where you are whole

breathe in –

I will love you

lavishly, lift up

your head, answer

you & satisfy. Oh,

beloved, till the end 

of time I will look on,

after, at you the same: 

with compassion. I have

heard you say, I had a dream.

what? when? why? are you sure me? I 

want to help her, but I don’t understand 

it. the peace. why my insides feel as if 

may burn me alive. If this is what it 

means to wrap my around Your name–

Abba, the patience You ask of me

while I sit at Your blessed feet–Go and 

sin no more. No more doubt. No more 

fear. No more shame. I am with you here. 

I am holding you up, in this longing, in 

this wait I am loving you. From this 

valley, you are growing up toward the 

spring sky. My April baby, don’t you see 

I’ve heard your cry, cradle me, Daddy. 

Awaken me from under

the apricot tree, bring me into Your

arms & tell me again, here’s my heart. 

It’s known to beat for you alone; I’ve 

loved you first so you may see-the words 

in a maternal tone with gentleness, care 

& concern-Me

Abba, I am thankful for how you hold me together with the utmost care when I literally am going crazy in my head to You. And I can’t cry or anything else. I have to sit literally still and know that You are my Abba. Who woos me to create when I have no strength and tired and crabby as a child is. Who takes care of me when I don’t want to take care of me. And who is my warrior mother, who cheers me on and defends me like nobody’s business. This is how you come to me and hold me and I’m just so thankful you get me and are here because without you, I’m pretty sure, I’d give up by now. But oh, how you lift up my face. 
In other news: Brazen is probably one of the most fun launches I’ve been a part of so far. I’m pretty I’ve made 2 friends, one who has been on EVERY SINGLE LAUNCH TEAM I’ve been on so far with this manager and God just likes to surprise at the most interesting times. I’ve never laughed or smiled so much to God. It’s hilarious.

Collages are stressful and so much fun. I get to make a Brazen board of all shamelessly unapologetic things. Like my desire to stand on a beach and look at the water. Really it’s to go on a road trip, but working what I have right now. And to be as unhooked and light as ice cream. 😂

And the best thing I’ve learned so far: God has a feminine side. I knew this, but the Leanna explained it: Whoa.

God woos (woo wasn’t her word, but I’m a little lazy right now) me to create with my senses.

He is a caretaker.

And my absolute favorite: God as a warrior mother! This one totally explains why I’m drawn to moms. And how I see God protect and defend and cheer and all other things she said in the book I can’t remember, in my own and the ones who have become friends.

It’s a beautiful thing when an author puts to words what you haven’t understood. You feel slightly crazy but then you laugh and want to dance around and give them a hug.

And say thank you over and over to them and to God. Because you know even though the process is slow, you know he’s resurrecting you.

Seriously this book is so good and this is part one.

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love I cannot pretend

what color do you 

think of when you 

think of the word,

alive? this question 

comes at the end of

a chapter–red because 

I have bled a weight of

guilt, shame, regret I know 

Abba, I need to remember 

You taking. Sacrifice of time,

energy, self surrender I am learning, 

because a memory 

surfaces: a

fmf prompt: alive.

Abba, I don’t understand how You turn me round and round even as You are watching me sink into momentary despair. I hear the whispers loud in my head: why don’t you give up? Did you really just talk about going to heaven now, but you don’t really want to yet? Shame. You have to hoard everything up for yourself, no sharing. Not getting you anywhere, is it now?

But You turn me toward You, Love. And I can’t turn away. The way You speak so gently I want to cry, but I stare at You.

What did You say?

I love you.

What?

I love you.

But I..

I know.

I will..

I have..

I am..

Beloved.

My child.

Wonderful.

Fearfully made.

Never forgotten.

Held by your weakness,

My strength. Hidden under 

My wing. Infinitely more

valuable than a sparrow

falling to the ground.

Led & fed by My Spirit

in the wilderness where 

darkness has crept stealthy,

but I have encamped around you 

with My promise yet unbroken: 

I will lift up your head.

amen.

Today, You are 
not running to  

the cross I ran 

to in my dream –

blood I put my finger 

against, hot or cold I 

cannot tell you — I cried.
Today, we sit under 

cover, my skin cold

to the touch, but You

do not refrain. If this is 

goodness in the land of

the living – this soul pouring,

I’ll keep inking regret I need taking.
Today, this bare aches 

my chest, You cannot 

see me this way. I am 

afraid of this rejoicing –

over a good thing. You are

coming. You are coming!

I do not seek take Your name
in vain today. You are I AM –

goodness, kindness, mercy,

love, hope–perfect love casts

out fear at the sound of Your name, Abba. 

Father, help me

abide in love I have not on my 

own. Forgive me my doubt You
can turn me toward joy, when un 

belief clings to my hand: what do

you mean you want to stop being my 

friend? You know He may not come, at 

least I’m more reliable. I

believe Your Word: I will save you,

My anointed, I have not forgotten.

Jesus, I should be jumping around: you are coming, you are coming! Technically You are already here, I’m breathing You in and out. Your love. Your care. Your concern. Your goodness. This broken body I like to think is normal, is Yours. It is the bread You break with Your disciples. 

It is what is dipped into the wine; the blood You spilled out for these sins asking me to step aside from Light I only want to behold.

The fear.

The pride. 

The guilt.

The shame.

Take it. Jesus. This gift You don’t deserve, I don’t want to give You. I don’t know how to rid myself of, keep taking back on myself. Take these and show me the Light. You. You. You. The nails into You, the lamb, who loves me. 

The child who wants to take Your hand, and remember the laugh You give in exchange for all I’ve done. 

And breathe Life again. Joy.

we halve the burdens 

I come to the door 

of the unknown, un 

lock & open to a friend’s

face–open-mouthed 

smile. How are you?

pulling me into embrace.

Tired, I tell her. I feel more

pulling away. We spend hours

in color: I in blue, her in green 

& brown – roots for a tree planted 

on fabric – laughter erupts lips when she 

pushes the tube of paint turned rubber. I 

listen to the ease at which it comes, my 

heart heavy with tears coming slowly out. 

We listen to a song about chemicals –

the man sings along with melody,

his voice flutters as a bird & she mimics. I 

listen as we crack up,

heaven coming in gasps. I tell her 

she made me cry & we laugh more. I do 

not tell her how this

feels like grief, heartbreak. Not 

because I fear the loss, but I do not feel all 

here. Present. I stare at the patch of blue, 

the way the sun 

comes & goes. A sun painted on

a paper towel while I must’ve been away. 

Or head down in words. In between 

yawns. I want to give more of myself, 

hearing my words echo lies: I hope I’m 

not boring you. No, she says. We sit in 

silence before a parting soon unfolds. I 

leave her with a book, smaller than 

what you gift me with, Abba–friendship, 

our hands- paddles we row together 

regardless of soul’s temperature.

So today, I was going to sit here and read and sleep. God had other plans–like a spur of the moment visit from Megan. I was in total shock really and the minute I said yes, lies immediately starting swirling. You shouldn’t be doing this. You’re not feeling good. Blah blah blah.

I kept telling God, this is going to be turn out bad. Messy. I should be more put together. Look at my hair. I’m in my pajamas. I kept wanting to get mad, but I couldn’t. 

She rings the doorbell. I think I need to rush but we both know that isn’t going to be happening. Her smiling face is all I see and I’m so tired, I kinda want to keep staring, but I’m too busy letting her hug me. And grab paints. And take my sketchbook and pens so we can sit outside.

And for the 3 hours I fight off the lies I’m not doing enough. Not enough. You can’t be a mess like all these paints or words you’re writing. They suck. That’s not good. They’re fine. No, they are not. Why are you talking so much about God? Must love you a whole lot if your energy is sapped sitting down. She’s over there laughing while you are weak. No one understands. Guess it’s you and God, huh? You’re crazy.

I kept staring in space or at Megan with a blank stare, because I wanted to dismiss all this crap in my head. And then I’m watching her paint and laugh/mimic this song and I’m thanking God she’s making me laugh even if it hurts. I’m thankful we can sit and do art things. And be together. I’m thankful she pulls me slightly out of myself, my over analytic nature. My wanting to give so much more than I can or sometimes want.

My word this year is receive. And I think a lot of that has to be in surrender. And if today showed anything, I still struggle majorly. Maybe not as much in my heart, but my head is nuts. I get something and immediately want to give something back. I immediately dismiss the gift and then beat myself to a pulp.

Like last night I saw this verse in proverbs 18:  A gift opens the way and ushers the giver into the presence of the great.

And I’ve asked God, does this mean I’m (or whoever gives a gift) is ushered into Your presence? Did I miss it today? How many times have I missed it? I can’t give back what you give, so why do I try so hard? 

Ugh.

Oh, and now this song plays.

“There ain’t no limitations to your amazing grace..” hmm.

Thank you for being my friend, Megan. And making me laugh. And taking in what I think is crazy but probably normal. Human. 

for such a time as now.

Abba, it is no

surprise to you 

when I awake to 

a box on my bed.

a book within brown

packaging–the gift 

of friendship, the title says.

I cannot help but to think of 

my friend, in the one star state,

who you thread together

fmf prompt: surprise. I haven’t felt much surprise this week. At least not the jumping up and down, dancing around kind. I’ve been happy deep within even though I’ve been so tired and achey. For what God is doing around me. Like a friend who published her first book. And another applying for her first launch team. And 2 more working on books. Maybe there’s a little surprise, that I get to be apart of this at all. 

It overwhelms me at times, my soul feels as though it’s flying and I’m just sitting still. It feels like fire about to consume me. I’m pretty sure I’ve asked God how he contains himself within me, it’s amazing really, because I feel like I’m about to break out of my body, with all this joy.

It is way way way too heavy to hold. I keep having to give it over and let him do whatever small I can do, and rest. So much resting. Seriously, sleep is lovely when you can you’re weak enough to not try and fight the dark.

Come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest for your souls.

I will always imagine this as an embrace, a wrapping of love unlike I’ve ever known.

no matter the washing ton rain

New York to California

I’ve never been, but the 

miles never bother when 

our heartbeats reach across

the screen. My thumbs 

become the air I breathe,

hope silent against your 

eardrum. A ghost you’ve 

sworn love before

I would pound anxiety 

with the innocence of a

child. hey mama, would you

pray I’m not overtaken 

by dark ready devour

when I’m not looking?

We will never be ready

if given chance to close 

distance, where I would

hold your hand & exclaim:

If this is coming home –

space wider than Oregon,

we must be in heaven, my

friend, for light in you has no end.

***

To a friend, who I’d trade these miles for a few days of Starbucks coffee and MAYBE finally write that collab 😉 thank you for letting me # out my frustrations and always reminding God moves heaven and earth for us. Thank you for praying for me and encouraging and making me laugh from miles away. Thank you for being my friend, soul sister. It’s an honor being yours. 💕 

I know there’s a lot poetry this week, I’m having a lot of time to sit and think and read. And watch God make me overwhelm with love for him.

For how he hears me, is watching over me and relentless in making me smile. If I had the energy to cry, I would. But I’m so thankful for all the people he’s placed in my life. I see him everywhere. Hear him. And my spirit is flying though I feel so weak.

I’m so thankful for the friends I’ve made through this blog. The people  who show up over and over regardless of how much I write. To God, for using this for glory and giving me a place to share my heart.

So much thankfulness. The encouragement here is phenomenal to me. Just thank you. Oh, and to the person with the blog name: don’t you forget about me, your name makes me smile huge. ☺️ thanks.

Ughh, God, thank you for hearing  ALL OF MY PRAYERS. No idea what you’re doing, but the way you’re delaying is filling me with such longing and expectation, I may explode soon. ❤️

& You oblige me

maybe I am drawn 

to the blood–come

as you are, You whisper,

don’t be afraid. Abba, I am 

weak, a bleeding broken vessel,

who has heard You search out 

lost sheep. 

Could I be the one

You place on Your shoulders, rejoicing 

home: I have found her! ?

Would I shudder as I do when cold 

goes through my bone, as I watch 

You gazing into my eyes?

Would their be a twinkle-

the same in my grandpa’s-

as I tell You, nothing was

the same, is now that I 

receive the Benedictus?

The song of Zechariah,

where Your truth has caught 

me in anticipation–I’m coming

to save you, you’ll get everything 

you need! But hear where I sit on 

this bed, my body fading 

sleepy. I so hate consequences 

for my hell bent runnings to fear 

& doubt & wonder. So I tell you, 

just one more thing, let me do

one last task, then I’ll rest. But

this world is trying to walk on 

water, without You. Pummeled

by wave’s demand: oh, you

think you can conquer me alone?

Guess again! – we slip under,

choking on the seed of faith 

we thought we had. 

The mountain before me,

I could cast into the sea

but my eyes go watery;

pleading: Lord, save me!
**

I’ve been in and out of sleep today. And reading The Day I Met Jesus, hence the poem. I’m reading the story of the woman who bled for 12 years reimagined, and I’m all: yeah, you go girl! Crawl on to Jesus!

And then I’m imagining myself and how I’d freak out if I touched His robe. How if He turned around and asked: who touched Me robe?

I’d bawl. Or shake uncontrollably. Or both. Because I’d think He was mad. Still do every time I read it.

But I also think He’d get on the ground and whisper: How beloved you are, My child. You are free. Go on now, your faith has saved. Peace be with you. And I wonder if I’d laugh joyously my thank you.

I love how this story is told from a grandma to her granddaughter. It made me want to ask my grandma when she met Jesus here and call her, asking: what’s a middah?

And she’d say, did you look it up? And I say, no, I’d like you to tell me. But I think today I’m getting why she wanted to read the bible without always asking her a thousand questions: she wanted me to get to know Jesus and let Him reveal Himself to me. In special ways as He has lately.

But I would probably tell her: a middah is measurement of life!! Woo!! anyway. Because I don’t think she’d care at all.

So dance on, grandma in the arms of the Lover of your soul and I’ll watch the ways He loves me here until I’m no longer looking in the mirror. But know in whole.