In Your Midst

by Mary Beth on May 1, 2018

Mighty Right Hand

is dedicated to my cherished mother,

Shirley Marie.

Although Shirley Marie lived an ordinary life,

 she shined an authentic, godly witness

to the sincere love, compassion and mercy of Jesus.

She loved justice and mercy, while walking humbly with God.

A persevering saint,

with a strong faith in our Prophet, Priest, and King.

Shirley Marie was a novice writer,

eager to grow and wrestle in the gift of creativity writing.

It is in this very remembrance,

I delight to honor her and to some degree,

continue to affirm our mutual calling and bond as writers.

Through many trials she endured to the glory of God,

running her race as a faithful servant and steadfast prayer warrior,

who echoed a rare and fond intimacy with our great God.

Often I knew God was in her midst.

The word midst, means in the middle.

God is right in the midst or middle of our ordinary, daily lives.


Gifted author, Henri Nouwen,

affirms her experience:

“Prayer is not a pious decoration of life,

but the breadth of human existence.”


 I cherished any opportunity for hot tea with her,

especially quieter hours of the late evening.

All alone, we would giggle and discuss our answered prayers,

the reality of heaven, or our love of Scripture and books;

and of course our family affairs.

It’s no surpass to those who knew Shirley Marie,

she was born on Valentines Day.

How fitting for a woman of such depth,

tender love, wise insight, and godly passions.

Yet, at the age of only forty-nine,

the world was not worthy of her anymore.

She is with Christ, truly savoring His presence;

awaiting the right time for our reunion.

I miss her deeply,

and long for the glorious day when

we’ll reunite in pure joy, peace and celebration.


I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies,

it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.    

Jn. 12:24


As a poet and writer,

I penned this poem in remembrance;

a healing balm on a cold and long winter morning.

And of course, a hot cup of lady grey tea was a must.


Mother of Pearl

Many years past

Life welcomed you into heaven.

 A raging tremor to us;

Full of questions, struggles and shock then.

Yet life this side of glory

Is dry thirsty land.

Filled with longing, often waiting, seeking-

The touch of Abba’s hand.

A walk of faith in

His tender embrace:

Faithful, true, and abounding in steadfast love.

Yet you dear sister, see face to face.

With tender eyes I now understand

Trials you suffered with pain.

You know fully and are fully known,

All glory to Jesus name.

Your pure heart and presence I miss immensely:

In our home, with tea or daily disciplines.

Yet, somehow I feel you with me,

As one who cannot explain the wind.

Countless and faithful years it was evident

You prayed as a warrior.

In weakness and frailty, yet confident

In the strength of our Savior.

Among the “great cloud of witnesses”

I trust you see and celebrate

Each tear, thought and desire perceived.

His will of love so great.

Yet deep calls to deep, why Lazarus?

Abba’s love for you echoes and rings.

Trust and courage may cover our voyage,

Together we’re under His merciful wings.

All joy at the grand wedding.

Anticipating a dance with you,

In the fragrance of Christ.

We’ll sip tea together again,

Covered as morning dew.  ~mba

The Bible was written in tears, and to tears it yields its best treasures. A.W. Tozer


Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses,

let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin

that so easily entangles,

and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus.   Heb. 12: 1,2, Ps. 15.


“We are compassed about by a great cloud of witnesses, whose hearts throb in sympathy with every effort and struggle, and who thrill with the joy at every success. How should this thought check and rebuke every worldly feeling and unworthy purpose, and enshrine us, in the midst of a forgetful and nonspiritual world, with an atmosphere of heavenly peace! They have overcome-have risen-are crowned, glorified; but still they remain to us, our assistants, our comforters, and in every hour of darkness their voice speaks to us: “So we grieved, so we struggled, so we fainted, so we doubted; but we have overcome, we have obtained, we have seen, we have found, -and in our victory behold the certainty of thy own.” H.B. Stowe

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