Today is a day for practicing saying whatever we want, and not apologizing, not editing, not scratching out and starting over. We write for five minutes flat about whatever comes into mind reading this one word. And today's word is together.
start.
I stood in front of you and read my soul. 80, 75, 103 of you? I don't know. but there were a lot. In the world of poetry, my words were probably nothing new. But I wrote them for the One who matters. And though I couldn't see you from that stage, under those blinding lights, it was the most freeing thing. And it wasn't freeing because I was alone, in those lights, pouring my soul out. It was freeing because we were together. You, trusting me, and listening intently, and being with me, even if you weren't next to me holding my hand, making a chain of us.
Together. I shared that poem because He asked me to. And I thought about my brothers and my sisters all around the world, and how can I hold these gifts inside, in this land where I can talk about Him freely? I shared those words with all of you, all of us, because everything we do for Him, we do together.
And I need to remember that. And though I do not want to live my faith for feelings, I need to remember we are together. And once in a while, to do something terrifying feels real. Because we're always together, and I want to remember that.
4/15/12
4/12/12
easier
It is so much easier to please God than it is to please people. That's probably not true in all circumstances, but emotionally, I believe it is. When I obey God I feel better than when I try to please people. So you'd think I'd do that more.
This isn't related exactly- changing subject, different thought, sort of. Yesterday I was all excited about making this poem I just wrote good by people standards. I even tried so hard to write a poem about other people, or something external. But I couldn't do it. I have one beautiful stanza that I wrote months ago, and it's just going to have to wait. My poems are prayers, plain and simple, and it is so hard for me to edit a prayer. It is so hard for me to ask for criticism on a poem, because those words were written for God. Which is why it makes sense to write not to God, but then I don't feel there would be any point in writing. So I write to God, and then people tell me what they think. I asked for the criticism, and it was all very gracious and there were some excellent points. But then I go and try to change it and I just can't. Because in the moment when I wrote it, that was the truth. And you just can't change the truth.
I love sharing poetry because everyone likes to be good at something. And when someone relates, or actually understands, that is one of the best feelings in the world. But I hate sharing poetry because it is so raw and me, that it hurts so much when someone doesn't get it, or doesn't like it. Even if I asked for it.
I don't know how to glorify God with my words, which is what He asked of me before I came to college, if I can't share them. And I don't know how to share them if they're about Him. I put my heart into my poems, and that is the most vulnerable thing to do. And I can't write poems without my heart, they'd be absolutely meaningless.
I know that if I do something for God's glory, it is enough, but by human standards, if it isn't enough, it hurts. Though it shouldn't, because I know what I write in love for God is enough. But editing is such an important part of writing, and I have such a horrible time editing because I hate to change truth.
I have to send a poem out to be workshopped. And though I adore writing poems, I hate criticism for it. I want my words to affect people, but how can they if I don't share them? And I don't want to be too attached to edit... but I am. Also I tend to just spit poems out and then not be able to go back into them at all. I'll tell myself I'm going to edit and then when I try I realize I'm incredibly attached to the way it came out of my brain. ugh sigh. I don't know what to do.
This isn't related exactly- changing subject, different thought, sort of. Yesterday I was all excited about making this poem I just wrote good by people standards. I even tried so hard to write a poem about other people, or something external. But I couldn't do it. I have one beautiful stanza that I wrote months ago, and it's just going to have to wait. My poems are prayers, plain and simple, and it is so hard for me to edit a prayer. It is so hard for me to ask for criticism on a poem, because those words were written for God. Which is why it makes sense to write not to God, but then I don't feel there would be any point in writing. So I write to God, and then people tell me what they think. I asked for the criticism, and it was all very gracious and there were some excellent points. But then I go and try to change it and I just can't. Because in the moment when I wrote it, that was the truth. And you just can't change the truth.
I love sharing poetry because everyone likes to be good at something. And when someone relates, or actually understands, that is one of the best feelings in the world. But I hate sharing poetry because it is so raw and me, that it hurts so much when someone doesn't get it, or doesn't like it. Even if I asked for it.
I don't know how to glorify God with my words, which is what He asked of me before I came to college, if I can't share them. And I don't know how to share them if they're about Him. I put my heart into my poems, and that is the most vulnerable thing to do. And I can't write poems without my heart, they'd be absolutely meaningless.
I know that if I do something for God's glory, it is enough, but by human standards, if it isn't enough, it hurts. Though it shouldn't, because I know what I write in love for God is enough. But editing is such an important part of writing, and I have such a horrible time editing because I hate to change truth.
I have to send a poem out to be workshopped. And though I adore writing poems, I hate criticism for it. I want my words to affect people, but how can they if I don't share them? And I don't want to be too attached to edit... but I am. Also I tend to just spit poems out and then not be able to go back into them at all. I'll tell myself I'm going to edit and then when I try I realize I'm incredibly attached to the way it came out of my brain. ugh sigh. I don't know what to do.
4/6/12
4/5/12
4/4/12
wistful
well, I should go to bed, but I'm in one of those lovely pensive, melancholy, longing moods. I say lovely because in this state I think I am closer to who I am supposed to be. I believe my heart was made with these deep desires, and when I remember them, I'm more me.
These things my heart longs for.
These recurring places that pop into my head during times like these, when I think about what I really want.
A forest,
a cabin,
a wooden chair.
A simple life.
stories.
people.
wild flowers, being outside...
listening to the day.
These things my heart longs for.
These recurring places that pop into my head during times like these, when I think about what I really want.
A forest,
a cabin,
a wooden chair.
A simple life.
stories.
people.
wild flowers, being outside...
listening to the day.
4/1/12
Oh, yes!
Oh! That's right, helping people. That's what I love. I had forgotten.
Today I massaged the backs and calves of a few girls who had been on their feet for a very long time, raising money for sick children. I spent half an hour with them, amateurly digging my fingers into their tense shoulder muscles. I didn't know what I was doing, but I reasoned that overall, it would be nice to lie down and experience some human touch. We were scheduled to be there for two hours, but it only took thirty minutes. They were so grateful. I was so grateful to them to let me serve them, tangibly. It's great to donate money, but to get to help tangibly, that's my favorite. Sure, I wasn't directly helping the kids, but I got the opportunity to show love to several girls I didn't know. The best thirty minutes I've spent in a long time. (Also I'm a touch person, and I enjoyed being able to use that.)
Oh. yes, that's right. The little things. The people things. That's what I love.
Thanks for the reminder, Jesus. I almost didn't go.
Today I massaged the backs and calves of a few girls who had been on their feet for a very long time, raising money for sick children. I spent half an hour with them, amateurly digging my fingers into their tense shoulder muscles. I didn't know what I was doing, but I reasoned that overall, it would be nice to lie down and experience some human touch. We were scheduled to be there for two hours, but it only took thirty minutes. They were so grateful. I was so grateful to them to let me serve them, tangibly. It's great to donate money, but to get to help tangibly, that's my favorite. Sure, I wasn't directly helping the kids, but I got the opportunity to show love to several girls I didn't know. The best thirty minutes I've spent in a long time. (Also I'm a touch person, and I enjoyed being able to use that.)
Oh. yes, that's right. The little things. The people things. That's what I love.
Thanks for the reminder, Jesus. I almost didn't go.
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