Category Archives: Love Of Family

A Sonnet of Sudden Glory: One Breath on Earth, the Next Before the Throne by Debbie Harris

26 Saturday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Grief, Bereavement, Loss, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Love Of Family, Triumphant

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

Since my mother went Home, I have found myself writing again and again about the triumph waiting for the true believer. This sonnet rose from that hope: that death is not a long night, but only a change of breath—one still drawn on earth, the next already before the Throne. I offer them in gratitude, in sorrow, and in triumphant joy, knowing we do not grieve as those who have no hope.

—The Poet

1 Thessalonians 4:13–14

But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope.

For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.

There is no sting. The Christian does not die

so much as change the air that fills the lung.

One breath is dust; the next, a brighter sky

already singing what the grave unsung.

The body drops its borrowed coat of clay;

the soul steps through as through an opened door.

No interval of dark, no wandering way—

earth’s final gasp is Heaven’s corridor.

Death comes like thunder that has lost its crack,

a shadow startled by too sudden sun.

The stone rolls inward on an empty track;

the race is finished ere it is begun.

O Death, thy needle snaps against the bone.

We breathe once here—and wake before the Throne.

Corinthians 15:55–57

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?

The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law.

But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

If you later want one more on a separate page, not under this poem:

John 11:25–26

Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:

And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?

**To God be the glory always and only.

Christ-Centered Beauty: How Holy Light Filled Home and University by Debbie Harris

15 Tuesday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Love Of Family, Royally Redeemed, salvation, Thanksgiving, Triumphant

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A Psalm of Thanksgiving for our home, our parents. our family and our campus home,Bob Jones University.

How Holy Light Filled Home and University

A Psalm of Thanksgiving

Her life and his were wrought of holy light,

Where Jesus stood as Beauty’s living flame;

No lesser glory held their souls in sight,

For He alone was source, and He the name.

Their parents’ hearts, the campus they held dear,

Were living temples where that Presence dwelt;

For Christ was preached with beauty far and near,

And walked beside us, known, and seen, and felt.

These twins grew up inside that same bright grace,

A household lit by more than common fire.

And all the faculty children, side by side,

Were brothers, sisters, in that wide embrace—

One family beneath the Crucified,

One childhood kept in one beloved place.

The brother shone with gifts of sacred place—

In song, in preaching, teaching, heaven’s choir.

His voice rose upward, incense on the air;

The Word he preached became a piercing flame;

The truths he taught made every subject fair,

And Christ Himself was glory in his name.

The campus of our youth, beloved and bright,

Rose like a psalm through chapel, arts, and speech;

Christ’s beauty lived upon those walks of light,

And every discipline that beauty reached.

There stood the Museum & Gallery, renowned,

A house of holy beauty, rich and deep;

On canvas, stone, and frame the gospel sounded,

And taught the heart a biblical watch to keep.

Through hallowed rooms whole generations passed

And learned to read all splendor by the Word;

The masters’ sacred scenes, in silence, cast

A Christ-centered vision none who looked forgot.

How could I not become His poet then—

Ringed round with language, color, thought, and mind,

And academics ordered toward Amen—

Till verse itself was by that Beauty signed?

How could we walk those paths and not be filled

With light no common sun was born to give?

The Word made flesh our every hour distilled;

In Christ we learned how holy hearts should live.

We love the Word; it is our joy and stay.

Lord Jesus dwells, a King, in heart and soul.

Our one desire, for each God sends our way,

Is making Jesus known—our highest goal.

So now we stand, and shall forever remain

Grateful for this rich heritage we bear—

For campus, home, and kindred hearts the same,

All crowned by Christ-centered beauty rare.

Christ’s beauty dwelt where chapel sermons raised

The heart to worship through these holy days.

We thank the Lord for gifts we cannot pay;

This golden, Christ-centered heritage we praise.

Her Children Rise Up And Call Her Blessed by Debbie Harris

01 Tuesday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Inspirational, Love Of Family

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Dedicated to my beloved mom, Doris Fisher Harris, January 19, 1929-September 3, 2026

She took the stage and gave the old words breath,

made Shakespeare live in ordinary flesh—

a scholar’s soul in Sunday clothes and hope,

who taught that language outlasts even death.

Professor of speech and drama, sure and wise,

she loved the living line, the scene, the play;

six hundred articles of Christ-centered fire

she set upon the page like votive light;

a pastor’s wife, a Proverbs 31 life,

who served her home and campus, sure and bright.

Her gifts were kindness, grace, and care,

hospitality that opened every door,

a tea bag tucked beside a note of prayer

for student, friend, or colleague she held dear.

She loved Christ her Savior, family, campus, all

her students with a love beyond compare.

She shaped the vespers, theme by theme,

till every program bent toward Father, Son, and Flame.

We grew among that holy beauty

on a Christian campus filled with light—

Scripture, preaching, song,

heroes and heroines of the faith

like a holy sea around us.

Shakespeare on a beauty-saturated stage,

an opera staged with care each spring,

and chapel held both hymn and living word:

poetry sung, and preaching shaped like verse,

rich in doctrine, full of Christ our King.

The gallery held holy art

in ornate frames that trained the seeing heart

and gave us a Biblical aesthetic

still living in us to this day.

Such beauty stored in hearts cannot be taken away.

How blessed we were and are. She named me Debra for

Deborah, who wrote her poem to the Lord;

she named my twin, my brother David, for

the king whose songs were lifted and adored.

David sings now to worship the Lord,

as King David once sang,

formed by Christ in our parents’ faithful hands.

Our father was a singer, pastor,

professor, and a Shakespearean actor too—

now in glory, waiting there for Mom.

These were the gifts you cultivated, Mom.

You watered them with love,

and they took root.

She hung inside her son and daughter chandeliers of light,

a mother’s patient grace through every day.

No gilt, no pomp—just rhyming, faithful care

that trained the ear to hear the Word made fair.

She made the house a home;

she filled the campus with prayer.

Christ was her worship.

Beauty was only how she said His name.

The rooms she taught still hold the glow she gave.

The Actress has laid her script aside and found

the Voice she spent a lifetime learning to obey.

The Writer’s pages closed. The mother’s hands

that poured the tea and wrote the notes of grace

opened toward the country of the Lamb,

where Father waited to see her face to face.

We will not dim the chandeliers she made.

His song and these lines are the lamps she lit.

We tend them still, and will not let them fade.

Go gently, Mom. The play was not the end.

The Lord you loved has called you home.

Your life was poetry the heart could understand—

clear, classical, and fiercely full of Him.

Now she sees Him face to face

and hears His golden, tender voice begin:

Well done, thou good and faithful servant.

The curtain lifts on glory. She sees Him.

The Author of her life has called her

victoriously and triumphantly home.

When Suffering Comes and Darkness Falls, His Love Will Never Fail Hymn by Debbie Harris

23 Sunday Aug 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Love Of Family

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Dear Reader,

From this quiet poet’s note: I wrote this hymn with this in mind—When suffering comes and darkness falls, His love will never fail—especially in the face of death, prolonged sickness, or the slow, heartbreaking decline of those we love with age. Do not mistake the night for the absence of love. Watching a beloved body weaken, memory fade, or life slip away can feel like the heaviest curtain of all, drawing close over the window of the heart. Yet His love does not flicker with the fading light of health or years. It does not thin when the path grows steep with pain, hospitals, or final goodbyes. It does not fail when the tears come unbidden and the questions about why rise louder than any answer we can hear. Hold this truth the way a traveler holds a small, steady lantern in the deepest valley: the darkness is real, the suffering is real, the watching and the waiting are real—but the love that holds you, and holds those you love, is older than both and stronger than either. You are not walking alone through the sickroom, the quiet decline, or the shadow of death. Even here—especially here—His love will never fail. Rest in that, dear one. The morning is already on its way.

With love and prayers,

The Poet

Stanza 1

When suffering and sorrows come

Like storms that veil the light,

When burdens crush the trembling heart

And day gives way to night,

Lift up your eyes to heaven’s throne—

The Lord remains the same.

Refrain

He holds you in His sovereign hand

Through every grief and pain;

His steadfast love will never fail

Till morning breaks again.

Stanza 2

The tears that fall in secret hours,

The sighs too deep for words,

Are treasured by the God of grace

Who knows each unspoken chord.

He bears the weight you cannot lift

And walks the shadowed way.

Refrain

He holds you in His sovereign hand

Through every grief and pain;

His steadfast love will never fail

Till morning breaks again.

Stanza 3

Recall the Christ, the Man of grief,

Who bore the cross alone;

He drank the cup of human woe

To make you fully known.

His wounds still speak of endless grace

That meets you in the dark.

Refrain

He holds you in His sovereign hand

Through every grief and pain;

His steadfast love will never fail

Till morning breaks again.

Stanza 4

Though trials rise by His design

To purify the soul,

He wastes no tear, forsakes no child,

But makes the broken whole.

The furnace of affliction yields

A faith more pure than gold.

Refrain

He holds you in His sovereign hand

Through every grief and pain;

His steadfast love will never fail

Till morning breaks again.

Stanza 5

When sickness claims the ones we love

And death stands at the door,

When hearts are torn by helpless watch

And sorrow wounds the core,

Remember Jesus wept at tombs

And shares the tears we pour.

Refrain

He holds you in His sovereign hand

Through every grief and pain;

His steadfast love will never fail

Till morning breaks again.

Stanza 6

When friends grow distant, strength grows thin,

And hope begins to fade,

The Spirit intercedes within

With groans that cannot be stayed.

He lifts the fainting spirit high

And whispers, “I am near.”

Refrain

He holds you in His sovereign hand

Through every grief and pain;

His steadfast love will never fail

Till morning breaks again.

Stanza 7

The night is long, yet dawn will break

Across the eastern skies;

No sorrow lasts beyond His will,

No pain escapes His eyes.

He turns the mourning into song

And wipes away all tears.

Refrain

He holds you in His sovereign hand

Through every grief and pain;

His steadfast love will never fail

Till morning breaks again.

Stanza 8

So rest, O soul, in boundless love

That never shifts its course;

The One who planned the darkest hour

Will bring the brightest source.

Until we stand on heaven’s shore

Where sorrows are no more.

Refrain

He holds you in His sovereign hand

Through every grief and pain;

His steadfast love will never fail

Till morning breaks again.

**To God be the glory always and only!

Miraculous Provision by Debbie Harris

19 Wednesday Aug 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Love Of Family, Praise, Prayer, Triumphant

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Our God is vast beyond the farthest star,

Almighty, tender, near as breath and bone.

In empty hands He places what we need,

And quiet comes that never was our own.

When fear rose high beside a hospital bed,

And mother’s soul trembled like a leaf in storm,

An unexpected angel spoke the ancient words:

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”

Psalm twenty-three, remembered by heart,

Poured peace like living water through the room.

Her breathing slowed. The storm inside grew still.

That calm was not hers—it was His alone.

Money appeared where none had been before,

Hidden in the pages of a worn, open Book,

Enough to carry love across the miles

To stand beside her in the hour of need.

Hospitality arrived with open doors,

Kindness from strangers who became true kin,

Gifts no one could repay, yet freely given—

Each one a quiet miracle of grace.

Strength rose when strength had long since fled,

A steadying hand that was not flesh and bone.

The valley of the shadow lost its sting

Because the Shepherd walked the path ahead.

Green pastures opened in the barren place,

Still waters found us when the wells ran dry.

He prepared a table in the presence of fear,

And mercy followed every weary step.

This is no private story bound by time or name.

Wherever need is real and faith looks up,

The same great God still multiplies the loaves,

Still speaks the Psalm that quiets troubled hearts,

Still sends provision wrapped in human hands,

Still gives a peace the world cannot invent.

So let the soul that feels its own smallness rest:

Our God is big. Our God is great. Our God is near.

He leads. He keeps. He restores the fainting soul.

And all the days of our lives, His goodness follows.

To God be the glory——always and only!

The Sacred Ache of Watching Beloved Saints Enter Their Eternal Home by Debbie Harris

18 Tuesday Aug 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Grief, Bereavement, Loss, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings, Love Of Family

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

I count it a privilege to have grown up on the campus of Bob Jones University, surrounded by brilliant, Christ-centered, humble, talented, and faithful professors. How blessed was I that Jesus let me be born into all of this—their lives were living testimonies, quietly radiant with devotion, marked by sacrifice, and poured out for the glory of the One they served. In recent years, many of these dear saints have gone home to be with their Lord and Savior. Truthfully, I cry over every one. Yet even as tears fall, I rest in the certain knowledge that their sacrifices and eternal rewards far exceed anything we can imagine this side of glory. Through decades of faithful service, they have touched thousands upon thousands of students, leaving an indelible imprint of Christ upon generation after generation. This poem is my humble tribute—to them, and to so many others who have crossed into their eternal home.

With deep gratitude, love, and admiration
for their Christ-centered service—
a lasting example of faith poured out for His glory,

To God be the glory—always and only.


The Poet

Psalm 116:15
Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.

2 Corinthians 5:8
We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.

Philippians 1:21
For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.

John 14:2
In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.

John 14:3
And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.

Revelation 14:13
And I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them.2 Timothy 4:7
I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith:2 Timothy 4:8
Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.

Matthew 25:21
His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.

Hebrews 12:1
Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us,

Hebrews 12:2
Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.

How my heart aches
when word arrives like evening’s hush
that a saint I have loved
has crossed the final threshold
into the everlasting home prepared for them.

I and many others were granted
the rare privilege of watching
their Christ-centered gifts unfold—
talents refined in the furnace of devotion,
a brilliance that never sought its own glory
but steadily reflected the radiance of the Crucified.

At their side I learned
the quiet art of a faith made flesh,
and still I aspire, with imperfect resolve,
to carry even a faint echo of that light
into the ordinary hours they no longer share.

Yet the ache abides:
a sacred hollow where their presence once dwelt,
a hushed space once filled with their voice of praise.
With grateful hands I release them
into the scarred embrace of the Savior
who first claimed their heart,
while mine continues onward—
marked forever by the honor of having seen,
having learned,
and still striving to mirror, however faintly,
the Christ they so faithfully revealed.

A Classical Prayer to Christ: Entrusting Mothers and Families Separated by Duty and Distance to His Faithful Keeping from Afar by Debbie Harris

13 Thursday Aug 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Inspirational, Love Of Family, Prayer

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

What a profound blessing it has been to serve my mother in these years of her elderly decline. Yet how brutal and agonizing it is for me to have to leave her—pulled away by responsibilities and the hard necessities of provision.

Even though she is improving and receives phenomenal care, the separation remains agonizingly difficult. This prayer was born from that tension: the love that wants to stay, the duty that must go, and the quiet cry of a heart that entrusts what it cannot hold into the hands of Christ.

May these lines, offered in classical form and centered wholly on Him, meet you in whatever distance you carry.

— The Poet

Isaiah 46:4 – And even to your old age I am he; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you: I have made, and I will bear; even I will carry, and will deliver you.

Psalm 71:9, 18 – Cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth. Now also when I am old and greyheaded, O God, forsake me not.

Psalm 121:5–8 – The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.

Isaiah 49:15 – Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.

Hebrews 13:5 – for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.

Lord Jesus, keep our families near

When roads and skies stretch far between.

Though we may long to hold them here,

Send angels forth, by You unseen,

To sit beside the empty chair,

To light the lamp at evening’s call,

To quiet every rising care

And answer when the soft tears fall.

Watch over children in their play,

And elders in their quieter years.

Be present through the ordinary day,

And closer still when night brings fears.

How hard it is to stand apart

While hearts still stretch across the night.

We cannot hold them, though we start—

So fold them in Your wings of light.

By Your own blood and finished cross,

By every promise You have made,

Turn absence into holy loss

That draws them nearer to Your shade.

Let every mile become a place

Where Your dear presence gently stays,

Until we meet face to face

And share again the same bright days.

Until that hour, O Christ our Lord,

Keep every soul we so adore

Beneath the shelter of Your Word,

Safe in Your keeping evermore!

Ending Prayer

O Lord Jesus Christ, eternal Son of the living God, who art the same yesterday, today, and forever, and whose compassionate eye rests upon every generation:

I come before Thee this day on behalf of my elderly mother, whom duty and distance have for a season placed far from those who love her. Thou who didst honour Thy own mother Mary, and who in the hour of Thy passion entrusted her to the care of the beloved disciple, look now with tender mercy upon this Thy handmaid in her advancing years.

Guard her body with health according to Thy will, strengthen her steps, and preserve her from every danger, loneliness, and fear. Where the miles lie between us, let Thy presence be nearer to her than any earthly companion. Comfort her heart when it grows heavy, quiet her nights with Thy peace, and fill her days with the quiet assurance that she is never forsaken.

Uphold her in the frailty of age; grant her daily bread, clear mind, and the gentle consolations of Thy Spirit. Knit her still to her children and family across every distance, and let our love and prayers reach her through Thee. If it be Thy good pleasure, hasten the day of safe reunion; until then, keep her securely in the hollow of Thy hand.

Be Thou her strength when she is weary, her light in any darkness, her unfailing Companion both near and afar, and the faithful Shepherd who will never leave her nor forsake her.

All this I ask in Thy most holy Name, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit livest and reignest, one God, world without end.

Amen.