Thursday, December 25, 2014

Lines from the Months of This Last Year: October

Happy October. Happy dress. Happy Kingdom.

Use everything in this little bedroom. Take it all. May every use of it be holy.
My body. Hallowed be Thy Name.
Goodness often looks like bright plastic fruit. Help me  s  m  e  l  l
the aroma of Your table. Hot-diggity-believe it. Work up/with appetite.

No room for questioning our motives when we see You for all You are....You fill our vision. 
Fill me now, again. Pure, wild, and delicious.
Draw on all nature to describe Yourself.
Abundance. I like the "dance" in that word. Parts of today were so low I had 
to sing. Patrick's breastplate is a You-send.
Feed me like a baby bird. I'd like to fit into You snugly, to crow with love over every good thing. 

Give men courage to be real, even weak, with one another. 

I've been home alone all day. I've been giggling a lot. It's chilly. It's so GOOD. 

Lord, You move the hearts of kings. Move my heart. Direct me completely toward You. I'm content. I'm thankful that You haven't brought me this far for nothing. 

God, why are we such finicky beings? You want me here, so help me give You what's in my hand: paintbrush, toothbrush, somebody's shoulder. 
Why did You make touch such dynamite?
The reverberations were driving me batty...I don't know what I'm trying to say, because I sound like a high-schooler with the hots. Yours is the fullest, deepest, most wild & diverse & satisfying union. I absolutely delight in You, my God. 

It is so very easy for me to get offended or feel wronged. I've found myself wanting to say, "It's not fair! It's not fair!" so many times over the past 2 months. Forgive me my absorption with myself. Help me be ready for You to use, without needing to scrape off my me-layer first. 
What a day. Father. Always got my back. Holy Spirit - oh! Make me willing, giving up everything. "A brush with the devil can clear your mind." (Mumford). Make me tender enough, strong enough. Help me trust You when everything feels sick and off. Your Word stands firm. You stand firm. I could never do this without You. 

I've been pathetically bummed. Help me come to You anyway. Where we have become chilled, anxious, or proud, whittle us back into something smooth and small in Your hand. 
Help me not try to impress anyone. Help me be true.

Thank You for the legacy of a loving family. Thank You for bringing Mom and Dad to Yourself, transforming them, making them more open to forgiveness and grace because of you. Strengthen us. Be known here. Help us love well and give each other to do good, to respond with grace, not play psychological games. 

Thank You for giving me awareness both of my ordinary sinner-ness and my unique mystery. Don't we all need both? 

This afternoon at home to run, shower, study...make eggplant parm for J. Thank You for including us in what You're doing. How wonderful to know that You are a God who hears. We only need to ask. 

Thank You for such a rich life. 
Help me be safe in Your Sabbath lap even longer tonight.
Keep us ever mindful of You, enthralled by You, as if we were in prison and You were all we had, because all we have is You. 

Thank You for the pattern of Your work around me, even in all these needs. 
May I rest in You as in a boat on a stormy sea. 
I am tired. Feast me on You. Thank You. You are more than enough. 

God, none of this is a mistake, right? 


Help me not become small and bitter. 
Wean me, also, from the desire to be extraordinary. I'm Your egg yolk.
Subsume me, grow large on me, hatch nidifugous. 

I have to know that You care, that You're working, that I'm free.
That there is hope. That I can love - because of You. 
Thank You that love dares, and that love is worth it. 

I've been up since six; You gently woke me. Still weepy 
and groggy, stiff-footed, tender at the neck where the painting toppled
onto me last night. 
You know how I desire to do right, 
and how I want to be desirable. 
You know why I cringe and demure, flirt and babble here at home
as if I were six, twirl around the kitchen.
Your "world-wielding shoulder" must be here for me also. I need it
to be. I need to feel safe and protected. Answered in all my yearnings.
That is why I've been crying. Before I despaired of the answer, You enveloped me in a harmony of soft, strong voices all saying, "yes."
Yet...I couldn't be confident.
So here is what I need, clearly: more odd hours to be pursued by You, 
made so secure and incandescent that no earthly silence
quells me. 

My great goal, my prize, my Troubadour. 
My life's blood, the light in my eyes. My wild bird call, leaping
shouting champion, lips-brushing-hair. 
We would like to be more and more devoted to You. 
Please teach me submission. 

"I am concerned for you and will look on you with favor;
you will be plowed and sown..."
Ezekiel 36:9 NIV

Scour me, cut the groove very deep, make new beauty,
small sweet fruit in my fresh cut soil. 

Thank You for this: "Until I can mourn the loss of a dream I cannot be comforted enough to have vision for a new one." 
Madeleine L'Engle, "The Irrational Season."
Meet and walk with her through this darkness. 
Resurrect me always. 

Thank You that we could be honest and good to one another. This is a gift from You. And thank You for the merlot. 
I've been feeling such joy & freedom & safety...but I know how little it takes to feed a great affection. So help me. Please use me only as an agent of good, to ennoble and bless and water and spur on. And God, dear Lord God, TRANSFORM my loves, because I can't be an executioner. 

When things are strained or strange or boring, sizzle new clean love into me, right at the source. What sets us apart if not our love? Use us here, in this neighborhood, in our families. Please use the dumb things I attempt. My music, art, letters, words. Texts. Outfits. 

Thank You for tough feet. 

In my own heart, I see pride and one-uppance creeping around. Please help me. Please forgive me. Please show me when/where I need to ask for forgiveness. Thank You for being tender and patient with me. 

Halloween. ISIS. Bros K...what's up with us?

Harvesting herbs, gathering books, wearing mismatched earrings. Praying. Wanting to pray more. Wanting to soak in You so all of me feels fresh and alive and clean - like when I soaked my feet and brushed my teeth simultaneously. Bliss. Could sex be any better? Ha. 
You're strange. And good. 
So near. 

(19. "World-wielding shoulder" - Gerard Manley Hopkins, "Hurrahing in Harvest")


  1. thanks for sharing these poetic thoughts, your honesty breaks something fresh into me and gives me hope knowing that there are others thinking, writing and living with such passionate purity and wholehearted intention.

    1. Thank you Lyss. You understand how good it is to hear this.