I found who I am in the seemingly small.
When my prayers run deep,
I am found.
Who are you?
religion
On falling and getting up
If I’m going to fall, can I please fall hard and hit my head?
Can there be concussion and bruising so I don’t look like a fool?
Can I rest in the “okay-ness” of my weakness?
If I do, do I have to wait for a diagnosis?
Fallen, in need of grace?
Can’t we just be human?
Wake up sleepers
Wake up church!
In the land of the living, an anchor holds
And we get to reveal it and show it to the masses
That’s enough
Love is enough
We can kick and claw and scream at the wind
We can cry behind closed doors
But we can’t stop reaching
For real love!
THAT is the anchor
Nails and thorns and mercy on a cross
And death giving way to victory
Who are you?
Who does He say I am?
Where is victory?
Can you see it today?
If not, look again.
It’s worth fighting for!
Time…in a bottle…or not…
Time is a funny thing.
It flies
It pauses
It groans for tomorrow
It longs for yesterday
It moves
In waves
While the world continues, as it seemingly stops for some
But it is.
Time is
And we grovel at it’s feet
And we wonder where the break pedal is
And we clasp onto what we can hold
And we long for bricks to put on top our children’s heads to stop the growth
All the while praying they will grow, healthy and strong, and prepared for tomorrow
I watch you grow and I beg for it to stop and continue while I sit like an Alanis Morissette lyric, contracting truths against each other.
And we grow and move
And live and have our being in the moment
Sweaters on backward and inside out and all
Until we feel the most of a new day
And breathe
Deep
Because today is wrapped in tomorrow and yesterday at once
And I am you and you are me together, bracing for the impact
Life is more than we see
Life is wrapped in the endless toil of a day well lived, and a tomorrow, begging for something
Whatever that may be
My tomorrow is different from yours
But it’s the same
The hand of God, making meaning, while we go
And that’s enough
At the end of the day, it’s enough
Forward motion makes for meaning
So RUN!
Then look at yesterday and today and smile
Knowing tomorrow is breath
And we’re all running
In the Morning …Running with what you’ve got
So, my mornings are always morning before morning should be allowed
I’m not a morning person…working on this…
But in anticipation of tomorrow, I plan.
I pack lunchboxes and clean and lie clean clothes on racks and hooks, and find shoes lost by minions (small people I’m charged to raise)
But, unfortunately, sometimes I dread the day ahead.
I’m not proud of it.
And I think if His mercies new every morning and the blessing of parenthood and employment and a life well lived.
But in reality, I go to bed knowing my alarm will sound the horror bell of having to wake up when I want to sleep.
Still, there’s a blessing when the coffee and the day kick in.
When sunlight brings possibilities that I haven’t imagined.
So I ride before the sun and do it again and again.
This life doesn’t have to be brilliant or awesome in the light of day but it has to continue to bring meaning.
So today leads to tomorrow and every moment, even the mundane, leads to greatness.
Will I be remembered for the lunches I pack and the jokes I wrote in sharpie on ziplock? Probably not. But will I be remembered for my perseverance and strength? I hope so.
Wake up tomorrow and do it again.
Just go!
One foot in front of the next, in excellence. It’s all anyone can ask and it’s more than enough.
Two cents from the routine.
Two cents to manufacture a million. Just RUN!
Glorious
What makes glorious life?
When pen and plight, too numb, collide
What beauty permeates stone?
Till I, in He, resound alone.
We talk, so often of death and pain
Yet forget the living
And here I stand with arms, waiting for direction, aiming for the target I cannot see
Or maybe I can…
Or maybe I am hesitant to step, without seeing where my feet will land
Either way, pen in hand, write my story.
I’ll go
Who am I?
If I were a mere mortal in the land of the living
You know that place where truth and grace collide
And the maker of heaven called me beautiful in spite of my ugly
And I set out to show the world the immensity of glory
And the rug beneath me failed to hold the weight
And the ground shook at the sound of Your voice
And I am me and you are infinite
What can I offer?
A prayer to the God who sees
A song to the voice of the mute
I am a disabled veteran in the land of the living
No claim to fame just a life sacrificed at the altar of service
And in my case, badly offered
Bruised and unworthy
But still showing up
Still fighting
Still ready to stand and say it’s all worth it
Bring it on world, I’m here standing on weak knees, ready for tomorrow
Warrior with broken feet…standing on hope.
Wake me up!
The embrace of more than time
When time stops do you feel it?
Is there a moment when everything is okay and the world is right and stands the test of time?
Or do we wait, with hunger, for another moment?
Maybe that’s the beauty.
Maybe the hunger fuels the fire for tomorrow.
I don’t know. I’m just you, reaching into the void, waiting for the voice of God to smile on my weakness.
Maybe clay cries out to potter longing for completion.
But the journey is worth the wait. So I’ll stand in the light, knowing the dawn is brighter.
And I wait because you’ve always met me there.
Nothing becomes something beautiful in your embrace. Sometimes it just takes a minute for me to catch up.
Burn baby burn
From the places the ashes go to burn, I can see you were me…and I…and us consumed.
Who let the ember die?
Who felt the life when it was young?
Only the coals. And fire begins in the belly of the brave.
Remember who you are…
Dreamer…sleeping or awake?
I was once a dreamer of big dreams.
I still am
I once sat imagining all I could be.
I still do…sometimes.
And in the midst of who I was and who I am, I find this amazing dichotomy.
I’m not less than I was when the world was rose-colored.
I’ve faced giants no one saw coming.
But I’m here…
And I’m breathing.
I fight against non-existent clocks and existential realities until I’m numb and clocking in and clocking out.
But I am more.
I know it. Maybe you don’t.
Who plants the sun in its station?
Who holds the earth in orbit?
Who called me “more” when I was dust?
You are my audience and I clamor for applause while all you wanted was willingness.
So here I am.
Breath and bones in twilight.
Take my everything and make it meaningful.
Me and whatever that means
Me..:a construct for the ages
An anomaly for the masses
Another constructed being in the realm of space and time to be constructed from dust
But I believe in design so your construct is nothing. So am I meaningless?
I’ve said “construct” too much
If I do not reach do my hands hold meaning?
If I don’t ache am I still bleeding?
If I don’t yield am I an endless void?
If I’m not here does the world notice?
I am space constructed from endless light.
I am more than yesterday and today and tonight.
I’m not void in the darkness
I’m just the kind of light that can start a spark.
Believe in me and let’s begin tomorrow.
INSPIRED BY THE COMFORTER 