love I cannot pretend

what color do you 

think of when you 

think of the word,

alive? this question 

comes at the end of

a chapter–red because 

I have bled a weight of

guilt, shame, regret I know 

Abba, I need to remember 

You taking. Sacrifice of time,

energy, self surrender I am learning, 

because a memory 

surfaces: a

fmf prompt: alive.

Abba, I don’t understand how You turn me round and round even as You are watching me sink into momentary despair. I hear the whispers loud in my head: why don’t you give up? Did you really just talk about going to heaven now, but you don’t really want to yet? Shame. You have to hoard everything up for yourself, no sharing. Not getting you anywhere, is it now?

But You turn me toward You, Love. And I can’t turn away. The way You speak so gently I want to cry, but I stare at You.

What did You say?

I love you.


I love you.

But I..

I know.

I will..

I have..

I am..


My child.


Fearfully made.

Never forgotten.

Held by your weakness,

My strength. Hidden under 

My wing. Infinitely more

valuable than a sparrow

falling to the ground.

Led & fed by My Spirit

in the wilderness where 

darkness has crept stealthy,

but I have encamped around you 

with My promise yet unbroken: 

I will lift up your head.

breathe Me in 

I remember my youth during this day of ash–

sitting at the head of the table 

as he brought Filet-o-fish & fries,

asking for ketchup be brought to me immediately. “It’s right here.”

she’d say, coming in from the kitchen with red, blue, green cups 

full of juice–maybe grape–and Doug Funny or Rugrats on TV.
I had no concept this was a way of death, 

but give something, meat, up because 

Jesus says. What you are told you shall do. 

And who doesn’t want McDonald’s

when you are young?
I knew what I was given was enough, not 

as an act of love.

when I grew from this to tuna fish 

on toast, I sat still in oblivion-one

bite, two. Enough. Enough. Enough.
Today, tomorrow, til my heart

opens without refrain to you,

come again with laughter casting

fearful dread aside. Touch my sweating hands, there, there, child, I may not be enough to you, but I am. You are enough. 
In these truths, remain.

Lent will probably always remind me of eating tuna fish on toast and filet o fish sandwiches with over my grandparents as a child. Or when my other grandma took me for fish fries with mac n cheese and green beans. I’ve always thought of this time as sacrifice, but for myself. I knew it was for Jesus, but never to get closer to him. It’s interesting to me that during this quarter of my life, I’ve done this and felt like I failed myself, Jesus, others. People have always seemed more disciplined at this. 

I think I was/still am drawn to the fact I can eat McDonald’s filer o fish for cheap during this time. And I can give up certain foods without it really being an issue. 

But maybe this year will be more of challenge because I want to give up the way I talk  about myself for his truth about me.

You are beloved.

You are complete.

You are enough.
I’ve spent a lot of my nights reading his word. Journaling during the day or reading another book. The minute I try sleeping at night, I feel small and overcome by fear that has gone not to make my heartbeat race but my hands sweat.

What is wrong with dreaming to go abroad? He isn’t going to let you. Oh, what? He just told you he loves you? Yeah, okay.

Because someone who loves you tells you to wait. Makes you talk to emptiness with only: though anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy.

You see him comforting you? Cause you’re sweating more and more and especially after I get you away. Even for a second. You keep crying and squirming and telling people the truth and what have you got?

Dismay. Oh and I know what he says, do not be dismayed for I am your God. You got two rejections last week all because your looking for approval? That’s a real strength booster huh?

You don’t even know what you want anymore, so indecisive and needy and afraid to even trust. Try harder won’t you?

^^^^that just all came out now, but this is what goes on inside my head, while I hear the quietest, I love you.

Prayers would seriously be appreciated because I’d rather hear the quiet invitation of his love, receive it, than rig thrum of doom I’ve been getting each night.

He is faithful.

as I die to me

our Father in heaven,
this morning over french toast,
I lost control—change comes
without announcement, &

i scream, no, no, no!
i want to hold on, even
as I cry, hallowed still
is Your name. foe every

loss brings me wait
Your kingdom come,
Your will be done—
love move closer

on earth as in heaven
(eternal light, love, no
update) give me this say
my piece of daily bread.

do not conform to this
(wanting, wanting, wanting)
world. who here wants things
the same? oh, me & the old

say no to newfangled technology.
i remember the days she spent
talking tot a friend through
the cordless about family,

weather, news, recipes
she loved being around
family—I saw the way
her blue eyes sparkled

truth quiet: holiness
lies in the facial,
reaching out with
a tissue because

your heart aches.
forgive me my anger,
as i forgive those who
hurt me—lead me not

to fear, a deliver me
from lies I warrant belief—
all change is sorrow.
for Yours is the power

to help me accept good
You wish fill my hands
& heart, hoping I bring
You forever glory

I’ve learned today I’m still a child who doesn’t like change.even good change, my body and my brain are: NO JULIA HOLD ON TO ALL THINGS! YOU CAN DO IT!  And my heart is quiet.I can’t hold onto all. people go. words go. places chane. everything is seasonal & my heart knows that. i think it also doesn’t process immediate change well. even if the change is good, i’m like: I don’t know…

i need help embracing the good, instead of: oh, this is horrible, now I have less. what do I do?! Something I think Jesus makes room in my life for goodness physically, so I will open my eyes, hands to his love.

also, this poem was written after i updated my iOS which was updated in March. so I lost some stuff like messages and apparently pictures I’m going to have to go through and delete again. In a way, this reminds me of my smallness and Jesus’ promise: Don’t fear, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged or dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen and uphold you with my righteous right hand.

And I have to take Him at His world, the One unchangeable.

because there is no law to love

i dream i awake
to darkest room—
i squint for light,

in fear i am alone.
breath won’t come
easy in my lungs—

a distant white
flashes close,
walking edge

of my bedside.
& then gone.
i thought for sure

your presence,
or this angel
would stay a little

longer, but i awake
to the setting sun
only to sleep until

12 am, where
want of his kiss
comes heavy as

secondhand smoke
breathed in into the lung.
i laid, letting myself tell you,

God, i can do this. i am
fine. i am not going to—
but in my mind, i am

begging him, kiss
me again. it is raining
& i want him to pull over

& my hand is reaching
down for the apple, hold
my breath, hear you whisper

stop. i ignore you until
i swallow & ask forgiveness
again, without ounce of guilt
til i’m crying over a remembrance
of us in a field, apprehensive of your
laughing. in love with me after i betrayed

you—i hate fleshy indulgence i die to,
finding myself in a casketed self-hatred
blinding me to love you gave, give

without consent.

where i forget my dreams

i wake after ten
with the great white
shark eyes still taunting—

God, why do i feel
as though i am drowning?
the shark’s teeth come

closer, enough
to be a grin, and
i watch the eyes,
ash amonst the watery

dim. someone is pushing,
or i am sinking, maybe
i am dying & i can’t even

cry anymore. all i do
is watch the pressure
sweep me further
into a pit whe

fmf prompt: ten. apparently i think I’m going to die by sharks or drowning..longest night i’ve had in awhile. i think this calls for a drawing day. and calm music.

Father, have mercy

she says,
get un-depressed—
what is wrong?
i can’t say a word,
but i want to ask:
have you ever felt
the weight of grace
upon your heart, you
cry? everyone is in hurry
as i twist the idea around
my brain: i should be subject
to God’s fury, but instead i wake
with the notion i’m alive, yet not
for me. i’m dying to everything i’ve
wanted, to write stories, color for
money. he’s slowly taking my dreams
away & i don’t have strength to dig
up what’s never mine anyway. if i’m
distant, my soul is wandering, wondering
silent plead for compassion midst longing

like doubt in the mind

the fan in my room 

is at end–sputtering 

as the car I was a 

passenger inside,

halting at the side

of the road. air pushes

itself out without word 

on goodbyes.
the most mundane (and quite annoying noise) stops me and I have to write a poem about it. because #itssimplytuesday and the noise reminds me of struggle. (also, it stops me from asking God if I can break it.) 

one breath away

all the tears
fall in afternoon,
darkened room.
i try holding them
inside, but they slip
with guilt on the floor.
i don’t know any other
condolence: i’m sorry
i can’t see goodness
long enough before
i cry, your grace,
i am raw without
love. look how
run from death
to death, as if
freedom gives
wayward, dear
heart, wander.
other loves,
how they charm
me. make me
believe they
will stay, but
are as me—

where my heart fears peril

without equal sprinkles
sit at the bottom of a clear
plastic bag in a box.
on my dresser, some may
call them ashes from a person
i can’t yet let go. but i’d rather
think they of them as snow drops—
all the unsaid only divine ear accustoms

today, i finished off a container (actually, i think tin is the proper term//) of nonpareils my grandps gave me for an Easter present. It was staple growing up & going to the movies with him. & a large, refillable bowl of popcorn, which i gladly woke up him half way through to refill. “oh, you want more? alright.” i think he was in shock every time i;d eat a tub and half, but not really. we used to talk about what i’d get every time we went. it was a special time. actually, any time in the car with him is special. there’s a certain peace that envelopes us, where i can listen to music (until i’m lost enough that e makes me jump calling my name) and where he talks about the old days, where everything was a nickel. or he sings to the oldies station. or hums to himself.

i see God in his eyes, smile, the way he will burst out in song, or exclaims: Ah, Lady plushbottom! Or, There’s my girlfriend! (will never understand this, but love i hear behind ever word, makes me grin & my inside mush.) i love him more than i can say, i can only say thank you to God, for the way he makes me feel like a princess with his love, joy. &i i can’t wait to hear, hug, & feel myself well inside with all the mushy love of a child at the end of this month.

maybe he can refill the tin..;)