Day 19



You brought to life the part of me I thought had died
Cause You stood right there until I saw me through Your eyes.

Every time I hear Britt Nicole sing this, I start welling up. I don’t know if it’s because I yearn to see this or You’re working on it. I think You’re working on it because I’m starting to get some of my joy back. Over math. Helping her through it. I’m sorry I just cant get over it. Because I hate it, but I can stay on FaceTime (also freak out going on but never want to get off now) working on fractions and listening and making mistakes together and figuring things out together. And laughter. So much of that.

I don’t know how to thank You for whatever You’re doing. The space and time to pour into this friendship, To be a cheerleader for her. She’s going to pass, Lord. I can feel it. We will dance around in December even if we aren’t physically together. Though I don’t have to tell You that’d be cool if You could make that happen. Presence for Christmas. Yours and ours together. There would be way too many tears. And hugs. There will be way too many tears when she passes. Way.

I really wasn’t expecting this. That I would make math easy for someone to understand. Me. Of all the people. To get up everyday lately and be excited to go through this with her. It’s like a fire inside. And going through Your word together and talking about hard things. Seriously, this bible plan is a deep one. It scared me looking at some of the days so far, but ugh, it’s so good to be able to talk about stuff. It’s teaching me to listen and ask questions. And not be so afraid to share my heart. How hard it is to apologize because I feel so bad when I hurt someone. And then I think they wont’t love me anymore.

It’s silly, I know. It is not all about me either. But here’s what I’m going to thank You for today.
-the cat.
-fruit. Especially those tangelos
-working on math and talking to you all the through. (I really want to know what the answers are..)
-making this playlist for her. The joy inside, Lord, that I have, digging it.
-noise canceling headphones
-tea. Chai, you kniow
-being a cheerleader. (not literal, but I think pom poms would be cool. Maybe a shirt that says You go, girl! Hahaha.)

And this is how I #beatdepression today.


your tender-haired girl


previous letter from letters from a tender haired girl found here.

& I’ll come lift your head

Maybe there’s a loving 
God, who whispers:
on your mark, take this 

cup full of sorrow, a floodplain

you never asked for. There is 

joy as you lay it down–don’t 

hold back those tears, I’ll catch 

them. Here Me reprise this song 

in your heart, this expedition love

you second guess as if I’ve gone 

missing, but how can I forget my beloved 

girl? Who wants to fly, not remembering 

how. I am the Word. I give strength to 

weary, your sword & shield, your help in 

depression, hope in the waiting. I AM 

never forgetting that something changed 

inside you, but I AM healing you.

You are worth more than many sparrows, 

and they do not fall without My word. I 

watch them,

care for them, shelter them, so 

sing: He’s always been faithful. 

And there will be a huge smile and kind eyes with a gentle hand in mine. The images he paints in my head sometimes, wow. 🙋

you, God, comfort me

last night,

You sat beside 

while melody kept 

me lost. i jumped 

up, seeing no one

there. God, how 

terror ran through 

my gasp. my mind 

wishing she was there

with warm smile & blue 

babushka, but only a

picture of a winter

robin casting

dark away,

orients my heart

to see–
dear Jesus, I will never understand how grandma tucking me in at night when I was young, is stuck in my heart. She can’t come back and sit at my bedside. I know this. But those nights, like last night when my heart jumps at thought she pressed down the comforter, because it moved without me moving, makes me feel like I’m crazy.

I’ve been doing so well, but something deep within still feels like I need to split open.

Oh Jesus, I can’t do this without you. I know it was you at the bed last night.

I just don’t know.

And there the birds go chirping in song again.

sometimes without speech

we made fun
of these—Symbalta
had a gravy boat & butter
to make you comfortable
as Paula Dean’s southern
cooking. i said this to you
one night while you were
stirring. turning from the stove,
laughing, that was a good one.
i wasn’t trying to make fun of her—
she puts too much butter in food,
you would comment, after repeat
commercials selling pills for sad.
increased thoughts of suicide,
diaherrea, vommiting may
occur—sign me up, so you
may die—& laughter broke
over my face at how you could
joke over depression. with all
those enticing side effects, who
wouldn’t buy a bottle to see if
pain increases. your humor
midst worry/fear staring
back at me most days,
whelmed silent thanks
to God, who knew
even then, love
is heavy-

century of “i’m okay.”

tomorrow, i will hear
their words: “happy birthday!”
expressed according to relationship:
mother, mother’s friend, sister, brother,
uncles, aunts, grandpa, but i wonder
if i’ll be happy without the false smile
i’ve been wearing, holding me up

FMF prompt: tomorrow. i swear i put “friends” in the poem, but my ability to focus is similar to reaching for my cane in the dark. tomorrow, i turn 25. i still don’t know how to feel about this. in my year of being 24, i think i’ve had more lows than highs. maybe that’s okay. even though i don’t enjoy the lows, especially since last week, i’d like to believe God is using these times of grief and as Sara Groves says in her song, Mystery, “groping in the darkness, hoping in the darkness I will run into you again/” That’s all i’ve been doing for weeks. Groping for a more solid  touch of God. i kind of feel like the woman who bled for 12 years. Except I think “the woman who is brought to tears” would adequately describe me. More than ever, I see how deeply I ache for people, that it makes my pain seem insignificant. sure, i want God to heal all of these people in my life. i also want him to heal me. do i believe he can? heal everyone? yes. me? that depends on the day, but somewhere in my soul, i’m still holding onto the longing he’ll come through. he’ll break through the dark and the weeping won’t be empty, but full of love.  or mayb not a sound will be made..

while half asleep, I had this thought yesterday: you handle everything & let me be amazed. as in, handle the depression, the insomnia, & let me be amazed at how your love heals all things.

not quite sure my thoughts stayed on the track, but God gets the gist.

my head copies

i don’t know
how to explain
blank, boring
stares out clear
glass window. the
way i care less for pizza
being delivered midst
overcast above me;
the anger snapped
toward ears unintentional
for an oreo coffee tasting
good, but “just there.” i lit
up, says my mother, upon
receiving this gift—but this
inkling of being canceled out,
has tears spilling, begging
God: come wrap me up,
hug me, hold me—touch
my granite sunken in loss

Today, I went to the doctor about my sleeplessness & depression. Mentioning my grandma brought tears and a downturned lip. I’m so tired and sad and i think grief counseling maybe something i need, i don’t want to talk about it to someone I don’t know. Though, I do it here. I feel alone and the more people talk to me, the more i find myself spurting tears to Jesus. I am not me, i feel angry and too many things Jesus sees without me saying. I have to take medicine for sleep and depression (that in two weeks). I hate that I need something to make “normal” or “level”

I hate admitting I need so much help. I need Jesus, so much, this emptiness can only be filled by him.

no matter how misunderstood, lonely i feel, he’s not abandoning her. he’s fighting for me.

He will bring healing to my broken heart. He will bind him.

I have to let him help me, despite me not wanting it.

I know (and kind of want) the sadness, because I know it better than fleeting smiles.

I want the mystery of God’s love for me. I’m a little (or a lot blind) to it.

Rise up & meet me God. Please.

as is my faith

i am more mystery
to myself than you—
eyes wide open,
watching my slipping
tongue making out words
i can’t try not analyzing
you will raise me out
sorrow’s sleepless
depth, comfort
fine facial expression
& denial inside anxiety
heart. you know how it
is between us-gentle offerings
of love, i coil fearful in what i saw
you stand seconds (minutes)
in front of trembling, fighting
stay in dark. you are crying
happily without noise, heavenward
at a distance i was held, heartbroken.
i could not stay, fearing voice angered,
harsh shame against my eardrum.
this you knew, letting me go
back bedroom dark. “with whom
i am well-pleased “ a hushing confused
mind. i have heard the sudden gasp
while i’m trying slumber is leftover
terror from her snowless depart
more than mid december. i’m
tired asking nonsensical: are
you going to take me now?
now? and now? then i am

this is what has happened since the having the dream. i think may be overly tired. i’m hungry. i’m overly tired because i can’t really sleep well anymore. i am afraid to get alone with Jesus because I don’t want to cry. at his silence at my feeling shame. at thinking i should be over this. i shouldn’t be so afraid to live. i thought i was afraid of death before, bit this is terrifying to listen to the quiet at night, begging God, please not yet. i’m not ready yet.  i just want a day (okay maybe 2-3) with a friend where we can eat huge things of ice cream and talk about God, or heaven or sit quietly with him together. because u’m distracted with in my mind, and apps and 5 bible plans. and those plans i read in what feels like seconds. and then i hunger. and then i want to call my grandma and talk about this dream & ask if it’s a reassurance. tell her how he let me leave his side  because he knows i’m still afraid.

but the silence wouldn’t be because she’s listening, but because she wouldn’t be on the other line. now, i’m going to go either finish A Grief Observed (because thats all i can keep my focus on since Saturday, or watch Gilmore Girls & restrain myself from eating these peppermint oreos.

when joy feels unreal?

today i loathe
my words: i
need someone

to tell me i will
be happy again
all the time.

i know happiness
is temporal—books
i can’t read, food un-

tasteful. not even
chocolate satisfies
anymore. an ever

present help
in trouble, where
i’ve internalized

a physical tug

of war. not
ail of my
soul. you

say you
are my

can you
bear distress
I keep bidding

myself fill
by laugh

dear grammy;

i can’t rid
memory where
you say: you

should counsel
people. I laughed
your thought out—

you listen. you
looked sincere.
sympathetic not.

if picking up
the phone was
an option,

my question
would find
repeat against

your ear. what?
can you help
without answer?

my intentions
would turn

pill for your
trouble. i take
one when head

aches sometimes.
“julia, you shouldn’t
take a pill every

time you hurt.”
i turned robot
when serotonin

refused me
smile. i gave
up dependence

after day one.
i can’t tell you
i haven’t been

scared maybe
how alone

makes me
see, God’s
silence, head

tilted right side
down, raises
my voice up—

a notch above
my fear of no

why don’t you see you’re known?

we are open
window, different
points of view.

inside she looks,
crying out: let me
be seen, listened

days longs after
end. i’m tired being
overlooked time

& again. outside
i beg


FMF prompt: open. Inspired by a conversation with a friend last night. God’s doing a number on my heart these days. When your words are pouring out, turning into his & then silence. And the screen becomes a mirror you’re watching yourself talk to. You want to give hug. but know the glass is fragile & you are too far. So, you let the hush come, praying through the distance. truth will envelope the girl with tired sighs.