Day 97



I know no other way to tell You of these flashbacks. On this day last year, to was Good Friday, but I really never saw the good in having a hysterectomy. I woke up crying. And ice chips. And my brother wearing plaid and walking toward the bed to hug me. He was so happy to see me awake. Then the next day which would be today. I am having flashbacks of the music playing in my ears. I am drifting. A knock. Two knocks. She comes in with the coloring book and the colored pencils I used today today to color more of the leaves in the book. The only difference? She isn’t here (on this planet, yes. In my life, no. I hate how the memories hit me gently like taps on the shoulder: hey, remember this song? And then I tell You I’m thinking of her again. And then I want to cry. And now, this song is playing, You know, Ellie Holcomb’s, He Will and ugh, more far away, but close up memories-the painted He Will in green on the paper and my pain in my heart of feeling stolen from when I originally wanted to share. This weird feeling I couldn’t share my heart, I couldn’t have more taken away. But music is meant for sharing. And she shared two books, two of her faves—one I’m still working through. There was the chaos of goodbye. When I read that in the book thief earlier, it really does describe my struggle with letting go. But this space has given me time to see I want to be a better communicator— a better listener, encourager. Not so, oh what about me? What about me, God? It doesn’t help anyone or me. I know You understand it. My ability to turn things to me when they should be on her. I know there is a time and place for me, but You are greater and You can put things back together better than ever. Seriously, I think You’re taking over my spotify with all these hope songs…)


Your tender haired girl


fmf: other.

*( where timer stopped.



Day 96


I heard Your voice far away and close up today. Her gentle words to give it time. It’s okay. And to rest in You today. And the receptionist excited about my middle name. And the woman who took the time to say my birthday was soon before taking blood. I’m sorry for my complainy nature today. Seriously shouldn’t get trippy over letting the dogs out. It’s so easy to get upset or give vent to my anger. When really nothing is that upsetting. It’s just easy. I don’t think I’ve taken notice of the way I can get trippy. So here’s how I am going to change it:

Your favor today:

1. Sarah getting me the venti Java chip frappe and vanilla bean scone (I don’t know how they make it taste good when I thought scones aren’t supposed to be sweet)

2. Hot shower

3. That new light that dad put up that totally pulls out the steam

4. The sun

5. Trisha – I felt like I got to go long distance shopping with her and sip on coffee at the same time. But seriously. I’m thankful she will listen and tell me truth and handle my silence and send happy txt a while I’m at the doctor’s right when I must of been getting blood work. You did it intentionally, didn’t You?

6. Woman who mentioned my middle name – that you don’t get many Lindsay’s with an a.

7. The doctor saying she’ll pray for my cataract surgeries and that people see better after them.

8. The woman who took my blood saying my birthday is soon. It was kind and unexpected.

9. Teri. I love that she shares her life with me. She’s really making me want to watch The Greatest Showman now. But I shall wait.

10. Kristene DiMarco. Her music is lifting my spirits

11. Cookie n Cream cupcakes  Sarah knows me well.

12. Kallayah. I love You for putting us in each other’s lives.


And that’s all I got right now. I need sleep. You give rest to Your beloved ones. I really need to take it. As well as receiving Your goodness. Oh and thank You for mom taking me doctor and getting corn and making it and mashed potties. Simple, but good.


Your tender-haired girl


PS. Not writing doesn’t do it for me. At all. I feel better.


Day 81


There is beauty
If we open our eyes
To see. A mother dancing
With her child. A father adding
Honey honey & brown sugar
To 2 cups of chai tea – or asks
What chocolate I will pick –
Would I like a rueben?
& then the anger
Over delayed
Delivery. & I
Beg for
Let me

Your face.
Shalom in
The midst
Of darkness-
Waves crash
Over phone lines:
Forget it. Take it

What now?

But for me to
Remember the 7
Seconds of the song
With truth: don’t stop

For a touch of grace.

Lord, mercy us
With the kindness
Of Your face.

Your tender- haired girl


Day 80


I’ve seen that verse twice today: ‘Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me. Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me.’ (psalm 23:4) Not in the NLT version, but two others. I’m stuck on the staff part. Protection. Comfort.

I want to tell You the pain that is in my heart. It started yesterday morning when I heard the song, Shut Up & Dance on the radio. All this sorrow washed over me – the opening act for that concert covered it. I remember the tears that wanted to fall then. Over a happy song. I watched her dance and sing along. I think she said it was one of her favorites or she loved it. Maybe then I wanted to cry because I typically do that with anything overwhelming, good or hard.

But this time? It wasn’t because I was so overwhelmed. This time it felt like loss. Waves of grief I wanted to cry out, but I swallowed them. Because I don’t know how to cry these out. I can tell You again that I miss her, her laughter, but there’s nothing there between us—at least that is what looks like. And I’m okay with that right now—the attachment feels lost, but I’m holding out hope You can turn things around.

Faith not by sight.

And then the reminder that divorce can make me feel small, insignificant, empty in a second. It makes me want to run for cover, hide, disappear. But even in this fear, I’m not feeling the desperation to be rescued, saved. You know how it can drive me to text friends with things like, please come get me! Please, please! Ugh, I hate this. Last night, I texted two friends and another this morning – told them some of the pain & the sweet release, Lord, not begging them to save me. I almost did last night, but I didn’t. I think that’s a victory. Right? I mean, I really want to hang out with two friends, but I love that You are here and I didn’t cave — I know its okay to ask for help, but not that way. You are the only Savior. Mine.

But You are also my friend. The One who has sat with me in this basement on this bed. Or on the couch with the journal/books & my mouth open for Your ears to hear me speak, Or cry. Ot silence. I love You. Thank You for not giving up on me.

Gratitude list:
-Be anxious for Nothing by Sherri Youngward
A Place to Land coming today! Can’t wait to give it to Kelly! We really are becoming book-y. Hahaha.
-some kind of Chinese from mom
-praying friends
-Your shalom.
Redeeming Love-Amy Stroup
-Tea from dad
-Angelah Johnson’s comedy – seriously, I want to watch all her stuff now

Your tender-haired girl



Day 79


Today,I found
You—I am weary
From all the yelling
I’ve heard around me
That makes it way within
& I cry, Peace, come find
My tired body. Come lay
Me down beside the stream
Where mercy flows so steadily –
Jesus, have mercy on me, have
Mercy on we, this family. Lord,
I beg You—please show Your face,
Your favor to me. Let the war within
& wither, cease to


fmf: tired 



Day 56-57



Here is my grateful list for today:
1. Shrek the musical recommendation from Teri
2. Dad calling me, Twink before leaving (makes me feel like I shine even if I don’t feel right now)
3. Fighting Words by Ellie Holcomb (reminds me of when Megan texted before the hysterectomy last year: Use your fighting words, Jewelia. Made me smile and calm come to my heart.)
4. Prayer. Praying for friends and family and just talking to You helps me take off of me.
5. Unexpected free box of snacks coming next week thanks to Sarah. Her wanting me to try it even though I know she’s not feeling well was the kindest thing. Threw me off. Most of Your surprises do. Let there be chocolate please.
6. Mom making peanut butter/banana sandwich for breakfast/tomoato soup, grilled cheese and that really good salad. I love the way she loves, God.
7. Beckah Shae. I know I’ve told you a lot but the way she takes really popular songs and turns them into songs about You. Ugh, so good. Seriously if she turns all these covers into an album, I’ll be breaking it down for You on constant repeat
8. Like I will most likely do for Kelly today. Maybe. Thank You for her friendship – the way she brings out more of the me that’s been hiding. By the way she listens and prays and loves by giving her time and presence, It helps me see Your face- the joy, Lord. It captivates me. Help us enjoy each other and the time You give us today.

Help us to love deeply. To give and receive the love, encouragement You so freely give away. Help us to savor the laughter, make room for the tears that water the flower that can grow even from the bitter. You make us better – two is better than one and and a threefold strand isn’t easily broken. You gold us together. You make us better. I can’t stop repeating it right now. Let be true. Amen.

Your tender haired girl

PS. Thank You for everything. For today. For music, an a song that still gets to me.

previous letter.





Day 9



It is silence from You while I’m sitting here sobbing that may be the biggest gift today. The fact that You are listening to me as I listen to the melody that is moving me to listen. I’m tired. And here come the tears again. I’m tired of these tears that come when I least expect them – the hurt I feel for my family. I’m broken. How do you look on this and not want to get angry? But you are the God of mercy. The division is too — much for me. The hostility. 
Come, Lord. With your love & comfort for me. Now, I just want to sleep. 


your tender haired girl 

Ps. Thank you for being near my broken heart and the space to cry. I wish I could feel your arms. 


Fmf prompt: silence. — is where the timer stopped. 

Part of Nanowrimo project: Letters From A Tender Haired Girl. (Previous letter found here with previous letters at bottom of post. 

binding ties

all the memories

come hazy, old

photographs I hold

in memory–playing 

video games, army,

hide n seek while he

wears a Scream mask 

& tries to scare us, always

me, but he made you laugh.

the hours we’d spend every 

Sunday morning wrestling, only to be 

welcomed by a huge pancake breakfast & 

cut up fruit: cantaloupe, melon & oranges 

donuts some other weekends with

drives to the movies. I love you signs 

thrown up followed by uncontrollable 

laughter. Fuzz.

Muzz. Life sized Glinda smiling down at 

you while you sleep.

Rugrats in front of the entertainment 

center. Taking 

the build-a-bear, mercilessly 

mocking my “first love.” But,

it’s the way you’ve stood beside,

held my hand no matter break or

bend, sorrow or shame, distance–

reminding me the strength of family 


prompt here

Apparently today is national sibling day. I am blessed with a brother and sister who have given me memories to look back on that are hilarious. And challenging, but has only strengthened our relationship. It’s an honor to be their sister. And to watch the way they’ve loved me for a quarter of my life, especially over the last two years, it’s a tearing up thing. They’ve loved me through a lot grief. Stood beside me, held my hand, sat in awkward silence, gave me sweets. They’ve supported this crazy writing journey I’m on. They’ve welcomed my friends as their friends have welcomed me. They’ve teased me about everything, from boys to having Cerebral palsy and saying I can’t keep up, and loved me regardless. They show me who Jesus is constantly and I’m so thankful they are mine. Yay for cheesiness!

“By yourself you’re unprotected. With a friend you can face the worst. Can you round up a third? A three-stranded rope isn’t easily snapped.”

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭4:12‬ ‭MSG‬‬ 

It’s like that. And I love them both very much.

God knew grief is joy

i know the breaks
better than the bends.
so when He says,
my arms can be your
home—I stare off in
the distance, because
distance is what this heart
knows. I want so badly to be
loved, the angst of a dysfunctioned
family, leaves me asking, why?
i can’t bear if

fmf: family. so tired. dreams of snakes & staying up with God until 4ish, because your heart is scared and heavy. even tho you know you have nothing to fear, makes foe an awesome night. not. I just want to fall into the God’s arms and not move for a long time. I am noticing that when I get close to God, I am attacked or tempted and then I’m running back to God. hey. i’m so so sorry. i’m not strong enough and i need so much  love. I keep praying Ephesians 3:14-21, well parts of it, for people in my life.

I prayed it for myself today. and last night, I read this:

Watch what God does, and then you do it, like children who learn proper behavior from their parents. Mostly what God does is love you. Keep company with him and learn a life of love. Observe how Christ loved us. His love was not cautious but extravagant. He didn’t love in order to get something from us but to give everything of himself to us. Love like that. (Eph. 5:1-2 MSG)

I want to observe how Christ loves in extravagance. I don’t know what I expect. The only thing I can see is how through my grief and loneliness, it’s like I’n on a mountain, praying or sitting quietly. or crying over desires of my heart that I thought were dead or refused to acknowledge. It’s beautiful the way Jesus is hearing and answering some of my prayers for others, and the way he keeps me praying for them.

But for me, I feel I’m growing down. Angsty. Crying. Drawing every other day, going: How’s this looking, Daddy?” And my inside exclaims: Wonderful, My child! Keep going!

Sometimes I try pulling away, but I keep going back. Because I find him there every time. If the desires of my heart are to draw him pictures, because I know I have to lean on Him morse so than my writing, maybe He actually os answering one of my prayers.

I think I’m just very blind.

This Isn’t A Poem

Don’t be too quick in your assessment of God’s gifts to you. Thank him. Moment by moment. Day by day. Max Lacudo

I read this in my devotional this morning. It won’t let me go. I hate admitting this, but I have been assessing everything since a friend said, He died for you, Julia. This is almost two years ago, but my reaction is the same.

I cry. I ask the same question I did then. Why me? In my eyes, I am no one special. I have made more mistakes (or what I think are), because I am afraid of doing something wrong. Disappointing someone not God. This has left me with palpable fear I am a terrible person.


Can you say still looking for human approval?

You know what’s funny? Even when I think I have approval (from people), I still question.

“You sure?” “You sure you love me?” “Why?”

I say the appropriate answers to the responses. But in my head: Really, God?

I start doubting. Then, I hide. I hide from everyone, including my Beloved.

I don’t want people to see me crying for reasons I don’t understand.

You can’t either, God. But, you do.

You know why my soul is twisty.

You wouldn’t care if I wanted to stay in this bed and stare at the ceiling all day.

I’d be with you.

Here’s the thing: I don’t want to be sad about this life. I’m used to sorrow. I know what it’s like to watch people you love, divide. And wonder why the statement, “I’m sorry” tires you.

I know this life isn’t supposed to be gum drops and lollipops (yeah, that is a weird analogy. And cliche..) Pain is to be expected because this place isn’t my home.

You know I’ve ached stability. The joy kind. I’m stable in pain. I don’t have a hard time unwrapping rejection. Heartbreak almost feels natural. Maybe it is, since out of it comes joy.

Sometimes, okay all the time, I think this is all there is. Overwhelming sorrow. Pain. It’s a constant. Though I hate it, it’s kind of become my friend. My friend with the frown, even when she smiles.

When I was younger, 14, and younger, everything seemed easier. I laughed. I smiled without a hint of sorrow. Not like I know now. I said please and thank you. I spent hours reading, thanks to dad’s eagerness to take me the library after therapy every Tuesday. Remember how we’d go to the movie section and he’d let me take out a new Veggietales video every time?

Now, I can’t even enjoy sitting with a book. I’m distracted. And if I get into one, I question everything. And Veggietales makes me cry when Bob & Larry exclaim: God made you special. And he loves you very much!”

You’ve whispered this into my heart before my 14 year old self would become this 24 year old yearner.

I believed I was loved. Sure, I got hurt, but it didn’t linger long. Sure, I shed tears, but I didn’t feel them when my brother decided he needed to pretend we were in the army, and send me down the stairs on dad’s army blanket. And hiding me inside my closet from the enemy. Or wrestle me every Saturday morning, to which I always protested for him to stop.

Instead, he went in for another dive. Or, standing at the other end of the living room, telling me to Go! with the biggest smile on his face. Every single time I fell, I had this hunger to try again & again. Because of that smile. Because of his childlike faith, that no matter how many I took off from the wall running, and falling after a few euphorphic seconds, I could try again.

Someday walk like him.

Or, when he would pull out his Scream mask, turn off all the lights, and play hide & seek. I don’t remember being afraid, but excited for him to find me. I remember crawling away laughing after he scared me. (He’s a pro at scaring me still.)

I don’t know where I was going with this, God. You words won’t stop echoing.

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

These memories with Nolan are where I saw you first. Without knowing. His smile so wide, like at any moment, he could burst. His glad eyes, making my heart well with belief.

I could do anything.

Nothing felt forced. Rushed. Fearful. I am still that girl. Except now she feels the force of sadness because nothing feels fun anymore. She feels this rush to live. Speak. Be something other than still. She feels haunted in the still of night, she’s let everyone down. Made me a mistake You can’t turn away from.

Even though she’s heard You aren’t cross armed, but open-armed, as her 4 years younger brother was then. She wants to know why she feels small, heavy-hearted, and mourning things she’s told never will come again.

I want to know why saying,”Somping”, “fuzz”, “muzz” in a really weird almost accent, makes joy come back, but a desperate attempt to hold on. Why you’ve given me three women, who live a distances away, but see me beyond the ink. Through hashtags and how are you? And prayer.

Constantly pointing me back to You. They let me come as I am, a mass of questions, fears, frustration, excitement, joy even and they give straight back.

They have helped me understand Your heart, which has helped me understand mom better.

How every woman is, whether or not we are a mom. We want to be needed. Known. Loved.

And that can only come from You, Daddy.

Only through You, through this pain, can I see this sensitivity as a gift.

Because most days, I’m looking into those glad eyes in a way wish wasn’t so.

Brokenly beautiful. They know me oh so well.

“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!”: Is. 49:15