Helen Avigliano's Writings and Poetry I
Helen Avigliano's Writings and Poetry II
The Hand of God
Look into the cloudless midnight sky,
the glittering stars, the Milky Way,
and see, beyond the worldıs dim gaze,
the Hand of God.
In faith look up. Look up to see!
Look into the valleys, green with spring,
the budding trees, the promised fruit,
and see, beyond the worldıs dim gaze,
the Hand of God.
In faith look up. Look up to see!
Look up, look up to see the hill called Calvary.
Look up, look up to see the Son of God,
hanging there upon the cross,
suffering, bleeding,
dying there, for you, for me.
Look into the garden, silent in the dawn,
the empty tomb, the angels there,
and see, beyond the worldıs dim gaze,
the hand of God. In faith look up.
Look up to see! Questions
Do you long for the fire of Godıs love
to engulf the pitiful embers you call concern?
Do your brave resolves and impassioned prayers
fall back to earth like tissue paper kites in the wind?
Do you grieve for this tragic fact?
Is your soul aflame with the desperate thirst for God
like that of a dying man on a lonely endless Sahara?
Does the deep ache in your heart for God
drown out all thoughts of human effort, pride and lust?
Is Christ the beginning and ending of all
your thoughts, desires and plans?
Is He the beloved of you soul,
the Eternal Lover, for Whose embrace
your anguished soul cries out?
Is time geared to the mandate of His will?
Are all your possessions
mere trinkets and baubles you cast aside
lest your feet stumble and fall?
Are the souls of men rare jewels
you seek by night and by day?
Does the melancholy wind whisper
the melody of His love?
Does the sky beyond and the earth beneath
remind you that He is the consummate
Artist of all creation?
Does your heart thrill with joy to see a lovely rose
and you realize that He made it?
Is the cross of Calvary the altar upon which
you reckon yourself dead?
Does nothing matter anymore
except His will?
Does eternity seem a long way off?
Or do you long for Heaven to be your home?
Do your weary feet long to ascend the golden streets?
And does your fainting heart cry out:
"Oh Jesus, come quickly?"
Do you question at all, beloved soul?
Or are the stock market quotations
the World Series, the latest show on TV
or the supermarket tabloid gossip
the barometer of your love?
Stand clear, my friend!
Godıs purifying fire will someday consume everything,
and thereıs not going to be much left at all.
Where is your treasure, my friend?
WHERE? The Upward Trail
The day was young
and so were we!
The mountain beckoned
with golden hues of early dawn.
Purple, shadowed canyon walls
seemed far away remote!
And yet we had to go! We must!
Nothing less would do.
The sun rose in warm delight
upon our upward trail.
The rocks and trees spoke awesomely
of Godıs almighty power.
We followed on, that ever upward path
until it faded amidst the rocky crags.
It was midday,
and she was tired and faint.
³I canıt go on,² she cried
and sat down upon a rock.
The tears slid down her tender face.
I sat there in silent sympathy.
But up ahead,
that mountain top!
How can we stop
that upward climb, my child?
A momentıs rest,
a brief respite with food.
"Letıs go," she cried!
Sop on we went.
The mountain top towered high
while we struggled on.
Upward, ever upward!
Panting, sweating, muscles taut!
We gained the height at last!
Oh, glorious view
The world stretched out below us,
The wind upon that mountain top,
danced and dazzled in wild delight
to see us there!
The far off mountain ridges
stretched out in panoramic wiew.
The world lay there below us.
We had attained the heights!
So pilgrim traveler,
so tired, so weary from the climb,
donıt faint, and donıt give up!
Someday soon
our journey will be done
and weıll see Christ, our savior
face to face!
Weıll laugh, weıll shout in victory.
Weıre there at last, Praise God! Scars (Mine and His)
Yes, I was once a worshiper of the sun.
"A golden tan?
Thatıs gotta mean good health."
But underneath it all
a deadly malady was at work.
So now I see each scar,
as I recall each painful cutting of the flesh.
Beneath the crystal waters of my shower
the scars show stark and clear.
While the cleansing tide
takes the dust of life away,
the scars remain.
Yes, I worshipped the sun,
and never knew the Son!
But there are invisible scars far worse
inside our tattered minds and hearts.
Why did they hurt us so?
In indignation we seek to assuage the pain
of those who have hurt us.
We believed saccharin words.
We entrusted our hearts to their care.
As I turn my tear drenched face toward my Lord
He tenderly points to that garden scene from long ago.
There He prayed in agony to His Father
while they slept on,
oblivious to His agonizing prayer.
They didnıt care.
It was easy for them to ignore their blessed Lord!
That brash, impetuous man named Peter
whose angry denial came three times.
Weep now, Peter, as you see Him on the cross.
And Thomas, your doubt was so very real.
But seeing your Lord arisen and alive!
You now believe.
Yes our blessed Lord has scars
that will remain to show us all throughout eternity
the depth and width and height
of His marvelous, wondrous love!!
And because of that love,
now that I worship the Son,
one day my scars in both body and soul
will no longer remain!
What Do I Hear?
Far away the nostalgic moan of a train
racing through the distance of time,
reaches my waiting ears.
I've gone that way, a way of dusty fields and the outskirts
of shabby towns on the edge of nowhere.
I hear the noisy proclamation of a motorcycle,
reved up to make everyone listen.
Unwary bugs smash their guts out
on that guyıs dark glasses,
and he could care less.
Heıs making lots of noise and heıs going fast.
Where? he doesnıt really care!
I hear the hopeful, joyful call of birds,
awakening to a new morning.
Just like yesterday, its all the same,
but the bird doesnıt know,
he just knows he must sing and fly,
and spring will come one day.
Up above? A restless soul in his Cessna
roars across the blue canopy of space,
intimate with clouds and wind,
and able to gaze down
on all of us and smile.
³Iım free of all the bondage down there,² he thinks,
but never can he escape the searing memory
of past pain and future hopeless days.
I hear cars honking,
lives awaking to a new day.
A mad carousel to some,
an endless Ferris wheel of life.
Oh where can they get off that thing, they wonder?
Is there any escape from this madness called life?
Oh yes, my friend there really is!
I found it long ago!
It is in the person, Jesus Christ, the ever present one
who opens that locked door of nowhere
into an endless life of forgiveness and peace.
He is standing at your heartıs door.
and he keeps knocking,
until you unlock that fateful door to him.
He died to forgive that sin that binds your soul,
and He can give you life!
Christ is the way my friend!
And he awaits your desperate call for help.
Heıs been there all along.
THE QUEST
When I was a child,
a very little child,
I saw my doggy playmate lying still upon the road.
His name was "Buttons."
The tears flowed down my face like rain.
And neither a motherıs gentle words,
or a father's quiet touch,
could make my doggy live again.
The years flew past
and then I saw again in adolescent puzzlement
that quiet, final thing called death.
My father lay so silently upon that satin pillow.
That fearful, unknowing dread
came again into my pounding heart.
My childish fear had turned into a continuing quest.
Is death the end or is there more?
Unanswered questions rose and settled back again,
like silent silken dust.
I looked at him
I knew he was not gone!
All the words I'd heard before
came back in answer to my questioning mind.
"He only sleeps in Jesus!"
And very soon, within the month,
I finally understood
why dearest pets,
and even people, die.
Christ came to take away the blindness
from our sinful hearts.
Christ died for me!
I finally knew the answers to a lifelong quest!
To understand what life is all about.
Our bodies die(sin's promise is fulfilled).
But we who know Him now live on.
I came to Him, was sorry for my sin.
He spoke so gently to my soul,
forgave my sin, and took me in.
And now I live for Him,
as I wait with hope for a body made new! Homes
A spider web is a home
and do you know what?
So often I sweep
that intricately designed palace
away with my devastating broom
and I don't care!
A nest is a home
and do you know what?
A militant March wind
can sweep that carefully constructed home
out of the tree and onto the ground!
And the wind doesn't care a bit?
A meticulously constructed home
on a riverbank,
can rest majestically on its foundation
until the river rises in a flood,
and the home is washed away.
And the river doesnıt care!
A rising tide or fire
can carry away or ignite our homes
to collapse or reduce them to ashes in minutes,
and the flood or the fire don't care!
But there is a home over there
that will outlast all of these!
In a city so wondrous and splendid.
Where fire or flood
will never burn or wash it away!
Forever and ever and ever and ever.
With no thought of finances, loans
or cash in the bank!
All because we have become children
and heirs of the King.
To share in His treasures
and live in His matchless, eternal love!
All because He does care!
WHAT DO I SEE?
What do I see
from my garden's room of prayer?
The golden rays of morning's warming sun.
The birds who sing so lustily
of territorial rights and tree-lined boundaries.
They sound like music to my city wearied ears.
The trees and plants grow steadily,
The soothing green of life.
They sprout so clean and new each day
before my wondering eyes.
I am encased within the scheduled walls
of houses, streets, and city lights.
What do I sense?
The bold, sweet wondrous
touch of God
speaks within the confines
of my waiting heart.
I talk to him of hopes and fears;
of friends and those in need.
He sees beyond my frail ties,
my eyes at times bedimmed
by sin and self.
What does He do?
His answers come,
not always instantly,
but tempered by His holy will.
I cannot see beyond,
but know He will not fail,
His gracious will to do.