Green-gray swells billow, unmoor me from shifting earth. Lapis and slate crash, spill,
scour the sky until horizon fades into vapor, vanishes.
My lungs boil with brine.
I claw the deepening dark only to grasp ice and salt, wisps of ghost trails through my fingers.
Sin-clad, I sink,
plummet toward that gulf with no memory, that fatherless tomb.
Yet gleaming metal slices the deep.
You anchor your feet upon the waters. You hold me through the churning.
Upon your whisper I float limp through murk and froth.
You peel off my wretchedness, buoy me through the glimmering.
You press back the tide, break me through the jagged surface.
Seafoam bursts and scatters like quicksilver.
Air blooms anew. I gasp in Your light.
Kathryn Butler 
Thank you for your article about Pain not being a punishment. My mom is in FT skilled nursing existing in a Gerry chair, blind, dementia and has limited conversation. She was a vibrant, vivacious woman who loves the Lord. Most the time I can be encouraged that our Heavenly Father will call her home in His timing. God used your article to bring me comfort. Thank you!
LikeLike
Thank you so much for your kind words, Christina. I’m so glad it was helpful. Blessings to you and your family!
LikeLike
Hello, I read your article about pain not being punishment. I appreciated it very much. I do want to ask for clarification on a sentence: “If I could return to that moment, I would pray for the Holy Spirit to reveal her preciousness to her” In this sentence it appears by my reading that you are calling the Holy Spirit a “her”. Was that a typo or intentional, or am I not reading the sentence in the right construct?
Thank you for clarifying.
Lisa
LikeLike
Hi Lisa, thank you for your comment. Both “hers” in that sentence refer to my patient’s mother. I wish I had prayed for the Holy Spirit to help her understand her value in Christ.
Thanks,
Katie
LikeLike