Phero - The greek word which means "to bear". It is used in scripture in bearing light.
Specifically of the Morning Star, as the Light Bringer.

I am Emily Murphy, a wife and stay at home Mom of two precious boys. Jackson is three and Jonah has turned one. I am a self-taught photographer & poet. It simply amazes me that we can capture a moment in time through rays of light. I discovered my love for poetry in college by taking a writing class as an elective. I invite you to follow, comment, or simply glimpse through these areas of interest with me as I seek to grow and improve my muse over time.

Muse - A guiding spirit. A source of inspiration. A poet.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Monday, May 10, 2010

When We're Unhappy & We Know It

If we're unhappy and we know it

We let Mommy Know it

If we're unhappy and we know it

We let Mommy know it

If we're unhappy and we know it then...

We so kindly let Mommy know it

When we're unhappy and we know it



Saturday, May 1, 2010

He Maketh Me To Lie Down

Weariness and aches, moments of chills followed by droplets of sweat… fever had set in. With two tiny mouths to feed and two precious hearts to nurture, lying down happened in spurts. Sleep, I needed sleep. With the steady help of a hand by my husband, I lay down and slept. The fever persisted strong, I grew weaker and weaker. Days and Doctor visits later, while babes lay sound in their beds, I found myself curled in the fetal position upon a chair in the E.R. It could be meningitis.

A large needle sharp in my spine draws the fluid slow. Three tubes full later, it is done. I can lie down once more. The long hours passing where doing the dripping now. Then the results came. It was negative, no meningitis! We are thankful.

Home is where we head unprepared for the following days. A severe headache, neck and back pain coupled with nausea and fatigue were symptoms this frail body battled for four days. Head heavy upon the pillow was my only relief from the throbbing pressing enemy. I dreaded if need to get up for the restroom. For even that meant heightened pain and a trip to the plastic-lined trash can.

Tears wet my eyes when my mother walks in the room. She is here to tend to our home and children with the utmost care and tenderness. The sounds of playing and laughing mixed with fussing carry its way up the stairs. In one hand I held tight to the cherished sounds in the other I took hold of the longing to tend to my children and this greeted me with more pain because I could not. I could barely raise my lashes to look my two year old in the eye. And it was here, in the deepest depths of my heart I learned stronger still, my days with my little ones are richer than the pen can tell; for they cannot even be measured. Stripped from me for a few days, I tasted the sting that will one day be sure. For they will grow and need no longer to rest on my hip, they will walk without hand held in mine, they will pull their own socks ‘round their toes, and read books by themselves. And then the day will come when they carry a boxed lunch and pack upon their back and I will watch them wave good bye. Much of my day will be silent. The hours will pass without the sweet little sounds that travel through the house and up the stairs and I will miss it.

I ponder this lesson as He maketh me to lie down.

I did not improve and could hardly lift my head from the pillow without the help of my husband. Back to the E.R. was only wise. The pain peaked as the ambulance rolled up to the large sliding glass doors. Unbearable agony shrieked through my body while piercing my temples, the back of my neck, and fiercely shooting down my spine. Lying down provided no relief. Tears rolled down my pale hollow cheeks. I had not eaten in four days. I could not, food would not stay down. I pleaded with the nurse to somehow knock me out. This was not an option. Thoughts about death crept in… would death be my only freedom from this? I did not feel I had the strength to fight anymore.

Yes, death would be my sole relief… but it would not be my own death. I couldn’t keep count the number of needles stuck in and out of my arms and spine. I held tight to the familiar grip of my husband’s hand throughout the blurriness of the pokes and murmured speech between Doctor and nurse. It would take the pulling of my blood to patch the drip in my spine.

He maketh me lie down, passed through my mind. He maketh me lie down, yes, but wasn’t it green pastures He said He would lead me to lay in? My green pasture met me in the midst of my pain. I lay down with my Shepherd, who held me the whole time, and under His wings I took refuge and it was the blood that would do the healing. The blood stopped the pain, it patched the broken place, it sealed just as the Spirit seals and it made whole again what was torn apart. His blood, the blood of the Lamb, pours into the soul just as it poured into my back and it heals what cannot be healed by human hands. For it were the stripes upon His spine that bled so mine could even stand in the first place. And if it’s His blood that enables me to stand, then it’s by His blood He maketh me lay down. For He promises even in the suffering, even in the shadows of death, to take His sheep to waters which are still and pastures colored with green.

He maketh me to lie down so He can maketh me to believe again. He maketh me lie down to teach me.To teach me He is with me and that He loves me so. He maketh me lie down to remind me to cherish my youth, to cherish my health, and to cherish my numbered days. He maketh me lie down because He is good.

© Emily Murphy - May 1st, 2010