That birth is still a mystery

I still don't understand

How all of your goodness

All of your holiness

All of your power

All of your tenderness

All of your righteousness

All of your mercy

All of your strength

All of your wisdom

And your sweet, sweet love

Was condensed into human form

And not only that

You were a baby

You were the size of a pea

At one point

How?

Your glory was subdued

And the brightness of your form

Could only be seen through your eyes

You made yourself nothing

And now here I am

Before you

Laying upon my bed

My mind pondering

My heart swelling without understanding

The only thing in which we find freedom cannot be held

I feel trapped

Trapped by this world

Trapped by government

And choices

Trapped by rights

Trapped by people

By friends

By family

By children

By adults

By everyone

Trapped by expenses

Trapped by peers

Trapped by employment

Trapped by fears

Trapped by lies

Trapped by truth

Trapped by love

Yes, by love

I feel trapped by my clothes

And my hair

And my shoes

Trapped by ideas

And thoughts

And booze

Trapped by hunger

Trapped by pain

Trapped by weather

Again

We're trapped

But we try to be free

We're trapped

That's the way it will be

Until

Until you find that grace

Yes, there is a grace

That wipes the big glob of dirt off your face

And then there's a hand that's covered in slime

His hand is dirty now, not mine

"You really are free"

He says to me

So why can't I take Him seriously?

I have a hopeless feeling, I guess

I won't be free

Truly free

Until in heaven I rest

His Spirit is within me

And even that

Even that thought

Sometimes makes me feel it

What do I feel?

A Psalm

Holy Lord, I yearn for you today.

Be my Rock and my Wisdom.

Help me to serve You, and serve You well.

You know my heart;

Help me to find and know Yours.

Thank You for Your jealousy.

Thank you for Your continued blessings,

Despite our wickedness.

We are treacherous beings,

Not worthy of trust or an eternal glory.

But oh, the love of Christ!

Thank You, dear Savior, for making me pure.

You alone are the fullness of grace.

My heart cries out for You!

We're All Just Desperate

We all tug on the pant leg of grace

We all pound on the pillow of healing

We all slurp from the cup of hope

We all want an everlasting something

We all weep on the chest of loving kindness

We all bite on the arm of consistency

We all cling to the waist of provision

We all want a never ending something

We all hold our breath for tenderness

We all reach and grasp for strength

We all throw ourselves to the ground for truth

We all want an undefeated something

We all seek an exquisite life

We all crawl through a vicious place

We all tussle for our desires

We all lick our lips for the

Everlasting

Never ending

Undefeated

Something

Rain has this effect of me

The leaves outside my window are wet

These Cheerios sound like Rice Crispies

I've been waiting aimlessly for some sleep

It's cold

This bittersweet life

Can only turn into whatever we put into it

Right now

What I've put into it is a lazy bum on the couch

Some days seem pointless

You put nothing into them

And consequently

Get nothing out of them

But occasionally

It's nice to sit

Watching the wet branches

Get crushed and swayed by the rain

The black and white picture

There is a face that stares at me

From a screen

And I wish it was here

Staring at me

From close up

And wishing

For a glimpse of reality

Like this

Now and then

We all want different things

In the end

The same thing

But in the mean time

We all want different things

For but a moment

The different thing
I want

Is someone

To stand in front

In front of the screen

And tell me not to look

Anymore

But to see

See you

In front of me

Friday night

All I can do

Is apologize

For things that aren't my fault

Because I'm frightened

Frightened of being

Who you don't want me to be

A Moses Life

Don't you wish

You could have stood next to Moses?

Heard the breath of God

And saw His hands save your life?

Hmm

There are days

And months

And years

When I need that speaking fire

That holy ground

That bloody water

To get it

To know it

The hand of God

There's something about the hand of God

That I can't wait to discover

I think

That when I first see Him

The constant Love of my life

I'll touch His face

Then His hand

And then perhaps

With a tear in my eye

Ask Him how He parted the sea

Sometimes it's not okay

That I have to wait

I'd like to see

A parting sea

God, give someone a staff

And let us know You

And fear You again

I can't tell when I can't speak

I'm kinda mad about the Wim thing.

The Wim thing?

No, the Rim thing!

You're kinda mad about the Rim thing?

The Rim thing? No, silly, the Kim thing.

Okay, but what about the Kim thing?

It's not the Kim thing! Why can't you get it? It's the Dim thing.

The Dim thing...?

Ugh. Forget it. I knew you wouldn't understand.

June 3rd

I'm all alone

It's a difficult night

A birthday passed

Yesterday

That I forgot

But shouldn't have

Wouldn't have

A year ago

No

I should have

And I would have

Except that I was reminded

My Neighbor

This lady lived right next to me

Who peeked through her window occasionally

She screamed a lot

And her cotton-white hair and steely eyes

Did nothing to improve my opinion of her

She'd hang out her panties and shirts and socks

Every

Single

Day

Because she had nothing better to do

But fill up the washer and scrub-a-dub-dub

Her clothes

They were hideous, too

All the while I felt sorry for her

Especially when she cut her grass

With that ancient mower

And when she talked of her husband

With a scratchy, nasty voice

One day she kicked a basketball away from me

I think she meant to steal it

Instead I grabbed it and asked her

"Why are you so mean?"

She's gone now

I think she takes pills

And plays bridge and makes puzzles with the other old folks

She's happy

And

She wants to come home

I'd love to live without it

There's a thing beneath my chest

That never lies because it never speaks

Some say it speaks

But not I

I say it thumps and aches

And thumps and aches

Thumps and aches

Thump

Ache

Then the corners of my mouth give way to gravity

Salt water soon flows down the skin on my face

And I know what it is to stop breathing

That thing, that monster underneath my ribcage

Is screaming

Like those stupid blondes in old movies

Who say nothing, but scream

It's high-pitched, don't you think?

Too high

So my discovery:

There's a shrieking, girly monster

Somewhere in my chest

I think it's on the left side

Broken lips

Sometimes I wish I knew what to say to God. He often has me tongue-tied, much like I feel when the one I love is around. If He ever stood in front of me, I think I'd freeze. Perhaps a conversation without words would be completely appropriate. I'd hug Him, and touch His wrists. I'd look at Him for eternity if I could. I have a feeling His eyes will be the most breathtaking things I'll ever see.

Maybe that's why I'm having such trouble talking with Him... because words aren't enough. I've come to realize that they can't ever express everything inside of me, no matter how hard I try. I'm not eloquent. My words often don't reflect my heart. So how do I talk with God if I can't speak?

Lately I literally feel like my lips are incapable of forming words for Him. You know how some people lose the desire to live? Sometimes I lose all desire to speak. That's when my relationship with the Lord becomes difficult... I'm not able to just sit with Him when talking doesn't cut it.

I've been feeling like God is pressing something on my heart: I try too hard in my relationship with Him. If I simply live to please Him and help Him love other people through me, I'll be accomplishing so much more and experiencing such joy and peace than if I was focusing on what I should and shouldn't do... how I should and shouldn't act... what I should say or shouldn't say.

Anyway, it took all this to say: I haven't been speaking with God. I miss Him, but the words just won't come. So I'll serve and love and just live life in the hopes that my lips will be loosed and eventually give way to a much-needed conversation.

I spoke with a bird

I'm looking at a stone floor.

The lines are wobbly and dusted with pink petals.

There's a tree with beautiful branches.

I often wish I could be a tree...

Now I've got a bird staring me down.

"Pardon me, fine lady, but have you seen my slimy, wiggling friend?"

"No, my good birdfellow, I'm afraid I have not."

He hops along his merry way,

and I can't help wondering:

Have I helped to save a life or condemned another to starvation?

Wishful thinking

I sit here thinking

"I wish..."

And then it's gone

And I'm gone

Incredibly dangerous it is

To be

You whistle

Then pause as if to tell me something

Or nothing

That works too

Too often I expect

What isn't there

"I wish...

I wish that made me a better person"

Gazing out my window

I was surprised and delighted by the vibrant green grass. Right then and there, I wished my handwriting was more flowy... it would have matched my mood.

We make noise and we break

Ow.

My collarbone hurts.

And I'm scared it will break.

We're just breakable.

So many things can crush us.

Or go wrong.

Does it make you quiver to know you have no control?

I can step in the mud when my boots are on

What a relief relief is
Breathe a sigh, a contented sigh
And lips spread into a smile
Despite the rainy, dreary day
These feet have decided to skip

The only thing is
Relief doesn't last long
But maybe this time
Experience will keep this heart steadfast
Hopeful, so hopeful

My rain boots make me feel invincible

Some work in me

No one can give me what I want
I should expect it
I know no one can complete me
No one but you

I can't, I won't, I should look at you
Oh God, grab my face and turn it toward you

Can't explain, can't express, won't today
These feelings, these thoughts, these ridiculous fears
I don't need to
I'm written on your soul

Oh God, grab my face and turn it toward you

~~~~~~~~~~


I can physically feel the effects of the distance between you and I.
But what have I to cling to?
You. Aren't. Here.
I've wanted to see you, to hug you, to talk with you.
So. The choice to desire heaven...
I grasp it.
All I want is you.

When I can't sleep, I dream.

There sits an ugly man. At first I don't know it because it's incredibly dark. We talk as if we're friends. The couch is comfy. And then he laughs, and the light comes on. All I can see is his hideous, sweaty, pimpled face. He shoves me off to a room of my own for the night. In it, I find bunk beds and a cozy children's environment. The little girls are sleeping, and I find a spot on the floor with a fleece blanket. In the morning, I wake with fear to do his bidding. If I don't, my life is lost. I've had this dream before; sent to bring back the feast for this killer. This time, we find dolls. He shouts with laughter as he rips their heads off and and throws them at the window of an elementary school. Does he thrive on making everyone around him very, very afraid? I stand there, throwing the heads of plastic dolls. They land on the ledge of the building and stay there, piling up as he laughs all the more. When we've ripped to shreds every last doll, I know instinctively I can safely go. For now. I begin to walk quickly down a high dock. It's wooden and old, with a gate that gets stuck. I can't help but run from this man, and he follows me slowly, singing to me. I squeeze through the small opening in the gate and down the stairs. I'm afraid of heights, and terrified to fall, but if he touches me I know I'm done. I reach the grassy ground and I run full force... until I hit a metal wall, look up at his cloaked wickedness, and dash off into the distance. I run and run and run. Then I wake, and see him in the corner of my room. My breath is fierce, and well, I'm terrified. I feel like a small child as I wrap the covers around my head and pray to God that he doesn't exist. All I can do is speak the name of Jesus. "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus..."

I'm not a morbid person. Why are my dreams so haunting? I have no control, and I don't want to believe that my sweet Lord allows these dreams to happen.

I don't feel like being obvious tonight.

Would you pass me that thimble, then sit for a while perhaps?
Such pretty blossoms hanging there.
I'd like a squnch beneath them, please.

I used to envy Pan the Man.
Now I wish I was in a house, stirring a pot. Or something.
MY house. I want my house. My own.
Pan never had one.

Blue feelings fill me at this moment.
Perplexed. Utterly.
And now my mind is filled with the "Jabberwocky."
Supposedly his head went gallumping...?
Anyway, that's all a tale and a wish to be forever young.

I feel young.
Sad thing is that now, after all this time...
I can't seem to find that dream.
I can't seem to find myself.
What does it all mean, anyway?

There's a him and a her.
Can't be him and her.
Just a him and a her.
I guess that's why I'm covered in blue.

Send me off and away to the sand.
And a breeze that messes up my hair.

Without saying "I love you"

I care. Deeply. And I want you to know that I'm willing to be that embrace that catches your fall. I can't wipe away the rotten circumstances, and I can't keep you from crying... but I can encourage you to run with all your might toward the One who can. I can't be much of anything. Only an ear to listen. Your words are important, so don't lock them up. I don't have the key either, so you'll have to slowly spill them. As they spill, I'll scoop them up and hold them closely... they won't be lost. I'll keep them safe.

When the happiness radiates through your pores, I want to be there to see it.

Are You Jealous of These Yellow Walls?

He's right in the middle.

She said she's perfectly warm.

And comfortable.

And cozy.

He wants to bring her something.

Very badly, I guess.

He dotes to win.

But she's as tough as they come.

A pleasant looking face.

Against the wall.

And around the corner.

He wants nothing less.

Clearly it's a lost battle.

Not uphill, just lost.

And sad, so sad.

Except for the walls in the room.

They were all yellow.

Those piano tunes and old fingers on the keys are beginning to pang in my heart.

A piercing pang, pang, pang... not a pleasant melody.

To be rid of the piano altogether is ideal.

I am angry though.

Too swollen and furious to even look at a face that knows no limit to love.

My heart is breaking to heal, but a tedious and torturous process it will be.

There is another heart, though, that is willing to wrap itself around my bruises.

In that heart, and in that smile, and in that touch is my security.

Here I am, running to it, like my breath will not continue of I don't.

And it won't.

I know it won't if I don't.

Lines and circles

I have lines on my hands

They're all over

I have circles on my desk

They're contained

Twenty-four on one

Thousands on the other

I desire none but have all

The only thing I want

Is a part of the heart on my finger

Fleeting

I look at that star

and I wonder

I ponder its name

its place

its shape

I'd like to know how long it took

to create

A moment?

perhaps

Did it make a sound?

was silence the rule?

did He use His hands or just breathe?

While I'm lying here

looking into its brilliance

I ponder

I wonder

Who else can see

its beaming face

tonight?

What's sad is this:

If I lie here again

on another lovely night

my star could be gone

the clouds could be out

my face could be wet

I'm worried my star will disappear

Why won't it come out?!?!?

I want to write so badly, but nothing is coming out. Grr. I would dance instead, but at a time like this (10:30pm), that isn't so considerate... I live with a few people. I guess I could bounce around on the floor with my music turned up since they have to love me no matter what, but uh, I think I'll refrain.

Hmm I miss dancing. I think I'll type out something I wrote for my dance ed class.

Dance, to me, is a form of expression. Through it, I am able to use all senses and any form of communication I desire to represent what I am feeling. It involves as much skill as it does passion. Dance is an art form, a science, an equation... Dance is beauty. There is something so organic about using the body and heart together to present something from within to any onlooker. It teaches, absorbs, reflects, changes, simplifies... Dance, to me, is the most natural thing I could ever do. Without it, I would burst. Sometimes you just need a way to get it all out.

"Dance is the only art form wherein we, ourselves, are the stuff of which it is made."

-Havelock Ellis

So much more than I deserve

I feel like writing a bit this evening, so here goes.

My life, as frustrating as it seems to me, is blessed. I realized this while out to lunch with my coworkers, compliments of my incredible boss. First of all, I don't think I could be employed by a better person. Second, they all grew up catholic... but have recently come face to face with the reality of who God is, thank the Lord! My boss looked at me as the conversation ended and said, "You've got a pretty good life, Bec." I do, I really do. Being more thankful is on my to-do list this year.

So how am I blessed? The list could go on for an eternity. It will, too! I'll be blessed til I die and beyond... how exciting! Let's see... here on this earth, I have an entire family who desires Jesus Christ and has accepted the gift of His sacrifice and salvation. I have a "family-family," as I call them, who have been the truest friends and the most loving people ever. I've recently found myself a guy who, quite honestly, is more than I ever thought I'd deserve to have. I had asked the Lord to bring someone to me who cares about Him more than me... and here he is. As I mentioned above, I have a great job as a CA (chiropractic assistant). I get to guide the youth of our church in their discovery and love of Christ... frustrating, but worth it. I have the ability to dance. Without it, I think I'd explode. I can't explain how incredible it is to be able to get everything out of me without saying a word. I love that dance is a release! God created a good thing there.

I won't bore you with more of my life, but as you can see, I am indeed blessed. I can't get over it. I noticed a few days ago that I've been complaining a lot; just little things, but complaints all the same. How can I complain about life when there is that much goodness given to me by my Savior? So. I've decided to be thankful and joyful and quit my belly-achin'. Hold me to it, guys. Hold me to it.

I don't know what to call this.

You're so small.

And some steps have been skipped in order to simplify you.

Changes.

They usually take minutes or hours to manifest themselves.

With you, though, they've been overdue a long, long time.

I'd like to tell you a story.

One of a rock that sat outside for endless days.

Well... it lived.

Never changed.

Lived.

But never made an effort.

And then.

It died because the water it sat in wore it down to nothing.

That's my story.

Dissect it as you wish.

It could mean nothing.

But it could be something.

Or everything.

I'm convinced it's one of the above.

Do I need glasses or something?

There are times when I get hit with reality. Really hard. After the beating, I'll usually say, "Wow, I've been blind." I said that today to a young girl in our youth group. I received another beating with her reply. Golly, it's amazing I don't have bruises. She said, "No, you're not, you're just not seeing correctly..." The statement was so simple, so easy... so true. A thirteen-year-old is therefore smarter than I for the day.

There are other times when I feel like I've made a difference, particularly in the lives of the kids I lead in youth group. I know I can't control the choices people make, but these kids aren't making God real in their lives. Most of them aren't chasing after Him... and it hurts. I've made it personal because I want to see these children of God grow and become amazing and ruthless vessels for Christ, but they aren't taking the things we talk about seriously. God is in a different book, maybe the one right next to them on the shelf... but their plots don't line up. It's like sticking Pride and Prejudice next to Frankenstein and expecting them to mesh.

I wish things didn't seem so hopeless tonight. I do have hope, though. I hope in Jesus. I know He has the power to save and flip people's lives upside down and inside out. I've experienced it. So. It all comes down to trust... do I trust Him to infiltrate the lives of the kids I've come to care so deeply for? Do I trust Him enough to take over me so that I'm just an overflow of Him and His truth?

Do I trust Him enough in my life? That's the question of 2010.

I just spent too much

Considering the fact that I just purchased all my textbooks for this upcoming semester, bought a car that I am in the process of paying off, and lost all my convenient cash from my ex-waitressing job... I abhor our green paper. Honestly, I would much prefer borrowing books, sprouting wings to travel about, and forgetting work altogether. Who needs money anyway? Unfortunately, it defines our lives. You really can't argue with the statement; everything we do and live for is surrounded by the burden of small pieces of paper with some random historical pictures on them.

Think about it: You come into this world and get money and gifts for each birthday. Holidays are surrounded by gift-buying and food purchases. You start to get older and a job becomes necessary to save up money for a car. You begin to purchase things for yourself and spend money on gas. Now you're saving up to go to a good college or university. Once you're there, you'll have loans to pay off for the next ten years of your life. While in college, you're preparing yourself for a job in the real world where you'll need to make more money in order to support yourself and possibly a family someday. Let's say you get married... weddings are expensive. Now you've moved out on your own with the love of your life to struggle in the world of things gone wrong. Bills, car payments, repairs, babies... it all costs money. You probably won't see your spouse for a few years; after all, making money is more important and sadly very necessary. Your kids grow up... you pay for their education and birthday gifts and cars and college and well... life goes on. But it's run by money, and I just can't seem to understand how life turned into such a superficial thing.

Let's talk

There are words that I haven't said.

Words I couldn't say. Words I've thought were too much for the moment.

The time has come to share.

And I'm scared. And I'm wary. And I'm happy.