(d) as You bring the rain 

LORD, your voice 
comes through the

thunder & I tremble–

I look up & see the clouds

have hidden the blue. Is this 

the same as You have hidden

my sorrow? In the blood you shed on the 

cross–I don’t know 

how much longer I can wait, but 

I’m keeping still & knowing You are God. 

The One who calls me by name and 

knows the numbers on my head. Stay 

with me, Lord. Hold my han

fmf: hidden.

I’ve thought this week that God has hidden his face from me; despair has had kind of, okay no, a tight grip on me. But through the times I’ve started crying, became mad at myself because my heart is so twisty, and I want to be better, been afraid of temptation that I’ve given into and one I was able to see how God provided a way out by praying instead of diving into it like I generally would; God has been holding me tighter.

Like with this song repeating in my head each morning it seems.

In the morning, You are faithful!

In the evening, You are faithful!

In the noonday, You are faithful to me!

These lyrics play like a record in my head. I’m so thankful He won’t let me go, hasn’t, and just like the song says, is faithful to the end. 🙂

my failings once again

This morning

I read the psalm, 

& a song plays in 

my head: some trust

in chariots, some trust 

in horses. But we will trust 

in the name of the LORD. and

I think of how much I need Your

help, LORD. Send reinforcements. 

Directions.

Guidance. Wisdom. For as I 

sit here alone in the silence

I feel the anxiety rise; anxiety 

I need consolation from. I am 

tired of the voices in my head 

repeating the chorus of 

Fmf: help.
I love this prompt today. I’ve been begging God for some this week. Or rather, gentleness. What I love while I beg is the way I’m suddenly desiring to talk to him a lot. Sit with him even if I only utter thoughts, or seriously nervous. He is bringing a lot to the forefront lately.

One of those things: I’m afraid of him. So very, very afraid. I want to know him but if he gives me opportunity, I’m so hesitant, I second guess everything. Which I think is why, this psalm came up today.

But we will trust in the name of the LORD.

Can’t get it out of my head.

but I’m frightened by what is behind.

You create a path
for me, Lord, level 

for my shaky feet.

They step out a story

I don’t understand–

where You bid me come

closer into this love that is 

burning up my inside: Father, 

Abba, my wounds are so large,

gaping blood like a trail I keep

going back to because it’s all I know. I’ve 

read what you’ve said:

You’ll lift up my head, you are patient & 

kind 

Fmf: create.

Today I have felt the crushing weight of sorrow that keeps me begging me look at what I’ve done wrong & not the joy over the progress. It says: look how you can’t even speak when someone does something nice for you. You just start at it, what, why are they saying this about me? Why are they being this kind? I did nothing to deserve it. I’m just sitting here.

And then the joy of Abba: but look! You keep answering the phone when your friend keeps calling! You’ve even tried calling yourself! You talked to someone you didn’t know about The Happiness Dare, even while stumbling over your words and awkward pauses! You’ve done wonderful with these even though they scared you and I can’t help but rejoice because you are waking to my love! Slowly but surely, you are making yourself at home in my love. And that is all I ask of you. Everything else will follow.

groan is all I’m beginning to know.

Her tail flips up & down 

as I call her name:

June. June. 

It is not audible,

but a whisper–

the same One

who speaks to me

now: I will build you

in the quiet, hollow. 

The places seeming

without light I will be

closest to you.

I do not know what,

If there are any words

to speak, Abba. The pain 

I feel deep, but 
Fmf: build.

I don’t even know what to say anymore, but my eyes are filling with tears. I only know of some of the news, like the men who were killed because of skin color & now shootings in Dallas from Instagram.

And now more from this.

There is pain everywhere I look. It doesn’t have to be from the news on tv, but it all breaks my heart just the same. Jesus. It’s made me stare out the window, watching as the sun goes bright & then falls back a little. It’s made me not want to speak, because I know my words will fail.

But I’m holding on to the fact that Jesus’ love never fails. It never fails to hold us and tend to us and care for us while we are grieving. 

Jesus, be near in all this pain. Open our hearts to hear you & see you. And not rush past, but be with you. Teach us to walk together, no matter the miles, and take down the walls. With a smile, a listening ear, open hands. Come, cradle us in who you are.

(This is what happens when I ramble.)

You’re leading the way

Today, Father, I am
stepping into the fear-

I’ve stripped the burden 

of what was, is here in the valley 

& I sit here with my heart naked.

protect me, Abba, in your love.

Hold me as a mother first holds

her baby, gently. Whisper I will be

okay, you have me, you haven’t left me 

out here to dieZ
fmf: protect. 

The z at the end of “die” is making me laugh on the inside. Yes, God, please no diez.

This poem is related to this guest post I did today, where I wrote about God’s faithfulness in the valley I am in currently. I’ve never done this before, so it’s a lot terrifying. Honestly, my chest is all: heavy, must  breathe in beautiful flowers. Breathe. You think I’d be pumped to share (I’ve wanted to do this for awhile), but my  body is all: I think we need some fig leaves, that was a little too honest. But here is an awesome graphic (Anna has some serious skills) for a piece of wisdom God is teaching me about longing:


It’s so pretty. 🙋😍