restored

stop hiding your scars,

Because they tell a story of redemption. 

Start talking about them, 

Because you’ll soon realize other people wear scars similar to your own. 

Be hopeful as you show them,

Because they are still healing.

God is in the business of restoration.

So stop pretending he isn’t. 

gone

I took a breath and you were gone.

I checked my phone and you were gone.

I let out a scream and you were gone. 

You felt confused and you were gone.

You believed a lie and you were gone. 

You thought you were alone and you were gone.  

We said goodbye but you were gone.

We tried to change but you were gone. 

We wanted more, but you were gone. 

when God goes silent

Where are you?

       I whispered Sunday morning, as I stood in a pew.

Words of praise and truth that have continually brought so much comfort suddenly feel so… simplisic.

God rarely feels distant to me.

As I’ve grown and matured, I’ve come to value honesty and consistency in my faith.

I believe that God is big enough to handle all of my thoughts.

All my confusion.

All my hurt.

All my actions.

I believe that God has a history of faithfulness.

Of restoration.

Of love.

Of incomprehensible wisdom.

So I talk to God.

A lot.

And I don’t know how to describe it in plain words, because I don’t think faith can ever be fully described in words.

But my dialogue is in my mornings, as I ask for strength to simply get through the day.

My dialogue with God is in my contented sigh as I see strokes of pink in the sky as I walk to class.

My dialogue is in me complaining to God that some people are just so stupid and I cannot comprehend what goes on in their mind, and him gently reminding me of a concept called grace, which I find annoying.

My dialogue is in music and movement within a dance studio

It’s in tears that stream down my face in the hot shower, as I think think think

My dialogue is ever present.

Because I believe God is ever present.

I’ve observed some people incredibly in-tune with Jesus,

And they continually point me to him.

To seek,

To listen,

To be still,

And to be honest.

Friends, I am seeking.

I’m listening.

I’m tying to be still and honest.

I hear nothing.

And

God

Feels

So

Quiet.

God may be quiet.

But he is also present.

And I’m trying to understand that his presence is enough,

no matter how lonely or confused I may feel.

God is in the sky.

God is in peaceful car rides.

God is in people.

And that is enough.

where is love?

I asked my friends on instagram where they saw love today,
because today,
for the first time in a while,
I saw it too.

Love has confused me a lot lately.
Not cheep, buy me dinner and we'll hook up love.
Not how much I love my dog love.
Like real, messy, genuine, unwarranted, relational, conflicting Jesus love.

I don't see big-picture love in my life-altering questions and cries out to God these days.

So I asked.

Where is love?

"When the person in front of me bought my cinnamon roll"
"Dr. Taylor curved our exam"
"My teacher told me good job instead of only paying attention to the two favorites"

Where is love?

"When a single life care package from mi Madre arrives"
"I wore sweatpants to the dining hall and no one judged me"
"In my cat"

Where is love?

"In my prof talking about how much he loves his wife for like 20 minutes"
"in coffee"
"In my friend and how she cares for me"

Where is love?

"In Jesus making the world pretty even though he didn't have too"
"In friends who let you ugly cry"
"I saw love for myself. I've been neglecting me for far too long & I finally gave myself rest & quiet."


That's where love lives today. 

january

the days are short
or should be short

but instead they are long
because they don't end with the sun

they bleed into night
grey to black
muting the colors of the world.

the vibrancy of fall fades in my memory,
as does the warmth of summer
or the hope of spring.

vibrancy
warmth
hope.
January.

one of these words doesn't belong.

January
January
january
january
january

color muted into grey
the sun is no longer close enough for warmth
the hope of spring is frozen,
unseen,
and distant in memory.

It is January.
And if it was August, it would still be January in my soul.

but I will try not to be afraid.

it may be cold
and dreary,
ordinary
and mundane.

I guess January must take place for spring to come.
the ground must be barren in oder that hope may bloom.

an ocean away

He was an ocean away but within arms reach

So close yet starting through a glass prison 

And now he's gone 

Gone 

Gone

gone

And it hurts oh it hurts 

Will they see each other?

How will her heart not break forever?

For the ocean expands and the walls thicken

Taps away, 

but eye contact said no. 

Laugher and tears used to be shared

But now she smiles at their jokes, 

and cries by herself. 

For is there anything more painful then being so close, yet so silent?

Jesus makes me brave

I lay on my back, staring at the white textured ceiling. 

Blood pulses through my body.

I decided to be brave. 

I may still be in my pajamas 

and my cheeks are stained with tears. 

But I decided to be brave. 

Jesus is clear. 

The enemy is vague.

Jesus empowers. 

The enemy erodes. 

Jesus lives in light. 

Jesus gives us courage. 

Jesus makes me brave.