the mess

you worked all night, i worked all day
and chaos here just worked away.
you left your sleep, i left my mind
we left a trail of mess behind.
and in the rubble of this week
our floors ate rubble, sand and sleet.
and now we pick the pieces up,
and now we clean our clothes and cups.
we prep for monday, soon to come,
when we will work and not be home.
and that is how it happens here,
and that is how it happens there.
i’ve seen your house and you’ve seen mine,
and that is how we know it’s fine.

it's music

sometimes, hearing something new

sometimes, when i’m feeling blue

sometimes, singing about you

it’s music

sometimes, with a beat to dance

sometimes, needing to romance

sometimes, in a joyful trance

it’s music

always, lullabye to sleep

always, wishing dreams to keep

always, stirring in the deep 

it’s music

always welling in my heart

always giving a new start

always known, and ne’er to part

it’s music

i’ve woken up, begun my day;
i’ve started things, and it’s okay.

and though i haven’t stretched or showered,
i’ll be there in just one hour.

my husband, he is proud of me.
my Jesus tells me i am free.

so i’ll get through this daily grind,
and for my sanity, remind:

i’ve woken up, begun my day;
i’ve started things, and it’s okay.

___________

i have Lyme disease; i'm always stiff and sore. stretching for half-a-stinking-hour every morning helps me get through the day. but stretch + shower = one hour. so i often put it off until noon and then regret it. i resent my morning routine and my lazy, ensuing attidue. but this is my life, and i'm learning to find freedom in it.

excuse me... i've gotta go stretch!

the worth and agony of trying (for ashley)

sitting in front of the screen, considering

the worth and agony of trying.

eyes hurting and head spinning, 

the spirit of the envied traveller deflates.

she braced herself, she left. 

she journeyed, she opened her arms

to mountains and oceans and skies,  

to learning and adventure,

to wilderness,

to a man.

his hair is short. and he loves her.

he uses words she doesn’t know.

she tells of her life and her home, 

so far away,

with pictures and words,

soul and body.

she’s yearning for something more.

arms wide open

to the belabouring, the exhausting, the mundane, 

the impossible.

the impossible...

is it really possible?

sitting in front of the screen, turning to face the man

with short hair 

and a far-away life that's growing nearer and nearer,

and there, for a moment, catching a glimpse

of the worth and agony of trying.

she never stops trying (a song for Bethany)

there’s a girl that i know just a few blocks away

and she’s filling up with wisdom for her words and her ways

i said, “i neglect you and i wanna be all that i should”

she said, “i’m here for learning on, and i think that you’re good”

and the thing i like about her

is that she never stops trying

digging down and building up

with a purpose that’s never dying

never dying

she’s painting with a brush of the beauty she can’t see

singing from a canvas the colours that we need

she said, “my steps fall weighty... as i start to learn my part 

in the dance” and i think Jesus is living in her art

and the thing i like about her

is that she never stops trying

digging down and building up

with a purpose that’s never dying

never dying

she dances with a broom every night before bed

sweeping up the footprints with a song in her head

that girl is only two years and seven months older than i am

she’s my sister and a woman and my friend

and the thing i like about her

is that she never stops trying

she never stops trying

when this wind stops

i just found something i wrote 3 months ago, 
after the tornado. 
that storm gave us perspective and we clung to it, 
waiting for the commotion to die down 
so we could finally move on and begin 
to do life differently... 
to somehow do it better.

maybe tomorrow
you and i will follow
that trail...
you and i, maybe.


maybe another day
we'll shoo all our cares away
together,
another day.


'cause when this wind stops
we're pullin' all the stops.
when it dies,
we live and carry on
a new way.

today, i choose

today,

i dismiss  fear, 

the robber of every good thing. 

it prepares me for nothing. 

it neither braces me for my world that fa l l s    a p a  r    t ,

nor comforts me amidst the rubble. 

today, 

i choose joy, 

the revealer 

of a deeper corner 

of the very heart

of  the One  who  saves me;

the teacher 

of who He truly is. 

and as i learn of Him, i trust Him. 

and my world falls apart. 

and this time i see Him 

picking uP the pieces 

to BUILD FOR ME

an eternal weight of glory.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. 

Even though our outward man is perishing, 

yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. 

For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, 

is working for us a far more exceeding 

and eternal weight of glory, 

while we do not look at the things which are seen, 

but at the things which are not seen. 

For the things which are seen are temporary, 

but the things which are not seen are eternal."

~2 Corinthians 4:16-18