Bible Study Live | John 1

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Hands Not Held

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  In a room where greetings weave,  a gesture extends—a common thread.  Yet her hands, folded, quietly cleave  to the fabric of a past that bled.   For where some see an offer, a sign,  she sees the shadows of a darker play.  Those hands, once weapons, cross a line  that to others seems miles away.   Imagine the hands, not tools of peace,  but of war, that touched without grace,  that stripped the night of any lease  on safety, on a sanctified space.   So, when hands reach out to bridge a gap,  her heart retreats to a fortress old,  built on tremors of a former trap,  lined with stories, silent and cold.   Yet in her strength, a tale unfolds,  not of the hands that caused her fear,  but of the power that she now holds,  to define touch, to hold it dear.   In every greeting she might refuse,  there is a stand, a boundary set.  Her hands are hers to use—or not—  a choice...
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Shared Warmth

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In the quiet hours, as I rest and heal, Two small bodies curl close, their warmth I feel. Not stolen, but gifted, a sacred embrace, A reminder of love in this tender space. Their purring hums a hymn of grace, Echoing rhythms I cannot replace. Healing flows not just through me, But through this bond of shared energy. I think of Christ’s call, his radical plea, “Love even your enemies; let them be free.” Not hoarding our light, not guarding our flame, But sharing it freely, in mercy’s holy name. For warmth is a cycle, a generous give, A way to remind us we all need to live. And here in my rest, their closeness a prayer, God’s love whispered softly through the care that we share. So I hold my kitties, and they hold me too, In this moment of giving, our love is renewed. Though I mend from the body, the spirit is clear— We thrive when we’re open, when we draw near.    
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You Saw Me Whole

In the storm of shouted hate, you stood — quiet, unwavering — not for reward, not for show, but because love called you there.   While laws were written to erase me, you learned to say my name like it had always been mine. You listened, even when it hurt.   I stood half-formed in my becoming, unsure, unseen, unclaimed, and still, you looked with steady eyes and said, “I see her.”   Before I knew what beauty meant, you reflected it back to me.   Your voice, a lantern in the dark. Your hand, extended when others pulled away. You asked nothing but dared everything. You chose to risk your peace for ours.   Ally is too small a word. You are kin by courage, family by firelight, a witness to truth in flesh and soul.   I walk freer because you stayed. I speak louder because you believed. I am whole because you saw me that way. For my sisters, Suzanne and Rachel,  who saw me whole before the world did. Your love gave me the courage to live as my whole self. ...
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