THE WRITINGS OF RUTH MARTIN
The Preacher's Wife

BROKEN

Like broken birds that flail about,
We limp on Earthbound wings;
But one day we shall soar on high
And hear the angels sing.

Our broken dreams shall disappear-
Our heartaches will all cease.
Our hurts and griefs shall fall behind
And we shall rise in peace.

All care will be forgotten
As Darkness fades away.
We'll fly into the Sunrise
Of God's eternal Day.

all rights. ruthrmartin.2001

Comments from Ruth on BROKEN

The front of our house is practically all glass windows. We can sit in the comfort of our sunroom and enjoy the wonders of nature unfolding before us. At night, we have visits from bears, opossums, foxes, raccoons and rarely, thank goodness, a skunk. During the day, we have the lovely view of mountains, sometimes with awesome storms above us, but mostly with sunny skies, white fluffy clouds, and often a soft, rising mist. An abundance of trees and flowers attract a variety of butterflies, bees, birds and squirrels. Bears drop by quite often in daytime also.

We have bird feeders and a birdbath just outside the window and we love to watch the antics of the many birds. However, all that glass acts like a mirror that reflects the outside and sadly, sometimes birds mistakenly think it is open space and occasionally one will fly into the window .

I wrote this little poem after one such sad time...we always feel the loss of one of our little friends . Whenever we see such an accident we try to save the little fallen creature. Sometimes we can love it back to health and have the joy of returning it to nearby shrubbery to safely fly away. This is not always possible. On this day, the hapless little bird fell, and began thrashing about helplessly, frightened and in pain. a crushed and broken soft little bundle of feathers. All our efforts were not enough to save it's fragile life.

When this happens, we feel a sadness and grief over the loss of even such a tiny life, and helplessness because we could not save it.

( We have lost many beloved pets through the years and one day I told my husband, " I think when a creature dies it becomes a song around God's throne, because He is the giver of life and maybe that life returns to Him to praise Him". My sweet husband, not wanting to "preach" at me, said," That sounds beautiful. Where is chapter and verse?")

Just as that tiny bird spent it's remaining strength trying to take wings to safety, so we beat ourselves mercilessly trying to escape the pains and cares of life. Only as we take refuge "under His wings" can we find healing while on our earthly journey. But one day we shall shed the fetters and shackles that ensnare us and cease from our thrashing and struggles and we shall soar into Heaven's Eternal Day to praise our Redeemer around His throne forever and forever.

WRITINGS OF RUTH MARTIN

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