6/27/18

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Day 106

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The pain is scrunching

Aching flesh beneath

Gravitating me to numbing

Dialing back

And hanging up.

But I will not back away 

For this is where

You come close

I know I won’t fall apart

But together in You.

Now wrap me in Your arms 

And make me whole 

For even if I break

I know You’ll bend

To catch my chin

And whisper

Darling

We can always 

Begin again.

This poem edited by my lovely lovely friend, Anna. Friends who listen to you share your broken heart and then spongebob later. They are the best. Thank you, Jesus for the friends You’ve put in my life. ☺️

where My face will shine

do not be afraid,
God tells Abram—

(whispered in this heart)

for I will protect you

(wrap me up in eternal
arms never to withhold))

and your reward will be
great.

how will I know?

(doubt sobs through
my bones, looking in
the mirror, weakness
shows—

count the stars, if you can,
says the Lord to this soon
to be father of many nations.

(their beauty leaves a heart
burn I will never understand,
but is this what you experience

my God, Abba, Friend, gazing
my sorrow?) these will be your
descendants. Abram believed

(does this desires of my will be
granted. too?)

I AM the Lord , who rescued

you from Ur (valley of Achor)
& brought you to this land

as an unlikely home

I woke up today & my eyes were hurting & then it all just kinda went down from there. I think I may be coming out of my numbness a bit that I’ve this year. I sure know how to cry. That’s what I’ve done/felt like doing the last few hours. You know those times you don’t understand why Jesus bothers to stay with you? Or loves you because your heart keeps coming open, which then leads you to talk about how Jesus has saved you? and then you’re sharing how you want to follow God with someone? And you despise your honesty..but it’s the truth you don’t want to admit it, until you do.

And then you tell God, you hate your honesty, because deep down you don’t know if it’ll happen or if you want that. and you weep because sometimes the thread of hanging and the promise of God to Abram, about God protecting him, leaves you gasping and staring in the mirror, with your mind screaming, I’m sorry Jesus! over and over.

yep, one of them those days. (i love the raw honesty in the version..feeling it deep today)

agape with bah in world’s pasture

gather me—
i’ve read the
truth: there is
no flaw in me,
turning a green cap
until my finger shows
red. a sign of struggle,
no. not blood, but a
pressure from your little
lamb, a

FMF Prompt: gather. Today’s post comes from my struggle to open a water bottle. This is my thought pattern while turning the cap: “I got this. It’s moving. Almost there. The water is really high. Now it’s stuck. Maybe if I turn this way. Moving. Stuck, ( have to give everything the death grip.. my hand looks like it’s giving the sign for “I love you.” Please open..” Then, I sigh and make some distance between me and this bottle, before asking for help.

If I’ve learned anything lately, it is I can’t stay in moments. My brain feels ADD. I’ll watch a show and be escaping full screen to look something up, check email, Pinterest, text. Yesterday, I told a friend I need help staying with something, instead of looking/thinking ahead. A tiny voice in my head keeps telling me this is wrong. To rest. With Jesus. So my brain goes all crazy. Convinces me I should try looking for more magazines to submit my work.

Like yesterday, I found a poetry contest I thought about entering awhile ago. I did a workshop with one of the people running the contest, so I emailed to see if I’m eligible.. And then, every buzz on my phone made me check to see if there was a response. It’s always a nudge from God I’m looking in the wrong place. Again. I know I’m looking for someone to tell me I’m good enough to be paid for my poetry. Again. So. I’m not checking email here or on my phone for as long as I can today.

Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin. Zech. 4:10. From the ending of last month to beginning of this one, God has given a small beginning back into something I forgot I love. I spent hours with this drawing yesterday. Every time I starting thinking it looked ridiculous, he would make me laugh. I could hear his whisper: I don’t, keep going.

He knows the small stuff makes me happiest, when I’m doing something out of love. Not to be seen or praised by millions. I’d actually prefer for him, and let whatever springs up, flow to whoever he places in my path. It’s hard to keep away thoughts of grandeur–getting in big name mags, but whenever Jesus meets me in a poem or in these drawings, a joyous peace floods my soul & I’d rather stay, then leave him who is slowing bringing me back to life.

After Watching Bukowski

He speaks alcoholically-
unwound about how one
resents being pushed,
movements unnatural
to their own.

Kind-hearted people
give out chances relentlessly,
because that’s what they do.
Extend mercy-seventy times
seven to everyone undeserving,
fallen from the same mistake as
Adam & Eve.

I failed again today-
missed the deadline
to apply myself,
learn form, rule,
regulation. Get
a college degree
declaring I can
make money
in something.

I’ve had two years
and I went begrudgingly.
All I knew was panic
when deadlines were close.
Everything that interested me
I was told would never earn
a steady living.
Philosophy and literature.
Poetry.

They said, pick something like
business, finance, psychology.
My brain perplexed,
while my heart said, stay.
I ran to the wilderness
shortly after that day.

Now, I’m languishing
because I don’t want to go
society’s way, but I can’t
live off social security.

I can’t do nothing,
I must live without resisting.
Why is it money has no appeal,
yet poverty is much more alluring,
& frightening?

Green in my wallet,
I give away.
No push I must obey.
Or resentment needing
conveyed.

Chance is merely a leading-
give away what was never
mine to begin with,
action speaking,
I love you.
soberly.

I wait here in my smallness.

Today will bring new shine,
absent shadow nor sway.
Gentlest encouragement
taking my self-condemnation
to meet the rain of this day.