Wednesday, December 25, 2013

Lines from the months of this last year: March and April


Everyone on the side of truth listens to You.*

I am ready.
Jesus, You, right here. And me, too.
Because You are welcoming me into something.
Then show me. And help me believe and come,
all of me, none behind.

Take charge.
Lord, I know you so little. And even though
my every atom is Yours,  I am not aware of You as I should be. Or so
near You. Or so like You. Or so believing in You.
Perhaps I made You up.

Perhaps You swallowed me whole.

*(see John 18:37)

"He who is bearing others knows that he himself is being borne, and only in this strength can he go on bearing."
-Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together, 103

"Sticky little leaves."

There will be enough.

You look as if you learned things from trees.
"How can I be here for you, even after everything that's gone?" I let the words roll off my tongue like any others.

I was in Rome this time last year.

I am glad You made me. I love living.

Help me not do anything that would blunt my consciousness, my conscience. Make the world real and sharp to me.
Lure out my ant lions. Help me feel Your fingers pressed against me. Your face inclined.  That freedom, again, in taking the gift. Choosing trust. Choosing acceptance.
Believing in grace. Giving absurdly.

A warmth along my legs and in my temples gathering.
Make me just right for whatever You have for me.
I love this beauty. The man in his small schooner, "PROPHET." Watching us from the cabin window. All the colors of winter. Stark, exquisite skeletons against the snow. Dark maples. White birches. Rich, subdued pine, spruce, and fir. Variegated stones, rippled or craggy or split clean as logs. The fog cloaking the mountains, gliding through the harbor like a ghost. The shrubs and sparse undergrowth, russet and tufa yellow. Ochre. Piled buoys. Gray and cerulean.

Felt pretty alive.

Thank You for a lovely day.
Also, a highlight: picking up dog doo and being caught by Dr. B.

Now yogurt, Bible, bed. You take such good care of me. You don't despise me. Help me care well.
H. said I have a lovely face. And they like gap teeth. Thank You for giving me such friends, Daddy.

Show him how rich solid GOOD You are. Make him insatiably hungry for You. Reorder his past, his thoughts, his visions, toward Your will. Give him at least one very faithful, very trustworthy friend, to talk straight, love him.

At one point, sitting side by side and drawing, she laid her hand between my shoulders and stroked my back a little, and it almost made me cry. A little reminder of how much I miss Mom, those safe, familiar, not exaggerated physical affections.
They forgot to pay me. And I literally forgot to mention it until M. was driving me back.

"But he who unites himself with the Lord is one with him in spirit." (1 Cor. 6:17 NIV)

Please show up again. Help me see the world full of grace and light.

One of the best birthday parties ever.

And You. Lovely, Lovely, Lord.
Loving me with wind even when I was angry as barbed wire.

28(29). Maundy Thursday
Oh, this time last year...You were making symbols for the rest of my life. Stations of the Cross.

I feel like I failed her, in some way. Was too namby-pamby, wanting everyone to feel good, stifling my doubts, the hard truth. Did I? When is it humility, and when is it cowardice?

Please bring me closer to You now, more ready to enter into Your humility and suffering. Raise us up again.
Abby: "'This is my body, pre-sliced for your convenience."
Oh, Lord. You broke Your body for me.
Help me enter into brokenness, vulnerability, with You. Extravagance, faith, trust.
I love you, Lord.

You told me I was wild
And You loved me.


The most important thing I can do now is be close to You.

"God our Savior...wants all men to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth."
- 1 Timothy 2:3b-4 NIV

Jesus. Lord. Is that true? Do you hate Esau? You don't show favoritism. And yet You chose people. And you harden hearts. Why? What are You doing?
Why not today?

Pollen. Each plant has its own pollen.
I want to be a poet. You are my love.
I want to write You the sort of letter You will linger over, marking the flourish of my letters, the loops and knots on the D of my Dear.

Monica's love is still growing.

There are so many of us, Lord.
Lord, I could die well if I knew all these, and all the others swirling in my mind & heart, would know, would come to know, You.

This is a time where I feel like cutting. Simply because nothing seems so eloquent as blood, so concrete as pain.
But You Paid.
Keep on with Your steady healing.

Praise You. For this apartment, these friends. For air and light, siblings. Thunder. Not sure why I thought of that. For the already very promising Peace Like a River.

Lord, please show us Yourself in ways we can accept, see, believe.
Increase our faith. And give us daily bread, steady nourishment for training. Help me to be diligent and devoted.
Thank You for hope.

Jesus, I choose contentment. I am so glad You placed me here, for this time. It is good.
You are good. You are to be fully trusted.

"Though the mountains be shaken
and the hills be removed,
yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken
nor my covenant of peace be removed," says the LORD
who has compassion on you.
- Isaiah 54:10 NIV

Make me soft and singing clay.

God, we cry to You. Our arms lift to You without our trying.

The cross is blooming, and so am I.
I am Yours.
I can't help feeling that the moon is a little bit mine tonight.

Swallow My Will.

Keep my heart thirsty for You, looking for You,
like sleep.

No comments:

Post a Comment