Working Today for a Brighter & Better Tomorrow
ON HOLD: Writer's Circle
Discover the Wisdom Within Yourself
The Writing Circle currently is currently on hold until Fall of 2024. Alynn is our leader and will give you various prompts through art, music, and photography to help prompt your creative energy and guide you through a reflective group sharing. We treat each “writing as if it were a newborn baby presented to the group” with kindness, reverence, and affirmation. We will be given writing prompts and encouragement to continue with our creative process.
Holy Spirit House of Prayer Services are completely donation based. The suggested donation amount is $15 per group session. Click on the button below to make a donation.
NEW BOOK RELEASES
Sample Writing Pieces
From Our Own Community
My Emotional Aquarium
By Alynn Brutsman
03/03/2020
It feels like 100 gallons of tears.
With only a small thin veil
Of material holding it back.
The hard stuff that’s just waiting
Ready to pour out.
A geyser, a waterfall, a river,
or a steady stream.
I just don’t know, so I hold on.
The tide ebbs and flows
In my emotional aquarium.
I believe I have sisters and brothers
Of great knowledge and strength.
Our sorrows, tears, joy and triumph
Belong in this one big transformational ocean of love.
Fear and shame and holding back
Won’t be necessary.
It is hard to hold it.
It is hard to let it go.
Dive in, surrender and make it real.
Time Waited
By Alynn Brutsman
03/21/21
He bear hugged the Bible to his chest,
The Word was made flesh,
His healing gifts were activated
And she stepped into her calling.
The seed took root
And the River burst over its banks.
Time stood still and waited
As he walked over the threshold
Of doubt and fear.
The storm cleared and
The hawk soared thru the blue sky.
Nothing will be the same.
The imprinted soul has been revealed.
It’s hope and will is now changed,
Transformed by grace to rise above the sludge of life’s unexpected turns
Standing triumphant in truth.
No Time is Lost: Spring
By Scott Corporan
03/21/2021
Their roots invisible to the eye, deep and gnarled, are always drawing life from
the loving mother earth.
The cherry trees are the last to blossom, but the first to offer a deep red sweetness.
Brilliant at doing what they came here to do. Tenderly, they tell us, “Ah, my precious loves, all seasons belong.”
The first fruit of the season. A gift. A sign. A delicious reminder that there is a sacred order to the twisting and gnarled unseen, in the metamorphosis of bud to blossom to fruit, in branches pushing upward and outward, into the sliver lining sky.
Travel This Road
By Louis Melton
Who will travel this road tomorrow
Will they know I thought this today
Does the dancing pulse of the breeze touch their brow the way it caresses mine
Will the Red tail hawk gaze upon the ancient dust that sheds to the breeze cascading downward from the heel of the boot
Will a sixth-sense hint that I took a contemplative moment to think of them.
Does my existence or who I am influence the steps they will take or does the fading sounds of my presence end all my value.
Lightly I think of these things
Knowing the world keeps turning
The rivers will always meet the sea
The clouds will form rain
And
The laughter of a child will always bring joy
as the snowflake meets their nose.
My hope is to be remembered
For this opportunity to live my time
I thank you Abba
For the gift of presence
For me
And
For the one who will travel the road tomorrow.