What this year has taught me

This year surprised me. I don't like change but it seems like everything changed. I rarely cry and yet this year brought a lot of tears, both happy and sad. I usually plan out everything but the best parts and people came when I least expected. I graduated and grew and started college and grew some more.

Here are some things that 2013 has taught me:

-Save your change. I mean this literally and figuratively. Quarters are gold and laundry adds up. But  don't be afraid to record and collect the changes going on around you. It makes the world seem smaller and more fixable if you are able to write down your pain and petitions in black ballpoint pen. I promise.
-It's okay to eat in bed. And to nap on the floor. And to sit on top of tables. Sometimes you need a new perspective on the fixed things around you
-Coffee can't do your homework but it sure can help
-Don't overestimate your knowledge on anything. You are constantly being taught even as you are teaching others. The world is always growing and your heart should be too. Someday I hope that my soul is big enough and bright enough to radiate Love out of the tips of my toes. Until then, I'll keep on learning and growing and dreaming and loving.
-Sometimes days can be like knitting. Knit one pearl two. Get out of bed, shower, go to class, eat, do work, eat some more, climb back into bed. Don't let the days become so monotonous that they all stream together. You'll knit scarves without even realizing it. Surprise yourself. Switch things up. Keep your rhythms interesting
-Some days you will go to Starbucks twice and that's alright. Smile at the baristas. Maybe you'll make new friends.
-Knowing someone's name can quickly turn into knowing someone's heart. He calls us by name so we should probably do the same for others.
-Old friends can turn into strangers in a blink of an eye so try not to blink too much. Make phone calls and write letters instead.
-Sometimes you'll feel like you're taking 3 steps forward and 2 steps back. Look at it as if you are just dancing through life, not stumbling through it
-People will always talk; they have mouths and voice boxes and the mechanics to do so. Some of what they say will build you up to make you feel like you are standing on mountains. And some of what they say will break your heart and your confidence and your smile. Do not put in ear plugs, although that may seem like the easy option. Instead, learn to take everything with a grain of salt. It adds some flavor after all.
-Wear comfortable shoes. But don't get comfortable with the ways of this world. We are broken and hurting and lost and confused and there is nothing comfortable about that. Don't be afraid to speak out and act out and love out.
-There will always be a New Year ahead. A new time for joy and for change and for endless possibilities. Don't waste it. You are given mercies new each morning, so go and watch the sunrise. Dreaming and daring never hurt anyone but don't be afraid to go and do.

Longing to Love

Some days I'm convinced that my arms are like winter branches
Not just cold, but craving what they have lost
Wishing that they could gather all of the buds and leaves and memories
of spring and summer and fall
breathing in the hope that change is coming
But the leaves always leave and the people do too
A string of goodbyes woven from heavy hands and wandering eyes
Winter always seems to come before my heart has gathered enough firewood to keep warm

The longer I run the more familiar my feet get with the dirt underneath them
But the more often they seem to trip on familiar roots
Sometimes remembering coincides with regretting and regressing
I wish there was a word in the English language for the feeling you get
when your whole heart aches as you sip tea and look back on a time
that gave you incredible joy
A word for the way your stomach clenches as your entire being yearns for yesterday
Or maybe just a word for running ahead while looking back and staying present
because I can never seem to juggle all three at the same time

Lately I've been finding grace in the smallest of places
In between pine needles and hang nails and crooked smiles
Sometimes I wish that my heart had hands
as a reminder that I need to give out as much as I take in
I tend to talk about the things I know best:
Jesus and music and tea and myself
But maybe if I started to talk about the things I know least
I could learn to learn more
There is a lot about this world that I am longing to understand
but maybe I should just be longing to love

It surprises me that I'm still surprised by cold winds and cold hearts
I think that He has been revealing Himself to me through goose bumps and held in breath
Reminding me that there will always be things in this world worth shivering over
But there will also be Light worth drawing near to
And we would never notice the Light without the darkness
Maybe one day I'll learn to warm my soul and my hands by the fire without
burning my knee caps
And maybe some day I'll learn to remember without
burning old photographs into my mind
And maybe then I'll come up with a word for training my lungs to breathe in the chill
while exhaling joy and love

What They Don't Tell You

What they don't tell you about the first time you come home

You'll come home expecting your world to be like a forgotten dollhouse
That things will be standing exactly where you left them
Only they'll have collected a layer of time and dust.
When really, people have grown and places have shrunk
You will suddenly look at everything through a microscope
Wondering and wanting to know how every boulder that played a role in your life
now seems like a grain of sand stuck in the bottom of your boot

You'll learn that growing up isn't exactly the carpeted staircase you thought it would be
That it's more like a path of stepping stones through a mud puddle
A balancing act of remembering, restoring, and running forward
That somedays your soul will ache for people and places and past validations
It will feel like chunks of your heart have fallen through the cracks of your ribcage,
Crumbling like plaster
Try not to think of it like you are missing pieces,
but that you now just have a lighter heart and more room to breathe

You'll start to wonder how you ever went to bed before midnight
Or functioned without coffee
Or woke up before 8
Your entire concepts of early and late and being free will have changed entirely
You always expected freedom to be painted on the wings of birds flying down familiar roads
and off into the great unknown
Now, freedom is what binds you to coffee dates with your papers and laptop
The responsibility of getting yourself to bed at a reasonable hour and getting up at one too
Operating on your own clock, the minute hand running far too quickly
As hours catch up with sunsets, and days bump into one another,
politely asking if they could just borrow a couple more minutes of sleep and solitude

They never tell you that home slowly transforms from a building into a feeling
That your feet are more trained to walk back into the lives of others
than to walk back into old rooms and closets
You'll seek solace in voices and eyelashes and outstretched arms
That even though everything's changing
at least the change will always be constant
That the way your sisters smile and the way your mother laughs and the way your papa hugs you
will always be home

Thankful

Mercies new each morning
I am thankful for waking up with breath in my lungs and a song in my heart
For a Creator who knows me and laughs with me and walks with me
Even though His steps are always ahead of mine
He never minds if it takes me a while to catch up to where He wants me to be

Sidewalks and hearts that are under construction
I'm thankful for new beginnings
For short walks to class and long walks down city streets
Hands intertwined, I'm thankful for peace amongst chaos
For comfortable shoes and comfortable people

Familiar faces across computer screens
I am thankful for home
For family and for joy, silly smiles and close ups of eyebrows and noses
For sisters that keep me dancing
And for parents that keep me hopeful
For friendships that are not contained by borders
Just merely reshaped and reassured
That love is flexible enough to reach across miles and mountains

Tea and dish soap and push pins and candles
I am thankful for the little things
For clean laundry on Saturday mornings
And clean hearts on Sunday mornings
For postage stamps and handwritten letters
For new notebooks and new faces

Second chances every second
I am thankful for a love that makes absolutely no sense
A love that stretches from lakeside benches to city skylines
For erasers and white out and forgotten mistakes
For the rain that reminds me that even my darkest stains can be washed away
And for a Shepherd that always welcomes me back into His flock
I am thankful

Boxing Gloves

I am a soul
I am not a story untold
I am a creation, breathing in the fire of my Creator
With eyes open wide at my Maker
I am not my anxieties or a hopeless reality or a spiritual sobriety
I am present in His presence wrapped with a silver bow and the excitement of Christmas morning

I have never worn boxing gloves
But I could probably be a professional fighter
My Daddy would tell you that I rarely think before I speak
And my Mama would say that I am defensive far more than I am decisive
That I argue about things in my sleep with no one but myself
That I've always walked around singing and I've always walked on my toes
Probably as a way to make myself appear louder and bigger than I really am

I may not be a wrestler but my heart will never be done wrestling
I am restless and I am running and I am consistently being ruined
By the One who makes it worth the fight
I am not filled with the tally marks of my mistakes because He doesn't keep score
In Him I've already lost and gained
Made whole again

I have a constant fear of keeping my eyes closed too long when I blink
Because I never want to miss out on seeing the goodness of this world
I'm convinced that true faith is found more often in kindergarten classrooms than theological discussions
That sometimes I hold onto my past as an excuse to procrastinate moving into my future
But sometimes, the gloves come off and all I can do is live in love
I stop fighting and singing and standing on my toes
And learn to dwell in the mystery of impossible hopes

Falling

Aurophobia: the fear of the Northern Lights

How can you be afraid of something so untouchably far away?

I'm starting to believe that we might spend most of our lives behind telescopes

Convinced that if we distance ourselves from the world we are allowed to judge its every detail

I think that the stars have so much space between them because they don't understand each other

And neither do we

So we've separated our hearts by Milky Way miles

and have learned to believe that no amount of gravity can ground us

Bathophobia: the fear depth

I've come to understand that coffee shops brew trust and small talk

We keep a running list of details that we're fine with giving out

But we never seem to tell them why we're scared of walking under bridges because they make us feel like the world may come crashing down at any moment 

Or that we're scared of letting people into the gateway of our hearts because it gets messy

Arteries and broken dreams all wrapped up under ribs that cage our hopes and spirit

Kenophobia: the fear of voids or empty spaces

I'm convinced we've convinced ourselves that silence is worse than death

We desperately grab onto details and stuff them into the nooks of conversation

Filling each other's inhales with our own vocabulary

We hate conviction almost as much as we hate construction

Never wanting our hearts to admit that they're being worked on

Hard hats of hard-heartedness and work boots refusing to follow the detours

Basophobia: the fear of falling

I can count the number of times I've fallen out of bed and into prayer on no hands

But I can't begin to count the number of times I've fallen into shame instead of falling into You

Grabbing onto branches and ledges and ankles of others

Pulling ourselves into places we shouldn't be 

Instead of letting ourselves fail and be built up from fiery embers

We fear the fall itself more than the Flame

Making giving up control synonymous with giving up our names

But we will never fly unless we spend some time falling into heavenly currents of love and direction

Caution Tape

Overwhelming compassion falling like the turned autumn leaves
Into the open hands of children with wide eyes and narrow futures
The click of heels down city sidewalks serving as a constant reminder of the separation
between the people who walk on the cold concrete and the people who sleep on it
Those whose purchases are kept in shopping bags and those whose lives are kept in the very same
Haunted souls and haunted eyes
Coffee cups filled with lattes and coffee cups filled with change
Why do we choose to be content with anthills when we could be building up mountains?

"God bless you!" cried out to turned backs and turned minds
I've heard that the chill of winter in the city is nothing compared to the cold hearts that inhabit it
When did it become normal to deem people unworthy of connection
Downcast eyes and parents holding their children's hands tighter than before
You can't keep them comfortable forever
Because there is nothing comfortable about feeling guilty and sheltered
Walking an easy path lit by street lights and love
While your brothers and sisters have stumbled in the dark

It's easy to believe in a God who blesses you
A God whose hand you can visibly see working in people and through people
Whose voice you can hear in conversations of kindness
But I cannot imagine that it is easy to find Him in judging eyes and the backs of heads
How do you build your life on the Rock
When you feel like rocks are being thrown at you daily?
I don't think I'll ever understand the type of faith that grows in deserts
Are there seeds of truth in barren soil?
Are there branches of life in burned down forests?

And still I believe that the goodness of the world outshines fear
Our problem is that we use the light of goodness to create shadows
We point to the darkness more often than we dwell in it
Sometimes it's easier to give than it is to share
We set up caution tape around our comfort zone and barriers around our point of view
The problem isn't that we refuse to cross or climb them
The problem is that we set them up in the first place
Humanity has created a "them" and an "us" instead of a "we"
Like reaching toward fire and getting burned
It may take dozens of tries before we stop blaming the flame and start blaming ourselves

To My Sisters

If a boy ever tells you you're beautiful, ask him what he thinks of your heart
Ask if he knows that you'd rather sip tea than drink coffee
That you love playing piano because it is always tangibly concrete
That sometimes you run not to get away, but just for the sake of running
That you're horrible at remembering birthdays.
If he doesn't, he's just another birthday to forget
If he does, say thank you

If another girl ever tells you that you need to wear certain shoes
and coat your lips with sticky gloss
Trust me, you don't
Your feet will just get blisters from walking circles around yourself
And your lips were not made to taste like candy they were made to speak your mind
Do not let your mind or your lips be shut by painted fingernails and girls you want to be like

Don't replace books with magazines
Their covers are designed to make you doubt every feature of yours
Don't you ever lower your IQ for the sake of conversation
And if the boy you're talking to likes ditzy girls, then you are not for him
Because you have things to say that could build up mountains and build up people
You are a warrior and a wonder

This world is content with settling
but baby, don't you fall into that trap
Settling may seem safe
But it is when plates of earth settle against each other that earthquakes are started
Don't be an earthquake.

Always remember how small the smallest part of you is
You are made up of molecules and love
Watch your ego
You need one to survive but do not start letting out enough hot air to fill balloons
When you talk more about yourself than your Creator and where you've come from
you'll begin to give all the glory to your own being
Remember that you are not here to save, but to love

If I had a penny for every time you will be hurt and disappointed
all I would have is two handfuls of coins and a heavier heart
But I will always be here to wrap you in my arms
I cannot save you but I can love you
And I have pointer fingers for a reason,
to point you to our Father
and to big skies and bigger dreams
Somedays you will feel like you are caught in a rainstorm
Always remember that water dries.
But I long for the days when your heart is dancing, just like your eyes
When all you can see is light and joy
When you take this world by your own storm
You are a warrior and a wonder

Puzzle Pieces

"All you need is love"
We sing out from soapbox street corners and family dinner tables
Be kind, be hopeful, but above all else, be loving
We say with our mouths full of clouded truths and misty misinterpretations
How can we know of love when all we're offered is dozens of roses
and movie scripts of first kisses in the rain?

Like a painter with stained hands
You kept Your wounds as signs of Your artwork and of Your great love
Wearing humanity and walking the earth to be nailed on a tree
with enough branches to shade all of Your children with mercy and grace
You paint us rainbows and waterfalls to remind our eyes and our hearts of Your adoration,
Sunsets and sunrises to frame each day with psalms of joy

We all long for someone
We look for traces of their footprints in the crunching autumn leaves
and glances of their reflections in cool waters
But are we willing to make ourselves pebbles in order to build them up to be towers of stone?
To drop our books of self righteousness and our plans of self centeredness
The second we hear their voice call our name?
Would we lay down our life for them just as our Painter painted us an identity in His sacrifice

Too often we forget that "we love because He first loved us"
That He is love
We make ourselves to be the poster-children for hearts held in alabaster jars
Just waiting to shatter at the slightest touch of misguided lust
Falling like puzzle pieces because after all
puzzles are made to be broken and broken again
But we not
We are made in an image of love itself
It is our very nature to be whole despite our decision to turn from being holy
To be lovers and life-breathers and listeners
To mutually inspire and bless one another
as the moon calls the waves into the shore
and the waves provide the moon with a steadiness to make it through the darkness

Fireflies

The one who knows my heart is holding it
The one who knows my thoughts created me to think
How incredible it is to walk with You as my intimate traveling companion, not as a roadside assistance
In dark alleyways littered with poor decisions and utter confusion
do not let me lose my step
Line my paths with tea lights and trust
Make my hands to read the brail of Your creation
and my heart to discern Your voice in a crowd of calls

I've always been bad at reading maps and I have a horrible sense of direction
But luckily for me, You've mapped out my life
And Your directions are the only ones that make sense
Once I've fallen to my knees sometimes I forget to stand back up
But the world can seem so distant from being so far down
The backs of knees and the heels of feet will always seem to be walking away, not gathering near
But You give me the strength to stand in joy
Because Your arms will always be there to lift me on my feet and to push me to move
There's no sense in standing unless you are willing to go forward and go forth in love

I have always been a list maker
But luckily for me, You aren't
You don't make lists of my flaws and failures and hold them against me
Instead You hold Your arms around me and say
"This is my beloved child"
And you don't make schedules of coincidence and happenstance
You make plans and You make a way
You bring us to the very people we were meant to welcome into our lives
And the people we were meant to learn and grow with

A firefly isn't actually a fly, but a beetle
Instead of holding it to it's physical design, we call it by it's desire to light up a nighttime sky
And so You call us by our desire to bring Your kingdom here
setting us free from mason jars of human confinement
You make our hands to do Your handiwork
and our hearts to do Your holy work
While being poured into we are made to pour into others
Vessels of Your word
and receivers of Your grace

Brothers and Sisters

Sidewalk lines and sidewalk cracks and sidewalk preachers

You say to me, "Everything is beautiful if you make it beautiful" 

through tired eyes and waves of cigarette smoke

And gel pen story lines of color and confusion
Always written in pen instead of pencil, as if the possibility of making mistakes doesn't even exist when You are in the picture

How often do we tread new waters and trust in new paths?
More often we frequent our usual storefront corners
Window shopping for people who look and think and speak
in unison with ourselves
Instead of venturing out to shake the hands of someone
who may have more dirt ingrained under their fingernails and more of a story to tell

I wish that I could look into your eyes and read your story printed across your pupils
That I could know how you got from point A to point B and maybe even to point C
That I could pick up all your details and put them in my pocket or my notebook or my heart
Not to turn them into newspaper headlines but to get to know you more

We proclaim ourselves as heroes far more than we paint ourselves as brothers and sisters
Molding our own badges and piecing together our own capes
From our left over scraps of judgement and injustice
Building up pedestals instead of coffee shop churches and park bench conversations

Breaking bread and breaking barriers that were held in place by staring eyes
Let us look on and look in, in love
Give us the vision to see hearts instead of heads, hope instead of hate,
and healing instead of just hurting
Let us be vessels of your light and receptors to your love
You speak so clearly through your people
Through nighttime discussions that continue on in prayer
Through your children who have walked on rocky walkways in worn down shoes
For it's easier to slip into Your arms when we don't have the traction of this world holding us back

Sea Glass and Footsteps

Like walking with sea glass and not realizing that it used to be a bottle,
You never even noticed that I felt broken
That I was digging through sand and searching
Desperately putting my scrap pieces together with scotch tape and an open heart
Covering refrigerator doors with magnets and memories and molding mistakes
For even when I made them I knew someday they'd bring me here
I'm always one to dip my toe in the puddle before I jump into the ocean
While everyone else did canon balls I opted to climb down the ladder
because each rung was stable and each rung was there

You can tell a lot about a person by their footsteps
The way they take their coffee and they way they take another's heart
How their dreams and their goals look as they're posted on walls with thumbtacks and nails
As a constant reminder to knock on and knock down doors that hold you back
You can tell a lot about a person by how quickly they take off their shoes when they get home
Or when they get to someplace new
How much water they leave in their glass at a restaurant
And how much water they let themselves sink into before they realize they're drowning

I have dozens of journals that I've only written two or three entries in
Because if I wait too long it seems wrong to just pick up with where I left off
I think I do that with people
Always making time and space synonymous with change
And I have dozens of two or three entry friendships followed by blank pages waiting and wanting to be filled
I wish I was better at journaling and I wish I wasn't afraid of picking up where I left off

You can tell a lot about a person by how small they feel when they look at the moon
The way they tell a story and the way they break hard news
The way their eyes light up when someone else in the room mentions their passion
Or when you mention their name
How freely they dance when they hear music and how freely they love when they hear pain
Or even how easily they see broken glass as a work of art

You are here

I see You in morning sunrises and morning coffee and morning books

You are the start of each day

In the silence of the sky you speak so loudly

I think water colors are your favorite medium because you use them so well

To draw us into the beauty of Creation and to color us cards of encouragement

Each ray is a thank you and each cloud a reminder

that sometimes it's hard to see the Son when you're distracted by the vastness of the world

I see You in laughter, in the crinkles that wrap around your children's eyes

Like porches on houses in sunny summer afternoons

You have a funny way of bringing your people together around tables of joy

With the clinking of ice cubes in glasses of ice tea

And the dancing of footsteps down well traveled paths

Sometimes putting us in the way of those we didn't know we needed to encounter

And counting on us to keep your playful spirit alive in love

I see You in irises and curved lenses and pupils

Constantly craving to let in more light from this world

Eye contact breeds connection 

But sometimes we'd rather connect a phone to our ear than our heart to another's

The emptiness of trials and the twinkle of triumph 

You whisper in looks of dispair

But more often you yell out in looks of pain 

Daring us to live out and inspire change

You rearrange our hearts and hopes 

in the skeletons on street corners

and the tiny feet climbing up playground ladders

I see You in city buildings and towering pine trees

Both greeting the skyline with open arms and admiration

For neither one would seem as great without the other

In playing hide and seek with the wind

rushing past and brushing my shoulders

In the repetition of waves of hands and oceans alike

People's footsteps falling in place with millions who have walked before them

And untraveled wooded routes that only Your grace has carved a way through

I see You in the rise and fall of each new breath

The tiny blister on my right index finger that forms as you guide my pen and fill my notebooks

The daily buzz of conversation and community 

The way my eyes always seem to people watch 

looking for new stories to inspire my own

The Author of Life

You write our conclusions to be far better than our beginnings

You are here. 

James 1:5-6

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.

It would be far easier to be a wave in the sea than to stand here and fight against the  current current in my life
They may fall time and time again, but they follow others that have gone before them and found pleasure in the fall
And still they're followed by more who push and encourage and then help them roll back to sea
At least the waves have company
Here I am, constantly fighting back, refusing to give in to temporary waves and permanent drowning
The only thing holding me up against my dares and doubts is your constant grace
But sometimes I claim I can do it on my own
"This is my fight" I yell from mountaintops that You molded with expert hands
I'm a child always threatening to run away, but I never even make it out of the driveway
Baggage packed in a knapsack over my shoulder
Remembering that You made the woods I would hide in
And you made my mind that thought of hiding in the first place
Luckily for me You don't have to fight the current
You stop the current
"Be still" you call out to the winds and the waves and my wayward heart
You do not lead me away from the shoreline
Instead, you have made me a strong swimmer
You've given me a life jacket and a longing heart
Because where my tired soul meets the strongest storms-
That is where your grace transforms me best

Redwood oak trees have been around centuries longer than I
And I think they're the ones getting it right
As their roots grow down they reach out to one another and intertwine
Sometimes merging with their brothers and sisters, they don't just grow deeper, they grow closer
I can imagine they say to one another "It's good to have you by my side"
As they share a drink and look up toward a boundless sky
You don't like to stay in the lines when comes to creation
And You didn't make us to stay within walls and guidelines
You gave us roots and hearts that were made to grow deeper and closer
Our hands were designed to intertwine
And yet we hold them together in silent prayer more often than we reach out to strangers
We choose to fall with the waves more often than we reach up to the one who walks on water
The one who gave us strong roots and a stronger hope

Poem B

A Prayer from Your Child

Lord it's so easy to give you a hand

but so hard to give you my hands

they were made to do your very kingdom work

but I am not fit to serve a king

no I am not fit to serve a servant of a king 

And my hands have held things and people they never should have 

my fingerprints leave marks of sin, and slander has seeped in under my nails

Lord it's so hard to give you my hands

Lord it's so easy to give you my feet

as long as your path leads me by still waters

for I seem to still stumble every now and then 

I am the type of person that could trip on air

and lucky for me you don't air my faults on television screens 

you could fill entire news shows with all of the mistakes i've made before i have even eaten breakfast

I'm sure glad i don't have to walk a mile in your shoes

They'd be too big for me to fill and I'd just stumble even more

Lord it's so hard to give you my feet

Lord it's so easy to give you my eyes

They are lamps

not shaded, but filled with your light

but sometimes bulbs burn out every now and again and I'm not even tall enough to change them myself

And I stay in the darkness while I fumble and fall until I can't possibly stand it anymore

They are doors

choosing to shut out your beauty and creation and only opening to the pain of this world

They are filled with question marks and brimmed with tears for your people and their sufferings

Lord it's so hard to give you my eyes

Lord it's so easy to give you my soul

You made it after all, it's not even mine to give

my heart beats in time with your creation

my blood pumps your love through my veins

I am human but I am loved

And you are love

Even my lungs know to obey your commands

you have stopped my breath time after time

Sharp intakes and gasps remind me to appreciate that I am here

I long to give you all of me

But I am selfish, I'm a hoarder of emotions

an over achiever of carrying my own burdens

I am hard headed and hard hearted and hard to understand

but you know every outline of my bones

you know the songs that I write out of struggles

and the walls that I build to shut everyone else out

you know their blueprints better than I do

and here I am

merely a child

arms lifted high as i praise. not to feel closer to you

but to reach up to my Heavenly father as i learn to walk in his ways

to catch your blessings and your mysteries on my finger tips and to burst forth with your spirit

You take me as I am with stains and rough edges and you mold me into something beautiful

Lord I long to give you all of me

Listening

I have never been a strong runner
but I have always been strong willed
and running from You has always been more than my second nature
I was designed to love and praise
but I was destined to be ashamed of my present, let alone my past
Your voice echoes through my very bones
but that's all it is
an echo
A call resounding off the walls of the box of my mind
repeating, repeating, gone
I long for you to write sonnets and love letters across my eyelids
 so that when I shut them you are all I see
I long for you to hold my hand long enough for your finger prints to seep into mine
so that I can feel your story and your human struggle and your holy healing
but do not hold my hand for long
Let me know that I am able to walk on the water of my own feet
Give me ears that distinguish even your faintest call
And when I am faint and weary do not cover my wounds
but let them be tattoos of triumph
A testimony to grace and gratitude
Write your songs on my heart and your life on my lips
When a baby cries people will say it is from lack of food or a need to be held,
and sometimes I need to be held,
but I think they cry from an inborn need to get their message across
And my heart has been crying out more than it's been caving in
And I am learning to get my message across
In a brand new language of love
My Father has flashcards of freedom and signs of sorrows
He has been pulling my heart strings to tunes both new and old
He is teaching me a new language of love
spoken by a shepherd I dare to follow because he dared to take on flesh for my sake
Clothing me in the wisdom of his ways
Calling his beloved sheep through a blessed gate
Into a pasture of peace and restoration
As long as they are quiet enough to listen

Poem A

If

If I stood on the shore every hour of every day I would never miss the beauty of the sunrise or the sunset

And as the sun sets on old photographs and memories I feel it rise in my soul

Because I've been attached to the hip of another for far too long to know what it's like to walk in my own shoes

I've been looking for clovers not to prove that I am lucky but to prove that I am patient enough to look

My hands seem to be constantly reaching and pulling at nothing but air to prove that they selfishly hope for someone else's hands to fill the spaces there

If I stood by a clock every hour of every day I would never think that time was flying

I would know instead that it is the one thing you can depend on to always be changing

My mind changes course with every gust of wind and I fear that I am not very skilled at sailing

Oh Captain my Captain

I'm drowning out here in an ocean of forget me nots and self pity and nights spent hiding under blankets from You and from myself

There is no lighthouse steering me clear of the rocks and boulders

But every bruise on my knee and cut on my shoulder serves as a reminder that I am not only fragile but I am here

If I stood by myself for the rest of my life I would be fine

Not great, fine, because there is a difference

You can grate things until they are fine enough to sit comfortably in the palm of your hand and you can study every molecule of their being

But you can't always find things that are great enough to study to begin with

Talk with me for long enough and you'll come to know every molecule of my being

You'll know that I can't sit for long and I can't stand to be left waiting

I schedule life down to every moment

Even the minute hand knows it should only move when I say so

But I am learning to give up and give in

The minute hand deserves to live on its own time after all 

If I could tell you one thing, I wouldn't

Instead I would write millions of things down with black ballpoint pen and I'd crumple it up and scatter it over fire and watch as tiny sparks rose and transformed into fireflies dancing their way to your heart

Fire has always amazed me not because of it's heat, but because of it's refusal to go out

Even as wind blows and water falls it protests back loudly and flickers all the more lively

You can't add fire to fire, it doesn't burn bigger but brighter

and I can only hope that you will find someone that will help your fire burn louder

That your spark will continue to light even in the midst of impossible rain storms and quite possible turmoil

That you will never stop asking "What if"

Beloved Children

Therefore, be imitators of God as beloved children; and walk in love, just as Christ also loved you and gave Himself up for us.

EPHESIANS 5:1-2, NASB

Do you ever get that feeling that you've been in an exact situation with the exact same people before?

Some call it deja vu but I think it's just human nature

We are born to be relational; to be empathetic and sympathetic, and even when we feel pathetic, we are drawn to lift a white flag of surrender and call out to anyone with even the slightest bit of familiarity.

But when was the last time you felt that weird sense of repetition in loving a complete stranger?

I catch myself staring at the crevices in between my shoe laces too often, but it's not my feet that need to be watched. It's my heart. Because walking in love has far more to do with letting Christ's love pump through your veins than carefully stepping around cracks and corners. Sometimes, those very obstacles you are trying to avoid will bring you to a whole new path that was even more scenic than the first.

The Bible says I'm a beloved child but lately I've been feeling like the kid with scraped elbows and knees, screaming for more, more, more. I'm selfish and hard-headed and altogether bruised and broken. How could I be beloved?

Beloved: (adj.) 1. dearly loved, 2. dear to the heart

He calls me His beloved; how sweet that is. He doesn't look past my weakness and struggle and paint me as a rosie-cheeked, wide-eyed child. Instead He takes my very imperfections and uses them as they are. He's an expert craftsmen that knows that even the most tarnished items on the shelf possess potential and value. My identity as a beloved child does not come from my own will or way, yet it is defined by my Maker. 

I long to be filled with His love. I want my lungs to know what it's like to breathe in His creation day after day. For even they are at His command. He loves to make me catch my breath. 

He reveals Himself in the people around me, the young girl crying out in protest as her country is being torn apart by war and violence. She is too young to remember, but she hears her mother and father cry at night and so she yells for freedom and for peace. Do I walk in love with her?

The homeless living on city streets, left to navigate cold nights and colder hearts. The ground scattered with bible verses and cardboard signs and hope. Do I walk in love with them?

The tired eyes and wounded hearts. 

The triumphant cries and beaming smiles.

The seeking and forgiven and the lost and forsaken.

Do I walk in love with them?

I think I'm still learning how to walk. I have weak knees and a shaky heart and like a baby taking its first steps, I am constantly reaching up to my Father for assurance and support. I am still learning how to have love deja vu. To love so freely and to live as Christ did so that smiling at strangers and talking with new people doesn't just feel like a routine, but continually inspires and amazes me. 

Through Him, I have the power to not just walk in love but to run marathons in love. For everything I cannot relate to and whisper "I know how it feels", He is there to be my voice and my guide and say "Just show them my love."

And the miracle isn't that He uses bruised and protesting children to walk in His ways, but that He set a path to begin with. That His love for us was so incredible that it took on flesh and walked on this Earth and gives us a tangible example to follow. That we can joyfully long to show others the slightest glimpse of who He is through who we are.