Soul pounded, pummeled.
Shattered, splintered.
Beaten and crushed.
Heart crooked, twisted, and cracked.
Flung in the ditch.
Bleeding and stained.
Face filthy.
Eyes briny, bleary.
Tossed away, discarded.
Broken, weary.
Old fears haunt.
Cruel voices taunt.
"Grace a lie, Love a myth.”
Blood, tears, and sweat
Fists slippery, wet.
Clutching shards of dreams
Pounding on heaven.
Shrieks, screams
“Why,” stings your lips.
Trust fractured
Hope dashed
Faith slips
Dragon sneers a grin
“See, never enough.”
“Give up. I win!"
No! Struggle. Fight!
Stumble, trip over truth.
Run! Flee, back to light.
Courage Child!
Beauty born from ash
Love free and wild.
Every black thread
Woven into a story
Where evil is ripped into shreds
All the old stories are true!
Evil will lose, death will not win
For everything broken is being made new.
Shadow will be swallowed by bright.
For there is a Creator
Who loves, saves, redeems and delights.
So dance, sing, laugh, and spin
The story does not end
Here...it begins.
Monday, March 10, 2014
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Life
Life is a crooked, bending road.
Each year we're here feels like a heavy load.
We often wonder if we will survive
When our soul aches from sharp pain like knives.
Grown up scales run and cloak our tired eyes.
Hiding glory written on blue skies.
And voices fill our hearts and minds.
Full of fear that steals and binds.
We long so badly to be free.
Once again to be a child
To laugh and play along the sea.
To believe in a grace that is never tame and always wild.
Each year we're here feels like a heavy load.
We often wonder if we will survive
When our soul aches from sharp pain like knives.
Grown up scales run and cloak our tired eyes.
Hiding glory written on blue skies.
And voices fill our hearts and minds.
Full of fear that steals and binds.
We long so badly to be free.
Once again to be a child
To laugh and play along the sea.
To believe in a grace that is never tame and always wild.
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Rebellion
“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”
― Albert Camus
Friday, March 7, 2014
Aching
They are promising me Spring in the morning, but right now it's cold, wet, and after a rough day at work - the whole world feels soggy.
So to combat the dismal dismay I find I am going to write and post pictures, which I will delete in the morning when I wake up to sunshine and feel silly.
---------------------------
I am aching for a little house in a small town in Minnesota with memories tucked away on every shelf and echoes of laughter in every corner, laundry in the backyard waving in the wind, blue jays in the grass, and where I can hear my grandpa argue the rules of Cribbage and my grandma say, "Uff ta! Daggnabit!"
I am aching for the hours spent running in the woods and hunting for kittens. And for days and nights full of games and conversations with cousins tumbled on couches and across the floor. I miss them awfully bad.
I'm aching for green and trees, bike rides to parks, and getting lost in the blocks between the small house and library.
I'm aching for wide open plains where the earth stretches out to brush the edges of a blue sky with billowing clouds that sweep low and reach up high.
I'm aching to chase a midwestern sunrise, to catch the gleams and laugh for the sheer wonder and beauty of of it all.
And mostly I'm just grateful for the ache, because to ache for something means that at one point you held it, even for just a moment -- you held it.
So to combat the dismal dismay I find I am going to write and post pictures, which I will delete in the morning when I wake up to sunshine and feel silly.
---------------------------
I am aching for a little house in a small town in Minnesota with memories tucked away on every shelf and echoes of laughter in every corner, laundry in the backyard waving in the wind, blue jays in the grass, and where I can hear my grandpa argue the rules of Cribbage and my grandma say, "Uff ta! Daggnabit!"
I am aching for the hours spent running in the woods and hunting for kittens. And for days and nights full of games and conversations with cousins tumbled on couches and across the floor. I miss them awfully bad.
I'm aching for green and trees, bike rides to parks, and getting lost in the blocks between the small house and library.
I'm aching for wide open plains where the earth stretches out to brush the edges of a blue sky with billowing clouds that sweep low and reach up high.
I'm aching to chase a midwestern sunrise, to catch the gleams and laugh for the sheer wonder and beauty of of it all.
And mostly I'm just grateful for the ache, because to ache for something means that at one point you held it, even for just a moment -- you held it.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Grateful
Think of the people in the world that you love the very most and remember--a world where you never meet will never exist.
At some point your paths crossed, your stories tangled together, and your life was changed.
Run your finger along the thin threads of story that brought you to that moment, see the twisted lines, trace the crooked choices, feel the knots and be grateful that we are not alone in this story.
Basic.?
(I try not to rant often, but sometimes I'm just so flabbergasted that I just have to, so please excuse me.)
I've never run with the "popular" girls. I'm not that kind of gorgeous and I didn't and don't care enough about my clothes, hair and make up. Plus I have never been terrified enough of bugs and snakes to ever make it in those circles. I don't have what it takes, nor do I care to try and obtain it.
I don't have a models figure, I never will, and I'm alright with that. I want to be healthy but sorry, I'm not going to starve myself just to fit into a size two. I want to look nice sure, but I'm not going to lose two hours of sleep to do my make up. I refuse to carry around a purse that's worth more than the money I carry it in, I like shopping in the clearance aisles, and I would rather shop for books than clothes. I am who I am, eat it.
It's like you have the cheerleader group and then you have Ming, with her glasses and stacks of books, sitting in the corner thinking to much, laughing, and eating cinnamon rolls.
Honestly, I forget people like that exist. I am so completely surrounded by the most incredibly kind and thoughtful people, that I forget that such mean, shallow, petty people actually exist in real life.
I was sharply reminded about this tonight. I sat listening to story after story of women my age who apparently never got the memo that there is more to life than what you see in the mirror, who sit and critic the world, and who believe the worst thing you can call someone is "basic" (side note: I didn't even know what that meant and had to ask for an explanation). I kind of sat in shock as I listened, just staring, not being able to comprehend that girls my age could really be that shallow and be such catty b's.
I'm sorry but I'd rather look "basic" and be interesting, fun, opinionated, idealistic and kind, than look like Helen of Troy and be mean spirited, catty, empty-headed, and self-obsessed.
There's more to beauty than good bone structure and the skin on our faces.
Goodness gracious. Alright now I feel better, I'm done.
I've never run with the "popular" girls. I'm not that kind of gorgeous and I didn't and don't care enough about my clothes, hair and make up. Plus I have never been terrified enough of bugs and snakes to ever make it in those circles. I don't have what it takes, nor do I care to try and obtain it.
I don't have a models figure, I never will, and I'm alright with that. I want to be healthy but sorry, I'm not going to starve myself just to fit into a size two. I want to look nice sure, but I'm not going to lose two hours of sleep to do my make up. I refuse to carry around a purse that's worth more than the money I carry it in, I like shopping in the clearance aisles, and I would rather shop for books than clothes. I am who I am, eat it.
It's like you have the cheerleader group and then you have Ming, with her glasses and stacks of books, sitting in the corner thinking to much, laughing, and eating cinnamon rolls.
Honestly, I forget people like that exist. I am so completely surrounded by the most incredibly kind and thoughtful people, that I forget that such mean, shallow, petty people actually exist in real life.
I was sharply reminded about this tonight. I sat listening to story after story of women my age who apparently never got the memo that there is more to life than what you see in the mirror, who sit and critic the world, and who believe the worst thing you can call someone is "basic" (side note: I didn't even know what that meant and had to ask for an explanation). I kind of sat in shock as I listened, just staring, not being able to comprehend that girls my age could really be that shallow and be such catty b's.
I'm sorry but I'd rather look "basic" and be interesting, fun, opinionated, idealistic and kind, than look like Helen of Troy and be mean spirited, catty, empty-headed, and self-obsessed.
There's more to beauty than good bone structure and the skin on our faces.
Goodness gracious. Alright now I feel better, I'm done.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Party.
The grace of God means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn’t have been complete without you. -Frederick Beuchner
I woke up this morning before my alarm when off, well before dawn and as I laid in bed I realized that I’ve never really believed that, I swing between two extremes of belief that I don’t matter at all, wondering why I exists and berating myself for not fixing everything because I feel like every world problem is riding on my shoulders.
Life is a party and it wouldn’t have been complete without me….
Thanks to my Rabbit Room people…I think I’m starting to believe it.
I am here for a brief moment in this swiftly moving continuum we call time. Why? Because, the world needs my perspective, my laughter, my smile, my eyes, my tears, my hands, my feet, my quirks, my words, my heart…me. Because if it didn’t, I wouldn’t have been written, spoken, and breathed into being, I wouldn’t be here.
To much has been out to thwart my arrival for this to all be an accident.
Fact: I am wanted. I am needed. Proof? I am here. Out of a trillion different possibilities, I am here. I stand, I stretch, I move, I breathe, and what is my job? To be faithful with what is in front of my face. To love those that are put in my path, to search for those forgotten people on the margins of life, and to tell all the story of scandalous grace. I am not the savior of the world, I am a tiny piece of the puzzle that is tells an epic story, mind you a dark tiny broken piece, but nonetheless the picture wouldn’t be complete without me.
And here’s the thing, the exact same thing—is true about you.
You are here. You were written into the story, you were knit and woven together, you were spoken and breathed into being, because this crazy story wouldn’t be complete without you—you are wanted, you are loved.
You have hands and feet. You have eyes that see and you have quirks. You have laughter and smiles and tears. You have words and you have passions that light your fire. You are needed, for you are here, and the party wouldn’t have be complete without you.
Our paths crossed at some point and now we are in this together. We are needed, for we are here, and the party wouldn’t be complete without us.
Ready? Let’s do this.
I woke up this morning before my alarm when off, well before dawn and as I laid in bed I realized that I’ve never really believed that, I swing between two extremes of belief that I don’t matter at all, wondering why I exists and berating myself for not fixing everything because I feel like every world problem is riding on my shoulders.
Life is a party and it wouldn’t have been complete without me….
Thanks to my Rabbit Room people…I think I’m starting to believe it.
I am here for a brief moment in this swiftly moving continuum we call time. Why? Because, the world needs my perspective, my laughter, my smile, my eyes, my tears, my hands, my feet, my quirks, my words, my heart…me. Because if it didn’t, I wouldn’t have been written, spoken, and breathed into being, I wouldn’t be here.
To much has been out to thwart my arrival for this to all be an accident.
Fact: I am wanted. I am needed. Proof? I am here. Out of a trillion different possibilities, I am here. I stand, I stretch, I move, I breathe, and what is my job? To be faithful with what is in front of my face. To love those that are put in my path, to search for those forgotten people on the margins of life, and to tell all the story of scandalous grace. I am not the savior of the world, I am a tiny piece of the puzzle that is tells an epic story, mind you a dark tiny broken piece, but nonetheless the picture wouldn’t be complete without me.
And here’s the thing, the exact same thing—is true about you.
You are here. You were written into the story, you were knit and woven together, you were spoken and breathed into being, because this crazy story wouldn’t be complete without you—you are wanted, you are loved.
You have hands and feet. You have eyes that see and you have quirks. You have laughter and smiles and tears. You have words and you have passions that light your fire. You are needed, for you are here, and the party wouldn’t have be complete without you.
Our paths crossed at some point and now we are in this together. We are needed, for we are here, and the party wouldn’t be complete without us.
Ready? Let’s do this.
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