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.