son, i look down

on two benches 

we unite, this 

stranger & I. 
She tells me

I must be close

to You, Abba, if

I write to You,

about You. I 

tell her I don’t 

this though people

tell me otherwise.

Why not? she says,

her leaning close to

hear my response 

almost breaks me wide 

open on the pavement,

father–I am not a people

per

fmf: unite.

This week has been rough. Emotionally. Monday I turned 26 and had a conversation (or more of a listening session) with this woman okay two years older than me. 

She told me repeatedly how blue my eyes were and how pretty they were, like crystals. And everytime she said this, I’d look down, feeling this shame or embrassment. I was so uncomfortable and almost sobbed later when she said, that’s okay. Be who you are.

And I felt this tug in my chest, like I wanted to sit there and cry: I don’t know who I am. I feel like a lost little girl inside, who has grown up too fast and has forgotten how to truly laugh and feel it everywhere within. It’s okay to sit and be quiet and watch the world swirl, aching to keep up? But you can’t keep up and watching everyone else around try, saddens you more than you can say?

And your own broken heart needs a little bit more of Jesus than you’d like to admit. But you have no idea how or when he’s going to come through for you. You just know he promises he’s clearing a way and he is the way and he understands your heaviness and tears better than you.

And you don’t want to forget his love for you. So, you hold on and wait. 

And try not to fret and worry and read his word way too late in the night, collecting promises on your phone so you won’t forget. But you wake up with the loud voice in your head telling you, you can’t trust. You’re an idiot for wanting to go deep, look at the way you squirm inside when someone talks to you. Or wants to. Shame on you.

But I don’t say this because my chest hurts and she’s telling me how God is in me and I’m stunned and then she’s saying happy birthday and God bless you.

And for most of this week, I’m so twisted inside. Tears come. And anger and sadness and I try and end up shutting out people because this keeps coming and I want to just embrace, but Abba knows how hard it is for me and I’m glad he isn’t going to give up pursuing me.

receive grace, dear girl

you’re being too
hard on yourself—
i could hear this
faint within my heart,
tears asking pardon.
she was right—i can’t
read a book in a decent
time to compile a list of
favorite quotes/notes. he
laughs in my mind when
the next email comes,
guess you missed
the first task, huh?
& now you have TWO
MORE! i sit with these
second guesses until
morning comes: let it
go. you’re not missing
out—go at your pace.
My hand is on you, as
well as time—look in
My eyes, no condemning
to behold.

So last night, i find an update email from the launch team manager in my Spam folder, after emailing a friend about if I’m still supposed to be collecting quotes/notes In the email, I’m immediately drawn to the fact they’re releasing new images for the book, next week. and the devil is all: looks like you missed on that one. can’t even do task one! this follows by telling my mom, “i’ve failed.” Which she asks, why? I tell her something about I can’t read a book fast enough. My soul takes a long time to process a lll of this. I mean, I’m talking about the soul. It’s delicate and fragile. God knows how much time we need to grasp something. Apparently, I need months, years.

Just yesterday I learned love is only two things: patient & kind. I’ve read this before, but because of Emily’s lovely breakdown of 1 Corinthians 13, it’s made my soul go, God, is this true?? Whoa. Then, that means that’s all You are…

This made realize two other lovely things. 1. I’ve been taking myself SUPER SERIOUS with this book launch. When I haven’t been having serious headaches/sneezing/feeling sick, I’ve been at this or thinking: God, if I can show you I can do this, it’ll lead to a job. Right? Because that’s what’s most important. Money, so I can live and take care of myself. And His response: Just enjoy this! Don’t worry about that, delight yourself in Me! (and I kinda stare hard at Him..)

2. My soul needs to breathe. And yours does, too. You know you want to learn to pray with a bowl that receives nothing but grace.. 😉

as if you’re a stranger still

show me the
Father that I may
believe—i am Philip,
swearing i love you so,
but confessing i don’t
know the grandeur
i stand before. when
i breathed in this life
out of my mother’s
womb, my retinas
detached. i screamed
as you let me have
my sight. i imagine you
voiced low: i love you,
little girl. but i cried
& cried & cried the
mystery of you;
how you’ve sat with
me in the dark of my days
& i squint: how can you be
this kind—

i’m reading out of john 14, when Jesus asks Philip: “Have I been so long with you, and yet you have not come to know Me, Philip?” And this comes to mind, which makes think if nit for God, i couldn’t see. which means i wouldn’t be able to write or read. without my glasses, everything is blurry. i literally have to bring every book to my face, even with glasses.

large print makes me feel old. and heavy. and with any book, i always end up reading with my eyes. sometimes i don’t notice. other times i’m all: Jesus . i’m like everyone else now! sometimes  i wonder about people that have stellar vision, do you like it?

but i also forget about people who are blind, or can’t see without glasses/contacts. they probably feel the same as i do. i’m not the only one. there’s something about one of your senses being weak, some of the others are stronger. besides the fact i love holding books in my hands, audio books are awesome! it’s even cooler when you can listen while reading along. seriously, it’s a bed time story way before bed. all the time.

where i am going with this? i have no clue, other than i may squint to see Jesus, but i think thats where walking by faith, not sight.

After Watching Bukowski

He speaks alcoholically-
unwound about how one
resents being pushed,
movements unnatural
to their own.

Kind-hearted people
give out chances relentlessly,
because that’s what they do.
Extend mercy-seventy times
seven to everyone undeserving,
fallen from the same mistake as
Adam & Eve.

I failed again today-
missed the deadline
to apply myself,
learn form, rule,
regulation. Get
a college degree
declaring I can
make money
in something.

I’ve had two years
and I went begrudgingly.
All I knew was panic
when deadlines were close.
Everything that interested me
I was told would never earn
a steady living.
Philosophy and literature.
Poetry.

They said, pick something like
business, finance, psychology.
My brain perplexed,
while my heart said, stay.
I ran to the wilderness
shortly after that day.

Now, I’m languishing
because I don’t want to go
society’s way, but I can’t
live off social security.

I can’t do nothing,
I must live without resisting.
Why is it money has no appeal,
yet poverty is much more alluring,
& frightening?

Green in my wallet,
I give away.
No push I must obey.
Or resentment needing
conveyed.

Chance is merely a leading-
give away what was never
mine to begin with,
action speaking,
I love you.
soberly.

I wait here in my smallness.

Today will bring new shine,
absent shadow nor sway.
Gentlest encouragement
taking my self-condemnation
to meet the rain of this day.