Tuesday, June 5, 2018

forgotten how to write

i've forgotten how to write / it seems.
i pick up that familiar guitar in my hands, 
expecting to say something of importance, something in my heart. 
but it's been eighteen years 
and the dam that was there when i was born
 is still there now. 

i approached it as Jericho, but seven days did nothing. 
seven years have passed, and still nothing. 
i have a journal with small poems
that just make my heart sick (perhaps an overstatement) when i read them
because i could never say it / quite right.

no, wait --
s t o p.
could you stop protesting and just LISTEN for a moment?
i am tired of words right now,
tired of sound.
tired of people telling me how / when / possibilities.

just listen.

i drove in the desert heat to a picnic table in
the middle of nowhere,
and sweat on a bench eating blackberries and
watched the clouds dance and sway quietly along
their bright blue stage.

i had meant to pray.
to abide in the presence of my Savior, pouring out my heart.
maybe to listen and hear a word from Him / (trying not to be a hypocrite).
but the sun just covered everything it could,
and i was hot, and the wind was hot,
and there is no good word to describe it all except hot hot hot.
i've forgotten how to write, after all.

but a man walked with his daughter,
laughing and calling after Maddie. both of them
bore weapons against the heat (just squirt guns and hope).
i grinned at the trees away from them, trying
not to spill the secret that i was listening.
i think he knew.
i don't think he cared.

i guess you don't need to know how to write
to be spoken to.


hey babes. graduated high school. sending my school laptop back to the school so i'm not going to be able to post again until i buy a new one. but that's not new news. i mean, it takes me a couple of months to post these days anyway.
thanks for always coming back, even when i am a poop and don't reply to the comments. i see 'em and love 'em. 

Thursday, May 17, 2018


it is suddenly a thursday, a daring blue sky sending kisses in clouds. the grass in our yard is too long, not asking to be cut because we both know that sometimes you need to let things grow while you rest. it has been a long season, full of full, long days. but look, the tide is changing. today i slept in without worry for the first time in months. my mom planted flowers in the pots on our porch. i didn't have to take a jacket with me when i left the house yesterday evening.

faithfulness. i roll that word around in my mouth, learning what it means. i asked her what God was teaching her on sunday. she laughed and gave me an answer, but i wasn't expecting her to turn the question back on me so quick. i didn't really have an answer - "He is teaching me a bit of everything." she was gracious enough to accept those words, commenting a bit upon them.

but here i am, only a few days later, and i have found a word to describe the gentle work He has been working in me, through me, and all around me.


in all things. man. if i could just pick out those moments in my life, and place them in your hand for you to see and to know and to feel, i would.

it has been this past school year, staying up late late to finish homework by the end of the day. it has been waking up at 5:30 and wearily getting out of bed to get ready to go to work. it has been squeezing in loads of laundry into the washer, finally picking it off the floor because your room has been a mess for a week. it has been playing guitar on wednesday nights and praying in the car in the morning.

but not all of it has been physical - it has been choosing to love when i don't feel like it, it has been checking up on friends, it has been replying to emails or texts or emails or letters (even if they are latteeee), it has been learning to surrender, it has been sticking it out through the hard things, it has been being honest, it has been asking the hard questions, it has been choosing forgiveness and asking for forgiveness, it has been humility written into my core.

it has been laying myself down for the sake of the Cross, for the sake of others.

you must understand that faithfulness was never about what you could get. what you could gain from being faithful to another person or to another thing or to God. faithfulness is about love and it is about lifting others above yourself and it is a continuous choice. it isn't a one time thing. it is a battle to stand firm, proclaiming Christ into the face of things that call you off of the solid Rock.

it is my King Himself, beaming grace. beaming humility. beaming love. all of these things are woven in to each other. you can't be truly faithful without any of them.

and don't get me wrong. faithfulness is full of sweet fruit.

because of it, cords have been tightened, hearts have been strengthened, trees have budded, finish lines have been crossed, rest has been earned, glory has been given, joy has grown deeper, cinnamon rolls have been made.

faithfulness. it is written into everything. i laugh when i look at the sky, a golden sun has been revolving for thousands of years. my God has fulfilled each of His promises. the flowers are peeking out at me, shy but bright. there are callouses on my fingers from the guitar. faithfulness is good, good, good.

hard, yeah.

stinking hard.

but those types of things are always worth it. He has proven it, and i will not doubt it.


Monday, March 5, 2018

hello march. x


- i hear the wind sweeping the sky, and i am tumbling in and out of soft dreams between my blankets, and the sun is leaning against the wall in my room napping. 


- stumble into the bathroom, grin at a face sleepy and solid in the mirror. survived my first day of being eighteen. it went exactly as any other day when i was seventeen. i hum to myself, the only one awake in the house even though it's already 7:30am. 


- always a quieter type of day when you are alone. i slept in as late as i could before my dad fumbled his way downstairs and announced that the cinnamon rolls were out of the oven. i laughed. because i had mentioned that i wouldn't mind them for breakfast, and i didn't think he heard me, but here we were. 
eighteen. it has been a series of the quietest and gentlest gifts that only i know of. His precious hand weaving His grace into the very folds of weekend days and weekday hurts. i am thankful. 


- i trace the raw branches with my eyes, we're ten years old, sitting beneath that tree barefoot and skinny legged. who knew the grace of God was stretching its roots into the very depths of our feeble hearts? i press my palm up the window of the past. most people wish they could get it back. i've never been that way. i feel the crevices and old valleys in between those good days. 
they have all brought me here, closer to the gentle hands of my Solid Rock. i wouldn't change that for those old juicy peach afternoons and 8 o'clock bedtime summer nights. 

my greenbean of a girl wrote a song !! ! go listen. pls. 


Tuesday, January 30, 2018

to the one i long for

To the one I long for,
hi my love.

today is long, a pen weaves between my fingers as I sigh.
It has been more than a long day.
It has been a long, long life. she is afraid no one will stay, and I am afraid I will have no one to stay for.
I hope for you.

you are not a promise
to me.
I am not promised your strong arms, heart that hurts when mine hurts,
striving selfless love.

these are confusing days, and I shove my face into my palms,
as if I’ll find your name
written into the wrinkles that tell fortune tellers miracles.

I will wait for you, if He wills me to have you.
so be strong and brave in these weary days. weary months. weary years.
may He be with you in your aches, as well as mine.
(and give you wisdom.)

so be it.


Friday, January 12, 2018

love overflowing - i

stolen from addy. ur totes right. 

- things I've been loving recently - 

murmurs from the morning.
twinkle eyes from the past, eyes set on the horizon.
a kind and graceful God.
hands that don't let go, but grip yours tighter.
feet tangled in blankets, sleepy laughs.
reading Psalms aloud like battle cries.
winter rain sprinkles (never have i known this).
my sister's garlic knots. delish.
movie nights with my daddio. 
teaching the little girl how to hold things bravely. let those callouses grow, babe. 


WOW OKAY. promise not to disappear so long without notice again haha. 
what have you been loving lately, babes?
make me a list. it'll be good for you to sit still for a minute and reflect. if not, hate mail is always an option. ahohooho. 

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

a nap in the mountains

i fell asleep under the watch of the sun, time spinning slowly. the hand print of her love all over my face. the morning is always the longest part of the day, darkness stretching on. even under the watch of brave Orion, i would still find myself humming to distract myself from the frost seeping into my toes. the cerulean stirring into the indigo.

but when the sun finally climbs over the tall pines behind me, i can exhale as the warmth falls in a heap over my cold bones. the chill cuts to the bone, even more so when you are alone. i know you know. it is not the night sky, not the frosty wind, not even the silhouettes that bother you. it is the darkness that cleaves to your heart. you rub your hands together, cup and breathe, but oh, it does not go. you stand up and you rock back and forth on your toes. nothing relieves the grip it has.

until you glimpse His face, a promise in waiting. when the morning finally slips into the light. you taste the grace of hope, honey glaze dripping slowly. He glances over His blue shoulder, i get caught up in the clouds drifting. i am supposed to be watching the forest, but it doesn't matter now that He is here.

let me take a load off your shoulders, He murmurs. the pillars of the trees drop the weight of the heavy snow. i lean against the rock behind me and face the Son. learn the beauty of the silence. of the girl who falls asleep in the mountains far from home. of the brave boy who would wake up in the night just to stoke the stoves.

i know you are just as scared as i am. but though the ice seems to become a part of you, learn to trace the skies with your eyes. nothing compares to the glory that is to come. eternity, find me waiting. find me waiting.

woke up at 6am wide awake. made pancakes at 9am. sang alone. it's good to be home. also tell me something you've been loving in the comments. eheheh.

Sunday, October 1, 2017

a list of things

i. wash the windows and pull the blinds. i saw the sun this morning, and it burned a hole right through my ribs and into my heart. sacrifice does not mean loss, but it means gain. and oh, in the depths of sacrifice, you take the brunt of the quaking and trembling and it knocks all the breath out of your lungs. but one morning, you wake up, and your ribs are the good kind of sore, and a laugh escapes your mouth and it is pure selfless love ringing of His voice.

ii. i trace the stars to each other, and it is all laughing and laughing like always. because you are my Hannah, and you are far away, but close to my heart. i press my prayers into those constellations, and beam right back at Vega, and i understand more about letting people go is also a good kind of love.

iii. not being enough is the kind of thing that breaks you. not enough? that is all i want to be. but then i am given a gift of Grace, and this time i understand that it takes the breaking of not enoughness to make room for His Enoughness.

iv. i cried in the middle of a city that was half a home and you were right beside me and the sun was warm and it was a summer exhale. love is not a feeling as much as it is a choice.

v. press the seeds into the dirt. cold soil. and it is scary and big and wild, but i am finding bravery in the flowers already here. step forward.

vi. sorrow bearing a cross, and i am almost overtaken by the waves of discouragement that will not stop pounding the shore. hope. where are you? and she laughed and said it was a clear box and it was still loud but there was a peace. there you are. be not far from my heart, oh hope.

vii. it is a choice, it is a choice. don't you get it? IT IS A CHOICE. IT IS ACTION. not always a feeling. so go forth with knowing even when the feeling is not there. He is good. He is true. He is mighty. He is enough. knead it into the folds of my heart. 

WHERE HAVE I BEEN FOR THE LAST THREE MONTHS. *scream* HAHAH. here and there. sort of back. give me a chance to unpack my things. 

Thursday, July 6, 2017


it's a hurt breath saying hello to an old summer. 
the bruise on the back of my calf throws me back to seven years ago, in this same old house. the bruises were on my shins then, from running up the stairs with cricket legs slipping and laughing at the pain. our carpet is run down already, feet trampling it more and more year after year (my mom bought a colorful rug in hopes to make our house look better). 

i stood in our laundry room the other day, folding stained white towels (we never manage to keep things perfect). when we were younger, we'd haul the laundry baskets upstairs to our living room and fold it as quickly as we could so we could go run off to spend our day fighting off monsters with our branch-swords. and before that, in the house only us older ones remember, we would ride those baskets down the stairs with squeals bouncing off the walls. 

today, i shook silver hands with yesteryear. i settled down for a minute, and the petals wilted for the last time off of that rose. we say goodbye to old skins, she said (i still keep that letter in the back of my bible). so i take a deep breath, set the memories down in my garden like smooth stones, and take a long look at the sky. 

He is calling me onward. 
the horn has been sounded. 


p.s. here

Friday, June 23, 2017

desperation binds with hope

i never told you, but i stood outside of the church and cried the sound of my heart. the green leaves wept close to the ground, and the pavement was bright white. he drove past in his red truck, and the brave girl was one of the only ones left.

heart to heart.

love slipped out of my hands, and i was bearing the weight of a heavy Sorrow. because i was sorry. and i was lonely. and i really didn't want to go back home, because i was scared.

he stood there. still there. and he was only a little boy, and my brother, with an aching heart and a Sorrow beating the same as mine. though our stories are different. the aches are different. he is different. i am different. but isn't that the way it goes? different, but the same.

the echo buried itself still in the tree rings of the pines standing out front.

desperation burns up my heart, and all i can do is fall to my knees. because these words cannot proclaim the Glory of which i yearn to tell. this voice cannot find the perfect Harmony in which i ache to sing. this hands cannot create the Perfection for which they long for. and all i want to do is praise my Savior, but oh these limbs. 
this heart. i'm all caught up in myself. and i know it. and i ache and ache to be cut free of the flesh that searches my veins for an atom of strength.


even still,

hope binds with the desperation, and i am caught up in a storm of change He is working in me. for though the song may not be perfect, the sound of it fills His heart with love upon love and it overflows. even still.
i felt it in the girl who stayed by my side. all humbleness and love, beaming the thing He knew i needed the most.

hold on. just a little bit longer.

Tuesday, June 6, 2017

the way He works

the wind sweeps through the meadow like a song,
he was there and i admitted that i was wrong.
gentle hands pushed up against my swollen heart,
teaching about love that is not hidden in the dark.

small flowers bend toward the ground in grace,
spoken servant hood no matter what they face.
i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sor-- hey, i forgive you. 
many words in my heart but spoken were few.

it is quiet, sweet as honey, the way He works.
refining so that no dross or impurity may lurk.
smitten laughter smuggled through trials
and i know that He was there all the while.


creds to salem for the leaf picture. ur rad. 
also catching up on posts but oh baby it's slow
thanks for loving me xx
God has been crazy good. i'm here to listen if you have anything to say.