iii. to my sydney, you brave boy

home, home, home.

I have always loved the sound of those words, but they have never been truly real for me. Only tastes. Glimpses. Home! I call your name, but your strong hands have not found mine. There was a boy with a gentle heart and in his, I felt a beat like yours. And my tall, too-talented friend walked in understanding. In his shoulders bore my lonely heart and spoke love.

they are some of the bravest men I have ever met. I know sometimes you will be afraid that you cannot measure up and I gotta be honest - you won't. ha. Stop wrinkling your nose at me! Because you know that True Strength comes from Christ. And in Him is all you need. So there is no need to "measure up," you silly boy. 

home. oh my warm, lovely home. I feel like someone told me to stop looking for you, but here I will stand, steadfast with my flags, raising them until you are with me. Though my eyes waver from the left to the right, His mighty strength will set my gaze heavenwards. For I am weak, but He is strong.

May He pour out His mercy upon us because this is a mighty ache for Home and the wait has been pressing upon my heart. Eyes Up, home. Those are hard words as we sail on. We pass many islands, but none of them meant for us. And it'll be okay, for He is with me, a true and brave sailor, bringing me to You.

home. someday I'll be there.
until then, my sights are set.
He is good. 

x\ 

pretty sure i told you crazy kids that the posting on this little pumpkin of a blog would be super wacko. HA. ur welcome.

ii. a letter

Hey Prideful heart,

Asking for glory again, yeah? Fighting to be worth
something. Hands covered in blood from trying too
hard, voice hoarse from the fact you can't get
it right. [I ONLY WANT SOMETHING MORE]
          Let it go.
Unclench those fists, let the want go. There is
nothing to be found in those high caves. Only
pain is there, a kind that leads you away from God.
   Lay the stones down, prideful heart. There
is nothing to be gained from the throne.
       I know you're aching for something better, but
this is not the way to get it. Eyes up, the
sun will dawn soon. You don't want your
eyes on yourself.
           [LISTEN]
Your worth is found in Christ, weary hands.
Rags for robes. Sin for white as sow. No
longer abandoned, no longer fighting. Death
was defeated.
      Lay your pride down.
                 Let it go.

Judges 6

i. a memory

the restlessness of a night tied into my hair, written into my eyes. peeking rain clouds seep into my skin, and i wrestle out of a tent. the air is cold. i find myself alone. so i gather sticks, the crunch under my feet even with careful precision. 

i build a tent of my own under the metal rack into the coals. there is no one to watch whether i succeed or fail, so i am content with struggling on my own. i blow slow and long, beckoning the flames to begin.

he awakens, and i glance up to see a tired, wild-haired face walking by. we murmur our deep good mornings. he walks off. another face emerges from his tent behind him not more than a minute later. normally early birds, but today is a late day for us all. the last day. good mornings again, but he leaves. i laugh to myself because usually i am the one watching their strong hands build this fire, but today it is me, and i feel kind of small.

but the smoke billowing from the small tepee i built is promising, and not much longer later, a flame starts up. before the boys are even back. i smile to the grey sky. Someone up there loves a small girl. 

x\

be strong and take heart

i woke up this morning with golden light seeping into my bones. you know how it goes, honey and freckles, you know how it goes. it is the relief of carbon dioxide from your lungs. it is the chance to start again. rejoicing comes in the morning. i laugh and rub my cold fingers against warm palms.
it has been a long fight.
the tips of my fingers became sore, and my vocal chords dived into a desert, and i was left with no words but bundles of letters i didn't know what to do with. when you are in a fight, there are things you cannot take your eyes off of. things you can't bear to lose.
but one day, you stand up and you realize that this has been a sharpening process. a growing process. you are no longer bones and fat, but your tendons and ligaments have found strength and are starting to take shape. a little rain comes and washes away the ash and you see His handiwork underneath a dirty surface. still a ways to go, but you saw His fingerprints engraved into your own.
it is hope where there was none,
and hope where you needed it most.

small heart.

i see you.

do not give up. He is with you.

you have grown

p.s. i'm so sorry i can't keep up with all the posts.

wait for me?

i'll be back when i can catch my breath. x 

i barely recognized you when you walked into the room.
taller. floofier. can i call you floofy? i picked that word up from a friend, so i hope you don't mind. it describes you strangely well. sorry! sorry, okay, i'll stop. but you know me, always laughing a bit here and there.

you are stronger, too.
i saw it in your hands. they roughed through your hair. they were wild as you'd grab the ball and go for the shot. i'd shake my head with a grin as if it was unbelievable, but maybe it was in you from the start. but it was a greater strength. more than mortal man.
it was simple.
you reached for the trash can the same time as i, as if we both knew that someone would have to pick it up, and we wouldn't mind to be the one.
that kind of thing comes from a selfless heart, who felt His palms rub against their own, and the healing and sweeping comes from there.

hey, old friend, my eyes laughed as i let go, welcome back.

you have grown, and you bear it well.

second of august

via pinterest

i. i woke up one morning,
     a song soft as hotel pillows and room temperature butter sitting on my heart.
it smelled entirely of hope. a little bit like pancake breakfasts and a waiter who gave you extra milk for free. a little more like shooting stars and jumping on the tramp. a lot like new beginnings.

ii. inner aspect to outer aspect. i wipe the sleep from my eyes,
    and maybe with a little childish hope,
wipe the sadness and a bit of pain off of the window in my chest.

iii. there is a green metal chair out by the wildflowers, the sun melting into it. 

   sometimes you feel like the moon who hasn't seen anything but clouds for days. so when you finally get to sit in the Sun, you fall asleep in the warmth of pure truth. 

        see? you who draw near to Him, He will draw near to you. 

iv. he lost his front leg not more than three weeks ago.

       but today he ran inside laughing. 

jehovah rapha. 

v. Hic est filius meus dilectus.

cinnamon summer

NOT MINEEEE, from pinterest yo 

Dear Brown Sugar Hair, 

I caught a piece of you [the old you] the other day, an old, dried leave that you shed. I lick the roof of my mouth, and the taste of our childhood is still there. The times we'd sit across from our father as he rolled out the cinnamon roll dough; even older Sunday mornings with the bluegrass playing on the radio as mother would brush through your tangled hair before church; [far back. before we weren't on different sides of this war.] storms of green trees, our laughter bouncing with us on the trampoline. 

I miss you. 

Maybe that is selfish of me to say, because I was selfish then. I hid from the ache in your heart, behind shrugs and letting go. If you knew. If I knew. 
The thing that pulls the thread tight and pure on my heart is the fact that it was never on me whether we were walking down the same road or not. Your salvation never rested on me. (And I know He calls us to obey Him, but even if we fail, He is still in control.) 

and [this comes out in a small voice in a quiet room because you are away] I'd be willing to let our cinnamon summers go (the ones before you coated your face in that poison / before you were pulled under that cold water)...i'd be willing to let them go if you ended up seeking the same thing as me. 

if He was at the center of it all, grace pulsing and rushing through your fingers like a river who could never stop speaking truth. 

I miss you. [this comes out with tears, because He is in me and I am in Him and I am finally understanding more about this Love for others that breaks and bursts and grieves.]

hi. if you can hear me, i want you to know that you are loved, and that He is all that matters. 
if you can hear me, i want you to know that you can't make it without Him.
that nothing else (no one else) will heal that hurt. 
that your anger will only build and grow unhealthily into a consuming wildfire until nothing is left (and even then, He can restore). 

This will be the hardest decision of your life, sugar. Because you are used to harshness and hiding and walls, but He is Light, and it is refining and pure and IT HURTS MORE THAN ANYTHING I have ever known. And yes, it has been worth it. It will continue to be worth it. He is worth it. He is, He is. 

/

I am letting you go this time. 

the right way. 

Instead of into the hands of the cold alleys and deathly winters, it is into the caramel hands of our Father, seeping something better than I could ever give. Perfect Love casts out fear, and I am no longer afraid. I see you dodging with the shadows, bitter heart crying. But I AM NOT AFRAID. 

[for He has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of self-control.]

goodbye, scorched dirt. this heart is pushing out the grief as the tide recedes and leaves hope on the shore. 
He will take care of you. 

[oh. and if you're still here, i have loved you since the day you were born.]

/x 

idk it's something

from pinterest, yo

i wipe the wooden table quietly,
and feel my heart trembling.
the rumble reaching my throat,
so i let out a quiet sigh.

i've spent too many nights
staying up too late, late.
overthinking even though
i am too exhausted to even
be thinking at all.

but i listened to the wind outside
(it is occasionally warm
enough to keep the window
open for the night)
and the trees gently rustling.

there was a soft voice
on the horizon, telling me
that everything, dear one,
everything will be okay.

i laugh a couple tears, and wipe
my cheeks before anyone sees.
the table is the same color of the
dirt in which i planted an apple tree.

(it sprouted up today,
and i felt something change in my chest.
everything will be okay.
the harmony to those words
is still ringing through my veins.)

hope

GIVE ME A MOMENT.

[to catch my breath. to think. to let go. to cry it out. to look at that bright, bright sky. to say goodbye. to finally get it right. to ready myself. to write it down. to take one last look.]

oh, and yet i am still searching for something else after all of it. 

[to figure it out.]

my eyes drift across the sky, and i taste words of a memory. an old story i read, rolling around. it was about an old man who had seen things that broke his heart. but there was a woman and her daughter waving to him every time he passed by with the train, and that gave him comfort. after all those years, when they finally meet, he finds out that she was not a gentle spirit. she was harsh, with some fear in those bones. the story ended with the old man leaving, all hope diminished. 

i know that fragile hope. 

the kind that breaks under truth. 

SO I REALLY  MISS YOU RIGHT NOW. 

[on one knee, praying to the Lord. i was never more proud of you. / i fit just right in your arms. / he laughed like it was the last time. / early morning, and i watch your sleeping face. the window is open, the air is cold. / wild morning hair. craziest i've ever seen. / every midnight laugh. / guitar hands, grandma cookies, sleeping bags.]

can i tell you something? 

every single hope, every single dream, every single thing that is not of God will pass away. 

yeah. i know. 

but they are fragile things, and we are so small. we do not know what we are doing with our hands. i thought i knew how to love before, but i know now that i was looking with blind eyes. couldn't get it right for a reason. those things hurt you more when you keep them. 

[oh. i do not miss the old things as much as i thought.]

so still, i will hold on. i will stay kind. i will stay gentle. if you're still listening, here's this:

HOPE 

xx much love. 

five breaths

five breaths.
one
it was a stumble, a fall. a prideful heart nesting in an old, bare tree. a home for the crows. 
two
not thinking. another mess up, words spoken quietly so i wouldn't hear them. but you know me. somehow i still hear them. 
three
the wrong ones. i wrote them in black ink, sent them your way. they were the wrong ones the wrong ones the wrong ones.
four
tuesday night. the day after. fruit salads. wednesday evening. the weekend in May. the wheel barrel. his heart. the lost eyes. there's more and more and more. all splattered with not enough.
five
forgiveness?
i think that's the right word.

forgiveness.

in the middle of winter.

you are loved.