Eucatastrophe, January 19 2019

Everything can look all wrong, utterly hopeless,
and one act of love, of tenacious love and audacious hope,
of grace,
can change everything.

Don't let me forget this.
Help me to keep holding on, holding out.
In hindsight things seem obvious and effortless.

Can't Take This, January 19 2019

I can't take this much longer.

Can I?

People are rather quick to say, "I can't do this", I feel.

I guess it all depends on what we're killing in order to do something. Sacrifices are always required, though we don't always value what we sacrifice.

Temperance, January 14 2019

Remind me of the lesson I learned about alcohol?
I once thought, if you started drinking, you lost control.
Slippery slope. Chaos and disaster.

Show me the virtue of temperance, and its possibility.

And remind me what faith is.

Rarely are we given clarity; we're given faith. 
We may be given faith. 
We may be given all we need to go on.

Pretty Saviors, January 13 2019

O God.
God, I am tied to You, and I can't help it, but I am afraid of reaching out and feeling nothing. Help me to reach out anyway.

I don't like our American god. I don't like "God Friended Me" (although I watched less than 20 minutes...). You are the God in the furnace with us. So don't let me be afraid of our pretty saviors.

And also let me rage and weep with You over the horrors we commit "in Your Name", or expecting Your acquiescence.
Your justice. Your mercy.

You are jealous for Your Name. Only let me fall into the hands of God. 

Spring is Real, is Real, is Real, January 12 2019

God, I want to be ready to die.
I'm not.
My seeds are feeling choked. What am I really living for?
How can I make it easier, possible, for people to know You?
How can I know You better?
I need You. Without mediation.
Christ, I need You.

I guess two things, beauty and suffering, may be the fastest conductors.

What can I do today, to hear You and be with You and rest?
How do You want to speak to me? What do You want to say?
What does my spirit need?
Can I trust you to fill the voids that nothing touches yet?

Can I trust You to zing in the synapses, to drum in the diaphragm?
To glow in the solar plexus? To shoot out like moonbeams from my fingertips and the ends of my hair? (Thanks, George Bailey).

Spring is real, is real, is real. It is only spring, and it passes, but it is real as winter. 

Revive Me Again, January 11 2019

We need You. You want us and will have us. Take us. Continue to pry my fingers loose from what I idolize. Relationships. Respect. Things. Security. Comfort. Pride. Allure. Control. Privacy. Beauty. Religion.

I want the real You. And You want the real me. Help me to believe that is enough. I am a naked infant kicking about in my blood, and everything I have is from You. It's all Yours. Cleanse and cover me. Don't let me neglect or abuse what You've given me. May all of it point straight to You.
Please order my life in such a way that it wouldn't make sense if You didn't exist. Let my life ooze grace. Let it drip life. Real life. Virtue. I want the virtues. Please revive me again. I know You are capable of doing so much more than I give You credit for.
Please open my eyes. Please help me to love like never before. Bring people into my life, or deeper into my life, that I need to learn from, serve, and pursue truth and vulnerability with. Please stir up my passion again. Make me willing to suffer with You, for You.
You will.

Haiku for a Cold, January 10 2019

HAVING A COLD STINKS.
BLEARY EYES, ACHES, AND MUCUS
DRIPPING DOWN MY LIPS.

Nothing to Prove, January 8 2019

Privilege and brilliance and the sense of being conspicuous does something to you, something I can't quite reconcile myself to.

Remind me I have nothing to prove? Remind me to give Your love to every tired hurting confused broken person I meet? Every bitter, hard, numb, obnoxious person? Every fool and reject and addict and slob? Everyone who seems, or feels, unlovable?

Thank You for loving me NOT because I'm smart or brave or beautiful or gifted or charming. Thank You for loving Your creatures, Your world. 

Not to My Guns, to My Garden, January 1 2019

I loved watching L paint today. We copied a foal from my horse calendar. The strange liminal pleasure of watching her paint green grass almost made me ill.

Thank You for days like this, that somehow matter in spite of everything. In spite of not feeling correctly or acting perfectly, or knowing what's up. You speak in so many ways. Please keep speaking. Help me remember what I know. To stick to the truth. Not to my guns, to my garden.

Please help me shed and repair; please renew my mind, my hope, my drives and commitments. Don't let me moon around. 

Haiku for Courage, December 28 2018

Why does my car smell
like catfood and bravery?
Nerves and bread and rain.

Horses, December 26 2018

I bought a calendar of horses. I surprised myself. They caught my interest more than flowers, the sea, puppies and kittens, etc.

Beauty. Freedom. Spirit. Sensitivity. Connection to the earth.
I really might come to love horses. Loads of people I love, love horses.
Horses scared me and felt cliche at the same time, for a while. I think I just need to befriend an amazing horse. 

Did I Make You Cry on Christmas Day? December 25 2018

I didn't sleep super well, but I got up before my alarm. We opened stockings and ate cornbread, I helped Dad peel apples, and it felt blissful until it felt snippy and passive-aggressive in the kitchen.
I painted, and maybe finished.

Please help everyone to be extra gentle and kind today. I think we're upset in part because we're trying to bless and impress each other, striving for perfection, and that sure doesn't make everybody happy and serene.

Here I am, needing to be Mary again. Help me to look at You and love You first, so I won't be touchy. Please make this home a safe haven. Make my heart a safe haven.



Title: Sufjan Stevens

Bada Bing, Bada Boom, December 24 2018

Let's write ridiculous words. Bugaboo. Toodle-oo. Rutabaga. Trombone. Dunderhead. Kalamazoo. Billabong. Curmudgeon. Hoopla. Incorrigible. Cumberbatch. Cummerbund. Hootenanny. Kerfuffle. Fluffernutter. Bada bing, bada boom. 

A Trick, December 22 2018

I painted more on J & A's portrait today. I guess it was progress, but they look pretty bad. So I'm letting it rest. I feel like beating myself up for painting so long, or at all, today. I tried to convince myself it would be 30 minutes. It was, of course, about 2 hours. Is this a good trick or a dirty low down trick? Is it important to trust myself? Do I need to make rules and keep them, or is this more about permission?
The first son said to his father, "I will not", but later he went and worked in his field. The second son said, "I will go", but didn't. Which son did the will of his father?

To tell. them. Truth., December 22 2018

It gives me a sense of wellbeing to see all the fat squirrels in the yard.
They are ready. They've been fed.

But, God,
the E's must be devastated right now. Please please please hold them. Speak through something, everything, to tell. them. Truth. Don't let Satan turn this into a vortex. Pour in Your blood. Pour in healing. Pour in forgiveness, desperation, hope, comfort, peace. Communion with You. Connection with others. Speak the Gospel here. Redeem, please, Lord Jesus.
Thank You for counting the hairs on our heads. For not letting anything slip. Don't let me become small and tight and fake. Please keep bringing me back to the REAL. To You on silky black nights, back roads and watery reflections.
The breathless proximity to death. The breathless proximity to heaven.
I glimpsed the moon tonight. It is almost full. Fill my mouth. Fill me.
Squeeze me. 

And Ellipses, December 17 2018

Please, Lord, don't let me get so wrapped up in my own performance.
Let me be present.

Oh, the puns are killing me.

Oh, the hyperbole hurts.
Oh, the alliteration aches.
Oh, I better stop here,
because I could go on and on, and ellipses...

What is it? December 12 2018

You gave Your Son, Your life. How will You not also graciously give me all things? Whatever I need to live in a way that honors You. Whatever I need to know You better. Whatever I need to survive.
I think I will wear my plaid dress today. And choose gratitude. And choose joy. And choose to believe in your abundance, because You can bring money from a fish's mouth. And choose to let you wring me, drop by drop, because that's what I asked to be: used. And because something about that sounds like Your beautiful holey hands holding me.
I don't actually want to be independent. (Freudian slip! I wrote "dependent" first). I want to have to ask You for bread. I want to wake every morning to manna, in wonder. What is it? This is my body, broken for You. Give us today our daily bread. Create in me a clean heart, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. 

Sprout, December 10 2018

My efforts were imperfect today, and yet things worked out. Please keep me trusting you. I do feel discouraged about money and damnation and romance and winter and bickering. Please pour Your soft soft water over everything. Make everything sprout and grow. Help me see what You are doing. Help me live into each messy complex day. 

Mourning & Feasting, December 8 2018

It was a leaden weight in the conversation. No one felt comfortable eating, there wasn't much to say. But the sweet thing was, we all leaned in. We all cared, and it was OK. Because, what else do you do if you've lived through hell? Pretend?

Ignorance, December 6 2018

Please keep me looking at You and not fretting.
Please keep making me laugh.
Please make my heart strong and humble by what I suffer.
Help me to know You. Help me to learn obedience.
Help me to learn wisdom.
Ignorance is not bliss, but it is sometimes Hobbiton. 

Trail of Blood, November 27 2018

I followed a trail of blood most of the way home from C's. Like some animal was hit and caught under the truck (who else could be oblivious?) and was dragged for miles and miles. I kept expecting it to end. It was spattered in places, then it slowly thinned into a faint line. It went on and on. I didn't see if or when it ended, because I turned off 23 onto Hoover Road. Poor creature.

Also, what am I dragging along without realizing it, leaving a trail of blood?

Letter to Self, November 24 2018

Hey Sweet.

Don't be afraid of being sweet. The world needs that. Take a deep breath. You take a lot seriously, and that's good, but don't let it paralyze you. Remember Mary. Remember what she chose, what was better. Sit at Jesus' feet and listen.

Pray. Love well. Don't lose hope - you will be blown away by the provision of God. Yes, monetary. But also relational, and spiritual. You will see lives transformed. You will love more deeply than you think possible right now. You will be given strength for every new day, every necessary endeavor.

Be humble. Be teachable. Don't close off or get proud. Your friends are there for you. Your family is there for you. Even strangers are, sometimes. And God is, always with you, your Emmanuel.

Keep creating, keep basking in beauty. Keep finding silence. Keep learning practical skills. Keep traveling. Keep open to new people, new experiences, and to the hard work and dedication of commitment to the familiar places and people.

"Don't try to swallow the ocean, keep doing one day." Don't give up on romance. Speak truth in love. Be an encourager. Be real. Dance. Get outside. Be a mother to anyone who needs one.



Quote: "One Day", Christa Wells