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A Merry Heart
A Woman's World
A Word in Season
Acting Up
As I Imitate Christ
Cyber Walk
Faith Seekers
Golden Apples
Heaven Bound
Just Between Men
Take it to Heart
Teen Truth
The Joy of Family
The Parents'
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The Rhythm of Life
The Treehouse
Through Their Eyes
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Pieces of God’s Heart
By DeAnna Brooks

In the dark seasons of the night, of the soul, when a restiveness wraps icily about me, and won’t let loose, whispering aloneness and desperation and fear in my attentive ear, speak loudly to my heart; remind me, LORD, of the truth. You formed me! The Ever-Existent, the Eternal One, reached deep within that secret chamber where only a promise of me lay, and there, Divine Potter, You laid hold of what I would be, fashioning, forming, molding into shape every cell, every nuance of my being.

While You fashioned, You saw, but in seeing You did not withdraw Your hand. Did Your tears mix with the clay of my frame as You perceived each time I would turn away from You, from Your love, from the sweetness of Your voice, my ears deafened by the call of so many other suitors?

As You molded, gently, delicately, peering at all my days that were yet to be, did Your tears fall afresh, bathing me in Your own heart – broken, yet so fiercely faithful? Pieces of Your heart, Lord, must have fallen with Your tears, for I know them to be coursing through my veins, ever wooing me back to You. Knowing all that would be, in spite of everything Your hands never stilled, never hesitated. They remained ever driven by Your love until Your Father-breath quickened within me, birthing life heart-beat by heart-beat, fashioning me in Your own image.

I am Yours. I always have been. When others attempted to claim me as their own, when I surrendered to their beckoning call, You were always there, my closest kin, for I sprang from Your heart, a piece of Yourself. Despite recurring days of wandering marking my journey, You never let me go. Even now Your hands rest lovingly upon me, fashioning still, for Your love buys me back, redeeming my waywardness.

With joy I will sing of You, my Redeemer, my Kinsman, the Almighty Potter whose fashioning work remains faithful and true…true to Yourself…true to Your love…true to the promised hope of the child of Your heart that I know I am. With Your love I can face all the todays, all the tomorrows, whatever they hold, with joy and patience and hope, for You are my true resting place.

This is what the LORD says – your Redeemer, who formed you in the womb… (Isaiah 44:24 NIV)

My name is DeAnna Brooks, and God has graced me with the blessing of four wondrous children. They have kept me at His feet, or should have taken me there before I ran elsewhere, but they are a ceaseless joy. Often the spark of a 'writing' will have been birthed from my watching them, their journey, often so very rocky. And not yet finished. Whether with joy or sorrow, it never ceases to squeeze my heart. I enjoy writing, and inspiration, if it were called that, comes in spurts. . . .but when it arrives, it is ever an adventure.
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