Long Way Home

 For the past few weeks, I felt that I was doing pretty well. Life was picking up, I was nannying, hanging out with friends and working with the kids at Grace church on Sundays, which has been such a blessing and a blast. And there’s a part of me that always wants that, to be in a comfortable time, nothing going wrong, just a nice, happy season. However, I’m learning that Life doesn’t respect the fact that I like things to be cut into seasons and Life certainly didn’t get the memo that now is a happy season.

 A friend of mine from Grace church was in an awful car accident and initially, it looked grim. And it was as if, in that moment, my heart was convinced that God had fallen off the throne and didn’t have a clue as to what was going on. No matter what I said to myself, reminding myself of who God is and all the usual things, good, in control ect, my heart wasn’t taking any of that.

 I haven’t really been super angry for ages but this time it was as if an ocean was unleashed, taking anything it crashed into with it. Something would happen, I’d instantly see the worst case scenario and be convinced it would end of being reality. Then my health insurance had an issue and I had to pay $1,500 for a month’s supply of my daily injection, something I need. Suddenly, money became a huge worry until I worried myself into a nasty cold.

 You may have heard this before, that if you’re angry with God and with life, that’s okay and it’s better to just have it out with Him. It took me a few days but I finally had the angry asking, accusing and finally the tired emptiness, coming back to the fact that I’ve got nothing. I love people and in doing that, I want to fix their bad situations. I’d grown too self-dependent to pray for situations and then felt utterly helpless when I (inevitably) couldn’t change anything.

 There wasn’t the instant “oh wow I feel great again” but after The Discussion, I ended up giving things to God and then leaving them. I still freaked out over money but God brought up three different companies who all want to sort out the issue for me. I focused on Today and God (probably chuckling at me) did His thing and has been taking care of things.

 There are a lot of things wrong with our world, our lives and a lot of things happen out of the blue, punching you in the gut. It’s hard not to focus on those things. But as soon as you do, you don’t see God the way He really is. He’s not the puppeteer who makes bad things happen because it makes a better story that way. But as He lets things happen, He is there, hand ready for you to take it and trust Him.

 God’s heart is one of abundant love, this epic downpour that soaks you to the bone. God’s heart is a father and little daughter dancing in a field on a beautiful summer day. God’s heart is the hug that doesn’t let go as you wait in the hospital, dreading the impending news.

 Life is hard. The most out of the blue garbage will be dumped on you. The thing is, (spoiler) God wins. We’re on our way Home, where the fight is over and tears only fall out of joy. It might seem like it’s taking forever. But we’ll get there. It’s just the long way home.    

Grace

The darkness was dotted with many stars,

Some small, some large but all shining,

Reaching slivers of connection and unique voice.

We, the stars, grew to orbit the darkness,

Spheres overlapping, light joining for a time

Before the tide moved us forward again.

You shone with kindness, a compliment

And a gentle smile made of contentment,

A fire to warm and inspire sparks of motion.

For brief moments, we impacted each other

But a flicker, a gust of cold wind

And you were Not, lost to this dimension.

But whispers came to my wandering light

Of a place named Day, a light called Sun

That created our cores and allotted our time.

You are safe in the sun’s sweet beams

And I orbit on, forgetting as I sleep

But I smile in the dark; you are home.

Litera

Cast through a wicked whirling portal, flailing

Among stardust and murky acid ink spots,

Not daring to breathe lest I shatter

In this swift loss of vibrant lands.

Now place a new, traversing dusty roads

With a red book of lover letters in hand

To seek echoes of your wandering soul

Amidst lies of love and dark dreams.

Memory may be trapped in old stone

And your cruel prison has no solid locks

But your words write a narrow way
And I hope they’ll lead us back home.

After Atiloquence

Time has unraveled as undisturbed borders alter shape

Without source, unquestioned by primordial trees,

For they merely observe from their safe eugeria.

But I dwell in alterity, aliferous without a sky

Or dreams to bring alleviation…so sleep is desolate

And I suspend in the achorontic expanse of glassy stars.

All my atiloquence falls lifeless to the lurid land

And in a swift sweep, my kilderkin is revealed,

Possible once this crystalline sphere has deliquesced,

So I flex my abandoned wings and linger awhile more. 

After England

 It’s been over a year since I flew to England and grew in leaps and bounds, a foundation set down for the rest of my life. I wrote a good long piece about all the things I learned there and it truly was an amazing, life changing experience. But I also have to say that the transition from Capernwray to Real Life was brutal.

 I’ve been thinking a lot about my home away from home lately, about my dear friends and those safe rolling green fields. There’s no other way to say it; Capernwray, the grounds, the community, it was a taste of heaven. For six months, I lived in this bubble of safety, growing in a shelter of perpetual learning and positive conversations. Every worship time together, singing and praising God in our unique ways was a lovely constant foreshadowing of how heaven will be. It was easy, it was safe, and inevitably, it came to an end.

 I was actually surprised that it took me a year before I started wishing every now and then that I was back in England. When I first left, I was ready to go, knowing the next step had to happen now and the timing was perfect. I was sad but not on a deep level and as soon as my next chapter began, Capernwray became a pleasant dream that shaped who I was, but I could keep it resting in my memory.

 We left our castle dreaming of big things, ready to face the world, bring Jesus to the masses and live life to the fullest every day. Our teachers told us leaving Capernwray would be hard and that real life would be tough but I wasn’t prepared for how hard it would be to just live a normal life.

 God led me (in quite an obvious way) to work as a cashier in a college dining hall, which has been such a blessing in so many ways and it’s exactly where God wants me. I know He’s been using me to bless people, to help them in practical ways, and it’s amazing because these are future pilots, nurses, musicians and church ministry workers who God will use and I get to help them in that. But Capernwray didn’t prepare me for the thoughts that creep in; “you’re just a cashier”, “shouldn’t you be doing something big like these students?”, “you aren’t doing enough to change the world”.

 That’s been my dream, to change the world in a huge meaningful way. I want to help orphans, I want to comfort everyone who suffers from depression and anxiety. I want to share my story and tell people what God has done and is doing. I want to change the world.

 It was very easy at Capernwray to see that we were doing something grand and meaningful. We had flown to another country simply to be with God and learn about Him. We went out on Outreach and physically helped people out and they were so excited and thankful. We knew we were helping, being useful and God had used us.

 Real Life is way different. Most of the time you don’t know how God has used you and you won’t know until you get to Heaven (won’t that be the best thing?) And that has started to weigh me down every now and then; I’m only living life, going to work, coming home, and that’s that. Where’s the change? How am I being useful? Things start to go downhill from there once those thoughts start creeping in.

 But that’s the thing; I’m focusing on myself. I’m belittling God’s ability to use every single thing we do. Being a Christian is simply walking through life with God and He’ll do the most fantastic things, without me and my dreams getting in the way. He loves to take the little things and make Himself seen in them. All He asks is that I remain open to whatever He has in store and He will dream for me.

 This is Real Life, where we go to school or work, do “normal” everyday things. But if we’re walking with God, open to Him, then every “normal” thing matters. God uses it all for His glory and the hope is found in trusting that He is working things out, that He is using you. God isn’t confined to our grand actions; He works in the little things too. So I’m thankful I had my time in England but I’m also thankful to be in the Real World. This is where the adventure is. It’s hard, things fall apart, there’s a lot of laughter and tears and England was safer. And to be honest, changeable feelings aside, there’s no place I would rather be than where God has me, right here, right now.

On the Waves

Just a little while longer,

Hold me safe, wrapped up

Until I come to shore

And can fall completely apart,

Melt into the warm sand.

There I’ll lie in pieces,

Soaking in the healing sun

And then a form walks by,

Hands of love shaping slowly,

Pieces renewed and combined,

Wild waves held at bay;

A hand pulls me back up

“let’s dance along the shore

And then into those waves!”

And we danced on them,

Free and joyful once more.

Fly Away

Let me fly with the birds
away from these dark ashes
to clearer skies of hope.
Wings made of mere dreams
taking shape and taking flight
beyond this flat mortal realm.

Wishing Star

In a night so horribly dark,
I looked up at the sky
and saw a star so bright,
beaming down on my sorrow.
I made a wish so pure,
wishing for healing inside me,
peace in the troubled world
and happiness for my family.
I wished to find love
and be sweet hearted,
be a good, caring parent
and change the whole world.
All this and much more,
I wished upon that star;
but then that great light
moved steadily in the dark
and I saw my wishing
star was only an airplane.

A Hurt

Though my years were many,
I found myself as a child
in the golden forever field,
running to Your open arms.
Gently, you carried me to
the towering safe place
where You set me down
and wiped my tears away.
 "Sweet child, what is it?"
I held out my heart,
in many ravaged pieces,
and You took it lovingly.
"I'll take care of this."

On the Sand

I’ve been filled up so much

That I’ve toppled and spilled,

Now lying empty in the sands.

Weakly, I gave myself up,

Far too weary to try struggling,

So that I become the sand,

Un-individual, lying in hot sunlight.

But that was exactly my place,

Where I was meant to be

And He met me there, smiled,

Took my hand and drew me up

So I discovered who I was,

His precious and adored little girl.

Buried Idol

It was quick as murder,

Shocking to you, half victim

And I must have seemed

Utterly out of my mind,

Writing a nonsense letter, lethal

Poison dripped in your veins

So our friendship shriveled

Up and lay utterly cold.

You thought all was well

But the rot was underneath,

Eating at the pedestal

I had placed you upon,

And I was infected too;

See, it would have spread,

Had I not buried it.

Deep in the damp ground

Where the worms delight

And no one may reclaim

What has been left there.

My sweet one, I’m sorry,

But you had become my

Idol and I had to bury

You deeply in the ground.

The Art of Letting Go

The art of letting go

Is a simple, needed art

So often overlooked and lost,

Leaving the artist ever reaching

Towards a light now passed.

It’s a deep breath in

And then let out forever,

Transforming thought patterns

And placing memories once dear

In the ground to be forgotten.

It’s when you hear news

But don’t give in to darkness

That beckons your frail heart,

And it’s refusing to cry

Over tear stained hopes long

Shattered and scattered forever.

It’s the fight to step

Forward out of the night,

Past the crumbling old year

Into the new where summer

Dances in new dreams of hope.

The art of letting go

Rips at your core and

At times, forging on seems

Futile and yet know this;

It is the most worthwhile

Art to be learned of all.

Forgetfulness is Bliss

 In a panic, I opened my eyes, trying to shake the clammy feeling of being submerged under water. I didn’t recognize where I was or why I was there, though I had the strangest feeling I should. Suddenly, at my side, dark eyes peeked at me, delighted or perhaps simply curious.

 “You’re awake! I can’t believe it!” He said, raking my hand in a familiar way that made me quite uncomfortable. I sat up and inched away from the boy or rather, man, awkwardly retrieving my hand.

 “Who are you?” Only three simple words and yet somehow they knocked the light right out of his eyes and I felt horrible for speaking. The all trees around us swayed slowly in the cool breeze, leaves rustling like a long forgotten symphony.

 “Kathy.” He whispered, its’ significance lost to me in my hazy mind. Though I searched desperately for anything clear, only fleeting shadows appeared in my head. At my lack of response, I could see his heart shatter, this boy man who seemed to know me and yet was nameless.

 “I’m so sorry.” He finally said, sitting down in the dirt beside me. “I should have come back to you sooner.” I remained silent, unsure of everything. “I was a fool! You were right.”

 An image flashed in my mind, another man with an impish grin and something wondrous in his hands. A name well known that just now escaped me. A bargain of some sort, and then darkness that would take away the blazing light.

 My silence did nothing to encourage the one beside me. Moving over so that he faced me, he tenderly looked into my eyes as though trying to search my very soul. “Kathy?” The assurance in his voice now wavered.

 Stiffly, I stood and took a few steps in no particular direction. More images were creeping and flashing in mind, making me dizzy. Patiently, I waited for clarity. One image, eyes that looked at me and then turned away, leaving me behind in the light…the light of truth. Truth that was too much to bare.

 “You.” I said, looking at the pitiful boy on the ground. “I’m this way because of you.”

 He didn’t understand, or perhpaps he was too afraid to admit he did. Though the haze still hung over my memories, my feelings were awake. “I can’t remember…because of you.”

 “Can’t…remember?” His disbelief quickly turned to horror as he looked at the object I suddenly realized I held. A glass bottle with only a single drop of green liquid remaining. “Kathy, you…you didn’t! You went to….him?”

 Him. The man who grinned and promised relief from the burning truth I’d been mercilessly thrown into. Yes, he gave me that precious glass bottle, the key to freedom, to healing from….but I knew not what from. That was the cure.

 The boy had dropped his head into his hands, shoulders hunched as if bearing a great weight. Perhaps he was, bearing the weight that had been taken from me by the green liquid.

 “I…well, I’m not sorry.” I said matter of factly. “Obviously I had to do it. To be driven to a point of such pain that the eraser of the memories was the only solution, well…clearly it was my last hope. I assume you know whatever it is that I’ve forgotten.”

 “Kathy.” The way he said the name, my name, as though he caressed it, treasured it above anything else, I heard it but felt nothing. Stone cold against whatever heat drove his words.

 “I didn’t think…oh Kathy. I thought, in my heart, you’d always be there in the end and…well, I was scared! But I didn’t think you would…choose to forget me.”

 “I knew you then?” Indifference, plain honesty was all I felt and spoke, far more interested in the rest of my memories, which were finally sharpening. I was Kathy. I had a life to get back to.

 “I’ll get you back.” He was chattering, speaking more to himself than me. Standing up, he took my hand once more and gripped it desperately.

 “I should have said this when you did, but I was frightened. A coward. But I’ll say it no; I love you too. And whatever you’ve done, I’ll find a way to bring you back!”

 I knew then, without remembering. “I had loved you.” I said, interrupting his dreams of heroism. “And I told you so, but you ran away.”

 “Yes.” It pained him. “But I’m not running away now. I’ll save you, bring you back and then we can start a new life, together.”

 I pulled my hand from his and touched a steady finger to his lips, silencing him.

 “Why do I need saving?” The question startled him. “The potion saved me. Clearly I was in unbearable pain before and now I’m perfectly well. I feel….” Looking up, I could see in the far distance, through the leaves of the trees that sunlight was just up ahead. “I feel happy. And I think that’s something I haven’t felt in a long time. So I have no desire to be ‘saved’, understand?”

 Slowly, I began to walk through the forest. “I don’t even know your name.” I said, leaving him behind among the swaying trees, leaving the shadow of the forest to enter the light of a new life.

The Choice

 In the wasteland, among the tribes of dogs, she was the wolf, all alone in the crowds. Some thought she was alone by choice of the others but the truth was, the choice was ultimately hers and she reveled in it. Solitude was her sweet sister, days on end without a word spoken. Isolated by choice.

 Yet was it always her choice? Or was the source of her choices now spawned from the need to survive in the past? To fit in, she tried so hard to be with them, of them, one of them and yet time and again she was slammed into the wall until her bones were shattered and she withdrew.

 A choice, to be alone, but is it a choice when there’s only one way? Acceptance is for others, to be as they are and so she stopped seeking the dream. It became her new dream, new identity and there was no going back. So now it was her choice, a path of her own without friend to lift from the falls. Tears cried on starless nights fall unchecked and unseen and by morning, have made no impact to the world.

 Is it her choice to be alone? It is now, but still, buried somewhere deep within the mausoleum of her soul lies that yearning hope to be called out to, asked to join the group. Perhaps one day, a little girl sitting on a bench by herself will be approached, hands out; “Come play with us.”

Salt and Light

 There among the sugar sit salt grains looking for all the world like the white crystals it fraternizes with. So different, yet to the eye, who can tell? The salt should make a difference, preserving the breaking, cracking world, bandaging the wounds so deep and holding on to the disintegrating culture. Yet indistinguishable, it combines into the melting pot of society. Where is the different? Why does the rot continue on, unpreserved by our lackluster efforts?

 Flavoring a grey bland existence, parching the soul so it yearns for liquid pure and precious. Promises kept, keepers of the way not sweet, salt is, gentle to the hard hearted weepers and life giving to even the most dead soul, reviving from the depths of the earth.

 And in the starless night when questions pummel the mind, cloudy skies of pain overhead, even the smallest struck match makes a difference. Warmth, such sweet comfort in a night so cold, a difference in a consistent darkness. Fog is heavy and deadly among the rocks in the sea but a beam cutting through can become a lifeline back to safety.

 Every child knows that the monsters under the bed won’t attack if the lights are on, so can’t we be the permanent night light? Light to bring comfort when shadows dance and light to chase the hungry fears from the whimpering infant. Ringing across the glen revealing truth; monsters are only rocks and trees in the wind.

 In the world dark and bland should both salt and light be present and we are those. Different to make a difference to change the structure and the skeleton of society. Don’t let the table be left empty so that the meal be consumed untasted and to eat in the dark is not advised either. Flip the light switch on and please pass the salt.

Beyond the Glass

The pitter patter against

The cold window pane was

A steady beat as I cried

At the cruelty of life.

With words so swift,

My fragile world of glass

Was shattered beyond repair

And now I sit among

The countless shards.

Slowly down the glass,

I watch rain droplets

Reflect my streaming tears,

Falling one by one

Adding to my inner despair.

But there is a voice

Calling to me from beyond

The cold, spattered glass.

A call to shift my

Nearsighted gaze, to

See past the dripping

Drops, past the sorrow,

And through the window.

Suddenly revealed to me

Is a glorious sight;

Green shoots rising from

The ashy ground, new

Life proclaiming a mystery

So breathtakingly wondrous.

So, despite the cold rain,

I focus, with sweet grace,

On the glorious plan

That lies beyond the glass,

And one day, the rain

Will forever cease to fall.

The Call of a Knight

 The highest calling, that of a knight, glorious and honorable, a calling to anyone with a heart willing. One of highest standing, noble in deed and title. Yet to be a knight, a strong warrior in the face of a thousand armies, it is a life of tears and sorrows one must follow. Discipline is the greatest foe and friend, a rod to the back to teach what is right.

 Those tears that drench your pillow every night, with every bitter sob, strength and endurance are added, building up an impenetrable armor, though now it seems not so. The pain that grips your heart in a claw so cruel, twisting and squeezing it, breath gone from lungs, that pain is a gift in disguise, building up resistance for darker times to come.

 Not all complete their Quest, eaten by dragons or falling slave to the siren’s call. Yet to be a knight, to serve the King of all the land, that is the highest calling, to be pursued despite all short comings. When all seems hopeless, new strength will be given by a passerby shadowed in mystery.

 Squires so young, yet eager and yearning to learn their craft. Weak made strong by trial and ordeal, held in waters deep till lungs nearly burst but not quite, and crawling onto the shore breathing in sweet air, it’s hard to see the good it has done. Yet the next time, and the next, things will be just a fraction different and growth of self will have occurred.

 The Quest is the greatest one any adventurer could ever embark upon, with the greatest reward waiting at the end. To drink the cup of healing and eternal joy from the chalice of hope, to finally lay down the sword and sit at the banquet table, laughing and singing, giving thanks to the host, the King. 

By Faith

It could be there will

Be no healing, not here,

And the shadow of death

May always haunt my steps

And perhaps the sunshine

Will always be hidden away,

And still, by Faith, I

Will keep going forward,

Broken step by tired step.

Perhaps my heart may always

Ache with the weight of

A thousand, burning tears,

My uncontrollable thoughts betraying

My fragile, broken heart,

And perhaps I won’t see,

Not here, in the darkness.

But one day, light will

Reveal the greatest plan

And in fields of joy

Where the sun shines forever,

You’ll wipe away the last

Tear from my weary eyes

And make my heart whole.

Greater things are coming,

And I will keep focused

On my final resting place,

Where I will hear Your

Sweet voice of Love.

Soar

High above in the sea of blue,
soaring with wings finally unchained,
my soul is free to travel the world.
The smoke and ruins lie behind me
and at last, freedom is in my heart.
Blessed is the Author of life,
the writer of this glorious story;
in all of creation I see His hands.
He whispers hope on the wind
and brings joy with every sunbeam.
I'm flying to meet you, my Father;
the world has no hold of me.

Acquiesce

I walked away, leaving behind the ruin
and destruction of what we were.
I left you behind without second thought,
for my eyes were fixed only forward.
Seeking myself, lost in the darkness,
a quest I had to take alone.
You're an empty hollow in my heart
but the hollow is not to be my focus.
Climbing the mountain of my sorrows,
gaining strength, recovering lost pieces
until one day, I will reach the top,
and I can look back, see it all.
And then I'll tell you what I saw,
and then maybe we'll understand.