Daily Archives: April 11, 2015

Re-blogging of Yellow Brick Road

This is original post on http://www.findingmyverse.com/ I found it awesome! Please check out this blog, she writes about topics of God with a unique perceptive.

In the Wizard of Oz, Dorothy had a vision of what she was looking for at the end of her yellow brick road. Dorothy was in a movie and what was at the end of her road was scripted. We don’t always know what’s at the end of ours. Life isn’t always a fantasy.

Every brick is a step along the road. When the road is being built you start with one brick, and add more to make it grow. These bricks are like the events in our lives. Every event contributes to the completion of our road.

If you aren’t looking and step into a ditch, you could trip and fall. But you get yourself off the ground and keep walking.

If something in our own life is missing, we fall, which is an opportunity to learn and create a step so we can get up and learn how to not fall again.

Life always comes with distractions that may knock us off the path. The witch placed the poppy field on the path. It appeared beautiful, but was actually poison. What looked like beautiful flowers was actually poison.

Along this path we meet friends. A friend is someone God gives us on our yellow brick road to encourage and lift us up when the whole world seems to have disappeared. Dorothy met the scarecrow, tin man, and lion. We need to recognize our real friends.

At the end of the road is our vision, our Oz- our Verse…our Purpose, our Passion, our Path, our absolute fulfiller of life… is the path – along our yellow brick road.

If These Walls could Speak

If these walls could speak, what would they say?

Would they talk about the years of tears? Of both kinds, the tears of joy and those of sorrow.

Would they tell of the little bundles of joy that just begun their adventure?

Or would they talk about the sickness and death they’ve seen?

Right now these walls are all that are holding me up.

The pressure on my heart made it feel like a hand was squeezing until all the love was drained and was just a puddle on the floor.

The hand was just going to squeeze harder, now.

How do you say, ‘Good-bye’ for the last time ever?

I can’t just say, ‘Bye! See you on the other side of eternity!’

How do you choose your last words to someone?

These walls have probably have heard hundreds of last words.

But I want to make mine special.

What I want to do is throw myself on to her, and cry, ’don’t go! How can life go on? Will the world turn at all, without you? ‘

But how can I do that to her, when she’s suffering so much?

I try to build a wall so my tears won’t flow; that wall has been used too much, it came up too easy.

Things that go up easy come down easy.

I try to stay strong, but she’s the one I draw my strength from,

She’s always been the strong one

I can’t bear to look at her

I try to draw on the strength from past troubles that got me through them

The only thing worse than saying good-bye is to not say good-bye

So I put on my mask of a smile and reach inside my sole

for a handful worth of borrowed strength from the past

In the room I didn’t need borrowed strength because even on borrowed time she gave me strength

That night the heavens shed tears for a great woman

It was as if God was crying for my loss, but had joyful tears that his daughter had come home

If these walls could speak maybe they would stay silent because they know words mean a million different things if we would just listen we’d understand how to get our feelings better across.

The walls listen and with their silence they comfort.

These walls don’t hold me up anymore, but the hand of God does

And His strength never dies.