Do they know?

I made a list of all my students from 2012, and I put it in the middle of my Bible along with a bookmark a friend gave me from a country many of these friends are from (the bookmark, not the friend). I pray for them, and having the names helps me remember what these friends look like. I heard via facebook today that one of them has died. I never knew this man personally, outside of class. I have often wondered if any other of the people on my list have died, or disappeared. Where are they? What are they doing? Is their life good? Do they have everything they need? Do they know they are loved? Do they know Love? Do they have hope? Do they know the source of hope?  

A Thought, While I Stop to Tie My Shoelaces...

“I will stay in my bed and write poems about how I will wait for you.” –Janette…ikz

I like this quote a lot. I like it because I, too, am staying in my bed writing poems. But I’m done waiting. I’m off and running into adventure and life and joy and Jesus. Full sprint ahead. I’m going. Love, you are welcome to run with me, but I’m not waiting. You can come, but I’m going.

If you’re up ahead on the trail and want to take a rest in the shade of a Willow and wait for me, I’ll meet you when I get there. But if you want to keep running, that’s admirable too. As long as you stay on the trail, I’ll catch up.

So you can run alongside, if you like. When I glance sideways I’ll be happy to see you there, but I’m not sticking around. I’m off to chase the King, the Light, the Lion who is not tame but is good.

And if we both reach home not having found each other, that’s okay too, because finding you is not my goal in this glorious adventure we call life. 

See you sooner or later, love.

Love, to the desert places.

I have no words. Yet.

Love, to the desert places.

The more I hear of you, the more I love you. The more I love.

I have met you only in dreams, but sleep-dreams, not dreams I can control. In dreams, I have tasted your sunlight. I have been to your cities, in my sleep-dreams.

Love, to the desert places.

I have no words, yet.

Be anxious in nothing but in all things lift your prayer to God.

Taking Time to be Enraptured

Upon first leaving the house,
the world is silent,
beautiful.

As I take in the light,
I hear bird songs,
see cat footprints,
feel the crisp wind dance across my face,
smell a fire,
taste smooth wind between my teeth.

The day is very much alive,
my senses loud with celebration and wonder.

Love, to my brothers

Dear Brothers,

I look forward to heaven (I pray you are there) when I can tell you plain how I think of you, and you won't misunderstand or mistake what I say, when you won't misunderstand my care as a desire for you in any way other than as a warrior alongside as we storm the keep of darkness with the most beautiful of Light.

When it is all over and the beginning has begun, I will tell you, plain, your vulnerability was your strength, and we, your sisters, knew it.

We knew your brokenness and loved you. We loved you in a manner far too strong for Earthly languages. Our love was broken, yes, but we loved you.

Your words, brother, I always soul-smiled at your words. Your poetry, your prose, and the way you carried strong songs into sanctuaries and slums alike. You gave strength through your words, and that was beautiful to me.

In this life, if I tell you of your beauty, you will be suspicious, probably weirded-out. But there, when I tell you, you will know. When I say that you are beautiful, it is because I see in you the image of the King. You bear the image of the King.

I cannot tell you now, I'm not bold enough yet. But then, at the end and the glorious beginning, I will tell you, and you will understand.

love,
your sister,
me