To Distract a Weary Mind...

I seem to have this immediate need to throw my energy into anything but thinking. 
I was watching The Golden Girls with my grandmother last night, and laughed so hard I cried. In a "eureka!" moment, I realized this show would do just the trick in distracting my exhausted heart and aching mind. Currently Watching: Episode 13 of Season One. 


Favourite Character: Sophia. She reminds me of my grandmother, but Italian.
Second Favourite Character: Rose. Dumb as a stump, but so kind and tender-hearted.

Something Beautiful

Everything in my line of sight
is a slightly broken reflection
of what was once so beautiful.
My dull eyes used to shine,
with a joy that you inspired in me,
And my empty hands used to hold yours,
with such light and honest hope,
but now all I have are the memories.
The tiny snap shots of our story
that never had this end in mind.
There's no rewriting, no reliving,
just the one comforting thought:
that if I look at something beautiful long enough,
then maybe I'll remember what beauty is.

Smile

...And if you stop to think
about all the moments we smiled,
you'll see that this was worth
all the pain we'll feel for now.

Because the gifts you've given me
were of a heavenly calibre,
things I couldn't have dreamed of
or even have thought to ask for.

Though I may have failed to be
the one you'll be waiting for,
I know I gave the very best
of what I was able to give.

Even though we've lost so much,
along this road of misadventures,
I am thankful for the temporary joy
that I was allowed to feel.

That joy may not translate
into today, or tomorrow either,
but in the healing and the closer,
your memory will continue
to make me smile.

Please promise me you'll smile;
you never know what will happen when you do.

Immanuel

Oh Immanuel 
Your day has come 
to bring forth redemption 
to a people so corrupt. 
And though we knew, 
of Your presence forthcoming, 
we still ignore, still ignore, 
the greatest gift we've ever received. 
Let us raise a voice of praise, 
to the day the Word became Flesh, 
because we deserve nothing, 
yet were given a King, 
of heavenly glory. 
Our king,
Oh Immanuel. 


Isaiah 7:14
"Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel."

Six

Dear Mr. Blue,

I don't understand.

My heart can't tell up from down,
It's missing in action,
So I wish I knew how to react, but
Sadly, I don't.

You're asking me to do something
Over and above what I expected, and
Until now, I would have ran the other way.

But I can't. 


Yours,

Eleanor

Here It Comes

And here it comes,
what I called for last night,
a begging of forgiveness
because I know my anger angers you.

But Lord, I can't smile,
I can't laugh. I sob.
Into pillows, into people,
into my own failing hands.

Show me a glimpse
of your purpose in this,
because the more I don't understand,
the harder it is to push through.

I will try to trust you Lord,
but trying is all I can do right now.

I'm sorry

I Know I'll Repent of This in The Morning...

I have nothing more to say,
than this:

You saw my heart,
You knew my emotions,
You let them develop,
then you took it all away.
You've broken me,
to a point of confusion,
and I can't see You
or hear You
and I want You to know
that I'm not impressed.

You saw my fleece
and my honest cries
and you stomped all over it.
You saw us on the altar,
and our offering up to you,
and you provided no lamb.

In my anger,
I have nothing more to say than this.

Gideon

Here is my fleece,
on the ground,
in Your hands,
fully offered up.
Because I can't keep it.

Be faithful to me
Oh God.
Be faithful to me,
Oh God.
I need You.

Not tomorrow
not the next day,
now.

Here is my fleece.

Isaac

I remember an offering, 

not to many months ago, 

where I was offered up 

to atone for your mistakes. 

Twice I was put on that metaphorical altar, 

against my own will, 

(but yet so very willingly) 

and each time there was one result. 

And I prayed to a God

who allowed me no peace, 

but only allowed the remaining truth, 

that you were not to blame. 

The second time you saw me, 

broken for a crime you committed, 

your hands were no longer clean, 

and your heart was no longer locked up. 

So we prayed for redemption

and a healing of our scars, 

and your words became beautiful, 

and your heart became honest, 

while my words became strong, 

and my heart became forgiving. 

And something emerged 

from a box we had placed our God into. 

But now the altar is prepared again, 

a third and final time, 

but this time I am not bound alone, 

we are bound together. 

We offer up

our dreams and desires, 

our hearts and our lives, 

to a God who deserves all of it. 

And we trust in our Provider, 

since he knows our very souls, 

to remain faithful 

whether a lamb appears in the the thicket or not. 

Osterich

To those who subscribe
to fluffy, flowery, rose coloured faith:
You're fooling yourself.
Utterly, totally, fooling yourself.

If you think sanctification is fun
then there's no work being done,
and if you think surrender is easy,
then you're just holding back.

Because really,
the refining is painful
and challenging, and long.
And the offering up
of a life you think is yours,
is to die to yourself,
every morning, afternoon, and night.

To those who subscribe
to a surface level, mushy gushy faith:
wake up.
Get your head out of the proverbial sand,
and wake up.

When You Sleep In

You sleep in,
through the rain and the windy weather,
dreaming your mornings into afternoons,
while I wait, wait, wait,
for you to wander downstairs.

And I wonder,
what it is you're dreaming of?
Is it the sun and the sky,
the paradise in your mind,
or could it even be,
me?

I call your up to your room,
ring ring, ring ring,
and I talk to your voice machine,
asking her to tell you
that I'm waiting.

Yet, in reality,
I smile inside myself,
knowing you're tucked up,
warm and safe,
while I sit here daydreaming,
of you.

Sometimes when you sleep in,
I really don't mind at all.

Someone Else's Prayer (3)

Jesus,

I am sure of nothing

but this: 

The fact that I am desperate

for more of your truth, 

more of your Word, 

more of all that you are. 

I need nothing but to surrender 

to your will and your ways,

But my feet hesitate, 

and my hands slip, 

over and over. 

It seems the only thing 

I never fail at, 

is failing. 

But Jesus, 

I see your faithfulness, 

as a promise, as a truth, 

and I will believe. 

Though I hesitate, fall, and fail, 

I will believe.