thoughts of today

i'm falling in love with candy apple red.
tomorrow, dear bridgeport lake, i shall visit you again.
the only time i ever buy a venti starbucks is when i have a gift card.
i wish there was more time in the day to read!
i love the scroggins family so much.
what to make first out of my new cookbook??
need to find someone who cuts hair and isn't too pricy.
thankful for sales and coupons!
i love the airport, generally speaking. and traveling.
holy cow there was a GORGEOUS sunset today!!
i'd love to teach 3rd grade sunday school in january.
miss the thomas family.
Lord, help me trust you in all things.

12:18am

the Lord gives peace when we need it most.
oh, that wisdom would come too,
for this is what i long for--
a living wisdom
that will guide the steps of grace
to peace's resting place,
safe amidst His arms.


H

tavira

her streets are empty
and dark and cold
yet the tile and cobblestone
hold stories untold
we walked through the ruins
of old castle walls
and listened--so softly--
to the sounds when night falls
this country, this place,
this beautiful land
is enchanting, yet haunting
all made from His hand
wide wonder inside me
is countered with fear
that not many know Him
who call it "home" here
and yet this He knows
and yet this He sees
yet one day, oh some day
they'll fall to their knees.


H

begin again

family picture. passport. keys. ring. converse shoes. checkbook. blanket. a list of names. bible.

the clock ticks and tocks
and strikes ten.

i don't hear much, except white noise
the silence flowing peacefully throughout a quiet house
black-framed photographs watch me from across the room
in a pile rests supplies that will accompany thursday's suitcase.

a puzzled reflection stares back at the world
don't leave me hanging here, stuck between two lives
you know, don't you, what's about to come
and yet you hold your secrets tightly;
no one promised fifty years
though at times twenty would suffice
and now, though i've started so many times,
it'll all begin again,
but not before it ends.
because it must end, ironically.


each of these things means something different to me right now.
though different, all connected
in some way or another.


H

.k.

whose is the voice that whispers
amidst the chaos of the moment?
whose is the silent shadow
of which we see the effects
but know not the face?
whose is the fragrance of grace and mercy
intoxicating our lives,
the aroma to which we become so immune?
that voice, that shadow, that fragrance---
it is He.
He who knows your name and your deepest thoughts
He who cares when you're frustrated,
and hurts when you're self-focused
He who--knowing you hated Him--chose you to be his little girl.
more than anything,
Satan and his servants want to convince you that you are a failure,
that you have fallen too far, too deep
and that the only way to get back on your feet is to do it yourself
but it's a lie.
rejoice, dear one.
rejoice that you have realized your need for our precious Savior.
He knows you are weak, but He is Strength for you
He knows when you sin, but He is Perfection for you.
what does He desire of you, little one?
to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with Him
to put Him above all other thoughts and deeds
because when you are close to Him
the lusts of the world will lose their brilliance
trading appeal in for tarnish,
but that in which your hope is secure
our precious Jesus
will
never
fade.

looking up

today was a reminder that i am not in control. only the Lord is. and despite chaos and confusion and the stress of circumstances around me, He remains on his beautiful, holy throne, ruling the world. somehow, this gives me comfort. and i can finish the day in peace, and get up and start another one tomorrow. oh Lord, my precious Jesus--i love you. so very much.


H

beautiful power.

lightning strikes...
grey is the rain that pours on my windshield
and the sky is illuminated in smoky shadows.

for some, terror rises
and the pelting water ushes fear into the hearts of man
a thunderous bolt cracks apart the heavens
shooting straight toward the earth
they are torn between pulling over to safety
and reaching their destination.

but for her--
oh she who thrives at this magnificence,
she whose breath is stolen by the sheer thought of this beautiful power--
it is glorious
strangely magical
and it breaks all pride she once clung to.

for Who is this
that commands the clouds
that alters the patterns of the wind
and can--with a mere thought--
turn light drizzle into thunderous downpour?

it jolted my thinking
and i suddenly realized this is a mere snapshot
of God's wrath against those who reject him
who hate his name
who don't have time for him
or who think they're good enough to make the cut,
not recognizing (or accepting)
that "good people" don't go to heaven.

how often have i failed to exemplify God's grace?
how many times have i modeled merely obedience to the rules,
rather than heart transformation?
oh Father...God who holds the lightning bolts in your palm
forgive me
and forgive those i know who dont know you
the people who think they do but dont,
and they who have no interest in you

i know so many people who--
if they refuse your loving forgiveness for the many times they've broken your perfect standards--
are destined for never-ending fire & damnation
and without humble repentence,
your wrath at their sin will be poured down upon them
like the storm i drove through last night.

use me, sweet Savior.
let my life serve only as a light amidst this dark, stormy world
may i let my own desires and dreams die

so that yours will live.


H

embrace

they seem long,
these days,
filled with unexpected happenings
with dreams forgotten and hopes left dry
and it's easy--somewhat expected--
to doubt, to blame, even to create answers for the unknown
without approaching the source that will satisfy
all the longings of one's heart.
and when one does do this
the answers seem so backwards
so opposite from what was thought to occur.
how can destruction, death, and silence solve the problems and worries of the present?
will this not bring more questions and deeper anxieties for the future?

...

then He speaks,
and all tongues are silenced.
the hearts of men cower in desperate fear.

for they know the history of His hands
the intensity with which He tramples His foes
and He need not give an explanation
for how He spins the world.
yet grace grows abundantly
in the garden of human desire
because the promises thought to be abandoned
are displayed in a brilliant array of color
for these black-and-white eyes.
wonders beyond the imagination of man
will one day be realized
not for the sake of providing answers to the childish minds of the people
but rather to confirm to them
His inexplicable power
His agenda for glory.

this is His moment.

--inspired by the book of Habakkuk
[who says the Old Testament isn't relevant today?]

3 hours

we sat there and talked by the lake tonight
i laughed, almost cried, and smiled up at him often
i'm sure he thought i was crazy
and yet, i know he understands

from two different perspectives we watched the sky
silent lightning illuminated one patch of clouds
and we watched it as the sun set behind the horizon;
each time it shot out with fire-like brilliance,
i stopped breathing,
and i'd just look at him with huge, bright eyes
because i loved it so much

and i told him all the things he was to me
things that words cant give justice to
i talked of my dreams and my fears, mostly the latter of the two
and though i couldnt get any clear answers tonight,
being with him gave me peace
because he's so much wiser than i
and i know he'll be with me when they do come
and there's no one else i'd rather share them with.


H

one day

it's there, written down,
all the answers in the book
the satisfactions to life's questions
repeated and restated
don't know how many times i've asked the same ones
don't know how many times i've been given a no
but i'm told to keep pressing, keep pushing, keep praying
where do i go, where do i start
[or rather, where do i pick up where i last left off]
funny thing is, i know many of the answers
but they don't make sense
and i'm left sliding down again
bruised knees and wet eyes
begging for what i both know and don't have a clue
i am sand stuck in a bottle
shaken and tossed about in the ocean
waiting to rest upon a forsaken island
to be opened and read and taken for what i am
poured out again with the rest of the khaki grains
are these dreams not compatible with reality?
will the summer fruit not be ripe until winter sets?
i tremble, yet not as i should
the day i bury my head in fear will be the one in which the golden gate is finally unlocked
and i won't be able to bear the sight of beyond those closed doors
for the lack of good within this rotted soul
yet deliverance will be mine, when i least deserve it
and the broken shards of glass will be fire-blown into something precious.

remember this dead man, oh God, and breathe life into that which so easily loses its reflection of you.