A Letter to my Mama

It can only make sense to begin with thanks

Thank you for letting my spirit run loose

For never tying me down to ideals 

For letting my imaginary friends sit in the backseat and at the dinner table 

For letting me sing you songs that I scribbled on notebook paper 

that never really had rhyme or reason or even a logical melody

And still you listened

You have always listened

Thank you for reading me books that stretched my mind

For always giving me the space and time to create, think, and get mad

You have taught me that it's okay to get angry with the things I see

and more importantly the things I don't see

That this world is far from perfection but so am I

That there is always something new that I could be striving towards

even if I have to stand on a step stool to reach it

You taught me that it's okay to rely on someone else

That asking for help is not something to be ashamed of

And I should always be looking for new people that can etch encouragement into my heart

Thank for you for giving me inconceivable grace

For always finding a new way to sneak love into my pockets when I wasn't looking

For letting me fall on concrete but always being there to patch me up 

I think some of my worst injuries came from rejection and heartache and broken trust

but you always have had the right sized band aids to cover them all up

You have taught me that wounds don't heal over night, and sometimes it will feel like they haven't healed at all

Thank you for reminding me to stop picking at my scabs and to just give them time

Thank you for showing me the way toward a Savior who fills in the gaps of your human mistakes

For guiding my little feet down a path that led to a loving Christ

Thank you for refusing to buy me velcro sneakers no matter how much I begged

You always said that I had to learn how to tie my shoes first

Thank you for never giving me an easy way out

For pushing me to sing louder and love bigger

And never letting me settle with the things that came easily

Thank you for standing up for me on your Mama soapbox

Yelling on street corners, always fighting to make sure I was given a fair chance

When I felt like my own voice was silenced by circumstance

There you were with your megaphone and your determination

Always doing your best to make sure that the world never got the best of me

And on the days when I felt like a crumpled piece of paper tossed aside by everyone else

You spread out the wrinkles and taped me to the front of the refrigerator 

Proud of all of me, my mistakes and triumphs and silly tendencies

You have loved me through my darkest days and my most beautiful celebrations

It can only make sense to end with thanks

I don't mind if chivalry is dead...

...as long as common curtesy has replaced it.

Recently I've read several articles online that give men simple ways to bring back chivalry. They include all of the common cliches of holding the door, pulling out a woman's chair, giving up their seat on public transportation, and complimenting women up and down. And my favorite part is always when, in an effort to not appear sexist, the author says "men (and women)." It's new to me that we need parentheses around the female gender, almost as if women are an afterthought.

I don't expect men to hold the door for me or pull out my chair for me at dinner. Would I appreciate it? Of course, who wouldn't? But my appreciation isn't dependent on the gender of the person, it comes from the fact that kind gestures are rapidly fleeing from our fast paced, multi tasking, American society. I do not think that the number of X chromosomes a person has should dictate the level of politeness they need to express. I think our focus needs to shift away from chivalry and knights in shining armor and toward a universal expression of compassion and simple thoughtfulness. The term "chivalry" puts an unnecessary amount of pressure on males to uphold the hierarchy put in place not by Creation but by the Fall.

If I am called to be on equal footing with a male then he should not need to walk on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street or drop me off first when there isn't any close parking or it's raining. If I decide to wear heels in the rain and snow then it's my own fault. I've also recently read countless anti-feminist rants that say "well if men and women were equal we'd have co-ed bathrooms" or "well if men and women were equal then men should be able to hit women back." I am not a feminist, I am a human and a follower of Christ. Quite frankly, I don't think anyone should be hitting anyone and yes I am aware of the blatant differences between men and women. Being equal does not mean ignoring these differences but mutually loving and respecting each other because of our differences.

I do not need a man to give up his seat for me on the bus. My legs are just as equipped for standing as his are. However, if I was bogged down with grocery bags or if I was injured, it'd be great to have someone give up their seat- male or female. The call to be loving and selfless isn't gender exclusive. I think that we need to start viewing acts of kindness as a natural form of respect and stop viewing them as an obligation to advance our own agenda to appear a certain way.

Beautiful Creation

I do not think that we were ever meant to be chained
Or that the beats of hearts were meant to be suffocated by loud voices, calloused hands
How can anyone look at a child and see anything besides endless dreams?
How can anyone look at a body and see it as a price
a good, merchandise
We live in a marketplace of dehumanization
Immune to the to the plague of self deprecation
that has stemmed from generations hearing the words
"You are not enough"

Windows that do not offer a view into a vast future
but act as a barrier of love
People that do not offer a way out
but have feet that jump to conclusions and eyes that judge
Somehow the glass like a funhouse mirror twisting reality
Evil does not always roll in on clouds of smoke and fire
But rather it seeps in on hands placed on bodies and limits placed on lives
Chains needing to not just be broken, but removed completely
Replaced with the words "You are loved"

I can't help but think that this is so far
from all He intended our Garden to be
How can trust become a tool of manipulation?
A welcoming hug transformed into suffocation
Girls led to believe that all they will ever be is a behind doors strip tease
As their pride and self worth is stripped away with their clothing and heels
Mother and Father holding their daughter's hand and walking her into
a lifetime of selling herself to put food on the table

The only hope that is left is not held in the hands that grab or control
No it is the Hands that were driven into a tree
A Savior who sees past the stains and misuse
An era of hurt and abuse
And paints them the way they were planned out to be
Purely pure, a vision of joy, completely restored
Voices returned to the mouths of the oppressed
Given the chance to tell their story not as a fictional character or a statistic
but as a face, a name, a beautiful creation
Echoing the Creator in ever fiber of their being
So that someday they can truly say "I am loved"

Tracking in Dirt

I used to think that I needed to give myself the grace to be young
But I'm slowly realizing that I need to give myself the grace to be human
I am allowed to have scraped knees
from falling in love with the ways of this world
And chapped lips from speaking words of disdain
I do not serve a God of bandaids and lip balm
but a God of 2nd and 5th and 27th chances

I've always been my own worst critic
and in some ways that's kept me humble
But it also has become an infinite checklist of errors
etched into handheld mirrors
Only seeing imperfection where my Creator stitched creation into my skin
Wonderfully and fearfully made
I think I've always feared letting people down
Pretending that the spaces between my fingers were nets
made to catch people's expectations
He's got the whole world in His hands
But I certainly do not

You wouldn't think that walking on eggshells is painful
or plucking off flower petals is dangerous
or filling hourglasses with sand is mildly terrifying
But it is
I've spent far too long wishing away sand
I am learning to wait, to settle into joy
Because all I've ever been shown of forever are promises like windows
Seeming so clear but suddenly shattered by baseballs and a change of heart

And yet You tell me that I am Yours forever
A child of wishing well love
Washed clean by buckets and buckets of grace
I am allowed to be caged in by my own misconceptions
To track in dirt from the places I've walked home from
To hide under my covers until my cheeks are red and my heart is heavy
You did not come to cover up my stories
You came to save all the almosts and should-have-beens
I am allowed to always be running after an answer, an alleluia, an Amen

Messy Restoration

Breaking bread and breaking chains
Your fingerprints are even more visible amongst the dirt and the grime
Your name alone washes away and wipes clean
Even in the darkest of corners, forgotten nooks and
seemingly hidden spaces that everyone else ignores
Spiderwebs that linger even after the spiders are gone
And yet we're afraid because we know the past and we can't see the future
Barriers meant to protect and yet all they do is hold in
creating reliance and necessity amongst the depravity

Drink this cup and eat this bread
Grape juice on lips offered from tiny plastic cups
And wafers engraved with the cross
Something tells me that Christ's death was not this neat
He was not cleanly set on a table, passed around for church goers to easily hold Him
between finger and thumb
I've never been good with blood, with the insides
My Shepherd's blood spilt for a nation
would I have watched or shut my eyes?
It's hard to follow with your eyelids closed keeping you blind
but I think I've come to see that we don't usually see through our eyes
But through our hearts and mind

All things messy and yet all things restored
Somehow still we'd rather give up than give in, cave in, fall in
when we're called to fall in love morning by morning
with Love itself
Grace like dish soap fighting the toughest stains
We decide that our plates are too dirty so we never even bring them to the table
But my Creator created me insides and all
Grace abounding, Love amazing
He knows I'll always be running, chasing
Coming to the table with a messy plate time and time again
His eyes like magnifying glasses not made to examine but to reveal
Because examinations seek to uncover everything and anything that is wrong
But we have a Redeemer who seeks revelation in our hearts

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