Monday, September 29, 2008

Her Name is Kelly;

How come I never bothered to ask before?

Why does it take the approaching end of a thing to make us start opening our eyes?

My roommate played the violin for me this morning.
And gave me 6 oz. of this magical herbal tea I asked for.
And clued me in on this incredible man names George Bernanos.

I will miss her a lot.
All three of them.
They have been blessings to me in ways they may never know.

I feel like once I start packing, all of this will suddenly become real.
And I want it to.
But I don't want it to.

I am going to miss my best friend so much that it's practically impossible for me to express.
She is the most inspiring person I have ever met and I love everything about her.
I don't laugh with other people the way I laugh with her.
There is something about our friendship that has freed me and I know that even though this change is going to change us, it will not bring an end to the "us".
In fact, I have a really good feeling about this... in a strange way.
I know it will make us grow... and I am confident that it will make us grow together in unique and unexpected ways.

My life has made a habit out of leaving. Going and coming. Growing and becoming.
Changing changing changing.

Somehow, I am so very very much aware of the Holy Spirit right now.
And of the promises of my Jesus.
And I really didn't expect that I would be.

I have been very little love recently.
I need to figure myself out.
That's a lie.

I need to do what I know I need to do.
What I'm supposed to do.
What I was made to do.
What I am called to do.
And to be.

What is expected of me and not only because it is expected of me.
But because of all the promise it holds.
And the joy that obedience will bring.
That beautiful and brimming joy that is so close I can practically taste it.

Lies... your time is up.
I will not be held by you anymore.
Fear... its time for you to go.
I will not be held by you anymore.

I am falling back in love with my Beloved.
And realizing the beauty in realizing that He is really and truly all that I will ever need.

I can't wait to see what we do together.

Thank You for never ever ever ever ever letting me go.

You are beautiful and I love You.

I really really love You.

P.S. I just saw the most beautiful bike in the world!
Maybe there is hope for South Grand yet...


Wednesday, September 24, 2008


"I have made your heart infinitely beautiful.
Do what I have fashioned it for..."

I need you.

My words have never been my own.
They tug at me now more than ever.

I must speak.
I must tell.

Lead me.

Where do we begin?

I will wait until you tell...

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

How I'm feeling today:


Hopeful. Expectant. Nostalgic. 

I am falling in love with bike riding.
And hopefully, tonight, I will find a bike to fall in love with too.
One that's worthy of being named "Betty".

Don't ask me why.
That's just how it is.

Best text message of the day:
"So... I've been carrying around a very fragile item in a plastic bag full of ice..."

Second best:
"Is his name Scribbles?"

"Just tell her to leave you alone. Then take her lunch money..."

So an old savings bond that my dad found the other night appreciated enough to by both mine and Ashley's Hanson tickets tonight.
Yes, Hanson.
Oh. Em. Gee.

I am moving in 10 days.

Life is infinitely beautiful.

Sunday, September 21, 2008


I woke up late.
I woke up slow.

I don't own a car anymore.

While brushing my teeth about ten minutes ago, I looked in the mirror and realized that last night, I slept in a shirt that read, "It took me 50 years to look this good!"
Something tells me it's going to be a good day.

Today, I am wearing the same thing I have been wearing for the last 4 days. Straight.
With the only addition of a reminder of where I have been.
Something I was afraid of for a while.
Something I hadn't wanted to put on just in case I would have to explain it.
Something I was too ashamed to wear proudly.

But my heart has been rediscovered and its stakes have been reclaimed.
And this, this is what is found inside.

A wrecked landscape for captives.
A holy mess.
A ravaged sense of self... often lost to many things much much less.
But continually pursued.
By Something so much More.

I have recently been informed that there is no need to worry about anything anymore.
In more ways than one.
Confirmation of spontaneous actions and whimsical decisions.
Whose roots were so much deeper than I realized at the time.

It is healthy.
It is right.
It is good.

It is purposed?
Maybe so.
Maybe not.
I guess we'll see.

The scene has shifted so many times already.
Why not shake it up again?

I feel as though I'm going home.

I'm on the edge of something here...
It's right there. Right underneath.
Waiting to take shape and take hold.
It has been waiting long enough.
I think this is what it has been waiting for.

It is brimming...
It is rising...
It is bursting forth...

The time is almost here for this beauty to become me.

Wait. Just a little bit longer.
Wait until the Lover calls you out.
Wait until He captivates you and draws you in.
Wait until He ransoms your captivity... and sends you out to do the same.
Your rescue is coming... horizon is on its way.

I promise, heart.
Horizon is now quickly on its way.

You can finally begin to hope.


Really, I have to wonder.
How on earth does everything just seem to fall into place?
How does everything always just end up so right?
And okay?
And perfect?
And pleasant?
And just as it should be...
though I never would have known.

You are a Giver of the most unexpectedly beautiful gifts.
And I am an ungrateful, undeserving, silenced and humbled receiver.

I'm jumping, Beloved.

Here's my hand.
Have it back.
It is yours again.

And let's jump together.

You're the only one I trust myself to fall with.
And fall, I may.

But unless we jump...
I will never know.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

So apparently

I have this tendency to believe in myself and what I am capable of doing a lot less than those around me do.

I also, apparently, have an extremely hard time being alone with my thoughts.

Blogging makes me uncomfortable.
It really really does.
Which is exactly why I know I need to do it.

Why on earth am I so afraid of my own heart and the honesty it contains?
Why am I so inclined to do anything and everything but scrape past the surface into the deeper realms of my motivations and emotions?
What is it in me that hungers so much for distraction?

I'm attempting to write this piece that I don't even really feel like I'm qualified to write.
Because the qualifications involve caring.
And for a while now, I have not cared about much of anything except for me.
I definitely made it look like I did, quoting exactly all of the things that I knew I needed to say.

I am tired of always going in these circles.
I am tired of running away from my heart.

I was born to set captives free.

Liberty was purposed to be on my tongue to proclaim.

And I know "why" in the sense of the standard answer to give to any questions...
but I just don't really know why it moves me so.
(And why I seem to be able to forget it so quickly.)
But why it tugs at my heart so distinctly when I do remember it even for a moment.
Why my tears catch me by such surprise when I speak of those forgotten ones I adore.

And even why I adore them in the first place.

The textbook answer is "because He loves them too" and I suppose that's true... but there has to be more to it than that. Or at least it has to be deeper than that sentence alone and what it has become.

Even now, I sit in the middle of a comfortable city inside of a comfortable existence. Drinking a coffee. Listening to an ipod. Typing away on a computer. None of which I really need, among many other things.

So what right do I really have to write this?

Because I can.
Because I have the computer and the words (somewhere) and the capabilities and the motivation (somewhere) and the ability to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves.

I am supposed to be their voice.

What has shaped the way I think about change?
Choosing to think about it in the first place.
It fucking hurts and it's really hard.
To choose to go into those places of darkness that I have only touched in order to tell about the ones that are held hostage there.
But if I do not go... who will?
If we do not go... who will?

What has shaped the way I think about change?
The way I view my own efforts.
The fact that the effort itself brings the Kingdom of God whether it looks like it or I realize it or I see its effects or not.

What has shaped the way I think about change?
Realizing that what I desire is not so much answers, but just the freedom to be able to ask the questions.
The freedom to scream at and cry to the Creator and know that He not only listens... but joins me in my anger.

What has shaped the way I think about change?
Understanding the concept of working for what I desire to see while in my waiting for it to be fulfilled.

What has shaped the way I think about change?
Their hands in mine.
Dancing with them. Laughing with them. Loving them even when I didn't feel like it.
Attempting to look into their future and hating the only things that I could see.
Living within those feelings of potential mixed with hopelessness; of shaky promise- a walking on eggshells of sorts. Afraid to get too attached to or too excited over dreams or visions of restoration because the reality was too harsh and too clear.

What has shaped the way I think about change?
Refusing to continue to pass the blame- whether onto God or other human beings.
In the same words that I have said before, "we cry and cry and cry for Him to come to the oppressed and set the captives free. We call to Him to come down and meet us and them in our darkness. But the part we seem to have missed is the part where we agree to work for it... in our waiting."
We take responsibility for them. We agree to care for them. We decide to speak for them.
We choose to suffer with them. We choose to suffer for them.

What has shaped the way I think about change?
The straight, unfiltered, untampered, difficult words of Jesus himself and not what I have always thought they were. Not my preconceived ideas. Not my childhood church's rhetoric. Not the politics of any man.
Just Him. And His heart. And how loudly it speaks to mine.

I care for them because He cares for them and I know He is who He says He is.
I know that I know that I know that His words must be obeyed... not out of any guilt or obligation. But rather because they contain life. They give freedom. Because they are the only way for me to live. Because through them alone can I make sense of myself. Because they are my only hope and the only hope I have to offer the hopeless. Because they have been tested and have come forth as true. Because they resonate deep within my spirit as that binding tie that of all humanity is searching for. Because they settle my soul and welcome me home. Because they pursue me gently when I run away. Because they inspire me passionately when I am stagnant. Because they make me feel. Because they make me sincere. Because they make me feel alive.

What has shaped the way I think about change?
The ability to be honest with myself and say that what I truly want, I often don't. That what I think I know, I never do. And that what I need to do scares me shit out of me.

What has shaped the way I think about change?
Knowing that in order to bring the healing that I desire to bring, I first have to let myself be healed.

Lives are on the line.
The longer I sit here, unmoved, the longer they wait.
And wait.
And wait.

And the louder He asks.
And asks.
And asks.
Until I decide to start listening.


I'm listening.

I mean it this time.

I'm listening.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

A Heart Divided

A heart divided cannot stand
Even up against itself
But rather sits with idle limbs
And places passions on the shelf
Tired of the tug of war
It wages when the moon is high
Tired of the purposed tears
It has been called to loudly cry
Easier still to live a life
Distracted by the comfortable
Than to desire to be resigned
To feel the weight of every pull
And yet, as far as it may run
Towards open arms of something new
It simply cant abandon what
It knows it has been made to do
As every sorrow jolts it back
To gaze at what is deep within
Serving as reminders to
No longer let inaction win
It recollects itself and rises up
To seal its fate and speak
Of freedom to the captives
And of promised strength unto the weak
Just so, a heart once split in two
That used to be afraid to yield
Brings healing everywhere it goes
But only after being healed

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

The Sleepers

I laid awake- my eyes heavy, but my heart heavier. My thoughts racing. Had all that really just happened? Had I really just been completely exposed?
I know I slept because I know I dreamed. Briefly, but it was there. And the weird part is, the dream exactly mirrored my thoughts; only, it took it one step further to the conclusion I thought I was afraid of.
In my dream, I left him.
In my dream, he took me.
In my dream, I was released in the gentlest way.

It was almost unbelievable just how applicable the conversation that had occurred between us earlier that evening was to everything I had already been thinking. And as if my body itself also anticipated its coming, my heart had already been racing for three hours straight. I was confused and impatient; nervous over what I did not know. And I did not know anything.
Well, no. I knew one thing. I knew I was frustrated with myself for not being able to answer all of the questions I had been receiving for the last month. "What's next?" "What now?" "What do you want to do?"

For some reason, whenever I tried to respond, words never came and I ended up stuttering out some half-assed rehearse about how right now, I just needed to "take some time" and "figure things out". Every time being fully aware of just how pathetic I sounded and just how dissatisfied I was with that answer. But what else could I do? Any other response would have been a lie and to be quite honest, that one wasn't entirely true either.
Sure, I was "taking some time". Lots of it, actually. But there was absolutely no figuring going on in any way.
And he knew it. He had heard me give that response dozens upon dozens of times and I suppose the final straw had broken the camel's back fairly recently when he sat me down to say everything I needed to hear, but didn't want him to say.

As he laid his honesty at my feet, he never broke my gaze and with every passing moment of continued contact, my pulse quickened and quickened. I wanted to run from his words. Mainly because they were the words I had been running from my whole life so far. My whole life that had never really begun. My whole life I had disguised as really living when I was merely wasting my time with making sure I felt good about myself every night when I laid down to sleep.

He was right- I had started to let him define me more than I should. More than I ever thought I could because I always told myself I never would. I wanted to be one of those girls. An eel. A gypsy of a free spirit. The nomadic type that you could never even dream of pinning down. And after 20 years, believe me, I could talk a good talk about it. I maintained and groomed an image that I had specially selected for certain specific occasions where I knew I could either impress or frighten; captivate or elude; entice or evade. But I would never ever bore. I carried it effortlessly and wore it well, but the truth of the matter was that the image contained within it everything that I am not. I was not brave. I was no daring. I was not independent. I was a scared indecisive little girl who got lucky on occasion when opportunities that were almost altogether impossibe to avoid almost literally fell into her lap.
And in one graceful motion, he had ripped that stranger in two- leaving this one with absolutely nowhere to hide.
"I hear you say all of these things you want to do, but I don't see you doing any of them. And I just don't understand."
Neither did I.
"I'm frustrated with you and how it just seems like you aren't really going anywhere."
So was I.
"I don't want to keep you from going somewhere or doing something you feel like you need to do. I worry that you're letting me define your decisions too much. I want you to make your own."
So did I.

I have never been so desperate to know myself in my whole entire life than at that moment. I wish so badly I had an accurate picture of my heart to show him. But my mouth was left wanting of words to fill the space and soothe the soul. The only speech I knew was the kind that I had molded into what I knew my audience wanted to hear. That simply would not do for him. He was smarter than that. He knew me better than that. He loved me more than that. And that scared the hell out of me.

I suddenly became extraordinarily aware and ashamed at how I must have looked to him- not only at that moment, but for the many months before as he watched me slowly lose myself to him. How silly I must have seemed- thinking no one noticed or knew. But he obviously had, or at least had his suspicions that were confirmed the night she brought up New York. He was my reason. He was my excuse. The best and only one I had- seeing as none of the roots I had attempted to put down here in Saint Louis had taken for the last month. The timing could not have been nor would ever be more perfect and my heart had leapt at the thought of this glorious redefinition and recreation of myself. But just as quickly as it jumped, my all too familiar fears disguised as gravity brought it crashing back down again- reminding me of logic- and logically, this new and lovely thing that was springing up between the two of us had no reason to end. No reason- other than the fact that I was being called away to another life.

I opened my eyes and fixed them to the shadows surrounding me. I knew where I was, but all of the sudden, I felt out of place. The room had become too small, the bed too hard, the silence too loud; my skin too warm, the air too thick. I turned my head and gazed at the only thing that had any hope of making sense at that moment- him. I studied his face- those features I had purposely burned into my memory for months. They were deep and inviting in the way they called me to them silently.

They had been something to call mine and I loved that. To know that those eyes that slept in perfect peace were the ones resigned to watch me from across a room. That his ears hungered to hear my voice alone and contain it within them. That his lips had formed themselves to mine time after time after time, like a habit not easily broken. And now, without any warning at all- a cyclone to my best laid plans-, I was being asked to surrender this possession that had become so familiar to me. The thought alone was jolting enough; the possibility that he could have been placed in my life and in my arms for no other reason than to show me what I am worth and to teach me how to walk away.

And it was at that moment, as the steady light began to creep in through the cracks in the curtains, that I knew I was going to lose him.

Because I was meant to.

I had been asked to give up this moment and the many more moments like it that could have, but not would not, come. I had been asked to commit those features and this face to my memory because soon they would no longer be what I could call mine. I was moving towards a greater thing than this and I could feel it so clearly and so strongly that no matter how much my heart tried to hesitate, I knew that the place it was meant to find rest was not next to him.

Not anymore.

I had laid here long enough.

And before I closed the door behind me, I glanced back one last time to ensure he would be sleeping soundly on the other side.

Just as I knew he always would.