i can’t bear you go your own way

do you love
me—Peter?
yes, Lord. this
follower who
gave a rooster
reason to crow
not once. do you
love me, Peter?
you know i do; again
the bird opens beak
wide. caw, caw.
(weren’t you with
this man?)—do
you love me, Peter?
his cheeks grow red,
Lord, yes! you know
i do! (you know this man,
no?) caw, caw, caw!
then, come follow me.
for when you were young,
you clothed yourself in
best intentions & brought
a smile to your face when
you swung your feet close
enough to forget the gravity
of earth. when wrinkles crease
your face, you will be asked, can
your arms stretch?, while a mysterious
hand leads you along gravel path—for
this, my dear son, is love.

I wonder if my best intentions when i was young, were trying to walk in hopes I’d be healed of cerebral palsy. Compared to now: God asking me to be his helpless child, so his love can fill me. Totally still stubborn, but I don’t try walking to get healed. I’m just get lost in his word. Instead of worrying where I am going. He is where my help will come from. And the late nights with him,even while I don’t feel good, are a beautiful thing. 🙂

I’m wanting to wrap my arms around him. all the time.

answer, please

i don’t know
how to see this
as a gift—yes
to a school i want
nothing to do with.
i didn’t ask for this,
though i’ve spent
too many days
wondering what,
who, where i should
be. God—how i am
five, leaning heavily
upon your chest, with
all the weeping a rebelling
child can muster. because
i want another

FMF prompt: gift. when God answers you with something you don’t want, have worried about in the depths of your heart. i could say i’m mad, bit i’m scared. i don’t know what to major in. i really want answers right now. i want him to wrap me up for hours & hours and tell me it will be alright. over and over i’m scared of his answers; it won’t be what i want. i have a control problem, i know.

i need prayers. the anxiety and and way i want to cry over this is a lot for me. because it’s silly.

i want to retreat. He isn’t going to let me though.

Continually tae me by the right hand and whisper, I am here to help you.

I hate how my heart feels like a billion pounds.

undeliverable 

my hearing could 

be diminishing,

but I thought she said:

go put the mail in the dryer.

she screamed actually &

what I don’t understand-

what will the postman think 

of such a burnt offering.
Unless my hearing is really going, I seriously thought this little girl screamed to one of her siblings to put the mail in the dryer, and she’d get it later.  
I wonder if she knows she could be a comedian. Or God wants me to me laugh, which is fine with me ☺️

Blue Skies

This is hilarious, made me tear up, and marvel at the God’s love once again. So, so good. 🙂 I also wholeheartedly agree with taking cats in a basket–people will be instantly calm 😉

Dana Bowman

Linking up with Five Minute Friday today!

The theme:

Screenshot 2015-05-29 10.03.49

Blue Skies

Leap past the window and lean in across tangled sheets, dreams,

A lost sock. Some lost change.

Lost hours of sleep.

It’s sunny today and I feel it through my eyelids and through my glorious plans

for laundry, for folding, for keeping it all clean.

The sun says, “Forget the plans. Go play.”

The boys and I grab our bikes and snacks and backpacks

and one small boy even asks if we can take the cat

“He will fit in the basket mommah I swear.”

And we head out.

The cat, alas, is left behind to ponder and sleep in a spot of sun

by the front door, where we fall over his furry belly, laughing and home and

full bellied from snow cones and snacks and mislaid plans

because today was a blue sky day.

Amen and thank…

View original post 144 more words

& i approach you wordless

“why are the trees
so small?” he asks
his mother without
hesitancy. she continues
trimming, ”because it’s spring.”
“but why are they so small?” he
persists. “because it’s when the
new things grow.” i hear her warming
smile. he asks again & you rise in my soul;
a laugh close enough to escape out the window.
another voice questions, “why are you cutting by my room?”
“you can’t see out the window.” the mother reasons
“but they are gorgeous!” this little girl exclaims.
“i’m sure they’ll grow back, honey.” her explanation
leaves a protest quiet.

this is what happens when i listen to the outside, these kids are fearless. with repeating questions and seeing beauty where one  one wants to see growth. this is another reminder why Jesus says we must become like a child. They don’t have any shame asking things over & over. they’re bold in wanting more than a simple, or one answer. they got approaching God’s throne of grace with confidence, down. it’s what i learn i’m still. gets me every time.

a glimpse of light

They walk back
to their yard in
a straight line.
One asks, why
are you carrying
thorns? One
innocently laughs.
Crossing through
the gate, silence
envelopes my ears
save the birds, a
few whos. Minutes
pass before they are
back inside our fence,
playing house with many
rooms. The boy says this
house will not have any
rooms. One girl says,
you know she has
wood in her butt crack
& they all burst open
their lips wide, giggling
before returning home.

To listen to these kids today & any time they’re outside, brings heaven closer than the sadness the last few months. Their openness & care for each other reminds me how God is toward me, all of us. Blows me away. It’s so beautiful.

Prayer To Be Enthralled

Enthralled-

I am not,

listening

to birds

sing song

through

fog I wish

stay today.

You know

I’m hiding,

letting dark

have both

my hands,

trembling.

This is not

dark—light,

light. light.

You softly

whisper

to my sad-

faced soul.

Half-awake,

I read wanting

nothing, but

his shepherd

leading beside

quiet waters,

green pastures,

begging your

forgetfulness,

pleas for unfailing

love—let you be

enthralled, taken

by my beauty.

How is it

beautiful

when I

cry. then

draw defense,

turning my back?

I don’t want

to tell you:

I need cradled,

carried through

this lost-and-

found. I don’t

know this gitl,

no longer interested

in anything other

than tangelos,

yogurt, eating

whatever else

comes before

her, but failing

because she

yearns loving

kindness beyond

food, tasteless on

her tongue,

tripping over

five words

her heart

troubles

believe.

Show

me

your

unfailing

love,

please.

_________

Author’s Note: Going to start doing this this year, along with Five Minute Friday. I’m praying I start seeing His unfailing love, actually feeling it, more aware. I’d love to be able to read more than what feels like random Bible verses. Actual books. Actually laugh without a hint of pain. Actually enjoy what I’m eating, without leaving it to get cold. Or sit there. Or eat real slow to try to get myself to taste it. Savor. Not gobble it down because I’m so hungry, but not really knowing (or acknowledging), until I tell my mom. I mean, I have these cookies sitting here and I’ve had one, ONE, but I ate the tangelo and yogurt like they were the best gifts ever. I don’t understand what is going on with me. but if this is part of grief, than yay. (sarcasm) It almost feels like I’m fasting in a way.

I want to taste and see God’s goodness, even in the this emptiness. To be mouth-dropped taken away by Him. It’s tough to see right now, but I’ll keep waiting.

Nest Me, Abba

He says, My little sparrow:

come out, let your wings

rise & fall as you jump

inside these gentle hands.

You’ve longed turning back,

eager smile would run forward,

greeting you with a sorrow

coaxing you home. Blessed

are those hungering my carry

through this crying life.

Even the winter bears

seeded love blooming bud

dawning spring. A little

cold returns your song:

“O my soul, hang your

head not, look up to deepest face

as you ought! Do you not see God

breaking through the cloudy?”

Do not be ashamed intimacy,

blessed are you, my child,

for even in your questioning

lament, you come clean.

You have no need fear

punishment a slow movement

home. I’ve heard your vouce:

“The way you move

makes me restless

for love of you rescue me soon.”

Wherever you go, little bird,

sunshine, rain walking,

still—I am surrounding you,

guiding, leading, loving

through & through.

Everything is your Daddy’s,

so do not fear prolonged wait

an answer to your request,

Show me I am known,

win me over with sincerest

speech breaking you open

proclamation of new song.

Welcome me into the house

you are building, let us verse

poiema together, forgetting

my belief, infancy must stop,

I must learn independence,

enough courage to say goodbye.

Answer To My Empty

1. I slip off the bed.

Slippered feet walk

toward the door, closed.
2. I look down, telling

God: she is just a person.

Shame rushes down spine.
3. Leaning against the wall,

I pull, instead of pushing the gate

open. I scare her to death.
4. I listen to her tell me,

school is awesome.

Her mouth drops wonder

when I stutter how I have

no desire to go.
5. I can’t sleep before midnight.

My mind asking why God says:

Look, the human beings have become

like us: knowing good & evil. What if

they reach out, take fruit from the tree of life,

and eat it? Then they will live forever!

6. I text a friend, explaining

how I hear anger, maybe God

never wanted us forever. I don’t

tell her this, but how I compare

my earthly father to God. Asking

questions makes me terrified

I am bothering someone.

Somehow, I picture God sitting

beside me, as I remember

my father asking, what do you mean

you don’t get it? His frustration

made me feel wrong. The eraser

burning remark against that white paper.

He blew the shavings away backhanded,

while I made resolution to understand

the first time around.
7. I let the phone light go out,

weeping with the question she asks:

what is keeping you from enjoying life

right where you are? I feel small,

chillike, trying to keep tears inside.

My chest heaves, why don’t You love

me? This is getting broken up all over

again, again, again. Tidal wave crushing

shore, until I fall back back

under sleep’a call.