“I wanna dance to the rythym of God. Let my life be lifted up! I hear the holy song, and my heart beats to the rythym. I feel the cadence call, move in time and get on the floor. I live my life like a song—to the rythym of God!”
(see the full song in the post BELOW!)
:) LOVE! It makes me want to dance and pray like a crazy woman!Tags: /30 Day Challenge /Happiness /Song /Lyrics /God /Andy Cloninger /Cadence /CHWC /Rhythm of God /Prayer /Praise /Joy /Smile Reblog notes: 1 note
My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior
for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed:
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his Name.
He has mercy on those who fear him
in every generation.
He has shown the strength of his arm,
he has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones,
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has come to the help of his servant Israel
for he has remembered his promise of mercy,
the promise he made to our fathers,
to Abraham and his children forever.
In the face of your enemies, in the face of harassment, ridicule, and doubt, you held firm in your faith.
Even in your abandonment, alone and without friends, you held firm in your faith.
Even as you faced your own mortality, you held firm in your faith.
I pray that I may be as bold in my beliefs as you, St. Joan.
I ask that you ride alongside me in my own battles.
Help me be mindful that what is worthwhile can be won when I persist.
Help me hold firm in my faith.
Help me believe in my ability to act well and wisely.
Amen.Tags: /Joan of Arc /Saint /Prayer Reblog notes: 2 notes
“Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled, and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out, grab, and embrace life.
They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots.
They dried the tears of my children and caressed the love of my life. They held my rifle and wiped my tears when I went off to war.They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent.
They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son.
Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and walked my daughter down the aisle.
Yet, they were strong and sure when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole and lifted a plow off of my best friend’s foot.
They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn’t understand.
They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.
These hands are the mark of where I’ve been and the ruggedness of my life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side, and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ.”Tags: /Hands /Prayer /Life Reblog notes: 1 note