I love your way with words

Every day in October, I’m sharing poetry-writing inspiration, exercises, and prompts on jordanelisheva.com for the #31poems challenge. This is the poem I wrote in response to today’s prompt:

I love your way with words.

I love the way you see the world
and see to share your view,
recording word-pictures —
your mind’s eye your camera lens.

I love how you seek out the beautiful
without denying the existence of the ugly;
how you recognize that the splendor of light
is seen best in stark contrast to darkness.

I love how you write your own story
without trying to control the narrative;
simply recording the plot twists
as a way to celebrate triumph over conflict.

I love the way you use your words to heal
and encourage and strengthen,
using your gift to bless others…
using it to bless me.

I love your way with words

For a behind-the-scenes look at the making of this poem, visit today’s #31poems post.

jordan elisheva – a new adventure

“Oh, you sew? Do you make all your clothes?” 
I wish.

I wish I spent more time in my sewing room
than in cramped department-store fitting rooms

I wish my closet held clothes I would be proud of
instead of a mish-mash of cheap impulse buys

I wish I knew who made my clothes
beyond “a faceless sweatshop worker”

I wish I invested in what I love
instead of wasting time and money on what I don’t

And sometimes wishes do come true – when you transform them into goals! I’m doing just that and I’m helping other people achieve similar goals by proposing a simple solution. Visit my new website to see what I mean: jordanelisheva.com

the world in His hands

Abba
the world…
it needs You
I am Your ambassador
it’s my calling
my responsibility
to represent You
to the world
I feel the weight
of the task at hand
I want to fulfill
this great calling
that I have been
blessed to carry
but it is too much for me
I kneel in prayer
and sink lower
onto my face
Abba
the world!
it needs You!

Yes
You whisper
it needs Me
and yes
you are My ambassador
so I will use you
to show the world Myself
but the world
does not need you
I am holding the world
and I am holding you
Let me take the weight
as you fulfill your call
but do not take on
My responsibilities
for I don’t need you
but I do want you
Remember this
that it may not be
a burden to you
but a blessing

what are stories made of?

What are stories made of?

Sugar and spice and everything nice

Is that what stories are made of?
Not stories worth the telling.

Intrigue, battles, misunderstandings, suffering, darkness, accusations…

These are the makings of a good story.
Think of the greatest stories – books we are reading decades or centuries after their creators are in the grave. What makes us read and reread them?
Conflict. Hardship.

And the ultimate triumph over them.
Think of the Greatest Story – a Book written over decades and centuries by our Creator. What makes people across cultures and generations turn to it again and again?
Conflict. Hardship.

And the Ultimate Triumph over them.
Each of us has a story.

Will yours be worth the telling?

mama’s body

mama’s thirtieth birthday was special
but what I remember most isn’t the golden crown, cake, or icecream
what I remember most is mama’s body

mama’s body, great with child
I thought it was beautiful
and I knew it was a miracle

I remembered being three
when mama told me she couldn’t carry babies
her body rebelled against her desires

but God crafted a miracle
through a little girl’s prayer (my prayer)
and gave not just one, but two babies

the first came when mama was twenty-seven
the next, two weeks after mama’s thirtieth birthday
two sisters for the girl who was supposed to be alone

three daughters for a mama whose body
rebelled against her desires
this body that seemed too weak to carry a baby, carried three

and continues to carry them
at first, she carried us in her womb
then in her arms

she still carries us
even though so often our bodies are far from hers
she carries us in her heart

sometimes I hate my body
it’s weak, and that isn’t its only flaw
some of its flaws were inherited from mama

…inherited from mama…
my body came from hers
perhaps mine could be as beautiful as hers

I look at my body again and smile
because my body came from my mama’s
and mama’s body is beautiful