Lady Waiting Read online

Lady Waiting

  Published by:

  Hope International Ministries, Mt Morgan, Queensland 4714.

  Distributed in Australia by:

  Hope International Ministries

  www.him.org.au

  [email protected]

  All rights reserved. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or any other – except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Lady Waiting

  A poignant journey that began with a search for inner peace

  and lead to betrothal to the King of Kings

  C L Secretan

  Forward by Ken Legg 

  Lady Waiting is a treasure chest of precious poems, reminiscences and meditations from the pen, or more precisely the heart, of Christine Secretan. 

  You will find no camouflaged messages, carefully concealed and hidden away in this volume of writings. On the contrary, in Lady Waiting Christine bares her soul and brings us into her personal, private world in a most intimate fashion. Through her journal-like recollections she shares not only her joys and victories, but also her struggles, disappointments, fears and forebodings.

  And it is this utter transparency which endears this book to us, for as we join the author on her own personal journey of life we make two discoveries ourselves. First, we are brought into an intimate knowledge of the writer herself. (Though I have never personally met Christine, I feel totally acquainted with her through the self-disclosure Lady Waiting renders.) Secondly, we can’t help but find bits and pieces of our own lives. Maybe experiences we can identify with or thoughts we have had but pushed aside because of our unwillingness to acknowledge or deal with.

  Christine has discovered the healing balm known as honesty and it is this precious gift she passes on to her readers. But she doesn’t stop there. Christine is no pessimistic poet leaving us in depression and despair. Throughout her writings there is woven the wonderful theme of hope, that is the product of faith.

  It is a tremendous privilege, and gives me great pleasure, to be able to commend to you Lady Waiting.

  Ken Legg

  Author & Pastor, Gold Coast, Australia

 

  Contents:

  Forward

  Introduction

  Chapters:

  1No signs on the road

  So many roads

  Many a pot of tea

  Diaspora

  On the edge

  A trophy if I win

  My melancholy mood

  Two-way street

  Played for kicks

  Pendulum

  An audience with him

  History

  Resolution Street

  The traveller’s prayer

  Sight for the blind

  Bridging the realms

  Trust in the Lord

  The Servant’s creed

  Just the preacher

  2Vagabonds

  Facing face

  Wild thing

  Joined at the wrist

  Time to heal

  Broken spirits

  Volcanic

  Impervious

  Tests of time

  No need

  A stitch saves nine

  Moved by the pool

  Accountability

  On my pillow weeping

  Purpose

  Just because he asked

  Lamp high (Sweet memory)

  Devotion

  3Mud on our hands

  Life from the dirt

  Destiny

  The judged

  A trail of footprints behind

  Memories of a Girl

  Hitchhikers beware

  Divorce

  Effort

  Balancing the scales

  Stature

  You cannot measure happiness

  If my mirror was Thee

  Remember me

  Holy Oil

  Deep (Water from above)

  Darkness

  Light within the light

  He is the victor, let’s praise him

  4In the dark

  Walls

  One step from the sunshine

  Idle fingers

  Feline

  Master of disguise

  Virtual reality

  Unmarked graves

  Willing to bleed

  Ageing soldiers

  The faces of war

  Double vision

  Each to the Lord

  Nothing so tragic

  The beauty within

  What price a smile

  5Flutters of the heart

 

  Wretched

  No song to sing

  How brightly she sparkles

  Childlike still

  On air

  Heart’s desire

  The sculpture in the garden

  Waves

  Whispers of your name

  Waiting on the moon

  Missing you

  Such a duet

  Encore for my heart

  The lady and her knight

  6Love’s touch

  The depth of heart

  Thin ice

  Pilgrimage of promise

  Unspeakable joy

  Magic moments

  A jonquil and five pennies

  For love

  To make you happy

  Enigma of one

  In your hands I dance

  The singer and his song

  Betrothal

  The music that is you

  7Love in the flesh

  The difference is you

  Cockroaches for memories

  The five star kiss

  Captured

  A taste of heaven

  Chocolate

  Lifted

  His machine and me

  No defence

  Woman

  Passion

  Sunrise, Honey with you

  Ecstasy

  Your heart

  8The promise of harvest

  Perfect pair

  Full seasons

  Psychology of flowers

  A song to the father of my baby

  For always (a child’s eyes)

  To be a mum

  Rebecca’s farewell

  Mother hen wings

  Plenty

  The mould is love

  Her father’s daughter

  The Father’s love

  Salvation today

  The great I AM

  9Making sense of the picture

  Behind the veil

  Windows in skin

  The gem cutter’s window

  Life without love

  Treasure-trove of love

  All his glory

  Female of the species

  Carousel gone wild

  Towers

  Language of the heart

  Facets

  Portrait of a fool

  Invitation to dine

  Don’t knock the manna

  Living water

  Signed, sealed, to be delivered

  Called to heart

  10It was in the fine print

  Born abroad

  Face to face with you

  Unsettled

  The searcher’s trail

  Links

  Clarity of vision

  Just a thought

  A mountain of time

  Empty hands

  The lighthouse

  Red apples

  Our choice

  Armageddon

  Under Jesus’ love

 
More than a name

  11Listen…God’s calling

  Signpost “Lucifer’s Way” “

  Seal of the prophets

  The Craftsman’s stones

  God made

  Peace

  On my knees (Shalom)

  Perfect me with your love

  Worthy

  Scarred, not broken

  Eternity is forever

  Year of jubilee

  Sheep

  12The Bridegroom is coming

  Promise (at your feet)

  The Promised Land

  Heart song – A Messianic people

  The Father’s love (reprise)

  Yeshua Ha Mashiach

  Sanctified

  Come what may (a song of joy)

  Overflowing

  Hunger for your love

  Every prayer

  My heart lifted high

  A new beginning

  Ready

  Introduction

  From a chicken came courage for God had spoken.

  The chicken (a four month old leghorn-cross pullet) had been missing for over a week; marauding dogs meant hope seemed foolish. Then, there it was, pacing the old picket fence that formed one wall of the run. When I opened the gate it ran straight to the feed troughs. It appeared perfectly well. I thanked God. A voice, the voice of all knowing urged me to inspect my young charge. Panic replaced my jubilation. The water it was drinking was streaming from tubes that protruded from its body. Turning the fowl over I discovered a scant covering of feathers concealed a ghastly sight...Gangrenous flesh alive with maggots.

 

  I prayed. I prayed for the nerve to carry out the job I knew had to be done. Again I was spoken to. What right was mine? Its life had been preserved thus far - through wandering, against assault, and now my condemnation. Penitent I saw myself in that chicken and remembered how for me too God had intervened. I treated its wound as best as I could, placed it in a wooden box and prayed. Not so much for its healing (this I felt had already been proven) but a prayer of thanks for the lesson I had learned.

  The pullet’s recovery and restoration to a life productive and valued closed the parable; one that spoke of the heart and wisdom of God. God had spoken. With urging I had listened. When years later his voice called me to speak I determined not only would God open my mouth; there would be ears to listen.

 

  1No signs on the road

  So many roads

  By the side of the road I stop;

  A traveller in need of a rest I relax;

  A soul desiring companionship

  I strike up a chat…

  Urged on by the clock

  I reluctantly return to the track,

  But which way should I go?

  There are so many forks, so many roads.

  At the end of my road

  Is my destination; this much I know.

  But will I arrive there tomorrow

  Or get lost en route?

  Shall I go directly as planned?

  Or detour and look around?

  Will I have fine weather,

  Or find myself flood bound?

  Shall I listen to advice,

  Or leave their opinion their own?

  Shall I walk with the familiar,

  Or be challenged by the unknown?

  Shall I travel with company

  Or go it alone?

  If every question is a junction

  Where are all the signs?

  Many a pot of tea

  The cackles,

  The groans,

  The feelings outpoured

  As we sit chatting

  Over another pot of tea.

  My grandparents,

  My mum,

  Dad joins on a break from work,

  And I sit listening intently

  As an elixir of heart-warming yarns is poured for me.

  Memories...

  Of fun

  As through seasons they’ve walked:

  Stories of autumn leaves, snow, spring flowers

  And berry picking; all ended with a tale of a funfair by the sea.

  History...

  When Vikings crossed;

  Family talks complete with ghosts of course;

  Neighbours, friends, the houses lived in, And genetic strands that like arms hold me to each scene.

  Tragedy...

  What was lost

  When the country was at war.

  The bonding. The terror. The sirens and bombings.

  Duty, pride and fear recalled - Granddad served in the Navy.

  Reflecting

  They make a fresh pot.

  Talk swings to a new shore -

  Australia. The land of my birth.

  What struggles, what laughs they’ve had since landing here.

  While sipping

  They chat. I think a lot,

  Wondering if I’ll ever get to answer the call -

  To return to this land of ancestors and beginnings,

  To return to these origins that beckon me still.

  Diaspora

  Diaspora,

  Historians’ delight;

  Banishment,

  Beginning of night.

  Ostracism,

  The hunted in flight;

  Exile,

  The bearers of light.

  Seclusion,

  All buried like gems;

  Separation,

  Now trophies of men.

  Expatriation,

  Surviving in blends;

  Diaspora, In reconciliation it ends.

 

  On the edge

  Perched high on the precipice,

  This rock face,

  This ledge

  I abandon all reason and sit facing the edge.

  Looking out

  I see nothing, not even clouds.

  No burdens.

  No crowds.

  No pressures.

  No persons who are loud.

  Nothing - and I have no desire

  To be returned to reality’s ground.

  Here the air is fresh

  And breathing deep

  Its purity purges me of all that once set me on edge.

  This fortress is my rock;

  I come here to sit, to take stock.

  But when the book is read

  The statement declares a shortfall of strength.

  Bound to this life I must accept

  That often, I will be found here,

  Sitting on the edge.

 

  A trophy if I win

  In the beginning

  My desire is to win.

  In the beginning

  There is something worth believing in.

  I endure the training,

  It is worth the pain.

  I see in the training

  The vision of what will be gained.

  Beginning with eagerness, self-confidence,

  Expectation and smiles;

  Enduring the failure, disappointment,

  Frustration and cries.

  Beginning

  Initiates the training.

  Training

  Arrives at the start of the race.

  In the beginning

  I run hard with the pack.

  I think at the beginning:

  “My training earned me a place on this track.”

  In agony I keep
running,

  I won’t be shamed;

  Only those who keep running

  Are remembered at the end of the day.

  The race over,

  What has been gained?

  The finish is a beginning:

  Of reflections,

  Of training,

  Of a new goal to be prized.

  My melancholy mood

  ‘One day’ – words glibly tossed around.

  Words that mean never when the world has let you down.

  “One day!” is how the mockers taunt you

  When all you need is someone to extend a hand.

  ‘One day’, like that soulful sound of bass

  Holds the power to sink me, to bond me to its tone.

  But ‘One day’ is the rainbow’s promised gold,

  Yes, ‘One day’ is the song I sing while walking in the rain.

  Two-way street

  “He goes his way. I go mine.”

  “She’s into music; I like to cast a line.”

  He. She. Her. Him. Accusations abound.

  He. She. Her. Him. On the roundabout again.

  “I’ve done my bit. I’m not trying anymore.

  “It’s a two-way street this marriage scene.”

  Is the catchword of the war.

  A pedestrian am I, a witness to the flow,

  To all the horns and honking with misery their tone.

  A driver am I, caught up in the flow All the horns and honking play the song we moan:

  “Two-way streets it is known have not unity in mind.

  “The purpose of the two way street

  “Ensures no two vehicles ever meet.”

  “They’re good at keeping traffic flowing,

  “Keeping each one in their lane;

  “Paths may cross, yes that is fine but never ever must they be

  “Allowed to travel side by side.

  Paths may cross, but should they meet…

  “It’s a two-way street this marriage scene.”