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Syndicated articles
by Lisa Copen

    A Mother's Love
    A Son's Love
    6 Reasons Not To Worry
   A Letter to Caregivers
   Broken But Don't Need Fixin'
   But I'm Angry!
   Can 1 Person ..
   Comforting Others: Ready to..
   Do You Hear the Call?
   Explaining Illness to Your Kids
   Finding Purpose in the Pain
   God' Doesn't Waste Suffering
   Husbands Who Are Caregivers
   I Look Awful Too!
   I'd Like Some Joy!
   Learning to Set Boundaries
   Life's Unexpected Detours
   Perfect Bedroom
   Reaching for God's Yoke
   Single with a Chronic Illness
  Single Parenting with a CI
  Talk Over Tea 1 | 2
   Temptation of Comparison
  Tempted to Speed Up Heaven
   What Happened to My Self
      Esteem?
  What I Know for Sure
  What's the Big Deal w/ Church?
  When the Illness is
      Invisible
   When Exhaustion Takes
      Over
   When Friends Turn Away
   When Prayers Aren't Answered
   When You Accept the Illness
   When You Decide Not to Parent
   When Your Spouse
       Doesn'tBelieve You're Ill
   Why Does God Work Just in..
   Why Won't My Doctor Listen?
   Why Can't People Understand?

ARTICLES - EZINE
   My Journey with Hurt & Hope
   Standing Before God

POEMS
   My friend
   Being Normal
   The Gardener

When a Friend Has an Illness

GREAT TO REPRINT in
your own ezine/web site!

+ 8 Was to Encourage a Chronically
   Ill Mom
+ Are there medical benefits to
  video games?
+ 10 Choices You Must Make to Live
  Successfully with Chronic Illness
+ 6 Easy Ways Anyone Can Lose
   a Few Pounds This Summer
+ 7 Ways to a Healthier Winter

CHRISTMAS:  
A Talk Over Christmas Tea
    1 | 2 | 3
   The Story Behind Rudolph
   A Mustard Seed Christmas
   Feeling Grinchy?

The Gardener

My Father is a Gardener,
His Son is the True Vine.
I am grafted into Him
and all His power is mine.
Without Him I am nothing,
but He has promised me
If I abide within the Vine,
He will abide in me.

I had so many branches,
abloom with flowers fair;
I showed them to the Gardener,
and hoped that He would share
My joy, as I produced
so many lovely things for Him.
He looked at me with saddened eyes
and began to shake each limb.

He took a knife, so sharp, so clean,
and sheared off every flower.
I cried as He destroyed
the products of so many hours.
I watched my leaves fall to the ground,
along with all my tears.
I saw them now for what they were:
Wasted days and years.

And when the Gardener finished,
I looked with shame to see
That ugly branches, naked limbs
were all He left to me.
The winter winds blew fierce
on empty branches of my life;
For I had known the full extent
of the Gardener's knife.

I waited--seasons, days and years--
I do not know how long;
But one day I began to feel
faint birthings of a song;
For there, on lonely branches,
I gazed through tears to see
The fruit restored.
Yes, life had pushed
through all the death in me.

I felt the power of the Vine
flow sweetly through each limb;
And then I knew the fruit
would grow as I remained in Him.
My Father is a Gardener,
His Son is the True Vine.
I am grafted into Him
and all His power is mine.

Written by Connie Kennemer.
© 1991 Kenn-Owen Music.
Visit: www.songsthatpray.com

Reprinted from ...And He Will Give You Rest
monthly support newsletter, Volume 5, Issue 4. ©

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