07 Tuesday Jan 2020
Oh folly of man, oh arrogance of my kindred, whilst thou would not humblest thyself in the knowledge of thy God and recognize His greatness amidst the bottomless quality 
of thy immeasurable comparative insignificance, others accomplish His will whilst thy bosom remains empty.
Written by Steven R. Harrel 11/29/2010
25 Monday Nov 2019
Posted in Faith, From the Heart: Poetry, FYA, Hearing God's Voice, Just Poems & Prayers, Love, Without Love
Tags
From The Heart, God is Great!, Love, Meaning of Life, Poems, Steven R. Harrel for This Side of the Whirlwind
Remember, our needs are met in Christ Jesus even as the Flowers of the field.
It’s just that sometimes we don’t feel or understand where God is going with our lives.
For your edification and enjoyment…
In great beauty you are spun from soil and air,
Light from distant sun and seed of formers fair;
Then with great beauty once again you are spun,
Until in your juniors your face smiles towards distant sun.
01 Friday Nov 2019
Posted in From the Heart: Poetry, FYA, Just Poems & Prayers
Days of pastel blues and lusterless reds could fill the inevasible blind pages to come. I see the splendor of my own antecedence, or rather the privation thereof. Once bound in a twirl of youthful folly now I marvel, can they not see?
I think they too, as I once, choose drunkenly, willfully to be ensnared by the false comfort of never‑ending youth; the pervasive: “There will be time”.
Though I have traveled many roads and stumbled on paths bleak,
21 Monday Oct 2019
Posted in Faith, From the Heart: Poetry, FYA, Hope, Just Poems & Prayers, Love
Let the beauty of your walk with God rise within you.
Let your spirit rejoice for His Spirit resides within you.
Let your mouth shout His praises – for His glories fill all worlds.
Let your fears be surrendered – walking in faith – knowing – He will take action as He sees fit!
Let your words and actions bespeak your walk in Him.
Let the beauty of your relationship with our Creator rise within you!
Just Let It Rise!
By: Steven R. Harrel Finished 10/21/2019
06 Friday Sep 2019
Oh God, what if –
I were to You obey –
With all my life, through all my days,
endure my cross, obey Your will,
regardless the pain or strife I feel
Bear humiliations and sorrow’s
cold breath
Brave disgrace and live bereft
Face the choice of a martyr’s short, short life
Just to live my life for Christ?
24 Wednesday Jul 2019
Posted in Fiction, From the Heart: Poetry, FYA, Short Story
(A short story by Steven R. Harrel)
Shana raised her voice to get over Daniel’s loud demands, “Mommy, what’s that cooking on the stove? I want some too! I want some, mommy.”
Nancy and Tom looked over and saw a very large pot steadily bubbling on their kitchen stove.
———————————————————-
The Musicians and Choir were just finishing their last stanza of Steven R. Harrel’s, “You Lift My Soul”.
Today was Johnathan and Annika Cole’s first service at Shire Community Church on the outskirts of Williams Arizona.
Dr. Freddy Anderson was standing near the church’s lunchroom chatting with Pastors Tom and Nancy Redic. Continue reading
19 Friday Jul 2019
Posted in Fiction, From the Heart: Poetry, FYA, Love, Short Story
(A short story by Steven R. Harrel)
When he awoke, Tom wasn’t sure where he was or how long he’d been unconscious. All he knew was that he was waking up to the blinding light of sunlight directly in his eyes.
Reflexively he reached up and pulled down the car’s sun-visor. Thoroughly disoriented, Tom found himself sitting in the front seat of his car in the driveway of his Williams Arizona home. He had no idea of what happened since the moment he’d passed-out or how he could have traveled nearly two-thousand miles while utterly unconscious. “How can I be home” he muttered to himself?
For just a moment Tom wondered if he’d dreamt the whole thing. “What a crazy idea.” he thought. “Maybe, just maybe I fell asleep in the car before starting the trip or somehow dreamt every one of those crazy, impossible events? What other explanation could there be?” he wondered.
“Whatever really happened,” he wondered, “could he trust what his memories were now telling him? Maybe it was all some strange influence from that watch?” Continue reading
16 Tuesday Jul 2019
Posted in Fiction, From the Heart: Poetry, FYA, Love, Short Story
(A short story by Steven R. Harrel)
Tom cautiously crossed a derelict bridge, one leading into the small ghost town; a bridge which at one time reasonably conveyed horses and wagons across a flowing river. Sadly now, only a tiny creek remained. On the far side Tom saw a rotted out sign-post with an old bronze colored sign, hanging askew. The sign read, “Welcome to Shire”.
Without question, the first building Tom explored was once the town’s school house. Decayed books, chalk writing tablets and a few antique children’s desks littered the floor. An old chalkboard still hung precariously from one anchored corner and touched the floor with another. Dust covered the few fragments of glass which remained in the damaged windows; dust and grime marking the passage of weather and time. An old-fashioned stool also sat off to one side, in what remained of a corner in the Schoolhouse; Tom assumed it was where students once donned those funny coned dunce caps, a punishment designed to elicit shame. It only took Tom a few moments to scan and assess the dilapidated structure before bounding to the next derelict building. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for but look he must.
After nearly an hour of rummaging through shops, homes and run-down stables, Tom found himself standing at the center of what was formerly the old town’s square. Continue reading
12 Friday Jul 2019
Posted in Fiction, From the Heart: Poetry, FYA, Just Poems & Prayers, Love, Short Story
(A short story by Steven R. Harrel)
Tom pulled Joe up eye to eye and said to his face, “Joe, I’m ordering you to take me to Shire; it’s of the utmost importance!”
“Yes sirs, Mister Tom.”
“I means, yes Sirs Captain Tom sir”. Joe just shrugged his shoulders and then left the powder-cart on the side of the road. “Comes dhis a way Captain, we haves ta go up dhat dhere road to reach Shire”. Joe points up the road to where many of the refugees were heading.
As Tom and Joe began walking towards Shire, the Sergeant intercepted them, inquiring with his deep Southern accent, “Pardon me Sir!” The sergeant salutes Tom, “May I ask where you’re takin’ my Powder-Nigger?”
At first, Tom was offended, even set-back by the callused manner in which the sergeant referred to Joe; still, after a moment’s thought he remembered when and where he and Joe were. Tom replied, “I have need of this nigger, Sergeant! You will get someone else to resupply your powder cart. Is that understood?” Continue reading
09 Tuesday Jul 2019
Posted in Fiction, From the Heart: Poetry, FYA, Just Poems & Prayers, Love, Short Story
Tags
Pa pushed Tom back into the barber’s chair. “Now sits still so I can finish shavin ya, boy. Ya can’t goes no-wheres till I’s done and finished”.
It was all Tom could do to sit still while Mr. White finished his shave. When Pa finally lifted the barber’s cloth and brushed him off, Tom felt he had to look to Pa’s scrinchie face for approval before getting up. Pa just nodded; then and only then did Tom spring from the chair and dash to the window.
Pulling his arms back to avoid Tom’s quick extrication, Pa raised his voice, “Boy, you’s wound tighter dan an ole Timex. You’d better settles yourselfs down fors you gives yourself a correlary.” Continue reading
