your new name: Not Alone

This world is aching. It has turned black and blue with the abuse of the Genesis decision.
Death comes and lingers, taking it's time. Or it strikes suddenly, unexpected.
Wounds long since forgotten are reopened with a single statement.
Grief washes over. Its tides ebb and flow with tears that fall.
Change lurches forward as nails dig in trying to cling to all that has been, that is known.

Here you are. I see you.
Mascara runs on pale cheeks, eyes avoiding a poignant stare.
Body weak and wrapped in warm layers to comfort externally what is beneath.
Here I am. Do you see me?

Not alone.
My dear, that is the new name I want you to claim - Not Alone.
There are those that walk before you. They call back and sing of what is to come.
There are those that are not here yet. To them you get to reach out a hand in time.
There are those here in this moment. Look in to their eyes. They are not going anywhere.
YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

If that is all you can hear right now amidst the noise and clamor of your own mind, then please focus in and whisper it to yourself. As you drive in the dark and you feel absolutely overcome, defeated - look for the light. Whether it's the flash of headlights drawing near or the glow of a shop window, let that remind you of this.

Sit right there, open your hands. Hold grief in one and this Truth in the other. They can coexist. Don't fear the power of your sadness, but don't underestimate the healing that is possible. Enter in to each moment, whether it be with tears or laughter, and allow yourself to simply be.

and remember you are Not Alone.

the good girl

It's the last day of October & I'm not really sure where the last month has gone. Between work, people, life, over-sleeping, stressful situations, late night conversations - it's been a blur. And at the close of this month that I really love, I'm reminded of Grace.

These days have been full of me in the not-so-loveliest of forms. Life got stressful, I got overwhelmed, those around me - well, I'm sorry. These days have made me realize how conditional my love is, how chaotic my feelings can be, and how I'm not very good at this whole life thing. Right in the center of all of it I'm Held by Grace.

I had the opportunity to share my story this week with four people. One dear friend & three girls I care for so very much, sat quietly in the wee hours of the morning. The sun rose outside the window as I spoke. And as I shared, I was reminded. Reminded of the person I have been, but more the Savior He is. I was reminded of the moments where I clung to control in every form, how I micro-managed, strived, worked SO hard. And how at the end of it all, I collapsed. Overcome with the weight of trying to be the good girl. I recalled as I traced over the paths I've walked the last few years the moments that felt like everything I knew was gone. My identity misplaced for so long in so many other things I thought would make me "good enough".

So as I remember this life I've lived and I look at the life I'm living, Hope rises. Because it is not I that Lives, but Christ in me. And as I go through every moment, His grace draws near. When the tears are flowing again, as those hurtful words come from my mouth, when I sit and wonder why & how - it is there that Grace draws near. With gentle eyes and nail-pierced hands He takes my face and turns it back to the Cross, "Remember what I did there. I took it all. Cease your striving. Live life with Me." And we walk on. Every step taken in the Hope of a Resurrected Life, covered in Grace & hand held tight.

fear

“I’ve been worryin’ that we all, live our lives, in the confines of fear” – Ben Howard, The Fear

I fear getting stuck.

I fear growing closer & the pain of leaving.

I fear not being present.

I fear wasting time.

I fear being foolish.

I fear not truly living.

This is where I am. I don’t really have pretty words to wrap this up, or a ribbon to tie it nicely. This is where I’ve been. The Truth words “perfect love casts out fear” [1 john 4:16] have run across my thoughts daily. I’ve been kicking and screaming, talking and crying, trying to make sense of the emotion and apathy. It feels frantic, chaotic, and really not cool. Don’t get me wrong these days have been laced with lovely – moments spent with sweet souls that remind me to slow and be with them in the present. In between though, there has been a bit of a struggle. Worry will creep up, anxiousness in the middle of my tiny office. And I wonder what I’m doing.

With each of these fears, I can trace back an origin. A place in time, where I was living an antithesis of these statements, and that’s just it – it was then I was living. But by living in fear, I forfeit a life extraordinary. I become stuck & fixated, withdrawn & distant, lazy & anxious; my fears birthing exactly what I feared the conception of. And well, this needs to stop.

Friends, I cannot promise you that I will be the perfect example of this. In fact, I know I will not be a prime example of living a life fearless. But damn, I don’t want to live anything less. I am claiming the Truth “in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.” [romans 8:37] Him who loved us with a perfect love that “casts out fear”. So that we could “live a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called” [ephesians 4:1] with “not a spirit of fear, but of power and love and self-control” [2 timothy 1:7] “For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba, Father!’” [romans 8:15]

So here’s to crying Abba, Father and sinking in to His embrace as we embrace a life lived fearlessly – the Life He desires, designed, & died for. That’s a life worth living.

*all scripture references from the ESV & I’m sorry if I offended anyone by saying damn.

scarlet thread

You gave me eyes Eternal to see
watching & chasing the faces
committing name to memory

You seek them out
and know them each by name
You invite me to witness what Your hands have made

opening a book to a page called "today"

You read me the words:
names, schools, activities & grades

You whisper me the feelings:
anxiety, excitement, apprehension, & joy

Your hands stretch across the pages
touching each stain & crease
the ink blot where there was struggle
and the prose that tell of their history

"each one has a story
a book in which I write.

some have taken the pen to write what they please
some grown so weary their words run together

yet I am writing too.

every page that is turned I see & know
as they join with me I begin to reveal,
uncover & expose the Story of them & Me.

so as you flip through the pages
of the books being written,
remember I am there.

I am the Scarlet Thread that binds the pages together.
taking what was lost & sewing it in to My Redemption Story."

tomorrow

Tomorrow I go back.
Back to that not so little college town.
For less than 72 hours I will step back in to the sights & sounds of life as I knew it for the past two years. As I look forward to this and also look back on these past few months, these past few years, I see His heart drawing me nearer.
Those first few days & weeks (and months if we're being honest) in my "new adventure" last year were some of the hardest & sweetest - terrifying & beautiful. I remember going on walks down newfound trails, ones I now fondly refer to as the Wood through the Wardrobe. I remember walking and talking to my Friend and the tears welling up and stopping and sitting because I simply had no words, nothing to express. Yet I knew, in those moments. I was understood. Beyond my own comprehension, I was seen & heard & loved. And so that's what I clung to.

As the days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months. Joy overwhelmed as laughter erupted on some days. Others - exhaustion flooded in as tears poured over. And He sat with me. In both those moments, He was present, near, more near than I could ever fathom.

There were days where answers seemed so clear, as if He was handing me a window through which I could see dreams & desires He had placed within me. His whispers awakening parts of me that always were, but hadn't been revealed to my child eyes.

And then there were weeks. Weeks when I asked, why? And for the first time I was okay with myself for asking that question. Because for so long it seemed untouchable. As if I wouldn't be a good Christian girl anymore if I questioned. But I was weary, and when you're that tired and spent, you ask questions and sometimes say a bad word because that's being the most honest with yourself. And He already knew it all, every question that would float to the surface, that would poke through the mask I had worn for so long. Again I was known. In the midst of the oh-not-so-lovely, He came, lovely as He always is. He wrapped His arms around and loved me still.

So as I drive those familiar roads tomorrow, most likely with a similar soundtrack to those college town days, I will rest in the Truth. The Truth that while I question, rejoice, cry, laugh, swear, dance - He draws near, He sees, He knows, & He loves me still. Oh what joy, my Friend that walks with me in Narnia, knows me deep and loves me deeper still.

sorting out

I'm still sorting this out. That I am in one place, but pieces of my heart are elsewhere. In a vibrant college town, scattered in the hill country, big building cities, and over great bodies of water. And I'm here. Moving is one of the hardest things I have done and will do. Sometimes it makes me mad. Because I want so badly to be somewhere else. Not at all because where I am now is awful. My here and now is quite lovely and bright and exciting and changing.

Yet there are people. That's it, the people - friends, family, sisters, brothers, kindreds. They are what make me wish I could hop in a DeLorean and go back. Better than that, I wish I could just teleport. Because I want to see and hear and hug and laugh with them, now.

I miss the smell of cigar smoke on the front porch and the crash of water on skin jumping in to the river. Running down the dunes, kicking sand in to the air and scraping ice off of my windshield with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Even more I miss the sound of our three voices singing in to the night, the way she interrupted an entire coffee shop with her elated laughter, chasing them through corn fields at night, and sharing so many meals with them.

All of them. Whether plopped on blankets in the living room, the tall table in the kitchen, over queso at 3am, or making eggs & bacon at midnight. The breaking of bread (or chips) brought us together. On Sunday nights, Thursday adventures, or after closing HBCB and froyo runs. For that I am thankful.

We lived wide, loved deep, and laughed long. If my adventures weren't so wonderful, my memories not so strong, my heart not so tangled in others, it simply would have been wasted. It would have been a life less lived. Mediocre.

So, while I get annoyed when the tears sting my eyes as that song comes on or when I see the picture and wish it was me sitting and having coffee with them - I have to remember. Remember, that there I Lived. And that Jesus gives Life, because He wants it to be lived. And just as He called me then, teaching me of adventure and discovery and deep joy & relationship, He calls me now. Lessons will continue and new ones will come. Always though, will He be my Guide. The perfect Partner, Leader, and Friend - calling me deeper in to Life as He gives it - raw, hopeful, and full of adventure.

becoming

"beauty in the becoming"

Those words came one night and I wrote them down.

Here I am, and I don't know what I'm doing. There are days that begin easy and end hard, and days that begin cast in cement (aka really hard) and stay that way. Call me Han Solo, because on those days I just feel like I'm stuck hanging on the wall of an alien gangster's club. Pretty icky.

I don't know what to write about all of it. I've been trying to formulate words to describe "lately" but nothing captures it all. To describe these past few months as "beauty in the becoming" doesn't really seem accurate. It's been pretty ugly. I've been made more aware of my flesh and I'm not really a fan. Coming to realize that I have life less figured out than I thought.

I desperately would like to see where the "beauty" comes in to the picture. Maybe my definition of beauty is being redefined. Taken from it's shallow, vain resting place to be put in the fire to be purified.

*Note: Fire burns, oh and it hurts like Sheol

This might be where things come together. Before I moved back, back to the place I once called home - Jesus whispered of the trail ahead. He breathed "healing". More and more as I dwell on healing and what that means, I'm reminded of a burn victim. The process of healing for a burn victim begins in tearing away at the dead flesh left mauled by the flames. Not once, but twice, and three times, and more.

The healing that is desired for the burns to heal, involves tearing away at everything visible. It begins with digging deep. And it hurts. But that is the only way to heal.

I'm not saying Jesus dragged me to this place to throw me in a fire and watch the flames lick my flesh. I've done a pretty good job at dancing with the fire myself. He comes in as the blisters form, skin touched by the fire of this fallen place. Whether I jumped too close or someone else yanked me over.

He lays me down. The great Physician takes my hand and says, "This is going to hurt, but feeling is only for the moment. The healing I desire for you requires this and you can trust me. My hopes for your life exceed any single anticipation you have. The work I do here will last, it is not simply a salve that sits on the skin. My hands will dig deep in to the wounds and I will bring beauty where there once was just ash."

Beauty in the becoming.
Healing.
Refinement.
by His hands.

let's be real: cuss words & Jesus with a megaphone

These last few weeks I've said more cuss words than I care to count, ate more bowls of ice cream than I care to admit, and watched an innumerable amount of Office episodes. That feels like a fair summary; however, there's a lot more stewing beneath my dairy stained pj's (and I don't just mean a hungry tummy).

You see, God does this funny thing when we ask Him for something.....He answers.

It was brought to my attention over coffee one evening that so often we ask God for something or to teach us something without really anticipating or wanting to be taught. Like patience for example, we assume that having to stand in one line for twenty minutes was our lesson. BAM! Patience on lock.
Thank you Jesus for teaching me patience. "Woohoo!" for you, you stood in a line with twenty-eight other people and you didn't even think a bad word or tap your foot with impatience.

Oh boy, I don't think that's it.

This year I've been learning. ALOT. (Grammar not included because I can't remember if there's suppose to be a space between "a" and "lot" in this situation.) Conversations with Jesus have included lots of talk about adventure. Ironically, one of my favorite quotes about adventure is from the documentary 180 South and says, "...adventure is when everything goes wrong. That's when the adventure starts."

I'm rethinking my favorite quotes list.....

It's funny, as I've been walking along and the trail has gotten harder, the brush thicker, and a few branches have snapped back in my face - it's harder to hear. Man am I glad that Jesus has a megaphone because even as I've whirled in the white noise of lies, He comes in loud and clear.

"YOU HAVE NEVER BEEN ALONE!" - Jesus

That one came today. It came blasting through the overhead speaker at the pity party I was throwing for myself that DJ Devil so kindly offered to provide free entertainment for.

"I am enough. I am rest." again He speaks and I am reminded that is journey is not for comfort. It's not so I'll be able to stand in a long line with a genuine smile on my face. This adventure of learning in the "going wrong" is that I may know more fully the depth of love of my Father. His desire is not for disaster to overcome, but that I may be reminded that He overcame. In Him I am embraced by grace - the arms of a Savior that has walked in my place.

I'm still tripping my way down this trail. Some days I just really wish I drove a car that never had problems and that I didn't have to worry about a check passing the bank. In those moments still, He is present. As I kick and scream and cry, He brushes me off and picks me up and takes my hand as we continue on. On this road called "Adventure" where everything may go wrong, Jesus carries a megaphone and reminds me I am never alone.

thank you

Transition mode: initiated.
One job over, the other beginning.
Four hour commute.
Packing boxes.

This has been the bare bones of life the last two weeks. The flesh being all the bittersweet moments in between. I can't say enough to thank the friends and family that have walked the last few weeks with me, and really this entire year been faithful to walk beside and point me back to Him. I am humbled to tears by their grace and generosity. I've been a messy sight to behold on some days, yet these brothers and sisters have taken me as I've come. Tear stains and upset words, exhausted body and overwhelmed brain. They were there. Whether present in the moment or a skype/phone call away. (Good thing we have a flat rate phone bill, right mama? ;)  )

So this is me saying thank you. I know it really isn't much, but I know I really can't repay y'all all that you have showered upon me! Right there is one way you've pointed me back to Jesus and shown me Him again and again. Grace extended - not for gain.

Thank you for putting flesh-action to the Gospel. You are all incredible!!

through His lens - week 2

Began this new series last week, after a late night of dreamer talk with my wonderful friend Jordan. So here continues the capturing of life through His lens- the messy, quiet, full, sweet, and all the little moments in-between.

Here's to learning that Life is more journey than destination.
Happy Sunday folks!

     

        

through His lens - week 1

I'm thankful Jesus is as big a fan as I am of car rides. While sometimes I don't look forward to those long four hour drives home, He always comes along for the ride. He comes along for those long hauls and for the little runs from home to store, down the street, and He sits in the parking lot as conversation ebbs and flows between sisters. The clock telling our eyes to close for sleep, but our dreamer hearts awakened by the Truth spoken in to the dark. Here we spoke of Him, with Him.

Jordan is my fellow dreamer. We sit for hours in coffee shops, plan trips we may never take, laugh deep and long, talk for too long, listen even more, and seek to know the heart of our Artist Father. Seven days ago, today; perhaps six by the hour of the night, we sat and spoke of a lens we desired. A view of the world we wanted so badly to adopt. Admitting our own selfish eyes that focused so often on the mishap and bland, we knew there was something more. So we sat in quiet, and He spoke. Calling us to see through His lens.

Here is the start of that. We decided a picture a day or two perhaps, ushered first by the prayer to have His eyes to see. See the beauty all around - the simple, exquisite, deep, distracting, hopeful, desperate, unnoticed, and bright. A necessary honesty - I struggled with this. Though so often capturing an image is worship, the recognition of Beauty Divine. As the week flooded in, my attentions were pulled and pushed in every direction. I am humbled, and thankful. He is not finished with me yet. As I fight for the decision to see beauty in mess and joy in all circumstances, He is riding with me. Over every road, every mile, beside and inside - He is calling me deeper, and He is beckoning me to look at life through His lens.

hues & shades

Hours pass that turn to days and years and decades.
They call them seasons.
Placing labels upon each as it comes:
"childhood", "young married", "adolescence", "single", "married", "retired"

Each sounding like the classrooms in a large church.
For each stage there is a class.
Somewhere to belong with those walking in that same Season.
Fellowship which is an oft brushed by gift.

Enter.....Texas.
Texas does not follow pattern in season.
One week - three seasons, wardrobes, menus.
Seeing breath in cold on Monday - losing breath in heat on Thursday.

Watch out.....hyperbolic metaphor.
Life is more like Texas than the days I spent in the predictable North.
At least you knew just like it's shape, mittens were a staple from November to April.
Suffocation from stifling heat may occur if no weather check is made in the Lone Star State.

So here I go.
Canvas stretched, now leaning on easel.
Paintbrush lifted.
Hues & Shades enter.

Boldly I have come to say:
Life is not Seasons.
While largely it may appear so
I'm choosing macro over panoramic as my lens.

Experience teaches
though I, young in days and years
I have begun to see
the reality of this metaphor come to be.

Hues of learning & Shades of life
conversations ebb and flow with peers
lessons in Love Divine and experience earthly
one which I humbly bask in the reality of, the latter a hue not on life's canvas presently

Shades of loss
a life lived deep and wide
those once held close are gone
the breadth and width I desire, the reality of memories being all that is left, I don't yet know

As I walk and see
these Hues & Shades on each canvas
the painting speaks of A Life
one lived with One that is also Artist

an Artist that boasts of chaos
Divinely organized messes
fractals that will only be beheld in their full Glory
on the other side of Eternity

as He paints
lifting each brush
delight in eyes that have seen all Hues & Shades
bringing each to canvas in perfect time

the One not bound by hands on clock
reminds us of the hope of Eternity
of the Truth there isn't a rush
and He never has to run to catch up.

Ever-present fellow Journey-man
traveling beside with canvas, easel, & brushes packed
brushing in the hue of the moment
of the lesson in Love to be revealed

We live in the Hues & Shades of life
painted by the Master of True Life itself
brushed on canvas thick with Love Real
and delight in bringing revelation of the already present realities of Eternity

I am learning

I am learning. This is truly becoming my daily mantra. It breathes deep of grace, exhales growth - all founded in Truth.

And it isn't glamorous. It's an uphill, sweaty, sore, hot, exhausting climb. The steps of learning are marked by hurt sometimes; other times my own pride. Each step though is not taken singularly.
There is an Us to this journey. That, I am learning too. What is Union? What is this Divine Union with the Spirit, that daily is the reality, but so often is not what I choose to live in the reality of?

"Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we also live with Him." [Romans 6:5-11]
What does that look like? What does a Life marked by Union exhale?
Daily I am learning this. Baby steps, that's where I'm at for sure. I'm beginning to delve deep in to the Truth-reality of Union with the Creator of the universe.

And that's beautiful.
In a violently intimate, gently exposing way. Because that is the way of my Savior, the Truth spoken by His lips "sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart" [Hebrews 4:11-13]

So here's to Union and the Journey, to having questions and the exposing Truth that gently answers.

Happy Monday, fellow adventurers!

in the rain

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.”

 • Matthew 7:24-27

I want to be so grounded on Truth alone that when the rain comes I get to take the hand of my Beloved and dance in joy. Secure in His loving grip, without fear of the winds blowing through. Abiding in His strength and security that never fails, not depending upon my own sand-strength that washes away at the first gust of wind. I want to dance. Dance with Him in the rain, in the beautiful, kaleidoscopic, stormy vibrant mess of Abundant Adventure-Life.

[grateful thoughts]

These last few weeks have been full of....

being reunited with these lovelies (aka Mary Margaret & Emma Swan)

running & walking through Narnia

sunsets like this & His calming words 

"be present"

early morning Americanos & trying to convince my body 

that it will survive even if I wake it up at 5:30am everyday

snow frosted mornings that remind me how much I love the cold!

Hope you all have a crazy wonderful weekend, full of oversized sweaters,

 endless cups of coffee, and warm toes! 

enjoy Me

Enjoy Me

by Teresa Avila

Just these two words He spoke

changed my life, 

"Enjoy Me."

What a burden I thought I was to carry - 

a crucifix, as did He.

Love once said to me, "I know a song,

would you like to hear it?"

And laughter came from every brick in the street,

and every pore in the sky.

After a night of prayer, He changed

my life when He sang,

"Enjoy Me"

where I was: the pause

I'm fumbling. Dominoes. Two trails. I'm stuck here and I don't know what to do.
The black game pieces are stacked and when one falls, it begins.

But it hasn't begun. Here is the pause.
I'm searching for an occupation, so I thrust my hands in front of me, grabbing on to anything I can. Anything I can hold and arrange, organize and fix.

I recognize it this time. Recognition seems to be where I've been lately. It's a hard step to climb.
No longer deaf to Truth, but still pulled by the lie.

Caught in the middle. Two trails. Dominoes.
One trail offers peace, the other false promises of control. One set of dominoes is fully lit, and glints with tempting dots of knowledge. The other set is cloaked in embracing darkness.
Darkness that promises light, and a light there is - only to see the next piece. The trail hidden from sight.

"Not by sight, My dear."
My view jerked away from the fully-lit trail. The pridefully lit winding path masking it's reality. The reality it is a spiral. Never taking you anywhere, only bringing you back to where you were.
A promise of consistency. A prison of complacency.

"I know the Way."
His voice calls me nearer to the hidden path.
"Trust Me, and I will lead you."
Each step closer leaves footprints of fear shrinking. Drawing nearer the pad of my foot leaves treads of peace.

"I have called you here for a Reason."
I now look in to His eyes, the light in them illuminating the very place we now stand together.
"I will light the Way. You need only to look to Me."

Here now I stand. My eyes locked on His. He knows the Way.
I need not fear.

[grateful thoughts]

May your weekend be full of moments

of rest that feels like a deep inhale 

& warms you from the inside out

 of days begun with adventure that refuse to let you settle 

for anything less in how you spend the rest of your day

of cups of coffee shared with friends from farther away 

& those conversations that leave you with a smile on your face

of skies so empty, much like your knowledge of the future

& the peace that dwells in the Mystery

Wishing you all a lovely weekend! Looking forward to more writing coming soon, so keep your binoculars on the horizon for more to come in the next few weeks!

this is not my story

"Do it. Do it. Do it."

"I want you to write a book."

"Wait, please write a book. What would it be about?"

A few weeks back I sent out a text to a few close friends. It simply said, "I want to write a book." It's funny really, because I never seriously considered this before. Unless you count third grade when I thought I was going to write first date and love stories forever. That did in fact happen. In third grade. Third grade. What eight-year-old writes about a romantic first date? None? Oh wait, no I did. While slightly embarrassed by my own love-sick elementary past, recalling that motivates me to pull out my old elementary school notebooks. There's got to be some good stuff in there, laughable at the least. 

I suppose that goes to show, I love to write. It's the one thing in school I've always enjoyed. Fiction writing exercises in fourth grade, argument essays in eighth, poetry in twelfth. I once wrote an entire literary comparison piece in an ABAB rhyme scheme, because I could and I thought it was super fun. 

It's one of those things that feels as natural as waking up. That must be akin to how the conductor feels as he raises his arms to shepard a symphony in playing their notes, notes like wind brushing across the listeners ears. He knows what is about to pour forth and knows the hilltop the audience will be taken too. Writing like music is a chance to give voice to emotion, it captures, transports, and is not confined to one form. 

I hadn't seriously considered writing a book until Jesus and I had a talk. At the end I made the decision I would. Not because I feel I have an abundance of wisdom to be poured out or some incredible story to be deliciously divulged. Part of me wants to write for the sake of writing. Jesus is also teaching me that He has placed desires in my heart for a reason, and the desire to write is not within me so I can talk and dream about how it'd be nice to write more. Then simply leave it at that - a thought, a conversation. Much like love is not truly love until it is in action. It can indwell us, but it isn't fulfilling all that it was purposed to until it is shown. Love, like paint in a tube, isn't art until it is placed upon canvas.

And here I am. Paint brush raised and feeling whimsical just standing in front of this easel. The words I know for sure are "This is Not My Story". I cannot claim the words, for they are not my own. The setting and characters were chosen by the Author Himself. As I raise paint-dipped brush to canvas, I breathe deep the breath of the conductor. Exhaling as I begin, knowing all that can be anticipated is an experience that will leave me captivated. Enthralled by the matchless love of a Father that knows my desires and calls them forth. So here I go. I'm going to write a book. 

for freedom

I'm here to say - I don't know.
The road before me is veiled to my eyes, but not His.
No longer will I hand you the acceptable answer.
His ways are higher, they are greater, they are beyond understanding.
I refuse to affix blocks in a pattern that conform to comfort.
I'm here to admit I've tried.
My attempts are akin to describing a panoramic view,
the words to justify a scene are like a child's attempt to draw a sunset.
Really any personal effort to capture His essence is like a crayon-drawn sinking sun.

Beyond the chapter He's authored as of late,
the stories He scripted up to these moments -
seem sweetly unattainable, yet they abide in the ink of every line.
His goodness and care laces the black liquid.
He wrote to tell me before this began that He would take care.
Before He called out for me to jump,
arms of ever-comfort were wrapped around.
In action was shown the depth of His love, as on the day the curtain tore.

The eternal love writing He continues to read to me.
Each vowel, consonant, letter an invitation to once again step to the ledge.
And the accompanying embrace always the love-action that shouts -
"For freedom, I came. So I may offer it to you. Now, let's jump."