Sunday's songs via You tube and some more poetry and for the first time ever an adoption story!

 In response to some questions I will start posting you-tube video's of the songs instead of writing them out. I just want to say in defense of  my style: if I turn my blog into a book (unless I get it published on electronic paper) I won't be able to share with the world those songs!


How precious are the tears of an angel?
Can a wealth of diamonds buy but a few?
None can compare this dark to your light.
My only love, fair and true.



And how precious are the tears of an angel,
Shed from eyes that glisten and shine?
Gazed upon and matched
Only by that which is divine.

For these are the tears of my love
Those that fall and caress her cheek and showers us upon the earth
As rain falls from high above and showers us upon the earth,
Before nature's power trembling and weak.

I've been reading this book Adopted By God written by Robert A. Peterson. In it he shares how Adoption is almost a sacrament because of God's Adoption of us. The book is set up so that it shows the parallels in the gospel's story and the earthly process of adoption with bible verses and Stories of  people that have adopted or been adopted. One lady's story really, I think sums it up really well. I'd like to share that with you. For more than thirty years when her dad just left her (it does not explain how or why or where her mother was) she was shuffled from foster home to foster home, trying to be perfect in everything, trying to substitute perfection and religion for the love of her Father. She hit rock bottom time after time, each time becoming more lonely and depressed. When, in God's timing, He drew her to Himself she understood His gift better because of that pain! "How ready I was the moment I first understood that God was m Father. At last, I was some one's little girl! To this day, ten years later, I cannot approach God intellectually, but only as a child and with no reservations, I feel such love: 'Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me.' (Ps. 27:10) I remember once, before he left, my father carrying me home in his arms as blood gushed from a jagged cut on my foot. I was four and I was frightened, hoping that my Father could take care of me. But though that day he stopped the bleeding, no earthly father could have healed the wounded heart he later left behind. That hurt cried out for the love of a heavenly Father. And so I will always be God's grateful little girl- trusting, dependent, and filled with faith in the Arms that will never let me go."