Tuesday, November 18, 2014
And then the one the next week.
I wanted to say something,
To ask you where you've been keeping all those words.
Brave, raw, powerful, honest words.
Have I never heard you speak?
We might have spent years of our lives in silence,
Looking at the same people.
Talking about everything that doesn't matter,
Too afraid that we'll be judged. Too busy judging to stop being afraid.
And last week I was too afraid I'd say the wrong thing.
But God is not a God of fear.
He is a God of love.
Casting aside my fear
leaves me with a reality more solid than
and anything you or I have ever done
or could ever do.
Like warmth reaching through every dark night,
crying alone, hurting alone,
penetrating every angry, cutting thought,
"you're not good enough," "you can't fix this."
Illuminating all for what it is:
Because with love we are so strong,
so powerful, so unstoppable
that Satan can't afford to let us get there.
No matter what you do.
No matter what you've done.
No matter how many times we've not known what to say,
or how many times we wished we were better or
could make right the things falling around us,
I love you.
Like soul deep, you better keep on fighting, don't you dare give up,
It's in the silence.
It's in the words we cannot speak.
It's in the tears I cried for you.
It's absolute. It's permanent.
And that's as close as I can get to God.
And the only thing real I can give you.
Friday, August 22, 2014
|I'm pretty sure the light in this picture is |
God sending rays of love right onto my family.
How cool is that?
I've been on break for summer break. If you count summer break as a break. I did attempt around four posts, none of which made it to the blog. And if I'm totally honest, I also stopped writing, pretty much completely.
Instead I took a road trip to Idaho, where I managed to take the wrong way in the only two possible places to take the wrong way between Utah and Boise. (No, thank you, Pocatello, I will not be visiting you this summer.)
I spent a great afternoon with my aunt talking about family stories. Later, I read a story she wrote about my grandma and cried. How amazing, how alike our feelings and experiences can be, even through three generations.
I went hiking several times, and lost my cool homemade baby carrier somewhere near a river. If you found it, I hope it went to doing some good. I've been imagining someone being blessed by it somehow. ('Cause there's got to be a reason I'm so spacey sometimes. I mean other than genetics and not sleeping through the night for over a year.)
My baby got her first ear infections. For a month. I hate ear infections. She also went on a breastfeeding strike. She's over that. My son still hasn't learned to ride a bike without training wheels, but he can do the monkey bars like a true monkey.
I went to the library, to an evening of girls camp, and to writer's groups (even though I hadn't written anything.) I made things out of cardboard boxes and plastic containers, played in the sprinklers, did a lot of laundry and procrastinated a lot of dishes.
My in-laws came and we went swimming. And on a nature walk. We caught up with each other and did family history work. Some of my husband's lines go back to Adam. WHAT?
My son spent the last month with Lego's over his entire floor, and I didn't make him pick them up, not until his dad said he needed to, um, maybe last weekend because school was starting.
I sewed some pajamas for the kids using free fabric and my old t-shirts. I've struggled through grocery stores with my baby screaming and my son hiding like a ninja behind every display. I've gone on walks, been to parks, visited the new Bean Museum, the BYU Art Museum, had family reunions, and a girl's night at my mom's.
That scripture "To everything there is a season." often comes to my mind.
I stood in my kitchen listening to Micheal Buble singing someday he'll met that girl worth working for, Taylor Swift beginning again, and Adele setting fire to the rain. My baby threw something from her high chair and the sink gurgled down the last of the dirty dishwater. I didn't have on any make-up and I'm sure my shirt was wet.
Suddenly I realized I had it. That thing people are looking for. The man worth working for, the love that lasts, the family I'll never have to let go. My dreams were sitting in a high-chair covered in soggy crackers, making Lego creations on the floor of his bedroom, and driving home to me from another day of work.
I'll just soak it up a little longer. God's love is shinning right down on these people He's given me.
"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven."-Ecclesiastes 3:1