self hatred i can’t quit

Good, good Father,

there is no cheer in

my heart–only ache

at how long the resurrection 

takes. The past comes back 

In waves, anxiety over more

break. Look at, on me Father,

the negative remarks on my tongue fill 

my heart. Is it any

wonder my body is broke? My

thoughts spew on others what i 

Most spew on myselfA

fmf: cheer.

I’m so confused about everything in my life right now. I want to run, but I can’t. My heart hurts and I’m so mad at myself and Jesus that I don’t know anymore. One part of me is: I don’t care. The other: Jesus, the bitterness in my heart. How can You love me this way. It won’t stop. It’s so ugh. It makes me think all of my family, friends and You hate me. But You don’t. And they don’t either. But I’m so blind.

There’s the grey cat who lays on my lap for a minute or two, while a song plays about it being enough. 

A cookies n cream milkshake my sister gets after I ask for it (though I struggle with the asking and fearing a no. Because that’s what I figure from You, Abba. And I here I sit drinking it slow, just the same as the day she made me pancakes with peanut butter and I say thank you. But my mind feels in space and my heart is confused and quiet.

Or my grandpa telling me he will always remember me and sorry again for the birthday present being late. And my heart is quietly  trying to comprehend that truth. My name written on Your hands. And how I buy dresses though it’s not me and have a b&n gift card waiting til I read what it’s in front of me. 

It’s like You want to dress me Your words.

I love you.

Receive me.

You are beautiful.

That is all I ever see.

No flaw within you.

Make your home in Me.

My beauty.

My love.

My grace.

I will fill you.

There is no hurry.

Enjoy me.
And my only prayer is: help me.

a home

I don’t expect You, 

abba, to speak to me

gently: I love you. I am

right here in this loneliness,

holding you gently as you wait

for me to blame you for how you

run. How you cannot move without

Me holding your hand. You’ve split

your heart down the middle & can

no longer pretend you can’t bear 

goodbye again. It’s always on your

tongue, but my mouth always invites you in to 
fmf: expect.

Dear Jesus, you know I’ve lost my mind. I know you understand, but this ache in my eyes and want to sob for no reason at all is awesome. Yes, sarcasm. I don’t understand why I write anymore other than the reason I started this blog: to expel all this pain. To you. I’d write you a thousand psalms to alleviate the anger, which is mostly sadness I’ve heard that keeps coming at the wrong people, myself, and you. I don’t want to be mad at you. I want to be joyful. But I look at myself in the mirror: who are you? Didn’t you used to love yourself? You did. You had to of, right? You didn’t used to be so afraid to do things.  You used to love talking on the phone to friends & boyfriends, but now you’re afraid to trust. You barely even draw anymore. Laughing never hurt. 

And now I’m here. Launching books and crying and staring straight ahead or up, hoping You’ll part the clouds, make my heart leap in my chest.

Because the taste of words in my mouth, heart have been the beginning of days long cry for You to come and embrace me until I understand a hint of how much I am worth to You. I read, but my heart shudders at thought You want me as Your home. To make room for Your love is the same as watching the rain hit red soil, running deep of how I must grieve how broken I am.

How I wait for you to come.
*** one of my best friends, Megan, launched the second edition of her first book of poetry/stories. This one stanza from a poem I’ve loved as a prayer. And the last story in the last section makes me want to give Jesus a hug. Not kidding. And jump in leaves.

This is the first book in a series she’s working on. The next book is about a rainbow. I’d like to give it all away, but I can’t spoil it for you 🙂 but i do know, I love watching her do her thing and how God is providing everything. He’s awesome at answering prayers. And so faithful. 🙂

You, my life giver.

I am a seed

with nowhere 

to go. Under 

ground, soil

of past mistakes,

failures & heartache,

I wait to grow. Sun bears

heavy these days, green

stem wanting push up up 

out to greet You. I am tired,

this is all I know, this darkness

with promise I will come out

with a beautiful perfume to please

fmf: grow. I missed yesterday. I wanted to write here, but I’ve been doing more journaling than anything else. And I kept thinking yesterday if I’ve grown any. 

Ot if want to grow out of the pain I’ve been feeling for weeks. Grow out of grief, comparison, jealousy. Because it’s so much easier to hold close. Or to be so hard on myself. 

I got on a launch team for this book Wednesday. I haven’t grown in the area of waiting because I was like, God maybe they’re still choosing people even though the deadline has passed. Let me check here. And see if it’s in my email..nope.

Until Wednesday night, when it slips in there and I look up at my ceiling: what? I had this current of fear run through me. God knows I’m a little crazy for wanting to launch books..to read other’s stories about how they’ve found Him. (I miss fiction a little, but I can’t get into it right now..)

But part of me doesn’t understand that to grow, you need breaks. I’m on it when I get on a new team. Starting to jump into book. Seeing if I can interact with anyone. Help. But today, I can feel it: God, I need to start. Get a start so I don’t fall behind. Let’s get some healing right now.

Child, you need to rest. Breathe. You’re not missing anything. Relax.

How?

Make yourself home in My love.

And You are patient, kind, believe in all things, hope all things.

Yes, beloved. Be loved. Give into grace.

visual locket of youth

while scrubbing away

the previous day, I find

I miss you. Me. Your lady 

plushbottom (because I

sit so still) listening as you 

sang, when the moon hits

your eye like a big pizza pie,

that’s amore.” The look in your 

eyes, a joy I struggle find when 

I miss her these days–you calling

me girlfriend, even though I know 

The love you share is evident in

the memories I keep closer, a

V

fmf: miss

sometimes grief is sneaky. You hear an artist, which triggers a memory of when you weren’t sad. Or skeptical of joy. I have this memory of being with my grandparents and my grandpa was singing Frank Sinatra and the joy in his eyes was a glimpse into God’s heart. His joy for me. It was beautiful and still is.

And another with my grandma taking a bit of toilet paper and making it fit to my head with a red lipstick cross. In my memory I still see flickers of that same joy in her eyes. The lipstick seems like a blessing: you go and bring some healing to people. We were pretending to be nurses.

I love when random memories flow out I don’t really think about and then start writing. And crying. I’m thankful God gave me this outlet and that he understands I’m missing my youth so much that I don’t get it. Everything is so heavy, but he is gentle and understanding. I love him. 

We are not alone

I haven’t finished this book yet.

This shouldn’t shock me, since the last book I read from Mary Demuth took about 4 months. And that was my first book of hers.

I’m not sure it’s really appropriate to review a book before you are done, but it helps me to process. And I’m learning a lot of the non-fiction I’ve had the opportunity to read, need a lot processing.


Worth Living is a book tackling the 10 lies, from “I don’t deserve to be loved.” to “I am what I produce.” women tend to believe about themselves. Both of these lies above are ones I’ve believed most about myself, and I’m finding they aren’t the ones.

What I love about this book is the way Mary writes as a friend. A friend quietly sharing her broken with you and how Jesus continues to be her hope. Her truth that is also ours as we let God change us. 
For when we feel we don’t deserve to be loved, we must remember we are the women whom Jesus loves. We are wildly loved beyond what we produce. We are free to be a child, beloved by God.

I love the discussion questions at the end to go deeper for reflection or with and a friend. There are also little activities in the second and third chapters to help cement God’s love for you, by going through a few verses in Romans and creating a purpose statement rather than a job description.

If you are a woman who is or has struggled with your worth, this book will remind you aren’t alone. Mary doesn’t tell you how to fix yourself. Instead she walks alongside you in the struggle, whispers, I know it’s hard, but I struggle, too.” gives you space to explore your own story, and guides you in prayer at the end of each chapter.

This book has opened me to see how I see myself unworthy. How all women must see themselves, but there is a small flicker of hope inside knowing I am not the only one. 
—-

I am utterly amazed that this book is already sold out on Amazon. That is the only thing I dislike.

But I must share some of my fave quotes so far:

Believe you are chosen, precious, alive, and worthy to receive his mercy.

Even God doesn’t create growth and change in us through harsh measures.

We are worthy when we hurt.

We cannot love others unless we first love ourselves, give grace to ourselves, allow ourselves to be human.

It’s okay to be needy. God does not deride your neediness, and neither should you. Shake hands with it. Welcome it if you can. Because that place of terrible need is the launchpad of a beautiful life. Annihilation must precede resurrection. Need comes before filling. You’re actually in the best place you’ve ever been spiritually when you’re at your lowest. God rescues those who reach for him. He cannot rescue those who don’t need him. Psalm 138:6 reminds us of who can be near God: “Though the Lord is great, he cares for the humble, but he keeps his distance from the proud.”


Seriously, I want to share the whole book with you, even though I’m not through. So good. ☺️

what tender care

outside the window

grow grasses green jealousy;
Abba, open me.

petals show bruises

my destitute heart cannot

understand, the burn.

I can’t stop working haikus in my head. 

And these are based on how I am, judgmental of myself, then others. I hate it so much. I’m more aware of how sick my heart is and how I want to break out of my body and beg Jesus to close my mouth. I’m scared of how angry, sad I am, how I find myself a bruise. And yet, when Jesus took the bruises of my pain, He thought of me. And how I find myself the least bit beautiful, but He says I am.

He’s the beautiful one though. Who can make flowers like that?
Matthew 6:27, 30 “Has anyone by fussing in front of the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? All this time and money wasted on fashion—do you think it makes that much difference? Instead of looking at the fashions, walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them. “If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I’m trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. 

Ahh, I love spending my days in His presence right now, reading and talking to him and writing like crazy. And also, I really really love the Message bible like a lot. And the last thing I bolded has made me wonder what that means and then I replace it with: love reality, love intiatuve, love provisions. Not far away, but personal, right where I am.