Grand Amusement

I was born for something. Born to be someone. But what? And whom? This is the question that has hounded me as I gained years, gathered lines in my life. Always, whether I was aware of it or not, my purpose, my deepest desire for approval, has followed me through seasons, through laughter, through furious tears. And always at the end of the day, draw of dark, the edge of my heart stitching itself into the hopes of others.

I’ve longed for a grand amusement set far beyond this bound of land and time. A sacred realm stretched sweetly through the fabric of my soul. Stepping lightly through this world, ears tuned for echoes of Eden.

In the balance, in between. Longing for the memories and events that pierced my heart in the purest sense.

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Drizzled Moments

It comes so unexpected, a few light drops at a time.

Steady, certain, a gentle rhythm that pings atop the roof. The softness is quick to slow me down, sink into the cadence. I open my windows to listen better, let in the scent of just-damp pavement, tap of soaking leaves, whisper of wind. For me, there is nothing better than a gray, moody day where the rain glides for hours on end.

There’s room to breathe, a pause from the frenzy and feeling of cozying up with a warm cup of coffee or tea.

It’s in these drizzled moments where I allow myself to pull out memories of dreams when I was younger, to explore what would have been if life matched up with my mind. I allow myself to remember those tender beats within my breast that begged God to let me write, let me be loved. //

The cries of my heart.

In those times, I’d bundle under a blanket and pull a notebook to my lap and close my eyes and move my mind, my heart, between worlds—reality and words, feelings, images—and weave what I could together. Poetry, my love, mingled with rain—both make my spirit come alive. And I imagined that what I wrote would rock the world in the best of ways.

Gray goes right through to my bones.

It is my strength, these strands of rain that fall to the earth, the brooding melancholy laced with unreasonable hope. I write away, bring out those dreams once more and let them take me to another place, another time, another future in which I can live both worlds—the world that is, and the world for which I long.

 

 

Continuing my attempt at the Five Minute Friday weekly writing challenge. Five minutes to write on the assigned topic. Raw and unedited. (Yikes!) This week’s topic: Rain.   // symbolizes where five minutes started and/or stopped.

Release. Breathe. Open.

Spring wants to come. The cardinals are hopping among the branches. Other birds are calling down the sun, kindly asking to come a little closer and bring the warmth that these months bring. The air is still brittle cold among the blue, false premonition of an underlying warmth that may not come for a little longer.

I remind myself for this month and forever: keep hold of hope. Suddenly, the sun will come and smile upon my face.

Keep hold of hope and let go of all that restrains me from the full life that waits with patience.

I tell my head to clear itself of all the preconceived notions of what I thought this life would bring in time, loosen my expectations and shake them from my way of living, giving it all over to God. Everything—my exact geographic location, how I thought my professional career would pan out, my singleness, my impact on the world—cup them in my hands and offer to God. Offer from the very base of me. Of the decades through my life, the little girl with wide-eyed dreams, the teenager aching to be loved, the young professional carving her way in the world. And now the woman in her 30s, seasoned and tempered by life, still easing her bones into understanding that life isn’t meant to be figured out.

Show me how my heart should beat, how to merge its cadence along with this life.

Show me how to feel the wind upon my skin again, like the first time I experienced the sense of touch.

 

/// Why is it such a hard thing to swallow my pride and give up my life and let God Almighty take me where I’m meant to go?

I want to wipe my mind’s slate clean, with no memory of all I dreamed and hoped and longed for, the paths that I would take to go to the life I’ve been dying to live. Set away my expectations and release them into the heart of Him who holds me safe, knows my name and calls me chosen.

What can I do to take away the plans of my life that have been branded on my heart? How do I just surrender what I’ve worked and groaned for years for and simply follow like a child? To fall, trusting, into the arms of a Father who is good and loving and true.

I always seem to try to take the world back into my hands. But try as I may to let the wind blow where it pleases, a piece of me still wants to push the wind’s direction, even if it’s a subtle shift. ///

 

Now to Him who is able to do abundantly more than we can ask or imagine…

 

Why bother imagining at all if He’s going to blow the roof off my reality? If He’s going to sweep in like a summer shower and drench me with surprises in the best possible ways?

Let go, dear heart. Leave the page unwritten and look for the ink to imprint upon the line. Let His heart surprise you, and dare again to allow the sun of spring to move across your days.

Release. Breathe. Open.

Watch the wonder amaze even you.

 

 

 

Continuing my attempt at the Five Minute Friday weekly writing challenge. Five minutes to write on the assigned topic. Raw and unedited. (Yikes!) This week’s topic: Release.   /// symbolizes where five minutes started and/or stopped.

Stretch Wild

I swaddle myself tight and tangled,
body and mind, spirit folds, turns bare.
Nevermind complete restraint;
only meant to keep limit within the lines.

But, oh–

what it could be, to loose the vines
and let my heart stretch wild and free.

The Place Where Wings Unfurl

Your words begin wrapped in letters.
They are tight, compact upon the page.
I read a line, sweep it against the smooth taste of pen and poetry. These images that bloom from my lips as I dance them to the air release from your fingers to my breath.
White waves of underlying currents roll between each line, their hidden silence rising in the swell of your secrets.
I release each discovered dove deep within my heart. They nestle like children against their mother’s breast.
You have unraveled me; your words lift in grace to the place where wings unfurl.

Speak, My Heart

Who am I when all that held my identity is stripped away?

When who I have placed myself to be for the past three and a half years, could be taken away in just a few short months?

“If the next thing for you doesn’t involve writing, will you be okay with that?”

I hear this question asked of me.

If I do not take stock in living off of words, will I still be able to stand?

It comes back to identity. Where I find my worth. Is it in my abilities? My community? My family and those around me? Who am I, truly, deeply, when what I do, what I associate myself with, is stripped away and I am bare in being and have God alone to sustain?

He is enough. Is He enough?

Speak, my heart. Speak in truth. Are you okay with being, not doing? In stillness, not sacrifice?

Do you know from where your worth is sparked?

It’s not in what, but who.

Rest in this.

 

***

My first attempt at Five Minute Friday weekly writing challenge. Five minutes to write on the assigned topic. Raw and unedited. (Yikes!) This week’s topic: Worth.

Tonight I Am Here

Tonight I am here. Densely embedded in the forest of the unknown. And I know You told me it wasn’t going to be easy, that I wasn’t going to understand right away. And I was okay with that. So I walked into the thicket, because I trusted You. Trusted You knew what You were doing.

I still trust You. But I am human. And I think too much. Like Thomas, I need to see Your hands and feel physical proof. I want to see the whole picture, want to see the clearing. But I’m knee-deep in leaves and surrounded by the sweet scent of juniper, aroma seeping into my skin. For a moment, I let my eyes drift closed, my ears drawing to the birds chirping through the evening air. Somewhere ahead of me, the path continues on. But I’ve strayed to the side to pick a bouquet of wildflowers, so vibrant and beckoning against the drooping sky. When the morning awakens I’ll fall back into step and observe Your world from my twisted, anxious eyes, longing for an answer to my destination dream.

 

 

Read the rest over at ALTARWORK!