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\