Memorial Stones: A Poem

   When the people broke camp to cross the Jordan, the priests carried the ark of the covenant  ahead of the people. ¹⁵ Now the Jordan overflows its banks throughout the harvest season.  But as soon as the priests carrying the ark reached the Jordan, their feet touched the water at its edge ¹⁶ and the water flowing downstream stood still, rising up [in] a mass that extended as far as  Adam, a city next to Zarethan. The water flowing downstream into the Sea of the Arabah (the Dead Sea) was completely cut off, and the people crossed opposite Jericho. ¹⁷ The priests carrying the ark of the LORD's covenant stood firmly on dry ground in the middle of the Jordan,  while all Israel crossed on dry ground until the entire nation had finished crossing the Jordan.


   After the entire nation had finished crossing the Jordan,  the LORD spoke to Joshua, ² "Choose 12 men from the people, one man for each tribe,  ³ and command them, 'Take 12 stones from this place in the middle of the Jordan where the priests' feet are standing, carry them with you, and set them down at the place where you spend the night.' "
    ⁴ So Joshua summoned the 12 men selected from the Israelites, one man for each tribe, ⁵ and said to them, "Go across to the ark of the LORD your God in the middle of the Jordan. Each of you lift a stone onto his shoulder, one for each  of the Israelite tribes, ⁶ so that this will be a sign among you. In the future, when your children ask you, 'What do these stones mean to you?  ' ⁷ you should tell them, 'The waters of the Jordan were cut off in front of the ark of the LORD's covenant. When it crossed the Jordan, the Jordan's waters were cut off.' Therefore these stones will always be a memorial for the Israelites."
-Joshua 3:14-17;4:1-7, HCSB


When Yahweh parts the flood and a nation walks through on dry ground,
    nothing wet but the priests' feet,
When granola bars and sardines become a feast with 12 doggy bags,
When stone and slingshot slay a giant,
I heap up words like river boulders,
memorials of God's mighty hand and outstretched arm.
His love endures forever.


I heap up words to remember,
Lest, not remembering, I forget
And, forgetting, drift
Back to slavery of burdened unbelief.


When God's people are the giants put to flight by a few,
When the handful of flour and bit of oil run out, yet famine does not lift,
When the waves swamp the boat and still He sleeps,
Those heaped-up words like river boulders,
memorials of God's mighty hand and outstretched arm,
they remind me:
His love endures forever.


This is why I write, why I journal, why I keep listing God's gracious gifts.  These are my stones of witness.  Thanks be to God for
~His faithfulness to His promises
~So many stories, from Scripture and since then, testifying that He can be counted on
~Yesterday's God is the same today and will still be tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
~The right words at the right time (both given and received)
~The real God hearing and answering the prayers of His people. When "all I can do is pray," that is not second best or doing nothing because God is who He says He is.
~The Lord WITH us, with me and with my loved ones in their afflictions, "a helper who is always found in times of trouble"
~One hundredth post on Friday
~Birthday cake
~Do-overs
~A new butterfly in the garden

(From the gratitude list, #4138-4147)