Abagail's Song

Thank you for taking a minute to read... Writing for me is my way to be that prima ballerina assoluta, my way to paint like a Michelangelo, my way to fight like a Melissa Helser, and my way to inspire like a Graham Cooke. Forty-one years ago I was blessed to join an amazing Spirit-filled family, here on Earth. Learning to crawl (and fall) and walk with a Mother and Father whose love for and faith in God, and each other, still stands strong today at the fifty-one year mark. Learning to laugh and sing and dance and play, and just be myself, with my beautiful older sisters and my awesome little brother in our big country home. (I laugh because my Mother will surely correct me on the true size of our house filled with six people, and our four-legged companions, but to me knowing no other it was perfect.) Twenty-seven years ago a fire of life, in words, filled my heart and scraps of paper, postmarked envelopes, and lined notebooks to overflowing. Twenty-six years ago I compiled this book, a pocketful of inspiration and beauty, into a promise to share God's glory. And then I set it aside, trading it for the grown-up life of college and career and well, grown-up worldly disconnection from what Papa God had gifted me with. Because of my own will I boxed everything up, along with my relationship with The Creator of All, for another day...taking for granted that that day may never arrive. Fast forward to eighteen months ago when, like a sudden storm wiping out every bit of life as I knew it, in a deluge of complete confusion, God kicked the door wide-open where I had left but a crack of an opening. As I lay in a grip of pain longing for my kidnapped son, reeling from the anguish of not knowing where he was and the hurt of love betrayed, crying and wailing with sounds such as no human should ever have to hear themself utter I felt Papa's lovingly warm embrace wash over me. Night after night and day upon day of uncertainty I felt His arms wrap around me, as I climbed into His presence, into His Hope, His plan, into His pure love for me. Never again will I be silent in my relationship, my love and faith for my Lord, I will boldly shout His name in praise until my dying breath with a smile, for He is my Victor! Never will I let go of His hand, that I grip so tightly to, like a toddler hanging on to the leading index finger of the one they trust with their next step, so shall I go with my Victorious Papa God. My Savior, I thank You and give You all of the honor and praise, for You are my strength, You are my song; and You alone, God, made a way. I thank you Papa for the ability to fulfill the promise of publishing these works, written so long ago. I thank You Holy Spirit for the discernment to change nothing in the composition of this book, because the illustrations on the cover page and the order of works all hold meaning and carry the childlike state of a fourteen year old's beauty, shining in Your glory Lord. It truly is awesome ( It brought a chuckle of praise to my belly and tears to my eyes) how the last poem sincerely reflects the sentiment I feel for my best friend, The God of Angel Armies. I thank You Jesus for Your wonderful gift to the world, in Your sacrifice and Your triumph over death for us all. I thank You for walking with me through life eternal so that I may share Your love, and Your joy, and Your heart with my beautiful son, and others. I love You Papa and Your Shalom, thank You for loving me so. I praise You Lord for today, for my future, and for Your plan over our lives. Thank You Papa! -Teterdale Storm (aka Sarah A. Sherman)