Tag Archives: dreams

For you, a blessing


I’m re-posting this from Elora Nicole, because I thought it was beautiful.

Stop for a second.

Breathe in deep. Close your eyes. Open them again.
See the beauty in the every day.

Know that the Creator lives and moves and breathes within you.
So those dreams? Risk them.
Those words? Write them.
Those hopes? Believe them.

Sink deep into His embrace.
Know He’s on your side

And in these moments, these every day moments, may you see glimpses of the Divine
shimmering against the mundane
wiping out to worry, crashing against those brick walls

Embrace those waves of freedom, child.
leaving words and hope in their wake.

Always look for the beauty,
the trail of magic dust left behind from the Spirit’s touch
Breathe this in daily –

drawing strength from particles bubbling up like effervescent promises.


The rhythms of our breath intertwined


manenberg baby edited

He runs up to me

Arms flung wide and high

International toddler language

For ‘pick me up’

Big smile, twinkling eyes

Like he knows me

But he doesn’t

But now he does, I guess

At ease on my hip

He grins to welcome other strangers

During the singing

He’s right at the front

Stomping, jumping, clapping

I catch his eye and wave

He rushes over

Arms up, to be lifted again

Fiddles with my thumb for ages

As if it’s a thing of great interest

The yawns

Rubs his eyes

And yawns again

It’s late for a little boy

I shift him in my arms

So he can rest his head against my chest

He does so with no resistance

And in just a few breaths

He’s falling asleep

His grip on my arm loosening

Till his hangs limp over mine

Sleeping peacefully

Despite the music

Pumped out at high volume

I slowly back away from the noise

His mother assured of his whereabouts

I find a quiet spot

A room reserved for prayer.

I’m here to pray for Manenberg

But as the rhythms of our breath intertwine

I find myself praying for this precious life in my arms

Sleeping on me for over an hour

His full weight slumped against mine

Manenberg may be full of fear

He seems to have none

Manenberg may be short on trust

He seems to have plenty

Long dark eyelashes

Cute button nose

Beautifully formed mouth

Entirely serene

Totally trusting

His short dark hair

Spiralling out from the crown of his head

Like a tiny tornado

Watch out Manenberg

There’s power inside

Inside this fearless lover of people

This physical representation of ‘peace in Manenberg’

This boy will grow

To be a culture changer

A city shaker

A nation shaper.

He will be a city on a hill

A light on a stand

A man others will look to.

He will be a door opener

Opening doors of light and hope

And inviting others to step in.

He will blow with the breath of God

Down these streets

Blowing away the dust and dirt

Clearing the way

Bringing refreshing

And life.

His shield of faith will be huge

Towering above his own body.

Faith that sees the bigger picture

Faith to see

The good stuff God’s up to

In the invisible places

Faith to see

Past the hopelessness and anger

On the streets.

While I’m here to pray for Manenberg

I find myself praying for this precious life in my arms

But in praying for him

I’m praying for the people and places

He will impact in his life.

As I relish the calm

Brought by his trusting body

melted into mine

I also think of the times

I’ve felt God invite me

To rest in Him

To rest on Him.

The times I’ve imagined myself

Like a small child

Resting my head on his chest

His arms around my body

My breath in time with his

Hearing his heartbeat

And knowing his peace

His comfort, His safety.

Thanking God for this physical picture

Of His love

Of His offer

Open to all.


All poems and original writing on this blog are Copyright © Hilary Murdoch 2013

Flying to Paradise – Part 2


Click to read Part One (with watercolour illustrations added since it was first posted).

A tall, silver-haired, wise man came to the cave. He listened to the girl and enquired about her itchy feet (which had made her late for work on a number of occasions). She told him, with tears, what she thought her invisible best friend was whispering. He gently recommended that she should listen to him and do what he said. The girl had wanted to wait until she knew where she was going before she left. But her invisible best friend didn’t seem to want to tell her that. The tall, silver-haired, wise man told her that although the adventure was a risk, the place she would go would be immeasurably more than anything she could imagine.

So she left. But her feet didn’t stop itching. She didn’t know where to go or what to do.

She had heard of a beautiful land with wide blue skies, in the meeting place of two huge oceans. Myth has it that this paradise has a huge mountain rising up in the shape of a table, and at that table a banquet is prepared and God meets for a meal with anyone brave enough to climb up to find him there.

She felt her invisible friend quietly but persistently tugging at her sleeve and he always seemed to be tugging in that direction.

She was desperate to step off the endless conveyor belt in the streets of the grey city. She longed for somewhere with a wide sky where her mind had space to think, her heart had space to feel and her soul had space to breathe.

So she packed up her ball dresses and placed them in the dusty attic. She packed a small bag, took the hand of her invisible best friend and they started running.