ings doubt You showed Thomas scars for.

I listen as she sings

You will carry me through

the heartache this has caused

me—to turn away, turn in, carry

this inside and watch me cover up again.

You always know

how to pull out of

myself when my only

question rings: can I

truly trust You aren’t

going to pull away too when

I don’t give what You want?

God, I’ve changed so much

but this ache burns and br

This is brought to you by Ellie Holcomb’s new singles: I will carry you + Canyon + the prompt: she from five minute Friday.

I’m trying to make an attempt to come back to blogging on Fridays because I miss the challenging prompts, miss writing and the community blogging has brought me. I feel I’m prone to drop off the face of the earth again but this is an attempt to go back to what I know.

No back story or linking up. Just going to let the poems speak for awhile

I got you.

God, I don’t know

how to tell you how

lost I feel – inside

my chest, there is

a weight of grief

that finds my eyes

lately. I want to will the

tears forward. This cost

of leaving one place for

a trip back, it hurts leaving

the gift of a friendship I have

learned more about the power

of Your presence. I don’t want

to tell you how much it hurts because I’m so afraid it will mean I’m still the girl who

is desperate. I don’t feel like

that anymore. I feel quieter,

settled in prayer, telling you

I miss her and knowing you

are listening, you are near.

I want to say more of how

I miss sitting in her car, and feeling your presence near

And the way she went up the porch and called the cat Biggie smalls and we’d laugh and stay up late with candy and face masks. And now we’re distanced

by miles but I know our hearts are knit together as a furry sweater. I want to close the distance again in your way and time, but I miss sitting in Barnes and Noble and buying books, coffee and dreaming of the future or sitting in Starbucks working on books together and just getting to be there. So much

healing. I miss my best friend and here is where the tears start

coming, the ones begging to fall

on the floor into your invisible jar.

The ones I know if I let flow, they will taste of salt. Like the popcorn we got at so many movies, Lord. So many with slushies and chats about them after. What have I done today to make me feel proud today, Lord?

Say thank you over and over and

let you hold me close, to hear you say, I know.

*fmf: cost

(It’s been forever since I did a side note); I had to stop the timer with the one. I paused it in the middle, resumed, and I think it was going to let me write for 3 hours when I put 5 mins.

I’ve been participating in Nanowrimo (national novel writing month) for the first time ever this month. It is why I’ve been quiet here. It has been a struggle in a few different ways.

  1. Comparison – I’ve watched God bring so much encouragement to me in the midst of it.
  2. A billion distractions – and my struggle saying no, I need to do this for awhile. I’m writing this novel, peeps. The recommended videos on YouTube can be a serious rabbit hole..
  3. Fear of what will come out, if I can finish, having no real solid plan in the beginning, just a vague idea.

I want to go into this last week with hope I can finish strong no matter the word count I finish at. I want to keep writing this into the new year. I would like some serious prayer to keep going. It is a small burning fire that won’t leave.

Thank you for any prayers/encouragement.

come closer.

God, 

Here I am 

In a season 

Of wait—

Waiting for grief 

To not undo me

So easy, for me

To lash out not in

Anger at those around me

& here I say again, I don’t know

How you can love me. Would you

Come up beside me & hold me?

Is this how Jesus felt—this deep, 

Abiding sorrow when he cried. 

Father, why have you forsaken me?

LORD, even though it has been days

Since the news I cannot cry. I’m so

Tired & here in this bed is where I want ti

Stay in the warmth, the quiet even as my

Mind goes astray. LOED

 

fmf:wait. 

7/17/18

//

Day 107

//

God,

can I tell You 

this heaviness of heart 

wants to crush me? I’d like

to cry my eyes out so You 

can take all this salty & pour 

all this water in Your bottle

especially marked, Julia. I can’t 

bear this alone. I need You, Lord. I need a 

friend to let me fall apart. I’m sorry for 

trying 

to make something work that 

isn’t supposed to now or maybe not at all. 

Hold me closely because 

I wish I could turn off that I care.

If I sit here & sway to the music,

will You meet me? Take this burden & 

bear this load. It is 

too much & Your shoulders are

greater than my own. 

3/31/18

//

Day 91

//

God,
I keep thinking of 

the disciples, the 

weight of sorrow 

I feel on this Saturday 

(Sadderday). Walking 

back together, these 

disciples, friends hope 

for Your redeeming power,

saving. You meet them on 

this road & they don’t even 

know it’s You. You ask, what 

are you talking about? but their 

down turned faces could tell You. Still, 

You want to know. 

You come alongside them in

their sorrow, grief too heavy. 

They tell You they thought Jesus was the 

Messiah, but 

after three days, there is still 

no sight of You. 

Lord, it is me,

sitting here & 

saying, I can’t 

see You. Though 

I’m sure I saw You

in his smile & almost 

twinkle in his eyes

down to his smile.

The joy because he 

knows I have a sweet 

tooth & a love of chai. 

How can tears still find 

me, missing her from a

book about butterflies,

or the Polish hamburgers/

cabbage & noodles? Or the

friend coming to mind again 

after accidentally stumbling

upon a glitter bomb, imagining 

the laughter? – the

ache even though I know 

tomorrow celebrates You 

coming to redeem, call me

Your beloved, to Your side.

Us all.

But today, Lord –

I’m tired. I am weary. 

Things I’ve said yesterday 

& spoke aloud to You today,

makes me think You have all

right to look away, leave me 

in the dark, but still I sit & listen 

to these songs, about your faithfulness, 

that You are here –

even if You haven’t given me 

what I want, You are still good. 

Surround me in Your shelter,

kindness yet again. 

I’m trusting, You, Lord,

& if You disappear from 

view again, let me remember 

the burning of my heart as You

whisper, I’m still with you. O my 

child, I’m still with you. 

It’s true. 

love,

Your tender haired girl 

A Place To Land (Book Review)

As soon as I saw Kate’s book, I knew I wanted to read it. Not just because the cover makes me remember the first time I went to visit a friend in Texas. Or that I’m captivated by how the sun looks, It was title and the blurb of how she struggled with her parents divorce and the longing for home. I felt interested that maybe someone could put to words what has been hard for me. She did. 

Kate Motaung’s memoir, A Place to Land tells her story of her struggle growing up torn. From her parents divorce when she was young and all that went along with that. Two separate houses. Holidays. Friends that had married parents. To moving to Cape Town, South Africa where she met her husband and the longing for there and home in America.

Kate also tells of her mom’s battle with cancer. I had a really hard time reading parts where she longed to be with her mom, but couldn’t be because she was on the other side of the world. Her bond with her sister, Sarah during this time was fascinating to me. Through all of the stress and just complete overwhelm during that time and even after, the bond between them only strengthened.

Through all these changes, Kate’s faith remained steadfast. The way she cried out to God with each new change gave me hope. Her story gave me hope that God does hear us when we call to Him. He comforts us when things are hard and loss is heavy. God remains faithful through all things.

I learned a lot about South Africa culture while reading this book. Table Mountain sounds really cool to look at in person. Wine Gums are not anything to do with wine, but are fruit flavored gummies that taste really good. I even asked two friends about them who live in Cape Town about them and took the plunge to buy them. 


Also, Sweppes isn’t ginger ale like it is in the U.S, but seems like it would be good to try. I also learned Rand is African money, tripe is the second stomach of a cow (yes, I know a really random fact, but I never knew.) and vulvuzelas are plastic horns.

I loved Kate’s writing throughout the book. It felt like I was sitting down with a friend, listening to her tell me her story while being reminded of God’s faithfulness again. That He is the giver of all things and where we find true belonging.

Some of my favorite quotes:

“When you notice that you’re getting to the last of the presents under the tree, you start to unwrap the gifts more slowly and deliberately, careful not to tear any piece of the paper-thin moment.”

“Though the Lord doesn’t always answer my prayers the way I want, He always grants the gift of His presence.”

“We’re all needy—in desperate need of grace and redemption, groaning to be clothed in our heavenly dwelling (2 Corinthians 5:1–2). We’re all living in a temporary homeless shelter, ready and waiting for something better—for a home that lasts.”

“Some people say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I say absence just plain makes the heart hurt.”

“Sometimes it just takes the right words at the right moment from the right friend to shift perspective and help the light come into view.”


If you are going through or have struggled with:

• Divorced parents

Moving frequently

• Feeling unsettled

• Longing for more

• Dealing with cancer

• Grief

• Loss of a mother (or loved one)

• Living cross-culturally

 

this book will bring hope and comfort. It definitely has to my heart. 

Read a free chapter here

3/15/18

//

Day 84

//

Jesus,

This grief wants to crush me,
But I want to keep telling You—
I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. But
You know the truth. I’m not.
I’m sad. I’m angry. I’m tired.
I keep wondering why the sorrow
Is a sudden free fall begging out —
Lord, I don’t know how to say goodbye,
Nor do I really want to, or feel I have
Any right to grieve what are shadows.
I want to crumble into You, into arms,
Into words without the shouting I hear
In my head: how could you not know?
How can you be so blind? How can you
hold out such hope, be kind? Are you mad?
You just want to continue to be walked on,
Used? But at the same time, anger sits
Wanting revenge. It is not mine to take,
Lord. You ask for mercy, to show it &
I try, but the hurt aches inside my eyes
For all the tears I want to cry. What healing
Has come from this or the way I was broken
With my head on her lap, asking why he had
To tell me goodbye? Over a text message. Or the way
I watched family become fam-ily, with the same desire
To fix, hold together, know I am loved. Where has it all
Pushed me, Lord, but into Your arms. How am I any
Better than I was?

Your tender-haired girl

PS. Because I still yearn for a physical person to hold me while I cry.

3/13/18

//

Day 83

//

Jesus,

Thank You for
Bringing the sorrow
To spill so freely & I
Beg You to hold me—
It happens so quickly
How I feel so unworthy,
Only here to do for, not
Be with. Is this how You
Felt when You came to set
Us free? Did not the Pharisees
Ask for miracles? No, they wanted
To clarify what was in the word when
The Word was standing right before them.
But I wouldn’t know (still don’t sometimes)
When love and mercy & faithfulness—You
in all Your glory are in front of me. When
You just want to hug me, ask about my day,
Share a meal with me. Laugh with me. Catch
Salty tears in Your hand—watch them dissolve
Into Your palm, nailed down to set me free. To
Be near me. To touch my face & call me lovely
Though today I see a girl empty. A girl who feels
Pressed in by darkness heavy, seeking the silence
Of me.

Lord, have mercy on me.

Your Tender-haired girl

2/3/18

//

Day 64

//

God,

I am slowly breaking 

my heart open, only 

to met with silence. 

I can’t imagine what 

it was like for her to read

those words from the other 

side of the screen & me feeling 

the ache in my heart & the tears

fall silent from memories long 

ago? How does one deal with

a taking away of those you love – one 

through death & one through a chapter’s 

end of 9 years? You grieve one and move 

on from the other. Well,

until it comes up again. And again. Again. 

Again. Because 

that’s the nature of grief until

You wipe my tears up for good. 

& here I am, vulnerable & waiting. I know 

what I said,

that we can talk about it later, 

but once again the fear creeps:

You got too honest again

Thank You, Lord, she listens & for bringing her into my life when You did. And for Your love – patient & kind. 

Always patient & kind. 

Send me word of Your love tomorrow. It is unfailing. This I know. 

love,

Your tender haired girl 

2/2/18

//

Day 63

//

God,

We can agree

this playlist takes me 

all the way back to sitting 

in my mom’s childhood room,

arranging and rearranging these songs I 

needed to voice

grief I had words for, but never 

felt like home. I needed to be carried

away, set down, told everything will be 

okay. It will

be okay. And the strange thing is, I still 

need that today. That place, her coming 

to check on me, call me for chili, made 

me feel loved in ways I still don’t 

understand. I didn’t know that summer 

would be it. The last time I’d aww

Fmf: agree. 

This week has had one of those starts that makes me want to cry with gratitude at how God loves me and carries on with watching how he loves others. Protects.   And everything feels fragile and overwhelming. And I’ve watched myself just be stunned and lost and speaking words that are filled with gratitude. And some not so helpful. 

But God. He doesn’t let go. Ever. Ever. He gives glimpses of where I’ve been and how in that time, it was dark, lonely, confusing, aching, but He was and still is working everything out for good. 

And I’m holding on to that tight today. And everyday until I see light.