I do not think I slept at all last night.
My dreams were too entwined with reality.
I would dream, and then wake up and think about the dream, and think about reality. And then it would happen again.
I saw so many hours on my alarm clock.
I was awake before the birds.
and then before the rain.
I got up at 8:30.
and now it is 3, and I am so exhausted.
much to do
but ineedanapithink.
so much to think about.
like how to wait for something you didn't want in the first place
or maybe you did
or would be content without
befuddlements and restoration
and trusting.
{don'truleitout
wheniletthem}
4/28/12
4/25/12
I finally understand.
This is the hardest and the most amazing. (actually, it is probably neither of these things. but it is really hard and really wonderful.)
I understand Jesus being my "Hallelujah all I have is Christ!" I understand the joy that comes with that.
My identity is found in Jesus Christ. But there are definitely still things I hold too closely to. But when those things are removed, I realize I am still happy, still joyful, still full, still whole.
I just lost a friend. (meaning my friend decided to abandon the friendship)
Jesus asked me to cut my hair in September.
My math grade is horrible. I'll probably have to retake the class.
But I am still full. My heart is content. I have everything I need.
Sure, in the scheme of eternity these are small things. But they are big things in my heart and they are things God is using to draw me to Him.
The greatest struggle and the most amazing.
This is the hardest and the most amazing. (actually, it is probably neither of these things. but it is really hard and really wonderful.)
I understand Jesus being my "Hallelujah all I have is Christ!" I understand the joy that comes with that.
My identity is found in Jesus Christ. But there are definitely still things I hold too closely to. But when those things are removed, I realize I am still happy, still joyful, still full, still whole.
I just lost a friend. (meaning my friend decided to abandon the friendship)
Jesus asked me to cut my hair in September.
My math grade is horrible. I'll probably have to retake the class.
But I am still full. My heart is content. I have everything I need.
Sure, in the scheme of eternity these are small things. But they are big things in my heart and they are things God is using to draw me to Him.
The greatest struggle and the most amazing.
On losing a friend
If I think about it for any amount of time I start to get angry. I get angry at him, I get angry at you.
Every time I see you my heart aches. I want so badly to wave my arms and yell your name and smile. and then I realize... and then I become angry, and want to scream at you. I want to corner you and demand that we talk about it. and then my heart aches again, and I realize God doesn't want me to be angry with you. It's not you. The battle is not mine, and definitely not against you. not against flesh and blood.
My heart hurts for you.
I know too much about you for this to possibly hurt me in the way you aimed it to,
but I do hurt.
I hurt because you are blind.
because you're not fighting.
because you know the cure and you're not asking for it.
I don't understand why you refused to talk to me. That hurts more than anything. You won't even tell me what's wrong. You know I'd listen.
But even that, I know deep down inside, it's not you, it's just a sign you're not doing so well in your battle. I can't fight it for you. No one can, but Jesus. and I think you have to ask Him to.
I knew for a while you might someday decide you don't like me anymore, because I've chosen to live for Jesus, not you. but I did not expect it to be so sudden.
I'm not hurt for me.
I'm hurt for you.
You're beautiful and valuable and you have so much potential, just waiting, waiting to explode into the wonderful person you are. But you're choosing not to believe truth.
That hurts more than anything else.
I'm worried.
I wrote three pages in my notebook.
You know that saying, "you can run, but you can't hide." ? Well, you're running, but I can still see you, clear as day, and I can still see that your heart is broken.
I know the real you would still be my friend.
I know this is not an attack against me.
I think you're afraid to talk to me.
I do not need you. My heart is content. Actually my heart is quite happy, very excited. But it aches too. It aches for you. I do not think this is what you intended. I will always choose God, my friend. Even if it means you will be angry with me.
Friendships were not supposed to break like this.
Not like this.
I thought we were sisters.
You're not the first to abandon a friendship with me, and you probably won't be the last. The world is broken. I need to remember not to be angry.
I will be fine. I am content. I have everything I need.
I'm so happy, so excited.
I'm aching for you.
and if I think too much, the anger wells up.
but it shouldn't be for you.
you're the broken one.
you're the one who needs.
you're the one who is blind.
Oh how I ache to call you friend again.
In a week we'll both be gone.
Oh how I ache to call you sister.
Every time I see you my heart aches. I want so badly to wave my arms and yell your name and smile. and then I realize... and then I become angry, and want to scream at you. I want to corner you and demand that we talk about it. and then my heart aches again, and I realize God doesn't want me to be angry with you. It's not you. The battle is not mine, and definitely not against you. not against flesh and blood.
My heart hurts for you.
I know too much about you for this to possibly hurt me in the way you aimed it to,
but I do hurt.
I hurt because you are blind.
because you're not fighting.
because you know the cure and you're not asking for it.
I don't understand why you refused to talk to me. That hurts more than anything. You won't even tell me what's wrong. You know I'd listen.
But even that, I know deep down inside, it's not you, it's just a sign you're not doing so well in your battle. I can't fight it for you. No one can, but Jesus. and I think you have to ask Him to.
I knew for a while you might someday decide you don't like me anymore, because I've chosen to live for Jesus, not you. but I did not expect it to be so sudden.
I'm not hurt for me.
I'm hurt for you.
You're beautiful and valuable and you have so much potential, just waiting, waiting to explode into the wonderful person you are. But you're choosing not to believe truth.
That hurts more than anything else.
I'm worried.
I wrote three pages in my notebook.
You know that saying, "you can run, but you can't hide." ? Well, you're running, but I can still see you, clear as day, and I can still see that your heart is broken.
I know the real you would still be my friend.
I know this is not an attack against me.
I think you're afraid to talk to me.
I do not need you. My heart is content. Actually my heart is quite happy, very excited. But it aches too. It aches for you. I do not think this is what you intended. I will always choose God, my friend. Even if it means you will be angry with me.
Friendships were not supposed to break like this.
Not like this.
I thought we were sisters.
You're not the first to abandon a friendship with me, and you probably won't be the last. The world is broken. I need to remember not to be angry.
I will be fine. I am content. I have everything I need.
I'm so happy, so excited.
I'm aching for you.
and if I think too much, the anger wells up.
but it shouldn't be for you.
you're the broken one.
you're the one who needs.
you're the one who is blind.
Oh how I ache to call you friend again.
In a week we'll both be gone.
Oh how I ache to call you sister.
4/23/12
4/20/12
Five Minute Friday: Together
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.
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.
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