Tag: faith

Let Go

I loosen my grip,
Lift up my hands,
Let everything slide
Away.

I move each finger,
Maintain my composure,
Make myself take a
Breath.

I stare at my reflection,
Sigh so I can think,
See the pain mixed with
Hope.

I blink back the tears,
Break away from the mirror,
Bring myself to face the
Truth.

My grip will never be,
Tight enough, to hold on,
To anything that isn’t
God’s plan.

Not Done

one decision, one second, that
can’t be undone
brought me here, to a place
where memories haunt.

everything spun, out of control,
but seemed slower
than real life ever could—
accenting each mistake,

the regrets, the words unsaid,
screamed louder than
before—and echoed behind closed
lids. keeping me from peace.

but the silence now seems louder
than the screams ever dreamed,
leaving only the pounding truth
of my own heartbeat.

dreams, plans, and goals, can
just disappear, with
the next breath, the next blink,
leaving everything, everyone, behind.

life isn’t ours to keep.

it belongs to the One who
created it,
Who makes plans I can’t comprehend,
showing love that’s not deserved.

with arms outstretched, He reached
from east to west,
welcoming me back, no matter
how far I’ve wandered.

He takes the lies I hold as truth,
and showers me
with His grace and mercy,
telling my heart it’s okay,

telling me I am loved, that
I am more
than my mistakes and faults,
that there is a purpose,

Because He isn’t done with me yet.

Someone Like Me

Someone like me—
deals with anxiety.
Caring too much for
what doesn’t matter.
And not enough for
what truly does.

Someone like me—
falls short over and over.
Never enough, never
brave, never perfect.
Failing, flailing,
hurting myself, and others.

Someone like me—
stutters and stumbles.
Struggling with the same
things, every single time.
Wondering if there will ever
be change. Or hope.

Someone like me—
is never understood by
those who surround me.
My thoughts, my dreams,
never match theirs,
dividing my heart in half.

Someone like me—
is unworthy, alone to
face the giants and fears.
Trembling, shaking, shattering,
instead of taking hold of the
stones in my hand.

Someone like me—
is hopeless, a lost cause.
Getting left behind in this life.
Deserving nothing but darkness,
shame, and guilt. The
results of my stupidity.

But Someone like Him—
Redefined my future, redefined
every lie I believe about
myself. With one display
of incomprehensible love—
His death on the cross.

Someone like Him,
has plans for me,
using my failures, my falls,
my anxiety— to create a
masterpiece I can’t see.
Or even start to understand.

Someone like Him,
loves even the most unlovable
pieces of my heart and soul.
Tearing down the walls,
the barrier of sin and hell,
so I can have a forever with Him.

Someone like Him,
With unending mercy and
relentless love, takes my
unworthiness, my guilt, my shame,
and all of the other lies I hold,
and breathes truth into my darkness—

Reaching me with unshakable kindness.
Holding me with unchanging patience.
Freeing me with unfailing grace.

And loving me, when no one should.

Me

A creative mind, an over-thinker,
Always wondering what if,
Always asking how come,
Always needing the why,  

Makes for an introspective person,
Who would rather tell stories
To herself, and poems to the wind,
Than hold a lengthy conversation.

Her hand curls around her pen,
Words and hopes flowing out.
Dreams that will stay unspoken
Slide out in ink over her paper.

It’s here, on paper, that she has the
Control—her thoughts and actions run
The show. The characters in her mind have
No choice, but to do as she says.

This is a place where her mistakes
Never happened; she can fix anything,
And everything, she regrets. She doesn’t
Hesitate, or think, before she speaks.

Real life is hard for her, simply
Because it doesn’t work this way.
She doesn’t have control, she doesn’t
Know the whole, or even part of, the plot.

She can’t imagine Someone knowing,
The story better than she does.
It’s difficult to understand that His words,
And plot, are better than her own.

She still wonders what if, she still asks
How come, and she’ll always long for
the why. But she is learning to find comfort
From the heart of the One who made her.

So with tears in my eyes, I work each finger
Carefully taking each one and letting go,
Releasing my hold off of my pen,
And I give it all back to Him.

Forgiven

There she stood, alone,
Battered and broken beneath
Their glares.

They knew her crime,
The wrong she had done,
And stood willing to throw

Rocks and stones, sharp
Edges in their hands.
Ready to punish, ready to end.

The Teacher came, to see,
To answer their questions,
To make them pause,

To think about their own lives.
And challenge the guiltless,
The perfect, to be the first

To condemn.

The rocks and stones slid
Like snow from their fingers.
As they all went away.

Realizing they had no place
To judge, to blame, to punish.
They were all just as shamed.

Still, she stood, cringing,
Waiting, for her fate from
The One Who was blameless.

He was the One Who
Could condemn. Who could
Reach down for rocks to throw.

But the only thing he picked up,
Were the pieces of her heart
To put back together.

To forgive.


I don’t normally like to explain my poetry. I like to let the imagery speak for itself and let each reader come to their own conclusions. Sure, I always have my own meanings, but I like to let the reader make decisions. But this one is based off of John 8:3-11. I read this passage in my devotional a few days ago and it has stuck with me. The perfect Savior, the One who could have picked up the rocks, did not condemn the woman. He let her go with love and forgiveness. To me, that’s such a strong image, and I wanted to write about it.

Easter

Humble wood,
from the bark of a simple tree.
Seemingly innocent, but this
is where You died for me.

The bark nailed together,
You nailed to it.
You did nothing wrong,
but here, You paid my debt.

You were mocked and laughed at,
cursed at and jeered.
You could have saved Yourself, but You stayed.
So my name could be cleared.

To the tomb You went,
locked behind a stone.
But here, You wouldn’t stay.
Your place is on the throne.

Three days later, You conquered
death and the grave.
All that suffering and torture,
so that me, You could save.

No greater love exists,
than what You showed me here.
You tore down every wall.
You took care of every fear.

Sin has no hold anymore,
death has no power.
All my thanks goes to You,
my Lord, my Strong Tower.

Maker

Imagine the carpenter
Hovering over plain, shapeless wood,
Running His finger tips over the surface,
Picturing the piece He’ll create.

Take a look at the artist,
His hand curled around His brush,
Selecting each color, pressing each stroke,
Treasuring the image on the canvas.

Be sure to watch the writer,
Chewing on the end of His pen,
Crafting the story, choosing each word,
Feeling the narrative as it unfolds.

Do your best to fathom,
How it looks when all of these combine,
Into one Master, Creator, Maker,
The God who doesn’t make mistakes.

Picture Him hovering over every piece and part,
Selecting each shape, each color with care,
Crafting every detail of every day,
Writing each moment, choosing each word.

Wrap your head around this truth,
And hold it deep inside your heart,
Even the pieces you don’t like,
Even the story lines you can’t understand,
Are still a part of His masterpiece.
Are still a part of His perfect plan.

The Christmas Lamb

A simple sheep, a little lamb,
With fleece so soft and white.
Small and frail, innocent, pure,
Born into a bigger plan.

To protect, to keep perfect and safe,
Shepherds would wrap his legs with care
Single strips of swaddling cloths,
Holding and shaping each precious limb.

Stronger he grew, frolicking and grazing,
Always under the shepherd’s watch,
Until the time came for inspection,
Until the time came for sacrifice.  

A sweet baby boy, a little child,
Born among the sheep and cattle,
Came from a virgin, a young girl,
And rested in a cold, stone cradle.

She wrapped Him in the same cloths,
The shepherds used for the sheep,
And laid him down in hay that poked,
Like the thorns of His future crown.

He grew into a man and began His ministry,
Performing miracles, preaching, and leading,
Until the world turned against Him,
Until they all demanded crucifixion.   

Like the sheep led to slaughter,
He followed with no complaint.
The Lamb of God died on the cross,
Forever taking the sheep’s place.

He returned to the bed of stone,
This time a tomb, instead of a cradle,
Wrapped again in simple cloths,
Laid down and placed for final rest.

But on the third day, He rose again,
Defeating death and darkness at once.
The little child, of humble birth,
Destroyed the hold of the serpent’s curse.

The perfect Prince took our place,
And died the death He didn’t deserve,
All so we could receive His gift, His love,
And a life with Him forever.

The little lamb, the manger scene,
The shepherd’s care, the virgin mother,
Were all part of the Master plan, the greater message:
Christmas has no meaning without Easter.

A Stupid Fish

            I prefer to keep to myself. I don’t like to start conversations with strangers. I don’t like people I don’t know learning my name. The thought of interacting with a large number of people actually gives me a stomach ache. So when I got a job at PetSmart, where I actually get paid to do the things that give me anxiety, I wasn’t sure how it would go.

           I’ve now been working at PetSmart for three months. I wear a name tag, and have to initiate conversations with strangers every day. I’ve cleaned up dog poop and puke, caught birds (which whoever domesticated birds and thought we should keep them as pets was seriously mistaken), been bitten by hamsters, clawed by cats, and I come home every day smelling like fish tanks and crickets. I’ve been chewed out by customers to my face and over the phone, for several reasons, but mostly for things that are out of my control. The most recent incident that comes to mind involves a fish tank filter cartridge that has been discontinued, meaning it will no longer be offered in our store. We are a smaller PetSmart than most stores, so we have a limit to what products we can sell, but they would still be available at another PetSmart or online. The customer didn’t appreciate this explanation, demanded to speak with a manager, and even after we gave her what we had left of the filter cartridge for free, she continued ranting for thirty minutes about how I don’t care about pets and that when her fish die, it will be my fault… I want a t-shirt that says retail workers are people too, please be nice. But that takes me into a whole other discussion about how we are all people, created by God, let’s be nice to everyone, but I’ll save that for another day.

          I’ve learned more about animals and animal care in the last three months than most people will in a lifetime. I didn’t know 90% of a guinea pig’s diet needs to be hay, or that they can’t have exercise wheels or balls like hamsters because of how their spines are formed. I’ve handled and fed snakes, and even though I know their strike is coming for the frozen prey I heated up, that I’m timidly holding with a pair of tongs, I will jump and squeal every time it happens. The other day, I even gave a snake a shot. Believe me, I didn’t volunteer. The managers thought I would be the only one who could handle it (Thank you Animal Science degree). I’ve given ten guinea pigs a bath with Dawn Dish Detergent because a coworker covered them in olive oil. He was supposed to oil the habitat, not the animals… There are a bunch of other little tales I could tell you, but I don’t want to get off track from my point in boring you with all of this.

          Even though we are a smaller PetSmart, we still have 68 fish tanks. As you can imagine, that equals a lot of fish. After working there for a couple of weeks, and cleaning approximately sixteen tanks a day, I came home and apologized to my mom for ever having fish. Scrubbing the glass and vacuuming the rocks is a lot of work, and my back and knees are always protesting by the time I finish. Catching fish is also a lot of work, and fish parents are not typically patient, and are picky about how you handle their fish. It’s quite stressful, but the most important lesson I’ve learned working there comes from the fish.

          One of my morning tasks is feeding the fish. I quickly memorized which tanks get tropical flakes, which tanks get the algae tablets, who gets the bottom feeder pellets, and who gets the cichlid pellets. I also seem to have mastered how long to soak the goldfish flakes before pouring them into the tank. (I guess that’s another fun fact I’ve learned. Goldfish need their flakes soaked so they drift to the bottom of the tank, so the Goldfish don’t inhale too much air.) The walls of the tanks are all glass, so customers can see the fish, but the fish can also see their friends in neighboring tanks. This is especially entertaining at feeding time, when the fish see the food floating in the tank next door, and go after it, just to miss the food floating in their own tank. The first few times I would laugh, shake my head, and think you stupid fish to myself. Then one day, something occurred to me.

          I am a stupid fish.

          No, I’m not swimming around in a tank banging in to the glass because I think my food is on the other side, but how often do I look at someone else’s life, and compare? How often do I miss what God is doing in my life because I’m too caught up in what He has done in someone else’s? How often do I question His plan for me because I feel forgotten based on what He’s doing over there?

          The answer? Way too often.

          One of my biggest flaws is getting caught up in the “could have beens” or the “should have beens,” and even the “what ifs.” I “could have been” a college softball pitcher, had I been a little better or a little braver. I “should have been” eventing at preliminary this year, but my horse got hurt, then had to be retired. “What if” I hadn’t changed my major in college? “What if” I had done this instead of that? I’ve spent a lot of time regretting and doubting, which hasn’t done anything for me but create anger and sadness. I see the successes and joys in the lives of those around me, and find myself questioning what I did wrong to end up here, wondering when it will be my turn to find that happiness and accomplishment.

          Now that I’ve gained some perspective from my fish friends, I can see how the pain and disappointment I’ve experienced in the last couple of years have prepared me for where I am now. I don’t have all of the answers. Let me rephrase that. Most days, I don’t feel like I have any of the answers. But I know the God who does, and I know that each day, each event, each step forward or backward, is taking me where He wants me to be.

          Proverbs 19:21 says, “Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.” I can make plans and change them. I can make a decision, but not follow through. I can fail. I can, and will, fail again. I can feel like I’ve made a mistake that has brought me to where I am today. But I can’t change the plan or the purpose God has for me. And at this point in my life, this is the fact that I am clinging to, and finding comfort in.

          Of all the jobs and careers I have dreamed of, or thought might interest me, PetSmart never crossed my mind. I’m not sure why I applied, but when the phone interview, in person interview, and job offer all came in a matter of five hours, I felt like it was something I needed to do. I don’t know how long I’ll stay, or where I’ll end up after, but I know I’ve already learned a lesson that I’ll take with me anywhere I go.

          Stop looking in the other tanks. You’re missing what’s already in yours.