A glimpse into my faith, my dream of writing, and reaching people for Christ through my words.
You saw who I was
And died for me anyways
Love was not blind.
But all knowing.
Which makes the gift,
Even harder to understand.
You knew my flaws,
My inner heart, my thoughts,
And still, gave Your life
For mine.
You Who were perfect,
Who never made a mistake,
Silently let them nail You
to a cross, a crown of thorns,
pressed into your brow,
with blood dripping down,
The white and blameless lamb,
Stained crimson red, tarnished,
instead of
me.
The storm is coming,
But the promise remains.
Tears are salty raindrops
That fall from eyes
Instead of clouds.
They speak for us
When our pain
Cuts off our words.
The pain stems from
Disappointment, heart break,
When we feel alone-
like no one sees,
like no one understands,
like no one cares.
We think they run
Unseen-down our cheeks,
Our chin, then gone
As we face reality,
And let go of hope
As it slides away,
Falling from our faces,
But leaving trenches,
Felt only in our own hearts.
But- Someone does see.
Someone does understand.
Someone does care.
He feels our pain,
And collects each tear,
Saving them in a bottle.
He holds each tear, sees
Each fear. Knowing our true
selves, and loving us anyway.
Reminding us hope is
Never gone, His love
Is never unattainable.
When pain consumes,
When questions stay unanswered,
When nothing makes sense,
His love stays. And He
Saves and rescues, each and
Every undeserving piece
Of your soul,
Of your heart,
Of your tears.
And He never lets you go.
The lights glow, outlining,
Highlighting, forecasting,
In shades of red, then green.
And yellow, the in between.
Droplets slide down the glass
Some clinging to the door handle,
Others falling, splat, to the pavement
Not able to hold on as life spins away.
Lightning strikes, cracking the earth,
Opening the seams, energy,
Electricity, transferred from the sky
To the ground, and those close by.
Thunder rolls off the clouds, the hills,
Echoing the lost and forgotten hopes, the
Broken and shattered dreams, the chances
Not taken, that have turned to regrets.
She stares up, searching the stars,
But they’re hidden by the storm, out of reach.
She blinks, wondering if it’ll pass,
So she can try again.
We read there is a season for everything
And we read more, pray more,
To try to understand
If we need to wait, to be patient,
Or pray for the strength to let go,
To finally, and fully, move on,
For healing to kick in, to
Settle the dust, sweep away the cobwebs.
Seal every crack on the surface,
And underneath.
Or is it time to go ahead?
Dropping new seeds into damp soil,
Covering them, sheltering them,
Until enough rain, sun, and nurturing
Allows the first shoot to sprout.
But, what if, instead of planting,
It’s time to pluck? To rip the
familiar and comfortable from their roots.
Tearing leaves and tossing them to the wind.
Letting them flutter and float away,
Before swirling and snapping across the ground.
Will the questions ever have answers?
Will the times, the seasons, ever make sense?
In His timing, in His timing alone,
Will the beauty ever be revealed,
Will the answers ever be given.
A rainbow is hard to photograph,
Almost impossible to capture, to hold.
A trick of light, the play of an angle,
Gone before you know it was real.
Their beauty is radiant, like nothing else,
But you have to accept some darkness first—
The clouds, the downpour, the winds of change—
Before you can see, or appreciate, the color.
Light and storm have to combine,
For the arch, the spectrum, to show.
The droplets have to reflect, refract, disperse,
Sending the beam one way, before the other.
They follow the opposite schedule of the sun,
Shining in the west early, the east late.
Unpredictable, but constant, always there,
Just waiting for their chance to be.
Only under certain circumstances will one form,
When the timing is perfect, the conditions just right.
And even then, the view changes from eye to eye.
Where’s the beginning? What’s waiting, at the end?
One Word at a Time 