my halved heart


Out of all my drawings so far, this is my favorite. When I look at it, I see God fighting to save the missing piece of my heart. The part of me that has run through many memories of my grandma. The sadness. The ache for myself and the the rest of my family. My grandpa and uncle Scott are coming to visit today through Sunday, so I won’t be around much. I’m praying this lifts me out of the depression a bit. Or maybe a lot.

From the way they both make me smile (see photo of Scott and I below):

I’m betting God has something up his gracious sleeve. ☺️ (Plus I’ve heard there’s a birthday present involved..)

Hugs from both of them will do wonders, I know. 

sometimes without speech

we made fun
of these—Symbalta
had a gravy boat & butter
to make you comfortable
as Paula Dean’s southern
cooking. i said this to you
one night while you were
stirring. turning from the stove,
laughing, that was a good one.
i wasn’t trying to make fun of her—
she puts too much butter in food,
you would comment, after repeat
commercials selling pills for sad.
increased thoughts of suicide,
diaherrea, vommiting may
occur—sign me up, so you
may die—& laughter broke
over my face at how you could
joke over depression. with all
those enticing side effects, who
wouldn’t buy a bottle to see if
pain increases. your humor
midst worry/fear staring
back at me most days,
whelmed silent thanks
to God, who knew
even then, love
is heavy-

reassure me, you have not gone

Today when I was at the doctor’s, she said: “How is your sadness?” and before I could take one of those deep breath in, I said, “Still right there.” When I came home and read this verse at the end of someone’s blog, I knew I needed to commit the words to memory. Days have passed where I now think my body is in the state of protection. I’ve been telling people I don’t feel with my heart. I mean, I know I’m alive, but it’s the lack emotion that’s getting me. Like getting a handmade poem from my dear friend, Gwen, who’s currently in France. & getting upset, like almost anger/empty crying  over this gift not being enough. or Megan leaving my party last Sunday and feeling like i wanted to cry, but emptiness came instead.

I know grief can’t be filled by friends, family, only God. I didn’t know how this deep this void was until I felt the ache behind my eyes, but it feels too much, unready to release now. I felt waves of sadness during this drawing. I found myself staring out the window, watching the leaves dance with the wind, felt the tears collect, and thought: God, I need you.

& I heard him say, I know. into my ears filled with music.It wasn’t like: oh, duh, Julia. I’ve been waiting for you to say it.”

More: Be still & know I am (your) God..

forsaking not her longing heart


Today I need to remind myself this truth. That when I’m crying, he listens. Even if I feel he’s left me as the psalm suggests. He’s there in the stillness of my heart as I fall apart, continuously asking for help. He’s not shoving off my hurt or giving me a scorning look. He’s letting me feel, so he draws nearer still.

one breath away

all the tears
fall in afternoon,
darkened room.
i try holding them
inside, but they slip
with guilt on the floor.
i don’t know any other
condolence: i’m sorry
i can’t see goodness
long enough before
i cry, your grace,
i am raw without
love. look how
run from death
to death, as if
freedom gives
wayward, dear
heart, wander.
other loves,
how they charm
me. make me
believe they
will stay, but
are as me—

you alone save me 

come flood me, God-

not in grievances aplenty,

but joy you’ve sent to find me.

i am naked beyond skin & rib

you took from sleeping Adam,

forming Eve, a woman tasting

bitter apple to become like you.

Knowing good & evil is a high

price to pay, when your son goes

on bended to pray for me.

Father, he whispers, hallowed be

your name, your kingdom come,

your will be done on earth (within 

her), as it is in Heaven (where her 

grandma resides beside me). Give 

her this day her daily bread (peace I 

leave & that of wheat she eats with 

family) & forgive her trespasses as

she forgives those who trespass 

against her. Lead her not into belief 

of only dark, but deliver her from he 

who  haunts her dreams. For yours is 

the power & the glory forever. Amen.

Your son says these words until all

evil words: you should never open 

your mouth, Julia. You won’t get 

better. Don’t you pay attention to

your nightmares? No one is there 

to save you. There is only death. 

Why else do you think everything 

goes black? Jesus save you? And 

you want to help other people when 

you can’t help you? Oh please. 

until the peace transcends 

understanding pools inside my heart;

guilt receding condemnation always

asking me believe less than I pray. 

and she is ever before me


I drew this today to remind myself God never forgets me. Never ever. Even when I’m confused and feel this quiet down in me. And want to cry, but can’t. It helps to know that every time God looks at his palms, I’m there. Like the dirt under his fingernails he wouldn’t dare wash away, because he knows that’s what I’m made of. He knows I’m as fragile as the dirt/butterfly and care so deeply. And that’s his heart always toward me.

And he won’t let go or think twice about loving me.

Keep on, God.

couldn’t replace what i miss

i can’t hide my thoughts—
the way i caught his smile
in the summer, between
blinks across a table where
other campers sat. how he
spun round & round with me
powering, pulling him circular,
while laughing as if the world

FMF prompt: hide. sometimes i really miss moments with people i loved. like swing dancing with a boy, whose smile made me feel special and a laugh that makes me forget sadness exists.i love how God watches me have these memorized and then blab on about how don’t understand. and holds back the flood of tears i can somewhat get out. and the realization this boy still makes me feel i never have to be afraid to be myself.

God, you do things i don’t understand, but you say it’s all going to be used for good. i’m a little intrigued.

but my soul, how you keep

sun peeks through
open blinds. my eyes
rest on the bedspread—
i want touch the light,
feel the warmth as if
your hand has mine
enclosed. what would
i tell your concerned
eyes? i am tired dreaming
my death. the way i poised
myself against her small
bathroom sink, where i said,
“i like writing poetry about my family
& God. & you?” and this woman
who isn’t my grandma, comes
before my face & snips my tear
ducts, pulling me close into question:
“what are you doing?” i can’t scream,
seeing red fall, but disappear before
the drops hit the tile floor. i felt my arms
pull & push back this demon disguised
as he who tries scaring me in place,
but you must have scooped me
in your arms when all went black.
you must have tapped me awake
& sat still with me as i wondered,
“jesus, why did that feel as i were drowning?”
slumbering into another dream where i can’t