Pulling off of the exit to that familiar beach
an old song piped through the radio
a memory lodged in the graveyard of my heart released
you played it for me on your birthday
And we were all in this spot, not long after that summer
a couple weeks from now, back then
I wore light khaki overalls (they were "in" at the time)
taking in the Pacific from this perch
a different boardwalk on another coast
reunited after two months apart
I had questions
I held sadness
I was grieving the end before the real beginning of the demise
but I smiled with the girls
for the cameras, for the sake of the memories we were making
Coincidence? I don't think so
that's typically not how it works
perhaps an Invitation to dig into that cavern again
to remember that we lost each other and my life since then
And it has been good--these days and years
my regrets have diminished considerably, considering
but I often wonder if I'll ever forget
what every piece of it meant to me
I recognized my fear
the frailty of my heart
not wanting it to be broken
I think I ran from the start
Perhaps there are no words to offer once again
it was another life, or it could have been
so I went to the beach and sat in the sun
I watched the gulls play, putting the thoughts far away
There are other things on my mind, after all
And closing my eyes, I listened as waves kissed mercilessly the shore
Trying to be present, wanting desperately to embrace the gift of it
but the recollections continued to sound in my ears
many a word I offered and those I wish I'd shouted
somehow lacking the courage or the understanding to know they were needed
I still carry all of them with me
Though I wanted to relinquish them
to the waves and the sun
back to that boardwalk on another coast
returning them to you, so they would leave me
and perhaps some of them did
I really don't know...
Though, I'd like to think so.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Friday, September 14, 2012
ABIDE
As things with the Lord and I go, today He calls me to abide. The pain of placing my hope in things that are not Him surfaces as I choose not to hope in those things any longer.
It feels like death.
Death of desire, death of promise, death of my heart.
Perhaps somewhere in there, God will bring life again. All I know is this... I cannot hope in anything that isn't Him anymore. It's too disappointing. My heart rises and falls by the expectation it has built around things that He has promised. I've focused far too heavily on the promise and not the One who has made those promises to me.
In a way, I don't doubt the promise. I do, however, doubt the form I imagined those promises taking. And so I give up on those pictures--those vain imaginations of what I think life should look like given what He has spoken over me. I wash my hands of those things with the tears that fall from my eyes.
I release.
I abide.
And for today, I feel a bit like a wheezy robot. The lump that rises in my throat as I think about this "letting go" and sticks there uncomfortably. I think it's grief. I think I've caused it for myself this time.
It feels like death.
Death of desire, death of promise, death of my heart.
Perhaps somewhere in there, God will bring life again. All I know is this... I cannot hope in anything that isn't Him anymore. It's too disappointing. My heart rises and falls by the expectation it has built around things that He has promised. I've focused far too heavily on the promise and not the One who has made those promises to me.
In a way, I don't doubt the promise. I do, however, doubt the form I imagined those promises taking. And so I give up on those pictures--those vain imaginations of what I think life should look like given what He has spoken over me. I wash my hands of those things with the tears that fall from my eyes.
I release.
I abide.
And for today, I feel a bit like a wheezy robot. The lump that rises in my throat as I think about this "letting go" and sticks there uncomfortably. I think it's grief. I think I've caused it for myself this time.
Saturday, September 08, 2012
An Invitation to Hope (this is a hard one)
The Lord is asking me to hope again. Winding through Thornton Park today on those lovely red brick streets, I told Him I knew that's what He is inviting me into--hope--and I replied with tears in my eyes, "I don't know how to do that right now, Lord." What does it look like to allow Jesus to build hope into my heart again when my heart feels like a desolate wasteland?
Earlier, I was reading a book and one of the characters was saying of the other that her heart was like a wall--4 feet thick and not scalable through human effort. I stopped in that moment and asked the Lord, "Is that what my heart is like?" In the quiet, I heard, "Yes." The frustrating part of this particular story is that I feel that I've come so far towards hope, but recently I'm encountering a new and rather enormous wall. I wondered aloud to the Lord, "What would it look like for that to crumble?" and, "Why does it matter to You that it does?"
In this process, I know He has postured Himself with utter humility and patience. He's peeling the wounds and my reactions that stem from those caverns back layer by layer. I believe He sees something worth fighting for in this--I wish I could see what He does.
Here's the thing, I think He sees me. I think that's what He's trying to say to me. He sees me. That feels disconcerting. My experience has taught me that my hope is futile. God may have spoken things to me in the past and even affirmed those things through other people along the way, but the reality is, those things aren't real. At least they've yet to be seen. And well over a decade later, I wish He didn't speak them to me in the first place... It feels cruel.
But here He is reminding me of those things and I'm regularly shutting down when they're brought up. Just the other day that happened. My mom said something to me on the phone and I had to fight against hanging up on her. I didn't ask her to say what she said--we were talking about something far from this particular topic of tenderness and it was as if she dropped a verbal bomb; as it detonated in the inner part of me, a lump appeared in my throat and began to rise. I couldn't take in air--invisible sobs developed inside my chest, but I didn't cry. I stifled them away. Intently turning my focus to the intricate patterns of texture on my ceiling, I didn't allow my eyes to close for fear that the tears really would come and I'd absolutely lose it.
I feel that now. This is so deep; it's so rooted inside of me. The lack of hope I experience is like bondage. I know that in His love, He's at work setting me free into hope, but I don't know if I'll ever make it there. When He tells me that hope doesn't disappoint because His love is poured out in my heart through the Spirit who was given to me, I see the depth of my lack. I know Him to be good, but not in this. I know Him to be faithful, but not in this. I know Him to be kind, but I miss His kindness in this. I know that He is trustworthy, but my trust disappears in this.
I feel like He's been playing a game with me. He's been asking me to actively live in light of directives He's given. I have. He has asked me to pray very specifically. I have, even to the point of pain. I know that's not true--He's not toying with me. But His way of doing things has felt like an adding of insult to injury. I wish I could see it through His eyes instead of these worn, used lenses. And so it's in these moments of invitation I muster my courage to pray, "Lord, lift my eyes," and remember that His mercies are new every day.
Earlier, I was reading a book and one of the characters was saying of the other that her heart was like a wall--4 feet thick and not scalable through human effort. I stopped in that moment and asked the Lord, "Is that what my heart is like?" In the quiet, I heard, "Yes." The frustrating part of this particular story is that I feel that I've come so far towards hope, but recently I'm encountering a new and rather enormous wall. I wondered aloud to the Lord, "What would it look like for that to crumble?" and, "Why does it matter to You that it does?"
In this process, I know He has postured Himself with utter humility and patience. He's peeling the wounds and my reactions that stem from those caverns back layer by layer. I believe He sees something worth fighting for in this--I wish I could see what He does.
Here's the thing, I think He sees me. I think that's what He's trying to say to me. He sees me. That feels disconcerting. My experience has taught me that my hope is futile. God may have spoken things to me in the past and even affirmed those things through other people along the way, but the reality is, those things aren't real. At least they've yet to be seen. And well over a decade later, I wish He didn't speak them to me in the first place... It feels cruel.
But here He is reminding me of those things and I'm regularly shutting down when they're brought up. Just the other day that happened. My mom said something to me on the phone and I had to fight against hanging up on her. I didn't ask her to say what she said--we were talking about something far from this particular topic of tenderness and it was as if she dropped a verbal bomb; as it detonated in the inner part of me, a lump appeared in my throat and began to rise. I couldn't take in air--invisible sobs developed inside my chest, but I didn't cry. I stifled them away. Intently turning my focus to the intricate patterns of texture on my ceiling, I didn't allow my eyes to close for fear that the tears really would come and I'd absolutely lose it.
I feel that now. This is so deep; it's so rooted inside of me. The lack of hope I experience is like bondage. I know that in His love, He's at work setting me free into hope, but I don't know if I'll ever make it there. When He tells me that hope doesn't disappoint because His love is poured out in my heart through the Spirit who was given to me, I see the depth of my lack. I know Him to be good, but not in this. I know Him to be faithful, but not in this. I know Him to be kind, but I miss His kindness in this. I know that He is trustworthy, but my trust disappears in this.
I feel like He's been playing a game with me. He's been asking me to actively live in light of directives He's given. I have. He has asked me to pray very specifically. I have, even to the point of pain. I know that's not true--He's not toying with me. But His way of doing things has felt like an adding of insult to injury. I wish I could see it through His eyes instead of these worn, used lenses. And so it's in these moments of invitation I muster my courage to pray, "Lord, lift my eyes," and remember that His mercies are new every day.
Monday, September 03, 2012
It's not every day...
Rarely am I caught off guard these days by a man. To be honest, it has been a very hard year in that arena and I feel as though my expectation and certainly my hope has waned. I was just surprised by a total stranger tonight. Shocked, really.
My friend and I were enjoying a little sushi, having abandoned our plans for a lakeside picnic with others who were all busy. We watched a movie that neither of us enjoyed and redeemed that a bit by heading out for dinner at a spot we both love. Our conversation looped from desiring to see some individuals we know experience redemption, then turned a corner closer to home where we explored what redemption means in some present personal realities.
Early in our time there a guy walked by and as he did so, inquired as to the type of roll I ordered saying something about how amazing it looked. I confirmed that it was indeed fabulous and he kept walking toward the door. We turned our attention back to the story at hand forgetting the interruption, delving once again into her story and process.
She and I reached a point in our dialogue where we were talking about what it means to walk in the truth and recognize that living in it fully can take time. At that point, the same guy came up to our booth, leaned on its side and wanted to know if we would mind him posing a question. He was perfectly charming and warm.
Smiling, he made a statement about grace then asked, "Do you believe the Holy Spirit convicts us of sin?"
"Yes," I replied.
"You do?"
"Yes, I do."
"Do you know that no where in the Bible does it talk about the Spirit convicting us of sin... It says that the Spirit convicts the world of sin..." then I joined him, "...of righteousness and of judgement" we finished; we were both smiling and I was nodding my head.
He went on to share more on what he had learned about grace, the meaning of repentance and what is required of us when it comes to forgiveness. Our dialogue lasted a whole three minutes maximum (and included me quoting more Scripture alongside him), but I was super impressed with this guy. He was so kind and interesting. I loved that he wasn't afraid to approach a couple of strangers and add to our dialogue. What he offered was such a blessing to my friend in that moment and many of the things he said have kept me thinking since I left the restaurant.
As we wrapped our brief conversation, he began to walk away and I noticed a take-out box in his hand.
"Did you get the volcano roll?" I asked.
"I got everything..." he said, smiling.
I had a fleeting thought of asking his name, but chickened out. He walked out the door and I just sat there with the stupidest look on my face--I couldn't stop smiling. My friend quickly said, "Go get his number!" I couldn't make myself...
Thinking of it now, I wish I would have asked for his name. It's not everyday that you meet a handsome, charming, warm, engaging guy who obviously loves Jesus and is willing to come over and start a somewhat deep conversation with the lightest air to it with you. I kept telling my friend that he reminded me of someone famous... Yep, Gerard Butler. Google the name for a pic. That's the guy I met tonight--at least the local, Jesus-loving version of him.
Walking to our cars, we realized that we had no idea where he came from after he walked to the door initially--it seemed like he reappeared out of thin air. Puzzled, we decided he may have been an angel. Our Gerard Butler angel.
My friend is officially praying that I run into him again. I don't think I'd mind it if that happened...
My friend and I were enjoying a little sushi, having abandoned our plans for a lakeside picnic with others who were all busy. We watched a movie that neither of us enjoyed and redeemed that a bit by heading out for dinner at a spot we both love. Our conversation looped from desiring to see some individuals we know experience redemption, then turned a corner closer to home where we explored what redemption means in some present personal realities.
Early in our time there a guy walked by and as he did so, inquired as to the type of roll I ordered saying something about how amazing it looked. I confirmed that it was indeed fabulous and he kept walking toward the door. We turned our attention back to the story at hand forgetting the interruption, delving once again into her story and process.
She and I reached a point in our dialogue where we were talking about what it means to walk in the truth and recognize that living in it fully can take time. At that point, the same guy came up to our booth, leaned on its side and wanted to know if we would mind him posing a question. He was perfectly charming and warm.
Smiling, he made a statement about grace then asked, "Do you believe the Holy Spirit convicts us of sin?"
"Yes," I replied.
"You do?"
"Yes, I do."
"Do you know that no where in the Bible does it talk about the Spirit convicting us of sin... It says that the Spirit convicts the world of sin..." then I joined him, "...of righteousness and of judgement" we finished; we were both smiling and I was nodding my head.
He went on to share more on what he had learned about grace, the meaning of repentance and what is required of us when it comes to forgiveness. Our dialogue lasted a whole three minutes maximum (and included me quoting more Scripture alongside him), but I was super impressed with this guy. He was so kind and interesting. I loved that he wasn't afraid to approach a couple of strangers and add to our dialogue. What he offered was such a blessing to my friend in that moment and many of the things he said have kept me thinking since I left the restaurant.
As we wrapped our brief conversation, he began to walk away and I noticed a take-out box in his hand.
"Did you get the volcano roll?" I asked.
"I got everything..." he said, smiling.
I had a fleeting thought of asking his name, but chickened out. He walked out the door and I just sat there with the stupidest look on my face--I couldn't stop smiling. My friend quickly said, "Go get his number!" I couldn't make myself...
Thinking of it now, I wish I would have asked for his name. It's not everyday that you meet a handsome, charming, warm, engaging guy who obviously loves Jesus and is willing to come over and start a somewhat deep conversation with the lightest air to it with you. I kept telling my friend that he reminded me of someone famous... Yep, Gerard Butler. Google the name for a pic. That's the guy I met tonight--at least the local, Jesus-loving version of him.
Walking to our cars, we realized that we had no idea where he came from after he walked to the door initially--it seemed like he reappeared out of thin air. Puzzled, we decided he may have been an angel. Our Gerard Butler angel.
My friend is officially praying that I run into him again. I don't think I'd mind it if that happened...
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