Welcome to CBE’s Library

Tip: to find an exact phrase or title, enclose it in quotation marks.

Be inspired by the transforming power of story. Through the pain, loss, beauty, and redemption in these pages, you’ll find freedom in Christ and the courage to embrace your own story. The women of Redbud know the importance of spiritual shelter, and how easy it becomes to feel alone and misunderstood. In the Everbloom collection they offer essays, stories and poetry: intensely personal accounts of transformation, and the journeys to find their own voices. Best of all, they invite you to join them, with writing prompts that encourage a response of honesty, faith and imagination. Accept the invitation: set out on the journey to find your own voice.

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Rooted
in my kitchen chair,
your eyes blue flashing
fire,
leaping from soul, flare
where burn flames hottest.

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In you I find peace my Lord
In you I find strength my God
I find contentment resting in Yahweh’s arms

Desires of the flesh consume me
They block out the light from Yahweh’s face
Until I find myself lost in an all too familiar place
I’ve heard this Siren song before, calling me,
Calling me further into the darkness
Where the face of my Savior is shrouded

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Forefoot, arch, then ball
are held steamy in the moist cloth, 
held with both hands
by a woman in Oregon caring
for a homeless man, 
now shaved and fed.

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I look at it every now and then.
We both held Him.
I and a grave share that honor.

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She holds His shoes in her hands.
They are worn shoes,
but the only clothes not stolen
by Romans and priests and elders
and everyone else who always wanted
a piece of Him. But they cannot have

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As night gives birth to a billion stars

when day is gone

darkness is ever destined to be

the herald of dawn;

out of a place where hope is not

must hope be born.

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Behold a child is softly crying

who will save a world lost and dying,

the wooden trough where he is lain

precursor to a cross of pain.

 

 

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Like Mary waiting on Easter morning
regretting a dream she thought was dead
in a world whence God had seemingly fled
leaving her weeping, perplexed, forlorn,
but daring to ask “Where is the Lord?”
and hearing at last the holy word,

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I am made differently from you.

I have something inside of me

 

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