Frances Ridley Havergal, a poet and hymnwriter (“Take My Life and Let It Be”), published this book of devotions in 1879, shortly before her death. I do not know what edition I have, but it looks and feels like an early one.
A note written on an inside page reads, “With pleasant memories of Bible School, Summer of 1945, G. S. Montgomery.”
As I was thinking about loved ones, the state of the world, life, death, and the upcoming new year, these words came to me.
Another year, so full of grace
Forgiveness, love, and peace
Of gifts that come from God the Father
And sent for you to keep
If only you would seek.
Another year of joyful triumph
And sudden grim defeat
You smile, embrace, you cry and tremble
The world and all it brings
If only you would seek.
Another year, come be His child
Beloved of the King
A year that flows with promises
And blessings you will reap
If only you would seek.
Another year, could be your last
And then eternity
There will only be one question
What will your answer be?
If only you would seek.
Another year to share with friends
With loving family
But if your heart would open further
He waits so patiently
If only you would seek.
"But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you."
Matthew 6:33
As part of a writing challenge, I wrote a scene inspired by Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor, Op. 18, Adagio Sostenuto. The music is wonderful, and you can listen to it by clicking here.
While I listened, I had these thoughts:
As I began to write, the “her” in my thoughts became the girl in an image I discovered on a Black history website. No names were included with the image, so I named the girl “Netta.” The Rachmaninoff music moved me to write a poem-like paragraph within the scene that highlights a time of joy for her as she makes her way to a favorite and secret hideaway:
Netta was free.
No pig priming. No cotton picking. No running with the dogs to stomp the land.
No itching legs and bleeding palms.
She could sing, she could run, she could laugh,
See the sky, and look beyond what it was to what it could be.
There.
It led her down deep to the place of peace.
Though she wept, it was a cleansing joy,
a soul-lifting moment of free.
The image of the young girl (Arkansas, 1935) and the story it tells bring up a great sense of sadness in me. I cannot help but try to imagine a time of happiness for her.
So, I write.
Darla McDavid 