.it swells.

 

.sometimes you almost feel like the beautiful woman of God you always hoped you were. it's like you see a glimpse of who you always dreamt you could be. and for a moment you believe it's possible. it's that fraction of a second where the relief (of finally seeing the beauty inside you being represented) swells. then it's gone. but you're glad it isn't always this way, or you tell yourself that. because if you always saw or could feel this tiny bit of beauty it wouldn't mean as much to you. so you read and re-read 1 peter 3:3-5 

"Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. For this is the way the holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to adorn themselves."

.and then you pray. you pray that He will change you. or give people eyes to see your spirit instead of your body. you knock on the door, having realized the person that you are, knowing that the only beautiful thing in you is your God. you knock on the door and ask for anything more beautiful than yourself, anything quiet and gentle. and the only thing that you want is Christ.

.and the only thing you want. .is Christ.

.and all that comes with Him.

.capturing damage.

"i want you to be a writer", she said... "you are so good at capturing damage."


You We promised You'd We'd never be like them.
remembering the pain of years spent
picking up and sorting through their mess.
we promised we'd never be like them.
but it's late.
and it's more complicated than we could've imagined.
disregaurding our parents fumbles by
not viewing them as warning signs.
allowing the bruises to be covered with burns.
the tension is high; comforting.
this household, charachterized by the harsh words, hateful tones,
hurts we inflicted, and pain we've aquired.
and somedays, if not everyday
we try and muster up the strength to pray,
Pray that the love that once was.
is still enough.
that we are different.
but i don't know anymore.

are you learning to forget?

i am many things.

i am a liar. i scream "know me!" and "hide me!" in the same breath. 

i am a fool. i excuse acts of debauchery for youth. and i run my mouth as if words have no consequence, just like my actions. 

i am lazy. i'll sleep all day. and when you call me sloth, i'll imagine slapping you instead of getting up to do it.

i am of little faith. one day i'm all in. next hour i've got one foot out the door.

the mystery, 

the mystery that i am often faced with is

when people know me and love me.

when they get me and still love me.

when someone understands me. 

and loves me in spite of myself.

that is my God. that is my Christ.

i am the unlovely. the untouchable.

the ruiner. the least likely. the last place. 

knowing this about myself. 

knowing that i am all of these things.

knowing that i am broken.

i will try so hard, so hard, i promise.

and i will let everyone down. 

my fatal flaw is my nature.

and for that, i apologize.

lately i've been thinking i should warn people when they meet me.
maybe they should sign some sort of waiver- 

it might be easier for you if you avoid me,

it might be easier for you if you shut me out. 

but if you let me in, 

i'll try.

i don't want to be your Savior.

but ill try to love like Him.

ill try to listen with His ears 

and see with His eyes.

just a thought.

my spirit will one day sit on the steps of eternity
and i will have forgotten all that i once was.