with hope.
Along with my friends, we mull over our unkind questions, quivering.
Was it the raging winds, was it a misfit wire, was it a tattered mind
that ignited such unwanted fires? Was it my fault not praying?
The evening brings the setting sun, I sigh and walk back to my hotel,
Facing these numbing thoughts, I am unknown to myself,
who will help my grieving heart but You O Lord.

Today is the day of great sorrow, for my American Jewish friend and for me. Where do I stand? I am on the side of the Palestinian Pastor who is distributing food, clothing, providing help with the members of his church to the suffering people in Gaza. I am standing with the Israeli mother who is still groaning with grueling sorrow for her baby who was tortured and killed at the hands of the terrorist. I am standing with Jesus, asking Him to help me take part in His prayer, “Your Kingdom come and Your will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.” I am on the side of the Prophet Jeremiah* who wrote: “Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom; let not the strong man glory in his strength; let not the rich man glory in his riches. But only in this should one glory: in his earnest devotion to Me. For I the Lord act with kindness, justice and equity in the world; for in these I delight declares the Lord.”

*from the Tanakh, the Holy Scriptures. The book of Jeremiah. Traditional Hebrew translation.

He had asked me to give Him the forest, the wilderness and the mountains to Him. I consented. That was some years prior the Covid era. As yesterday came to be, I proceeded to meet Him at my secret garden in our backyard. I sat on my usual wooden outdoor chair, the small table in front of me. I gazed at the pecan tree, now luscious and full with shiny green leaves. I put my Bible and notebook on the table, I had peace in my heart. He called my name. Only three days ago, I had asked Him to hold me in His strong loving arms. The faith of His Son now surged in my soul.
All else vanished at His presence.