robin's journey

even when life comes to a finish there is still beauty to be found in endings it is here rhythms of hope come alive and new life begins in under-ground darkness of winter

Father, I long to come out and dance but I have forgotten how. All I know in this moment is how to hide under waves of must do’s, one is completed, another arrives, luring my soul farther away from your presence. Will you hear my faint whispers that are hard to voice from hidden places under deep covers of activity? My soul longs for silence. My soul longs to be heard. Teach me how to let go of lists that bind. Teach my soul God how to dance again with you in silence and solitude even when demands of life are presen...

It is now 5:30 a.m. I have been up for an hour. I believe the reason could be the change of life thing kicking in, I am sure! My solution was not to waste an hour laying in bed, but to write. Here is my unedited poem from an early morning attempt to pen some poetry, and pray, until sleep arrives taking me back to bed. Life is a gift or so I have heard it said yet often like other gifts it is disregarded, taken for granted, abused, not embraced or cherished. Each life is unique, full of colors and textures, to create a beautiful portrait that fits into a larger frame marked by grace. When pictures fall or fade away into darkness colors are washed away and textures become broken and dull only loves unconditional color can bring back light to reveal a present worth a second chance to open and explore numerous new possibilities. Life is a gift to hold, and explore questions to ask are: how has your portrait been painted? who has painted it? what color is your world? Pax Robin (who is now g...

Over the last week my heart has been extremely heavy for all the seniors in my church who are ill, going through change, and who are battling cancer. Also my heart is heavy for my four children and their mates who are not following Christ, and the papers I am still finishing. The burdens were way to heavy yesterday, so I decided to drive out to my favorite hiding place. About 11km outside of my city there is a prayer wall, prayer path, and prayer labyrinth. I usually go out to walk the prayer labyrinth, but yesterday I did not get past the prayer wall. I just sat and reflected on the heaviness within my heart for all who are dear to me. I was there for about three hours. Communication with God when the heaviness is too much to carry is like a body message for the soul. Jesus to you I pray Your beams of love fall around Even when I can not see Hold each burden Hear each prayer Help my soul to release Knowing deep within you hear my prayers. I am a person who loves symbols. The rock...

I was reading that true Haiku is about nature , with this in mind I thought I would write a poem about today. I enjoy Haiku it is easy and a quick way to write out what is happening in my world. I posted this Haiku on my twitter, but it will not be shown on my blog so...I am posting it. I wrote these poems together after I posted my last post titled, "Spring is Teasing the Prairies." Arise Salubrious sun Arrived on a fine March day Snow is vanishing To be five again Rubber boots on singing free Splashing in spring water Surrounding my soul In sun-kisses from heaven's grace Forever ecstasy I found out after posting my haiku on Twitter that there is a program on Twitter called twihaiku . I posted my poetry. I am getting brave posting all over the web! I pray the salubrious sun is shinning wherever you are! Oh...for the curious, salubrious means to promote health. I am trying to add to my vocabulary...Ha! I even know how to say it! Suh-loo-bree-uhs! Pax Robin P.S...

Picture By Allwyn Set Free I found my soul trapped in a colossal glass jar with her lid securely glued on. Within this optical illusion my souls imagination effervesced with prolific words desperate to escape Uncomplainingly through lonely days my soul waited secretly for a moment when the top would open to provide freedom from captivity Then I saw my soul standing so alone within this solid glass wall nowhere to hide or flee from confusion and shame both were present with an impious plan to destroy all creativity from my souls now weak imagination I tried with all my strength to turn the lid, but it would not budge I cried out for help with hope that perhaps someone would hear my heart cry to release stress and pain setting my soul free from tight conditions that were slowly smothering my deprived and exhausted soul Within a twinkle of time a Master Poet heard my cry His love and grace moved and covered the lid it popped open with immense force setting my soul free to soar above con...

Hopeful Warm weather is near Ice still cracks beneath my feet Soon spring will blossom

For my poet friends and artist and those who simply like to view interesting blogs check out " Postal Poetry ." I found this site intriguing to my artist eye and creatively fascinating to my poetic heart. For the creative among us... You can enter your own post card ... My favorite is titled, " Dead Souls " by Nathan Horowitz.

What a week! Learning patience perhaps, but love is what motivated this grandma of choice, to open her home and heart. My journey with Sasha (mom), and her two daughters, Haliey (5) and Teela (18 month's), has been an interesting adventure. I have written about them in past posts. Sasha came into our life five and a half years ago when Haliey was three months old. Mom was a struggling single eighteen year old who was trying to raise a child on her own. Haliey entered our life and we have never let go. My husband and I intentionally choose to become grandparents of choice. On the ongoing drama-journey with Sasha, Sunday night March 8th, brought forth a new dimension to the plot. Please know as you read this story of life, it is love (Jesus) that guides my husband and I. All glory belongs to God; he is the one who has given us the resources and compassion to open our life to a widow and two orphans. I have decided life (God) likes to throw humor my way. On Saturday night c...

My day was full of listening to life stories, all vastly different from one another, yet in a strange way very similar. I wrote a poem to share the thoughts I had on what I experienced. The eyes are a door way into a very hidden and mysterious place within the soul. Old Eyes To look deep within old eyes is to see a reflection of humanity that contains stories from a life lived in past and present. Some have gone deep into caverns hidden by a human shell only to reveal shadows from a backdrop of once a strong soul. To listen closely to tales from memory looking deep into old eyes is a glimpse back into self. By Robin Sloboda

Invitation Oh do you have time to linger for just a little while out of your busy and very important day for the goldfinches that have gathered in a field of thistles for a musical battle, to see who can sing the highest note, or the lowest, or the most expressive of mirth, or the most tender? Their strong, blunt beaks drink the air as they strive melodiously not for your sake and not for mine and not for the sake of winning but for sheer delight and gratitude— believe us, they say, it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world. I beg of you, do not walk by without pausing to attend to this rather ridiculous performance. It could mean something. It could mean everything. It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote: You must change your life. From Red Bird: Poems by Mary Oliver, published by Beacon Press, 2008

Through silver clouds his dream transcends all understanding an illusion or real, can it be now. In pain his dream touches deep within comforting broken places with love divine. In rest his dream calms, directs, guides and protects. his dream has come revealing truth, drawing travelers to drink from streams that bring life. an illusion or real, his story blows through time his hand reaches down from within a cloud of unknowing to those who believe in his dream.

My head is completely full of words after new triumphs accomplished in spinning academic books around what has been the outcome of silence filled days in isolation closeness to God or distance at this point neither seem to be a final conclusion, all I can muster is to pound keys on my keyboard releasing weeks of anxious emotions soothe by returning to silence. Again, in stillness hidden words appear filled with celebration the end is here followed by creative beginnings to embrace again in silent isolation. I found a poem in the midst of all the information and words that are crammed in my mind! I finally have a weekend with no pressures...I am going to rest.