11/8/17

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Day 7

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God,

How do You feel about me? Is it anything like how the dogs have come to the door twice hoping to find someone’s arrival? Like you just can’t wait to see me? You’re so excited to be with me? Be still with me? Lavish love on me at this table prepared with nothing but my expectancy? This may be my shortest letter yet, but will you show me. Psalm 6 in the message version really stick out to me in the 1-2 verses. I long for no more yelling and I feel starved for affection. Starved for it deep, deep down in my weary. Heart. Soul. Aching toe.

Will You show me how You feel about me again until it sinks in?
I know I keep asking. But please?
Love,

your tender haired girl. 
Ps. Thank you. 

Letters From A Tender Haired Girl.

(Previous letter from my novel or non fiction story in progress. Planning on getting these in an order so it’ll be easier to follow. But for now, enjoy the previous letter. You can see others at the link at bottom of posts.) 

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11/7/17

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Day 6

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God,

I’m pretty sure I dug into keeping pace with my sister today while taking a walk with the dogs. It’s always that I have to keep pace because no one will slow down for me. At least that’s what I believe. I hear my thoughts. I have to keep up. I’m going to make it. Keep focused. Eyes ahead. 

But You, my living water love to whisper: You are loved. Through Megan’s reminder My love will stay. To remember I will fight for you, My love. Even if it hurts to walk from trying to keep up. Even if you weren’t running. Through your walk with your sister & her offer to get Starbucks. Through a text from Trisha. Through the leaves covering the sidewalk, just as I cover you. And the hard places just to delight you. Through Anna and the email hugs and a song to remind you I am with you in the valley low. Through your brother calling you Julius Burger. And the Voxes from Kallayah to check on you just now. And the GIFS with your moo. Just because you don’t know what I’m doing and feel no one gets you doesn’t mean I’m going to stop loving you. Ever. Child, I am faithful. 

So how can I not be grateful for your love today, God? How can I continuously remind myself, don’t forget His love, Julia? when my soul is crying, Jesus, I hurt for all these people I love and myself. Do You see? Do You hear?

But then I put Ellie just now and the memory floods back to singing we’ve got this hope on the floor of Trisha’s guest room. I didn’t think I could get up, but she let me stay there and Your love broke through the minute I sang. Though I was scared and trembled, You were there. 

You are so gentle & tender and my soul needs constant reminder You see me here. And Your goodness will follow me everywhere and go before me in the valley, calling Yahweh, the One slow to anger, compassionate, and abounding in love. Today I’m alert to this, but tomorrow I’ll forget. 

And yes, I know I’m writing to Ellie’s music again but ugh, the pull is magnetic. God, please bless her. You have given her such a gift with writing songs with Your Word. I wish I would have told her, You help me remember God. Thank you. But instead I said, I’ve been wanting to meet you forever & I want to write a song with you so much. 

But you knew the right time to let me see her in concert. I didn’t 2013 would find me sitting on the floor in my grandma’s house captivated by her song, Magnolia and hearing my name instead. And how I felt the tears. Because I didn’t want to try anymore. And I ran right back to a place I said I’d never go anymore. Ever. I said this many times actually. 

But I did, and Ellie singing the Truth of who You are has carried me this far. All the nights I cried listening that You wouldn’t let go. And that You can turn the broken beautiful opened me up. Or the time I got rejected by a magazine and felt crushed but then sang marvelous light. Or maybe it was before. But I do remember telling mom or singing it to her. Or the time Gwen came and we sang how we shall always be with You, Lord. We were going to the mountain, but I remember the way Gwen harmonize. 

I felt fear, but I think pushed through it a little. Because I could feel you there. Sometimes, I think (okay all the time) You overwhelm me. 

Like that. This version of My All in Thee by Young Oceans (never heard before) where Ellie sings along with them. I honestly think You do it on purpose sometimes. Play songs with her singing along. It’s the vulnerability and how every song is like a prayer. Not just the joy (which I need to hear), but the lament. You are the man of sorrows and her honesty gives me hope You understand the tears I can’t explain lately. 

May I continue to see Your love never fails. Tonight. Tomorrow. I want to be free to bask in it. Laugh in it. Rejoice in it. Not just the sorrow though I know You love me deeper and I recognize You. But God, let me see You in the joy too without thinking something horrible will happen tomorrow. 

You are good. You are faithful. And the only hope I’ve got is You. I can ramble when music is on. I don’t know where this focus is coming from or how I can write this when I just want to sing along. 

Seriously getting emotional. Thank you for reminding I am loved. And now the fighting words song:

I will fight the lies with the truth 

Keep my eyes fixed on You…

You say I’m worth fighting for..

Seriously going to start quoting songs to you. 

I know You’ll come around

I know You’ll hear my cries 

And there in my weakest hour

You offered grace 

You gave me love unfailing..

I know You’ll answer me

You’ll give me love unfailing 

Keep singing the songs of deliverance, please. Thank You for doing it now. And wow, these suggested songs, right to heart. Seriously, God, how do You do that?

Love,

Tender-Haired

Letters From A Tendered Haired Girl 

(Previous letter with link to others at bottom of posts.)

11/6/17

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Day 5

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God,

I know you watched my emotions today. Frustrated. Tired. So very tired. But how is it that I’m still so loved? Blessed with a season of waiting for what I still don’t know. Because in this valley, you still see my heart. And though the distance seems so far, you don’t let go. Even while I sit on the floor trying to put dishes away. Or pans. And I just wanted to give up for fear of doing something wrong. 

Same thing with earlier today. Always this fear I’m doing something wrong. Or have to hurry. Or that maybe just maybe you really aren’t as patient. 

But miles away is a friend who tells me I’m not alone. And I just want to hug her. You. Because the worry is too much for my heart. The sorrow that my dreams were stupid and I don’t know who I am anymore. But to walk through the wait and the ache and ughh always leads to more laughter. 

Because God, I may not be into reading anything more than your word and a few blogs. And maybe a book. Which I started and really liked but then stopped. But when I get on Voxer, I feel different. A me that seems more me, more open and vulnerable. and I just feel you there. The peace that surpasses all understanding. Your mercy is severe. Your grace. I have messed up beyond what I think is redeemable. And really me.

I don’t see how I am precious, Lord. Or anything of value. But you are even showing now, everyday that I do. I am. But I need it sink in.

Please. 

Please?

Love,

Tender-Haired

Letters from a tender haired girl.       

(previous letter with links to the others at the link at the bottom of the post)

11/5/17

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Day 4

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God, 

Grief really makes me feel a lot of things. Like at any moment I will burst in tears. Angry. Sitting in the dark with you last night and feeling helpless. Feeling sorrow for her, her mom, her family. Ughh. That was the only thing that seemed to come out of my mouth. Other things too that I can’t remember. It was late and dark. And oh please. And tears. 

Death. Of someone I don’t know. I want to get on a plane and go be with my friend. Hug her. And I can’t LORD. And it blows. I love that I get to be here for her even though it seems so small. But right now, I wish I could just go and give her and her mom a hug. Give her chocolate. Maybe no words at all.

But instead I’m going to sit here and stare into space. Because I don’t know what else to do. You redeem sorrow. The pit. And you crown us with tender mercies. You give beauty for ashes. You are the God of ALL comfort. You are near to the broken hearted and crushed in spirit. You are well aquatinted with our grief. You sympathize with us. You are moved by our grief to the point of anger because this isn’t how it should be. And yes, we will in a broken world, but you are our relief. 

Be near us. LORD. Hold us together in this numbness and when we fall apart. Hold us up. Have mercy and grace beneath our feet. Carry this load with us and us because we are too weak. 

LORD. You are gracious and kind and compassionate. Slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness. Meet us today quickly. Let us see your face even as we sink beneath this weight, with no words to speak. 

Don’t forget your suffering ones, don’t despise us in this grief. 

Come quick.

Love, 

Tender-Haired  

letters from a tender haired girl. (This is the previous letter with links to the beginning at the bottom of that post.)

11/4/17

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Day 3

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God, 
This song is playing about your love being right on time. I want to believe it. I’ve been walking this valley for years. I’ve blamed myself for coming out of fear because I know no else. It’s easy to walk a path familiar. 

I don’t want to believe that’s who you are. The one who tries to scare me into love. That’s trippy. The one always angry or sad. Ready to condemn for doing nothing. Being still. 

But you are patient and kind. You had to have known that as soon as I read something she wrote in the group, I’d want to talk to her. It was Facebook messenger for months. And then texting. And now Voxer. 15 mins never seems enough. I didn’t really know I could talk that long. Or laugh so hard and feel she is sitting by my side. Or find myself crying and trying to hold it, but feeling safe. 

I didn’t know how being vulnerable and needing a friend would make this valley bearable. To know she is a Vox or text away even with the distance and time difference is your grace to me. To be able to pray for her and listen and share, it is your presence coming to meet us. It is a reminder you see. You hear. You care about us so intimately. 

I’ve told her quite a few times how I feel your peace when talking to her. And now about seeing her. It is the exact same thing I felt last year about meeting Trisha. Remember I was all, I have to go to Texas! I have to! This makes no sense. Ugh. I have to! That was in March of last year. And then in November, you moved. And then the invite back. And then the waiting for the conference. For 10 months. Fun times. 

But there was a growing with our friendship before that. A lot of grief. Death of my grandma. Moving. Coming back. Me trying to prove myself as a writer. Me trying to hold myself together. And her sharing the joys and struggles of homeschooling. And lots of other things. But if not for her, I would never know launching books and I wouldn’t know Kallayah. How intentional are you? 

I wasn’t expecting friendships to born this way. Through my writing. Through my lamenting to you. Because come on, there’s been a lot of; JESUS WHERE ARE YOU? Seriously are you there? This is terrifying. And it hurts. Oh how it hurts. The desperation alone must ache your heart. 

But I’ll wait as long as you’d like to see Kallayah. I mean it would be extra delightful this year. Seriously we could (can) eat chocolate and laugh a ton and probably cry some, but it will be so worth it. Just as it has with Trisha. The waiting and peace may drive me nuts and make no sense to my heart, but you really know how to build friendship. A better word would be weave. Because we are on basically opposite sides of the U.S. but our hearts aren’t. It’s as if you’ve bound us up. Not in a way that makes us struggle but unite. We belong to each other. You say that in your Word too. We hurt for each other and are learning how to rejoice even when we can’t see where we are going. 

But we are for each other. We are holding each other up. Broken. Lost. Confused. But loved by you. Our father. 

I can’t thank you enough for the gift of vulnerability. It scares me more than you know. Actually you do. But every time Kallayah tells me thank you for opening up, I smile a little. I smile because healing enters in. A piece of the wall is falling down. I’m feeling more at home. More myself. Not just the girl lost in sorrow. 

There’s more I want to tell you, but I hope you know I love you and you are wonderful (yes, Sara Groves song. So catchy.)

Now, I’m going to listen all the waiting Voxes. And laugh. Maybe grab some chocolate. Maybe. I know I’m treading on crazy with how much chocolate I want to eat this week. You love me still. 

Love, 

Tender-haired 
Ps. Thank you for reminding how deep your love is for me right now. Please don’t stop singing or showing me. 

Day 1 of Letters From A Tender Haired Girl. 

Day 2 here

11/3/17

Five minute Friday prompt: need and Letters From A Tender Haired Girl in one. ☺️

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Day 2

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God,

I need you. I don’t know how else to say it. But I really really REALLY wholeheartedly need YOU. Do you know that it’s only by your grace I got the cat into the bathroom? I didn’t want to do it either. I hate how she got out of the bedroom. All because I wasn’t watching. 

Watching to make sure the dog didn’t go upstairs. Because if the cat gets out then she could get outside and that could mean death or running away and never coming back. 

It isn’t lost on me how the night before my surgery for my hysterectomy she broke her leg. now I think of when I look at her all I think of is me. Except when she’s trapped, she really knows how to cry. Or lay down and purr. Not stuff it back until later. 

She wants to be free even with the limp. And I am afraid of freedom. You know how when I’m asked what I want I say don’t know or even given what I want I’m hesitant? How do you heal that? How do you make me embrace the good and not make me continue to ask, that’s going to be it isn’t it?

If my parents know how to give me good gifts (i.e. Lunchables, a roof over my head, food, water, chocolate), how much more do you give me who keeps on asking you?

Mercy. Grace. May your kindness lead me to many thank yous. 

Thank you for my moo who prays over all my freak outs the past few months. Who listens to these laments. Not just these, but the ones I’ve shared for months. The ones I’ve said ughh, this hurts. Why? Why? Why? WHY? Ughh. For this misspelling of noo into moo one of these days when my heart hurt so much. 

And how we’ve made it into a name for each other. And laugh over it every time. The way she’s let me cry on my phone literally and let me choke out words instead of type. And has prayed until something changes and has kept praying. 

The way she will randomly moo me throughout the day. I smile so big every time. 

The way she has sent me book mail and letters though I don’t need more books (but I know it means she loves me a whole lot. Really.) Moosquick. 

Her presence. Even from the miles and the time difference, our hearts are together that know no time. Or maybe eternal time. 

The fact she has been encouraging me to write a book of prayers is a gentle reminder I can’t give up so easy. It makes me love you more for the friends you know I need. I hope I’m a faithful friend as she has been to me through all her pain.  

You are so gracious for putting her in my life. I hope you let us meet beside a carpet one day. We’ll just say it’s magic. Bring her healing soon, Lord. You are good and faithful and I know you work pain for good, but I beg you bring relief soon. 

Until then, bring on the moosquick. πŸ˜‚
Love,

Tender-Haired 
Ps. This letter went from desperation to blessings fast…best of rambles. I feel I’m going to be talking about friends for a whileee. ☺️ oh, and thank you for more scripture snacks today. πŸ˜‹

11/2/17

So, I know this month is national novel writing month. And for some reason I want to give it a go. For me, this is going to be a test to see if I can write actual letters to Jesus this month. No word count or the Nanowrimo site, but this will keep me accountable. I already missed day 1 so this is going well already. Hello kindness to self. πŸ™‹ and this means two posts on Fridays (but I’ll try my best to space them out.)  This is going to be fun. 

Tentative title for this novel:

Letters From A Tender Haired Girl.

(Also, may be about my actual life. So don’t think this qualifies as a novel, but I’ll work with it. πŸ˜‚)

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Day 1

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God,
Do you find it weird I am worn out after something I didn’t want to do? And it was the same with last Thursday too. With something I wanted to do. 

And in the beginning of October. I was pumped in the waiting for these two things. Okay, I despaired quite a few times. Even though I had peace. Everything makes me tired. You know what I really wanted to say to this woman who did this intake for help to find a job? I don’t really know who I am anymore. I’m in denial about being depressed. I did like launching books but I no longer know how to read for fun anymore. Or not take notes. And poetry helps me communicate with Jesus. I have to do it. I’ll lose it if I don’t. I’ve lost it some already. 
But I said I write poetry and have been helping authors launch their books. Good stuff, isn’t it? That’s not really who I am. I’m your kid. Your kid who doesn’t want to work. Who feels lost and confused and wants a hug at least 25 times a day. Yeah, I know, weird number. But really it’s a lot. Maybe 100-150 real tight ones. But I need strength to keep going. I also apparently need lots of chocolate and slushies and if it’s at all possible more laughter and time to listen to audio books with a book. Let me pretend I’m sitting on your lap while you tell me a story. I’ll sit and turn the pages while I listen to you calm my anxious heart. With your comfort. 
Let it be my delight. I have 60 days to wait and see how a woman who doesn’t know me only from what I say and paperwork can train me for a job. Be my advocate. Lord. You know my heart. You know my anxious heart and how I don’t want this. Really. Sleep sounds like the best thing in the world. Days of it. But I can’t. Help me. Let me see your heart in this wait and when you gently (oh please let it be gently) ask me to see what you have for me.
You are good. You are faithful. You are true. You know my heart. You know what I need and what I want. You know what is best and what will draw me close to you. 
And right now, I need you. 
Love,

Tender-haired