Choice

Jesus, high, lifted up, I adore You.
Jesus, high, lifted up, I praise You.
Jesus, high, lifted up, I love You.
Jesus, high, lifted up, I choose You,
As from the beginning, Jesus,
You chose me to be.

Copyright 2013 Joann Nelander

Tell everyone you know to watch “Planned Parenthood: Hidden Harvest” on Fox News –

“A one-hour Fox News Reporting special, Planned Parenthood: Hidden Harvest, digs deep into the ghoulish but profitable practice of dissecting aborted babies and selling their hearts, brains, lungs, eyes, arms, legs and livers to the highest bidder.

Our friends at the Center for Medical Progress conducted a 30-month sting to get top officials from Planned Parenthood and the “procurement” companies they partner with to talk about this unfathomable practice while being covertly filmed.

With Hidden Harvest, anchored by veteran TV journalist Shannon Bream, Fox News will reveal to a national audience the way abortionists alter the way they extract these innocent victims from their mother’s womb to ensure intact organs and the callousness they demonstrate toward these babies. These are not clumps of cells being aborted; they are tiny humans whose hearts are more valuable to Planned Parenthood than their souls.

Does that sound like health care to you?

It’s not health care, and it’s not legal.

Hidden Harvest will premiere at 10 p.m. ET Friday, Sept. 4, on Fox News Channel and will be rebroadcast at 1 a.m. ET Saturday, Sept. 5.”

Fr Frank Pavone

Bias Bash: The problem with Planned Parenthood coverage

NOW FOR ETERNITY

All days have led to this day.
Yesterdays march up to the edge in Time,
But cannot enter upon my Now.

As precursors they stand,
Peering onto this Today,
Blind as bats.
Their edges approach
But halt at the Present.

Here I reign with my will.
If all my mistakes
Shout for change,
Am I now the fool
Who fails to learn?

With the sun,
I am begun.
Eternity beckons me,
Where Time cannot go,
Invites, “Come.”

He, Who sails on Eternity’s Wing,
Would be my Mender,
Not in a breaking of the Past,
But a knitting of it,
A seamless cloth,
As His very own.

The morrow begins as a Way I choose;
Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow
Are gift to my being,
And beginning in this Now,
I am His.

©2015 Joann Nelander

WRATH OF GOD, A LIVING HELL

The Wrath of God blazes forth
As left to myself,
I behold myself.
Where is His image in me?
What have I done ?

Where God is not,
Only Hell resides.
Life has become my agony,
With self-inflicted wounds.

Unchanging Purity of Being,
Fire of Love,
I, now, the antithesis,
Banishing God to the periphery
Holding Him at bay.
My kingdom, my way!

Sin rages in His absence,
A counterfeit of life,
For where the Creator is not,
There is only dissipation.
Creating nothing;
Loving no one,

I built a world apart,
Overruled His Plan,
Overturned His "Shalt Nots"
With tolerance and choice.
There is no compromise for Truth.
Sin is always a choice,
Or it is not sin.

The Wrath of God blazes forth.
Consumes the idol, self.
Now, to turn, to choose anew,
To turn again before the final hour,
While it is still Day,
No more to turn away!

So splendid a freedom is love
That it can not come to be
Without an altar,
And in the Fire of Love,
To sacrifice my "Me".
©2014 Joann Nelander

.

You Chose Me From the Earth

The day has begun,
And, already,
You have embraced
Your wee one.

I greet You
With the opening
Of my eyes,
With thoughts
That stream anew.

My slumber has brought me
To New Day.
The night was spent
In healing, and a continuity,
That like the day
Follows one unto the other,
Within Your sovereign embrace.

My body leaned
Upon You in trust,
To rise refreshed.
Phantoms of the night
Fled as Your Sun
Rose with purple dawn,
For I place my Trust
In You.
You knit me,
Body, soul and spirit,
Into a unity,
I have known
Since You willed me
Into being.
Unity creating one nature,
Sharing in your dual nature
Of God and Man.
Born of God,
In the Holy Spirit,
I am wed to You
And made ready,
Sun on sun,
For Eternity.

Remembering my frame,
And my need,
Stir into flame
Your Godly Presence,
So that the Bridegroom
Of my Soul
May this day
Take to Himself
The bride He won
From the Cross,
And I ,
Dust of the Earth,
May know the sacred bliss
Of having been chosen.
Being chosen,
And living, in the flesh,
The Life of God.

©2012 Joann Nelander

Your Way, My Way

I wept on the way, O Lord.
Gratitude overwhelmed me,
For I had, at last,
Found my way.

Bending to me,
Your inclination
Gave me courage.
My garments were not pretty,
For a King to gaze upon,
But You saw only me,
Your creature in need.

I stirred Your Passion,
For it was for me
That You searched,
Despite my dishevelment,
You recognized Your Image
Stamped in my being.

You clutched me to Your bosom,
Covered me with Your mantle.
And carried me to the Inn Keeper.

In Your Church,
The treasures You deposited,
Ministered to my wounds.
Deep and resistant,
As the lesions were,
They yielded,
As I lingered long,
In the bed of my sorrow,
Beholding the cause
For my joy.

Your Way is all about me,
Though narrow,
So as to thread
The eye of a needle,
It is like Your broad Smile.

Graced virtue, Your gift,
Accompany me.
The world is as the meadows
Surrounding Your dwelling among men.

Flowers, in due season,
Spring up in my soul,
And fruit, You wait for,
Following the budding
Of my prayer,
Will be rich for Your taking.

I am the love you seek,
And the Love You,
From the beginning,
Have given.
For it is
In Your nature to Love
And in my nature
To be loved.
This is Your Way, my Love.
This is the Way I choose.

©2012 Joann Nelander All rights reserved