Tuesday, November 3, 2015

[The things the forest didn't tell me] // November Third // Poetry

You found me with
Eighteen years bursting out of the backpack
Slung on my shoulders and
a knife in my back pocket.

I was trekking through late fall forests,
Dry trees and dead leaves,
Calling it an adventure while
[secretly]
looking for
A Name Of My Own.

A birch tree
[who called me friend]
told me
That I was headed straight.
That my full backpack meant
prepared for all
That my readied knife meant
safe from harm
That my focused hazel eyes meant
you've got it together, kid.

The maple leaves
[who were ablaze for me]
sang to me sweet-sounding songs.
An anthem of autumn.
A
Keep Going,
Don't Stop Now,
You Will Get There Soon Enough
melody.

[I sang along]

My jacket kept warm,
Though maple leaves kept waving goodbye.
Trees spoke more quietly.

[I walked on]

My feet began to grow weary,
My shoulders slumped from the straps from the weight of the backpack that
once held promise.
[I wished for a compass]

And so then my eyes searched more;
desperate
in a dying land,
for something
for anything.
[How could I forget a map]

Birch tree woods wordless.
My seemingly purposeful knife never drawn upon attacking enemy,
But looking more like a friend to me.
The Sharpness sang loudly while
maples
went
silent.
[I had packed appropriately]

Autumn fell.
Silence.

[I was quiet too]

In the winter
Hunger groaned
And my jacket did not keep the bitter snow from soaking my skin.
My years fell artifact by artifact into the white piles around me as
The zippers on my backpack gave up.
[I gave up too]
There were no red leaves
[though my sharp friend could find red in me]
Only gray everything.

The ice grew around me.

[ ]

I was alone in a dead world when
You Found Me.

The first hint was the Gold.
I knew

brown
gray
white,
I knew
red.
And I knew yellow
But none like this Gold.
[I was a stranger]

The Gold came to me
Line by
Line.
Bursting through the gray.
The Gold threw itself against my bed of ice
and melted the bitter cold that felt permanently a part of me.
The Gold is what started it.
[I did not know, I did not deserve]

With the Gold came newness.
With the Gold came green;
sprouting,
promising,
breathing.
Hands gaining feeling,
Hearts gaining meaning.
With the Gold came life.
[And so I let You take my heavy backpack and my knife]

I had left on an impossible journey
Convinced that those leaves and trees would give me that which I wandered for.
Mistake-ridden, lost and hopeless girl, I walked until I no longer could.
[I needed You to lead me]

I did not know that the Sun could be so faithful,
until I realized that the leaves could never be.

[This is what the forest did not tell me]












Friday, June 26, 2015

"Can you not see?" || 20

"Nikki, I love you. 
You are precious. 
I love you. 
I love you. 
Can you not see? 
I want you. I love you.
Can you not see?

Look around. Look at Dayton, Ohio. Look at your hometown. Look how I redeem broken life. This is all for you.
Can you not see?

The things and people you love are all testaments of my love for you. It is for you!

Nikki, it is for you

Give up your shame, you do not need it in my arms. I think you are beautiful.

Lay down your self-hatred. It does not belong in your small, tender hands. Let me take it from you. Be mine.

All I want is your empty hands to fill, my Nikki. I am God. I need nothing from you.

You are enough for me. You always have been.

Here, rest here. I have made a home for you in myself. You are always wanted here. You need not earn a spot. I did that for you.

Nikki. Do you believe it? Do you see it? You are mine. I am yours. It's what I want. You are what I want.

Daughter of mine, I give you every good thing. Enter into my Kingdom. It is yours. Live in it. Let's build it together.

I delight in you, my Nikki. Have you fallen? My grace has caught you. It will heal that hurt. It will never break under you. I will not allow such things.

Nikki, you are safe here.

I love you, my Nikki.

Can you not see?"


But now, thus says the Lord, he who crated you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel:
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through the fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. I give Egypt as your ransom, Cush and Seba in exchange for you. Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you, I give men in return for you, peoples in exchange for your life. Fear not, for I am with you; I will bring your offspring from the east, and from the west I will gather you. I will say to the north, Give up, and to the south, Do not withhold; bring my sons from afar and my daughters from the end of the earth, everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made.

Isaiah 43:1-7

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Eyes and Songs by God || A one-syllable word poem

Eyes. A clump of cells that can see the world. 
How did you do it, God? How did you make man? Man who is art. Man who is so well made, well thought. 
Want to know what is more wild? My mind knows I can see. I mean, what is a mind? Seems to be a whole world in a skull. A world that two know: You--God--and me. 
God, how did you think of me? Why did you choose to make me, me? 
I like paint and songs that my friends don’t. I like poems and green things. I like the time of day when it’s gold out. 
Why did you choose these things? I am made like you. You said so. 
But if that is true… Well, when I think of you, I think of songs. Songs that play soft sounds that scream your name. So does that mean there is a song? A song that goes with just my name? What song is it, God? 
I think I can hear it. It sounds like the songs I like. I love how you sing, God. So while you sing songs to me, I will too. I will sing back to you. We can call it life. I will sing and see life with my eyes.

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Hands || poetry about the shaping of life



My life has been shaped by hands.


Seven years young. 
Just a few haircuts 
and awkward phases ago, 
I watched my mother 
pen my name 
onto the back of her hand every day. 
A tattoo,
nearly,
Of my name and my need.
Every day she wrote it as part of her grand scheme for the day,
So as to never forget her nurturing me.
My mother is a planner,
Who goes to great lengths.
Her paper days scatter our kitchen as decoration,
Signs of life lived.
Her lists like poetry,
Her subject of choice, motherhood.
Yet her favorite line of each poem always seemed to be the one's that had my and my brothers' names.

My father. 
A man of provision and of care.
From childhood,
He has never stopped watching over me.
Bath time each night, 
I sit as he sings songs over me and takes away the day's dirt. 
I am helpless to care for myself;
he knows.
Yet with joy he does sing songs that entertain and teach 
as I splash about and make a mess.
With joy he does wrap me in my towel and wipe away the cold.
With joy he does carry my sleeping body to warmth and comfort.
With joy he does it all again the night next.

Clay solar systems and model tree houses and easy bake cookies.
Legos, the saxophone, and the pajama pants I sewed in the fifth grade.
Guitar chords, water colors splashed and term papers typed.
My hands love to create.
Once tiny with disproportionate imagination,
Now nearly balanced, less tiny
But no, never creating timely.
Never consistent in hobby or phase,
But certainly
Always
Creating.

Three sets of dearly loved hands,
Their prints marking my life.

But none of these hands are my favorite hands.

No, I know hands who do all three hands' work perfectly,
And just so much more.

The hands of my God.

In the word it says that we are 
Molded 
as by a potter's gentle hands, 
we were clay. 
In that case,
My clay solar system 
Has nothing on the originals
That my God has spun into motion,
That he has created from His own 
Insane
imagination.

I created for years,
I still do.
But it must be said that
All that I have made 
Is modeled off of that which my God,
My Creator,
Formed first.

My mother writes my name on the back of her hand with what I need,
But my God had engraved my name on His palms, before I was even a word for my mother's living poems
And He tells me He will never forget me.

As my father washed my body clean as a child,
My Heavenly Father washes my soul as His child,
Renews, restores and redeems.
He sings songs about me and rejoices,
Wraps me in His goodness
And carries me to lay me down in safety.

My God, my Father, my Lord.
Though 
my hands were dirty, 
You held them. 
my hands aching and bare boned to no avail,
You healed.
my hands in desperate need of saving,
You pierced your own.

My name is written on Your hands,
Gracious God,
And I will not be forgotten.

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Chaos and Order || Poetry || December 9, 2014


I am chaotic
And it is
Such a beautiful thing
When You organize me.

I am messy and scattered and not all there
And maybe at times I am too much for most anyone
But You are arranging me.
You are aware
Of my crooked heart
Yet You still hold it
-hold me-
while it attempts to beat.

There is intention in my chaos.
There is intention in my chaos.
There is intention in my
My chaos becoming so lovely, complete

I am a solar system painted with supernovas
Flaring, fading
Flaring, fading
I am burning stars
planets and passions scattered
and still black holes.

Yet even the blackest parts of my soul
can be illuminated when I consider You.

I am worn,
A testament of Your Testament.
I am wrath
Turned mercy
I am washed because You were
Bludgeoned by my
filthy
chaos.

Even so,
I find myself
Betraying-
not once
not twice
but three.

I am straying
yet I am Yours.
I am ashamed
yet still I am Yours.
I am something
because I am Yours.
I am intended
to be Yours.

Because You are true.

Yes it is true that
there is beauty in the way You defeat
the things that make me incomplete.

I am chaotic
But You-



You are the only kind of Order I need.

Saturday, August 2, 2014

August Third || Lost in _____

{Soundtrack to this blog: "An Old Peasant Like Me" by Explosions in the Sky}

The thing of it is, is that we all try and lose ourselves in these so-called "satisfying" things to conceal our pain. We try to lose ourselves in movies and music and busy work and art and sports and relationships and we think that that will make it better somehow. That by being 10 pounds lighter or by having sex with the perfect guy or by being a starter on varsity rather than sitting the bench or by getting wasted with our best friends on Friday or by writing the perfect song or by just making our parents proud for once or whatever it is that we will somehow be happy then because we've finally made it. Because we finally got to the place that they all talked about, and it's going to be SO awesome. 
But that's not really what has been revealed to me.
What has been revealed to me is something more beautiful than any song I've ever heard and more incredible than any experience I've ever lived.  

It's been a truth, all-consuming and all-powerful.

That truth is,

There will never be a boyfriend that can save me from myself.

There will never be an achievement that can make me or my parents proud enough.

There will never be a friend that will love me perfectly.

There will never be a waistline or a thigh measurement that will bring me happiness.


There will never be a time when I can be good and pretty and funny enough for every person that I encounter.

And there will never be a medicine or a drink that can change how lonely feels.

The truth is,

I should lose myself.
I should lose myself wholly and completely.
We all should...
Should surrender.
Give up control.

Because whenever I pilot my plane, it always seems to end up crashed on a deserted island. And maybe I'm dancing and singing with the surviving passengers, but I'm still going to die out there one day.

No matter how much I try to glamorize my brokenness it's still broken. And no earthly thing can glue me back together.

The only
glue,
bandaid,
savior,
or
gospel
is Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

He has made me new.
He is making all things new.
He is good and faithful and satisfying.
He is bigger than that fight with a friend or that time you got drunk alone or when your girlfriend cheated on and dumped you or when you missed the winning catch or when you failed that AP Bio test or when you lost the job that you needed so bad or when you wanted to die.
He is better than a first kiss or an A+ or a touchdown at State or a belly laugh or dancing in the summer rain or that feeling that you get after you just watched a really, really good movie or your arm around your best friend or your wedding day or when your dog was a puppy and she would fall asleep on your chest or when you were little and your dad would carry you to bed.
He is bigger than all the hurt and better than all the beauty.
Not only is He better than the beauty, He CREATED beauty.
If He can make beautiful moments, He certainly can make beautiful people, from the inside out.

Don't try to save yourself anymore, friends.
Love Him.
Seek Him.
Find peace and joy in Him.
Get lost in Him.
He is the only thing worth getting lost in.

"For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." Matthew 16:25 ESV

Sunday, March 2, 2014

An Anchor for the Soul

Tonight I am praising the fact that Christ does not give up on us in our weakest state, and that He is the only one who can weaken those shackles and break us free.

"For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith- and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God." (Ephesians 2:8)

Christ is not a God who calls us to do works to be a part of His family. He simply asks for us to believe in Him and call upon His name.

What I so desperately need, as does everyone in this world, is to call upon His name.

So for a very long time, I thought the person who needed to save my from the pain inside of me was myself.
I thought that through MY works, through me being a good kid, through striving for good grades and involvement, and through having tons of friends, that somehow I was going to fill the void within me, and finally feel free myself of the emptiness within me.
I have learned that it does not work that way.
You see, I struggle with many things in life. We all do. But my most consistent struggle throughout the past four years has been depression and loneliness.
Depression is a blinding pain. It is dark, scary, and makes you feel like you are constantly in chains. It is terrifying and all-consuming. It makes you feel lonely, worthless, and quite truthfully like the world would be better off without you. In short, it takes your breath, your fire, and your heart. Even on medication, it is something that can run your world.

For a long time, I have let depression rule my life: whether struggling with it in the moment or fearing its return, I have let it control much of who I am.
But that can't be something that continues. I may still struggle with depression in the future, but the thing that's different is that my Christ has taught me something awesome:
Hope doesn't come from within us, but from the anchor of our souls: Christ Jesus, our Lord (Hebrews 6:19). I no longer need to try to fill up the hole inside of me with worldly things. I need to fill myself up with His love and His word. I need to leave the worldly things behind, and worship the creator, not the created (Romans 12:5). This life of being a living, breathing sacrifice to His name and allowing Him to fill us is the path to joy. Not constant happiness, because there will be trials. But constant joy in knowing that He is greater than satan is, and that satan's lies about us are left meaningless when you think of how much Christ loves us.

Now I want you to think about your experiences in life. Is there a void that needs to be filled? Are you following Jesus but still think you need to be the one who earns your own joy? 

Really think on these questions. Ask yourself if you're being ruled by the created rather than the created, and therefore letting those things determine your worth.

For those who feel like they need Christ to fill the void, and also those who don't yet know his truth: I have good news.

Jesus died for YOU. 

The hole inside of you is not one that has to keep growing, but one that can be filled to overflow with Christ. Satan is telling you lies, but Christ is simply the truth.
If you have been left, know that Christ will never leave you (Deuteronomy 31:8).
If you have been told you are ugly, fat, useless, or have been hurt by anything of that nature, know that Christ sees you as his masterpiece, his handiwork and he has things in this world that only YOU can do (Ephesians 2:10).
If you have ever felt alone, know that Christ is always with you (Joshua 1:9).
If you have ever felt like you wanted to die, know that Christ already died in your place to save you from whatever it is that is hurting you (John 3:16).
If you have ever felt anything less than loved, know that Christ loves you more than anyone on this earth ever could begin to love you (Romans 5:8).

You cannot save yourself from these things my friends.
Christ is our Savior, so stop trying to save yourself and fall into His grace, peace, and love.

For as it says in Romans 8:37-39:
"No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present or the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:37-39)

Thanks friends.
Love you all so dearly.