My Hands Are Yours God

My name is Tammy and I am a mother of 2 precious girls, wife to an amazing man, (and my best friend) and a woman who is so in love with her Savior. I love to write, poetry is my usual course. For the most part, there is a story behind them all. Sometimes, I just want to write.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Enter In With Me

A moment of silence in praise or request,
Vunerable or broken,
If I'm not at my best...
Enter in with me.

Loud and confounded, here to raise my voice,
humbled and broken,
asking for quidance with a choice....
Enter in with me.

Seeking an answer,
quietly pleading,
speaking a name, often interceding...
Enter in with me.

Just to be in his holy presence,
daily I'm coming,
seeking repentance...
Enter in with me.

Boldly, confident, renewed every day,
Come in, never leave the same way...
Enter in with me.


Will I stand when they ask, for which cause would I die.
When Truth is diluted, will I fall for the lie?
When righteousness is hidden, from those who would seek,
will all that I life for, reveal a heart that is week?

Body of Christ

A smile, a glance a simple hello, surface greetings are made.
A hug and a hand, a help with a bag, a stranger walks in so afraid.

Sharing a story, a joy or a song, while sipping a cup of joe,
Someone slips by quietly, in a pain you'll never know.

Compliments and glances, exchanged as we pass and get through a day.
That one who held the door for you, wishes someone would stop him and pray.

Singing loudly to a brand new song, swaying on our feet.
As one sits down, completely fatigued, in physical, physical defeat.

If pause can be made right where your are, then stop and look around.
Do you see what can't be seen, can you hear that inaudible sound?

That stranger walking in alone, completely bound in fear.
The familiar face who always smiles, she's fighting back a tear.
The one who held a door for you, something is different today.
The joyful spirit he had last week, has somehow slipped away.

If we're meant to tell the world, that Jesus loves and saves.
Then how can we neglect the one beside us as we Praise.
Lord give me the eyes to see the body of Christ laid open.
So I can speak into the life, of one who is silently broken.

Umbrella Friend

To walk beside me on the days when the sun is shining bright,
when everything falls into place and all is really, just right.
Is a blessing and I love the company along the way.
But what about when storms appear and life's in disarray.
will you venture round the puddles and sometimes ruin your shoes?
will you hold me close and pray or is comfort what you will choose?
What darkened alley will I enter and who will hold my hand?
What friend will be there stead fast?
Under whose umbrella will I stand?


Lift up your hands oh warrior,
in praise of the one who redeemed you.
In total surrender,
to the One who completely renews you.

Monday, June 1, 2009

My Heart is Heavy

My heart is heavy for ones in my life.
A child, a father, a mother, a wife.
Broken, dying, alone and grieving.
Battered by an enemy , a master in deceiving.
Crying for help in a deafened world.
Mourning over cancers, death and turmoil.
Friends I love, I wish for them to know Christ.
But blinded by darkness they're lost in this life.
I walk not this earth in my strength alone.
My hope's across Jordan, this worlds not my home.
A voice once quiet is finding it's song.
The longer I'm here, I know I don't belong.
The life I once lived is quickly, so quickly changing.
And things once held dear are all just fading.
As the lost and the found all around me are falling.
Closing their ears to a God who is calling.
I'll stand in the gap and lift you to the Throne.
Your marriage, your baby, your burden; you're not alone.
So this heavy heart falls again at the Cross.
As I leave it there, I know it's not a loss.
For as He carries me through every day.
I commit myself to love you and Pray.
Dear Jesus use me and my burdened heart.
Give me a vision, let this be the start.
However you see fit to use me in their story.
Whatever it takes, Bring your name the Glory.

My heart is heavy for ones in my life.
A child, a father, a mother, a wife.

John 8:36 If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.

Unknown Story

I am undone from the inside out.
But not unraveled, yielded to what God allows.
Taken apart to see what is broken.
People pass by, but no one has spoken.
I had a will but I left it back there.
Lost on a road that just didn't seem fair.
Begging for anything, I sit on this street.
Going unnoticed, some will trip on my feet.
Falling asleep under stars, and on this cold ground.
The silence is peace, as I wait for a sound.
A whisper from heaven that all will be well.
but can it be? It's too soon to tell.
I wake up to snowflakes that land on my nose.
and the sound of the morning as winter wind blows.
Wrapped in a blanket and snuggled down warm.
A shadow above me is cast, a familiar form?
Fingers reach down and smooth out my hair.
A feeling of hope, is this someone who cares?
I sit up to gesture this figure to sit down.
Bending down low, we move close on the ground.
Sitting in silence as my new company speaks.
Joy overcomes me and I start to weep.
Reminded of moments when all was just right.
Emotions once hidden come too strong to fight.
A vision of a Bible and hands in my lap.
Music and singing, hands and feet that would tap.
My Grandmother praying, hearing her voice.
The day I repented, how she did rejoice.
We spoke of salvation and the work of the cross.
Of all that was given, my gain, His loss.
Standing together, I knew it was time.
This life I was living was not really mine.
He reached out his hand and we walked together.
Leaving behind all this sadness forever.
One final glance at the form on the ground.
The silence was peace, and I needed no sound.
Carried away to a home up in Glory.
Just a shell on the street with an unknown story.

I am always moved by people on the streets. I imagine their story because I know they have one to tell.

Isaac and Max

How does a mom, who has never known hurt,
Never felt your heart ache and never known your loss,
How do I reach out, where do we meet. How do we connect?

The Cross…

I cannot understand your pain, or even go there briefly.
I have never lost a child or even felt your grief.

My life has been a series of blessings, not deserving more than you.
I am realizing things may change and there is nothing for me to do.

The roads of our life were carved in Grace, before the world was made.
And the life we have, though sometimes hard, none of us would trade.

The portion that was given to me, is vapor in my hand.
Quickly life is falling through, now more than ever, I understand.

Often I have sat with others and could do no more than weep.
Hoping we could wrap our minds around a pain much too great to keep.

I know you do not know me, but we have been one place together.
The Throne of God is our common ground, and will be now and forever.

We could have easily met at the Cross, you would have seemed familiar.
For it’s at that spot we are the same and our burdens are much lighter.

I see my daughter in the face of your precious little baby.
Knowing all well I will get to see her grow into a sweet young lady.

So I do not presume to feel the full grasp of the pain that you will suffer.
But I do have your heart, for I am too a mother.

Wishing I could take it away, will not move this mountain.
But taking you to the throne, I leave you at a fountain.

That precious fountain filled with blood, spills not just for sins forgiven
But gives the grace that you will need, until you meet him in Heaven.

I also leave you with a Father, who truly knows your pain.
Though willingly he gave His Son, His hurt is just the same.

This mother prays for you today, tomorrow and years to come.
Until you get to worship the Father,
Who is taking care of your son.

In Christ,
Tammy Pulsifer

She Did What She Could

For this poem, please visit:

This came after an incredible MOPS meeting. Just a reminder to do your all for God.


Unexplained love we share, not from where we expect. Something we cannot understand, impossible to neglect. We love our moms for our whole life, but suddenly it not the same. When we become a mom ourselves, it changes the whole game. Different-we look at her, and understand her more. And all the advice she once gave, we no longer ignore. her love, her strength, her every move, was motivated for us. There are few in our lives that earn this rich and powerful trust. So on the day we find ourselves, standing where she stood. We pray that all we say and do is inspired by her "good" Her good love, her good words, her good days of just "being". I look back and realize, all the good that I was seeing. So as we sometimes cross a road and part along our journey. A mother's heart forever lives, in the good you see in me.