Day 83



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

find the tears fall.


What is my worth to you? It isn’t in the things I do. Or don’t do. But maybe in the way I let myself hear, let me care for you. Care for me in the ways in the ways I need most for my soul. To sing to you, Lord, means more when I’m alone. Because I know in this quiet space with the cat, okay so maybe not alone, but absent people, I feel you sweep into the room. You are rushing to be near, to hear me open my mouth and proclaim to the closed window, I need you, I need you, I need you. I love you. And I 

fmf: worth

I sometimes hope that when I get to heaven, I’ll be like, God, Your love for me is fantastic. All the ways you pursued me through music. I felt like even in the broken body, the stillness at the table with the cat, You always found a way to make me dance inside and cry. It was beautiful. And now I can hear it forever here without ever turning it off and I can see your face now.

And he’ll smile and move in for a hug  because yes please and thank you ☺️🙋

But God seriously knows that I can lost in a song or artist for a while and I think I found a new one:

This drawing the cat finds better to sleep on is a visual for me to these lyrics: I know this might sound crazy/you’ve got the freedom to fail. – who cares–Carly Bannister (also, Ellie Holcomb’s sister. Serious talent and truth and good stuff from these two. Ugh.)

It’s like Jesus is singing it right into my soul. On a swing set.  To try and if I fail, it’s okay. It takes a long time for my heart to grasp things, especially that. I feel like I go slow enough the first time because I’m anxious to the point I don’t want to get it wrong or that I have to know things when I don’t. So this is basically like a reminder it’s okay to ask for help, need a friend. It’s okay to try again. 

And I really need to rest in that today. 

Help me, Jesus.

We are not alone

I haven’t finished this book yet.

This shouldn’t shock me, since the last book I read from Mary Demuth took about 4 months. And that was my first book of hers.

I’m not sure it’s really appropriate to review a book before you are done, but it helps me to process. And I’m learning a lot of the non-fiction I’ve had the opportunity to read, need a lot processing.

Worth Living is a book tackling the 10 lies, from “I don’t deserve to be loved.” to “I am what I produce.” women tend to believe about themselves. Both of these lies above are ones I’ve believed most about myself, and I’m finding they aren’t the ones.

What I love about this book is the way Mary writes as a friend. A friend quietly sharing her broken with you and how Jesus continues to be her hope. Her truth that is also ours as we let God change us. 
For when we feel we don’t deserve to be loved, we must remember we are the women whom Jesus loves. We are wildly loved beyond what we produce. We are free to be a child, beloved by God.

I love the discussion questions at the end to go deeper for reflection or with and a friend. There are also little activities in the second and third chapters to help cement God’s love for you, by going through a few verses in Romans and creating a purpose statement rather than a job description.

If you are a woman who is or has struggled with your worth, this book will remind you aren’t alone. Mary doesn’t tell you how to fix yourself. Instead she walks alongside you in the struggle, whispers, I know it’s hard, but I struggle, too.” gives you space to explore your own story, and guides you in prayer at the end of each chapter.

This book has opened me to see how I see myself unworthy. How all women must see themselves, but there is a small flicker of hope inside knowing I am not the only one. 

I am utterly amazed that this book is already sold out on Amazon. That is the only thing I dislike.

But I must share some of my fave quotes so far:

Believe you are chosen, precious, alive, and worthy to receive his mercy.

Even God doesn’t create growth and change in us through harsh measures.

We are worthy when we hurt.

We cannot love others unless we first love ourselves, give grace to ourselves, allow ourselves to be human.

It’s okay to be needy. God does not deride your neediness, and neither should you. Shake hands with it. Welcome it if you can. Because that place of terrible need is the launchpad of a beautiful life. Annihilation must precede resurrection. Need comes before filling. You’re actually in the best place you’ve ever been spiritually when you’re at your lowest. God rescues those who reach for him. He cannot rescue those who don’t need him. Psalm 138:6 reminds us of who can be near God: “Though the Lord is great, he cares for the humble, but he keeps his distance from the proud.”

Seriously, I want to share the whole book with you, even though I’m not through. So good. ☺️

my head throbs without remark

today, i let
go, become

ash. yesterday,
i could’ve over
indulged whims—

half pound box
peppermint bark,
facebook until I

blotched red
over my face.

instead, i thought
pączki he brought

her what i imagine
every year. lemon,
cherry, raspberry

filling a richness
we all must desire
before the sacrifice.

i didn’t, huffed
discomfort before
mother’s eardrum.

what now? she said.
my heart is heavy, i
don’t know why. i

exasperated, watching
stripped onion fall beside
waiting mushroom, inside

heated pan. you see, what
i would like to give up—
my innate looking down

upon my own worth.
i have to tell myself
truth, mind, heart &

soul argue believe

grey skies cast

shadow over blue—

Burden of Proof

Akin to a breakup,

I spend this day covered

with earthly warmth.

A blanket once white,

dirtied black by dog hair.

If I’m still a seed,

than this is mockery

from my head. loud

intrusions where peace

should be left to grow.

I can’t hear a word

You are saying,

Darling, darling,

I saved you because

I see ephinany every time

you seek My whisper,

come nearer. I long

warming your paling ears,

straining for praise or condemnation.

Whether you are wrong or right.

Whether you are doing.



Your thoughta clamoring

speech unsightly.

You are not unworthy.

You are altogether lovely,

breathing My promise:

call and I will come

take ahold of your tensed right hand.

I will kiss each tear stain

from left to right,

as one reads treasured word.

Inked by faraway friend,

lover with candid truth.

Your Smile

You lead me home.

Down the poppied lane,

giddy brooks on either side

bringing forth the truth riveting

my blood, bones, & tongue:

Hallelujah! My Beloved, You are here!

No longer a poster,

a crucifix worn around my neck in hopes You’ll be heart close.

Sing, My songbird.

Oh My Beloved, how we laugh & sing without care of what this world might think!

I only know the look in Your eyes makes me weak,

lost through realization You love me






restfully smiling

upon my own.

Forgive my inadequacy,

infrequency to speak

my welling vessel heart

You are taking over the river.

Gently dipping each break

in healing waves as mother touch.

You do not let go.

I AM more than enough, kissing my forehead, You whisper again.

You were never a piece of glass

meant to sink below Love’s reach.

You are a mirror crafted by Light,

where all who gaze will see

My face

found washed up on the banks.

Overcome My Unbelief

I finally brought myself to the light.

Last night over a keyboard.

Today, sitting on the couch,

verbally to my mother.

I’m not okay with myself.

I don’t like myself.

I don’t believe God does either.

Do you ever want to be loved as you,

minus the work you do?

That’s all I’ve known.


Striving for worth.

I’m serious.

This can’t be all there is.

I can’t work without faith

Love is ahead, beside, behind me.


Helping others will be no use

if I don’t believe

I am loved.



No matter circumstances.

Other’s words.

My thoughts.

I need overflowing belief

God is a gracious & compassionate


Slow to anger.

Abounding in love,


A sign of His goodness,

moving my heart from this cowering,

grieving, stagnate position,

to joy, unnerving.

I am terrified saying this prayer in ink,

when this morning my ears heard

the word: abounding

later followed by: love,

Absent: in.

A loss to my understanding.

Oh, God.

Your thoughts soar above

my self-inflicted shame.

I am worth more than sunshine,

falling rain accompanying this plain.

Dear Friend, draw near me,

form a a physical love letter

enveloping tenderly Your promises

I’ve failed receive.

Awakening Me, The Slipshod

I never feel good enough:
My words needing something special to attract sleeping eyelids.

All these guns for hands,
even my own, want to construct violence. Hatred sells a million
views, while Love is on the run

& go. You’re always running toward me, saying that old familiar rhyme from my childhood, with a twist:
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but holding onto You will never hurt me.

When I am in Your arms,
I am wrapped in a house of gold.
You take my contemplative nature-
my staring, silence, questioning completely. I can’t fake you out
when I shoot someone through thought.

Why are they doing that?
What for?
They shouldn’t.
Look at me, I’m gossiping
in my head.

Out loud is throwing stones
I profusely apologize throwing.
It’s spitting on You,
begging, Friend, please forgive me.
But the saliva has taken to the skin.

I’m the semi-automatic sinner
You let pull Your trigger to these crimes I wouldn’t take credit for.

My implicit demand for proof
someone means when they say,
I will die for you.

Author’s Note: This was inspired by a conversation with Justina, about how we all feel as artists. Whether it be a writer, painter, poet, etc. I also used Twenty One Pilots song titles throughout the whole poem, which was a lot of fun. Enjoy! 🙂

Wandering Past Philosophy

if one gads through
life, floating along,
a breeze combing
the petals of daisies,
lilies & roses: we will
explore discomfort
pain, lies without refrain,
that pleasure out rules
But even Solomon knew
working for the world’s view
will become meaningless
after a time
when praise is sought
from a sinner, just like you.