control, I’m not. 

I smell this gardenia,

calm & unassuming after

a fall. Lord, I watched or

I felt my body turn back 

as I went and missed the grip 

for the counter–mom’s voice 

a complete gasp as I hit the floor on my 

side. I don’t know

how You did that. The pain asks

me now to stay with the whiplash my 

head feels. Bring 

more of your comfort won’t you, please? 

The fall reminds me yet again in

fmf: comfort.

I’m not sure if it’s the fact I’ve had a bit of a summer flu this week or when trying to grab the counter with my weaker, I somehow do a twirl and wind up on my side on a carpet that covers part of the hard wood floor (thank you, Jesus), but I really think being still is good. I also find it fascinating that when I fall, i just go down. No words. And then just want to stay there.

Jesus, help me be still. Help me rest in you and wait expectantly for you. Please. I’m tired and my head is like, you need to put the phone down but I need to get this out. Thank you for catching me when I fall and for the carpet even though the pain was still there. Thank you that mom and I can recall lots of other falls I’ve had.  Thank you she was there to help me up and put on sandals so I won’t fall again. Even though you and I both know I’m not getting up any time. Thank you that all the pain brings straight to you. As in when I fall, I immediately apologize for trying to get up and wash my hands. I’m a silly girl who’s still trying to get falling is okay. You’re still going to – want me. You still love me in this broken and my aching body, head will never keep you away. So come to me Jesus. And yes, it’s a little like Ellie’s song, rescue:

It’s like I fell into a hole to deep to climb out//And I looked up to the sky and saw you reaching down/Reaching down

Reach down and rescue me with your comfort, Jesus. I’m not sure if anything would be a comfort right since I’m trying to distract myself from the weird feeling in my head. But thank you for being with me. That’s a comfort even if I can’t physically feel it right now. Okay, stopping. Love you, Jesus.

mess of a heart 

I used to think I had a haven

in books–stories

of a girl who found 

the boy, the one who

completed her. I hung

on every word, my heartbeat 

steady in expectation: maybe

Someone will love me that way.

Until I saw the break, the ache,

the happy ending on pages isn’t

what I see in the eyes of those around me, in the words spoken out, in ink. My chest, heart yearns

for a place I can speak without pretense: Abba, Father, come

into this 

Fmf: haven.

It’s been a week. A week of waiting, fear and honesty and some more fear. When I got into this whole launching book thing, I’d be reading books and learning to stretch my writing. 

I didn’t expect to go into my heart, into my past. I didn’t expect Jesus to keep telling me, you need to go back to go forward. Go back into your memories. I’ll be right here. You can be completely honest, mad and sad and laugh because I know you’re nervous. You can tell these people and your friends because they are still going to love you.

And you’re going to see Me. And know me. My faithfulness. So I tell him about the jealousy, about the anger, the bitterness. How I am terrified to trust and the desperation for love. The broken love of someone else, the way I look in their eyes or texts and see myself. The way I hurt people because I’m so hungry for this love because I know nothing else.

Except when I’m by myself writing, listening to music. I feel this gentleness in the ache, a whisper of it’s okay, you’re safe. And I say things like: I’m evil. You’re going to hate me. I can’t stop acting like this. What if You turn away, too? Hurt me? That’s what I deserve. So, come on let me have it. But wait…don’t.

And he goes:

Here’s a flower.


And a cat:

It’s going to be alright. This is a part of relationship. You’ll find joy again.

And my chest aches because I know He’s right.

In His right hand are pleasures evermore.

And together, we sit & wait.

she can’t quit

meanwhile,
(while grievous)
be content with
unimportance,
like You.

Jesus,
on the mountain
did You cry for
Your Father—
please,

remind me
I am whom
You love.
Wrap me
in belief.

I’ce read
how You lavish
love on me every
breath. silence
the best gift,

watching me
cry & hide in
truth—I may
be envious
of people fine

in telling You
goodbyes—
nullifying heart
with all pleasure
feeble hands can,

(food, words, screen)

Your promise to guide
tenderly & bless me;
envelops this blue
sheep in longing

today, I had a list of all i want to do today. that isn’t happening. instead, i wrote this to remind myself small isn’t bad. Satan’s been trying tell me, oh, Julia, no one sees or cares what you’re doing. How come no one is paying attention to how sad and confused you feel? No one is even listening. You’ll be lonely forever. Stop praying, He isn’t listening. Stop giving, it isn’t changing anything.

And Jesus, knowing that I’ve gone a little crazy (lack of being able to sleep and food. I have food, it all just tastes off), leads me to Psalm 73:

though i am plagued by grief when i think i’m doing okay (and everyone around seems happy), Jesus is still holding my hand, leading me in his love tenderly. Somewhere in my heart, I think He’s left me, but then I think He’s loving me quietly.

The best thing for me.

& deem a miss 

Here I am again,God–after a long 
night where I fell

into sin, thinking 

of Adam & Eve 

naked in Eden.

How where they 

unashamed, twined

together with your footsteps

their heartbeat inside? I cry,

dumbfounded as to how I want

such a thing when I chase death–

dreaming a man will hold closest 

my heart, my hand, kiss me at 

dawning light. Who will give me

milk and honey by the breath of

the Word encased within his chest,

In the beginning was the Word (love)

& the Word became flesh, the visible 

God, He who loved best, sacrificing 

death, to which I do not compare.

God, I dream of a man who will 

read read me Your Word of unfailing 

love–fearing the apple of his throat 

may betray my flesh.
** I’m reading this book and it’s making me look at myself. I’m not sure I like it..I also apparently process through poetry. Also, this book has made me tear and ache and wow.

There’s going to be a review here sometime this month. 

I AM making a way

I found myself crying
before an empty table–
strawberries to my left.

I couldn’t help thinking
maybe you’re sitting
beside my right, watching tears slide

down my cheeks to lips.
too salty I’ve become –
weighted by the reality

only you can be true.
why are you laughing
worry? I am truth: you

want your way now,
but your repentance
is dear to me; come

near to me! near to me,
you say. & so I sit, watching
you run away with your thoughts,

instead of listening to me-

emptying with me

above me rests 
a clear blue sky

& puffy clouds,

same as my eyes
from a night coming

into morning, weeping 

over your love. God,
how you came through 

the wilderness in my mind,

blue sash walking out from 

fog, without word. 
sitting down, a flash

illuminates scar against 

your cheek–the world 

gave you, me. your 
hair touches your eye.

sweat, no, tears fall,

i still love you. i can’t 

leave you, no matter
what you do to me.

& then all goes 

black. i pray: father,

who is in Heaven,
hallowed be your name.

your kingdom come,

your will be done

on earth as it is in
Heaven. give us

this day our daily bread

& forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those who 
trespasss against us. 

& lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil. for 

yours is the power & glory
forever & ever. amen.

my soul trembles beneath

the weight of your light

entering my soul, mirroring 
white out the window.

be my small one

God,
here am i

fading along 

with the sun.
bring me word

of your love. for

this day has brought 

a bruised leg bone
with a frozen sausage,

Chorizo chilling skin &

two disappointments I 

didn’t expect tear over.
no is your protective hand

against my wearing flesh,

begging answer, why, Lord?

but i know, if you give this desire 
& I’ll forget your name along 

with my own. i’ll run after another 

word to verify your past confession:

I’m drawing you in, darling.