Could somebody please put my conscience on hold?
I'm not listening to it's strains,
it's anxious protests fall away,
no, I'm not sold
even though I know
In the heat of the moment
you never count the cost
The hardest line to draw
is the easiest to cross
I came, I saw, I encountered
the very line that I drew yesterday
but I can't say that I conquered,
when I fell right into yesterdays mistake
The first time it was drawn,
I swore to never cross it
but all of my resolve
crumbled and I lost it
I fell again.
Could somebody please take these chains away,
I already know I blew it,
but now I just have to get through it,
and learn from my mistake
because I know
Right does not mean easy,
because easy has it's flaw
The easiest line to cross you'll find
is the hardest one to draw
I came, I saw, I encountered
the very line that I drew yesterday
but I can't say that I conquered
when I fell right into yesterdays mistake
The first time it was drawn,
I swore to never cross it
but all of my resolve
crumbled and I lost it
I fell again
Somebody has made a way for me,
when I crossed the line,
His arms spread open wide
the line that I crossed carved the shape
of the tree on which He died
so that I am free...
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
can you picture?

Can you picture Paul, chained in a dark cell,
praising his Savior while going through hell.
His back was raw but his spirit was strong,
fueled by the One who inspired his song.
And as the lion's roared just outside his cage,
he believed with all his heart that his God would save
Do I have a faith enough to honestly say
that in the cells of my life, my lips utter praise?
Can you picture Peter, on that fateful night,
searching for the One who had shown him the light
Three times he'd forsake him, and although he knew
by the rooster's crow come the morn, the prediction proved true
Peter denied Him although he believed
though it was a thought that he could never concieve.
Do I have faith enough to say that I'd follow
if asked to die for my Jesus tomorrow?
Can you picture David, on top of his home
looking down at Bathsheba, who was bathing alone
To bring her to him, and then to his bed,
and then take her as wife and leave her husband for dead.
Was he not a man after the very heart of God,
and yet blatantly breaking the commands He had lawed?
Do I have faith enough to realize I'm forgiven
even when I fall short to still know for what I'm living?
Can you picture Peter, on the edge of that boat
while Jesus stood on the waves and to Peter called out
As the waters churned and the waves swelled beneath him
he got out of the boat so that he could go meet Him.
And though he sank because he started to doubt,
he still had the courage to take the step out.
Do I have faith enough to walk on the water
in faith towards the Father that calls me His daughter?
Can you picture me, ordinary and plain,
finding my worth in His poweful name
In weakness I'm loved although I don't deserve it
for He pours out His grace and I could never earn it.
I'm valued and special through His tender eyes,
and stripped of the deciever's not-good-enough lies.
I have faith enough to know He calls me His own,
and though I may stumble, I'm never alone.
praising his Savior while going through hell.
His back was raw but his spirit was strong,
fueled by the One who inspired his song.
And as the lion's roared just outside his cage,
he believed with all his heart that his God would save
Do I have a faith enough to honestly say
that in the cells of my life, my lips utter praise?
Can you picture Peter, on that fateful night,
searching for the One who had shown him the light
Three times he'd forsake him, and although he knew
by the rooster's crow come the morn, the prediction proved true
Peter denied Him although he believed
though it was a thought that he could never concieve.
Do I have faith enough to say that I'd follow
if asked to die for my Jesus tomorrow?
Can you picture David, on top of his home
looking down at Bathsheba, who was bathing alone
To bring her to him, and then to his bed,
and then take her as wife and leave her husband for dead.
Was he not a man after the very heart of God,
and yet blatantly breaking the commands He had lawed?
Do I have faith enough to realize I'm forgiven
even when I fall short to still know for what I'm living?
Can you picture Peter, on the edge of that boat
while Jesus stood on the waves and to Peter called out
As the waters churned and the waves swelled beneath him
he got out of the boat so that he could go meet Him.
And though he sank because he started to doubt,
he still had the courage to take the step out.
Do I have faith enough to walk on the water
in faith towards the Father that calls me His daughter?
Can you picture me, ordinary and plain,
finding my worth in His poweful name
In weakness I'm loved although I don't deserve it
for He pours out His grace and I could never earn it.
I'm valued and special through His tender eyes,
and stripped of the deciever's not-good-enough lies.
I have faith enough to know He calls me His own,
and though I may stumble, I'm never alone.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
from faithless fingertips come desperate words.
Jesus, there are thorns
and they're wrapped around my heart,
my heart is engulfed in anger
bitterness is tearing me apart,
can you hear me as I'm weeping
and I'm tired of the weight
and I can't go on much longer
can't bend more until I break
Jesus, there are visions
of ways to end this hurt
to slam my worries in a guardrail,
and see what my bloods worth
But I know thats not the answer
but where are you when I'm crying
and my faith is desperately clinging
to a shred of hope thats dying
......Jesus, why are there thorns
wrapped around your head?
Why'd you take them from my heart
and crown yourself instead?
and they're wrapped around my heart,
my heart is engulfed in anger
bitterness is tearing me apart,
can you hear me as I'm weeping
and I'm tired of the weight
and I can't go on much longer
can't bend more until I break
Jesus, there are visions
of ways to end this hurt
to slam my worries in a guardrail,
and see what my bloods worth
But I know thats not the answer
but where are you when I'm crying
and my faith is desperately clinging
to a shred of hope thats dying
......Jesus, why are there thorns
wrapped around your head?
Why'd you take them from my heart
and crown yourself instead?
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Untitled
I carved a path of ignorance,
I walked the darkest alleys
I knew what I was looking for
as I scoured the deepest valleys
And time again, my expectations
eroded beneath my feet
every heart that had a door
lay dormant on the street
The mountains rose into the sky,
the path became too steep
The oceans may as well go dry
if hope could only sleep
And after all my searching
I knew that it was you
The one I had been looking for
after all I had been through
Because I thought I was doomed to be a wanderer,
finding home,
but never in a heart
a restless vagabond, a roving roamer
but now I know
my home is where you are
The sky had never been painted
on a canvas like your eyes,
and all the treasures hidden there
would shame the dulcet skies.
The water never seemed lukewarm
until you held my hand
my heartbeat echoes the jovial waves
as they crash up against the sand.
The mountain view, it's stunning
but its shadowed by your kiss
Because nothing takes me higher
than a feeling such as this.
Each valley dipped in evergreen,
could never hope compete
for your arms create a canopy
that sweeps me off my feet.
I thought I was doomed to be a wanderer,
finding home,
but never in a heart
a restless vagabond, a roving roamer
but now I know
my home is where you are.
Every terrain that I could tread,
every jagged hill God drew
I know that if I follow
that they'll always lead to you.
I walked the darkest alleys
I knew what I was looking for
as I scoured the deepest valleys
And time again, my expectations
eroded beneath my feet
every heart that had a door
lay dormant on the street
The mountains rose into the sky,
the path became too steep
The oceans may as well go dry
if hope could only sleep
And after all my searching
I knew that it was you
The one I had been looking for
after all I had been through
Because I thought I was doomed to be a wanderer,
finding home,
but never in a heart
a restless vagabond, a roving roamer
but now I know
my home is where you are
The sky had never been painted
on a canvas like your eyes,
and all the treasures hidden there
would shame the dulcet skies.
The water never seemed lukewarm
until you held my hand
my heartbeat echoes the jovial waves
as they crash up against the sand.
The mountain view, it's stunning
but its shadowed by your kiss
Because nothing takes me higher
than a feeling such as this.
Each valley dipped in evergreen,
could never hope compete
for your arms create a canopy
that sweeps me off my feet.
I thought I was doomed to be a wanderer,
finding home,
but never in a heart
a restless vagabond, a roving roamer
but now I know
my home is where you are.
Every terrain that I could tread,
every jagged hill God drew
I know that if I follow
that they'll always lead to you.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
a ballad of doubt and faith
An inn marked Faith,
blazing vacancy sign
peace, hope and rest
that I long to be mine
but my misunderstanding
of unfathomable things
can't muster belief
with the trial life brings
The vacancy sign lit
as I wonder about
the control I don't have,
the belief I'm without
how can I enter
if Faith leaves me broken,
tell me why should I enter
this door you have opened?
Under the vacancy
hangs a wood cross,
you assure me you fathom
human anguish and loss
You confide that your heart
has seen much more than mine,
but how can your heart
be broke that many times?
"Faith is being certain of
the things you do not see,
I don't promise things will work
the way you ask of me,
but I will carry you
through every suffering you bear,
and when you look back,
you can say "He held me there"
The vacancy sign lit,
and I know my room's prepared
and although its gathered dust
Faith is waiting for me there.
I'll enter in with confidence
with my belief restored
uncertain of the answers,
but not questioning my Lord.
blazing vacancy sign
peace, hope and rest
that I long to be mine
but my misunderstanding
of unfathomable things
can't muster belief
with the trial life brings
The vacancy sign lit
as I wonder about
the control I don't have,
the belief I'm without
how can I enter
if Faith leaves me broken,
tell me why should I enter
this door you have opened?
Under the vacancy
hangs a wood cross,
you assure me you fathom
human anguish and loss
You confide that your heart
has seen much more than mine,
but how can your heart
be broke that many times?
"Faith is being certain of
the things you do not see,
I don't promise things will work
the way you ask of me,
but I will carry you
through every suffering you bear,
and when you look back,
you can say "He held me there"
The vacancy sign lit,
and I know my room's prepared
and although its gathered dust
Faith is waiting for me there.
I'll enter in with confidence
with my belief restored
uncertain of the answers,
but not questioning my Lord.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
for the wages of sin is....
I enter the room, the waiting room,
but they must have been mistaken,
because they've ushered me into a place
I surely don't belong.
Though the walls are plain, and the pictures hang straight,
I find myself quite shaken,
because something here,
is very very wrong.
In the corner, there's a girl
her clothes leave little to the mind,
and beside her is a man
who hugs a dumpster when he sleeps,
They're both huddled over a Bible
and they just don't seem the kind
just like this room don't seem the place
for a person such as me.
I see a high school drop out
make an alcoholic friend,
and they're reading over scripture
and it just doesn't make sense.
And to my relief, I see
that in the corner there's a preacher
but he's talking to an addict
and so I like this room even less
There's a steel door on one wall,
imposing over the warm paint
and one by one, these people's names
are called to enter in
and surprised, I hear my name called
and my heartbeat's slightly faint
so I turn the steely doorknob
as a shiver claims my skin
The little room is empty
except for a table, and a man
and he motions me to sit
and so I tentatively do
and he pulls out a file
and I don't quite understand
and silently he reads the things
I suspect he already knew
After what seems like ages,
he closes up the file
and as if he's waiting,
he quietly watches me a while
and as I twiddle my fingers
He asks me if I know why I'm here
and since I haven't the foggiest
I shake my head and smile.
"Do you know who I am?" he asks
and I stare at him unsure
and finally, when I draw a blank
I ask him if I should
and then he tells me sadly
that he wishes that I had
but I didn't take the chance to
get to know him when I could.
And then I ask whats in the file,
and he tells me its my sin,
and ashamed, I ask him why he kept
a record of my wrongs
and he looks me in the eye
and he says he died to cleanse them
but I never did accept him
so the silence then prolongs
Warily, I look to see
a pen with dark red ink
and another stack of files
that he signed with his name
and I ask him if his name
could ever be on my file
but he says that my ransom
is too late now to claim
I exploded out in anger
"Does the homeless and the whore
get your signature on files
that are so much worse than mine?
Will you really pay ransom
for those that are worth nothing
and then refuse to pay for someone
much more worth your time?"
He answered back with sad eyes
"They are something to me
and I'll pay the ransom for its
what I said I'd do
because they may have lost their way
but they gave me their time,
and I love them no matter what they did,
just like I loved you"
In shock, I was reprimanded
as my file was then signed
by another man who joined us
who had fire behind his eyes
and he turned to the other
and he said "I've won this one"
The other man cast him away
and as he did, I saw him cry.
This judgement day was sealed
the minute I had judged
and my eternity was measured
by a choice I didn't make
And now I see I missed out on
so many I could have loved
and now I'm left to demons,
for the hand I didn't take.
but they must have been mistaken,
because they've ushered me into a place
I surely don't belong.
Though the walls are plain, and the pictures hang straight,
I find myself quite shaken,
because something here,
is very very wrong.
In the corner, there's a girl
her clothes leave little to the mind,
and beside her is a man
who hugs a dumpster when he sleeps,
They're both huddled over a Bible
and they just don't seem the kind
just like this room don't seem the place
for a person such as me.
I see a high school drop out
make an alcoholic friend,
and they're reading over scripture
and it just doesn't make sense.
And to my relief, I see
that in the corner there's a preacher
but he's talking to an addict
and so I like this room even less
There's a steel door on one wall,
imposing over the warm paint
and one by one, these people's names
are called to enter in
and surprised, I hear my name called
and my heartbeat's slightly faint
so I turn the steely doorknob
as a shiver claims my skin
The little room is empty
except for a table, and a man
and he motions me to sit
and so I tentatively do
and he pulls out a file
and I don't quite understand
and silently he reads the things
I suspect he already knew
After what seems like ages,
he closes up the file
and as if he's waiting,
he quietly watches me a while
and as I twiddle my fingers
He asks me if I know why I'm here
and since I haven't the foggiest
I shake my head and smile.
"Do you know who I am?" he asks
and I stare at him unsure
and finally, when I draw a blank
I ask him if I should
and then he tells me sadly
that he wishes that I had
but I didn't take the chance to
get to know him when I could.
And then I ask whats in the file,
and he tells me its my sin,
and ashamed, I ask him why he kept
a record of my wrongs
and he looks me in the eye
and he says he died to cleanse them
but I never did accept him
so the silence then prolongs
Warily, I look to see
a pen with dark red ink
and another stack of files
that he signed with his name
and I ask him if his name
could ever be on my file
but he says that my ransom
is too late now to claim
I exploded out in anger
"Does the homeless and the whore
get your signature on files
that are so much worse than mine?
Will you really pay ransom
for those that are worth nothing
and then refuse to pay for someone
much more worth your time?"
He answered back with sad eyes
"They are something to me
and I'll pay the ransom for its
what I said I'd do
because they may have lost their way
but they gave me their time,
and I love them no matter what they did,
just like I loved you"
In shock, I was reprimanded
as my file was then signed
by another man who joined us
who had fire behind his eyes
and he turned to the other
and he said "I've won this one"
The other man cast him away
and as he did, I saw him cry.
This judgement day was sealed
the minute I had judged
and my eternity was measured
by a choice I didn't make
And now I see I missed out on
so many I could have loved
and now I'm left to demons,
for the hand I didn't take.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
rainbow smile
Hey you, with the raincloud over your head,
are the grey skies getting you down?
While the rain lingers on your eyelashes
and slides off to taste your frown
Hey you, with no raincoat on,
did the storm catch you by surprise
And the drops dance on as your heart gets heavy
and the tears fall from your eyes
Hey you, with the rainbow smile
did you know grey turns to blue
and that somewhere over the rainbow there
is someone smiling for you
A rainbow smile, a tattered heart,
the storm rages and then it calms
and the conflict tearing you apart
will clamor, settle, move on.
are the grey skies getting you down?
While the rain lingers on your eyelashes
and slides off to taste your frown
Hey you, with no raincoat on,
did the storm catch you by surprise
And the drops dance on as your heart gets heavy
and the tears fall from your eyes
Hey you, with the rainbow smile
did you know grey turns to blue
and that somewhere over the rainbow there
is someone smiling for you
A rainbow smile, a tattered heart,
the storm rages and then it calms
and the conflict tearing you apart
will clamor, settle, move on.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
taken
Laden with chains and labelled by failure,
fallen down in the same place too many times,
tonight all my burdens might break my back
if You don't come over me and severe these ties
Because I'm locked in a cage of sin,
and I want to let You in
but can You take this shame, this sorrow, this pain
and make me new again?
Burdened by brokenness, living in doubt,
stuck in this rut that I've carved in the ground,
tonight this rut just might consume my soul
if You don't lead me where salvation is found
Because I'm locked in a cage of sin,
and I want to let You in
but can You take this shame, this sorrow, this pain
and make me whole again?
I was labelled a failure, but You tore it in two,
I was wandering aimless until I found You,
I never found love until love found me broken,
never knew I'd gone deaf until Your words were spoken
I had carried my burdens, but You had carried a tree,
when You carried that cross, You were carrying me.
I was locked in a cage of sin,
didn't know how to let You in
But You took all my shame, my sorrow and pain
and made me Yours again.
fallen down in the same place too many times,
tonight all my burdens might break my back
if You don't come over me and severe these ties
Because I'm locked in a cage of sin,
and I want to let You in
but can You take this shame, this sorrow, this pain
and make me new again?
Burdened by brokenness, living in doubt,
stuck in this rut that I've carved in the ground,
tonight this rut just might consume my soul
if You don't lead me where salvation is found
Because I'm locked in a cage of sin,
and I want to let You in
but can You take this shame, this sorrow, this pain
and make me whole again?
I was labelled a failure, but You tore it in two,
I was wandering aimless until I found You,
I never found love until love found me broken,
never knew I'd gone deaf until Your words were spoken
I had carried my burdens, but You had carried a tree,
when You carried that cross, You were carrying me.
I was locked in a cage of sin,
didn't know how to let You in
But You took all my shame, my sorrow and pain
and made me Yours again.
the sun goes down.
the sky is set ablaze
with the words you penned in fervour,
so eager to deliver
the anguish on your heart,
the sun went down on your anger
and it never rose again,
the paper stained by bitter tears
is all but ripped apart
and so i'll fly for you,
take hold of the sun with vigor
and then i'll hope it lingers
while you find it in you to forget
and maybe tomorrow,
a second chance won't
slip right through our fingers
could we salvage the past yet?
the sky opens up to bleed
as the words pour down relentless
and the ink runs into streaks
as your tears blur on the page
and as you seal away the things
that your anger tore to pieces,
i'll hope that battered envelope
is something you won't save
because even though i'd die for you
i can't hold back the sun
and it breaks into dawn
when the night is finally done
and your anger is established
when your forgiveness finds a grave
and my apologetic heart
is a corpse you'd never claim
i let you down, i'm sorry.
with the words you penned in fervour,
so eager to deliver
the anguish on your heart,
the sun went down on your anger
and it never rose again,
the paper stained by bitter tears
is all but ripped apart
and so i'll fly for you,
take hold of the sun with vigor
and then i'll hope it lingers
while you find it in you to forget
and maybe tomorrow,
a second chance won't
slip right through our fingers
could we salvage the past yet?
the sky opens up to bleed
as the words pour down relentless
and the ink runs into streaks
as your tears blur on the page
and as you seal away the things
that your anger tore to pieces,
i'll hope that battered envelope
is something you won't save
because even though i'd die for you
i can't hold back the sun
and it breaks into dawn
when the night is finally done
and your anger is established
when your forgiveness finds a grave
and my apologetic heart
is a corpse you'd never claim
i let you down, i'm sorry.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
we say goodbye
there's a fog hovering over hearts left aching,
hearts that thought love was a chance worth taking
but love grows cold, and life goes by
and so do we,
we say goodbye
there are tears crying over lifeless eyes
tears that fall unhindered for sudden goodbyes
but life doesn't last, and love goes on
and so do we,
we say goodbye
when, nothing is certain, nothing is sane
nothing is seen past the walls of your pain
and its so real that
when we feel it,
we wish it didn't hurt,
...but it does,
and when it does
we pray goodbye
there's a sky crying over souls of blue,
souls that found pain that they never knew,
but love is hard, so life moves by
and so do we
we say goodbye
there's a bouquet left on a faceless grave,
a grave claiming somebody no one could name
because life is hard and love moves by,
and so do we,
we say goodbye
when, nothing is certain, nothing is sane
nothing is seen past the walls of your pain
and its so real that
when we feel it,
we wish it didn't hurt,
...but it does,
and when it does
we pray goodbye
there's a homeless man with a cup in hand
a hand held out for some he hopes will understand
but life moves past, and love's gone dry
and so have we
we say goodbye
there's a girl too young on the corner of the street,
selling her body so that she can eat
but love is empty and life moves by
and so do we
we say goodbye
when, nothing is certain, nothing is sane
nothing is seen past the walls of your pain
and its so real that
when we feel it,
we wish it didn't hurt,
..but it does
and when it does
we pray goodbye
there's a little girl praying fervently into the sky
praying that her daddy lasts through the night...
but life is cruel and love goes on,
and so do we
even with goodbye.
when life hurts,
we pray goodbye
we don't do anything but say goodbye.
hearts that thought love was a chance worth taking
but love grows cold, and life goes by
and so do we,
we say goodbye
there are tears crying over lifeless eyes
tears that fall unhindered for sudden goodbyes
but life doesn't last, and love goes on
and so do we,
we say goodbye
when, nothing is certain, nothing is sane
nothing is seen past the walls of your pain
and its so real that
when we feel it,
we wish it didn't hurt,
...but it does,
and when it does
we pray goodbye
there's a sky crying over souls of blue,
souls that found pain that they never knew,
but love is hard, so life moves by
and so do we
we say goodbye
there's a bouquet left on a faceless grave,
a grave claiming somebody no one could name
because life is hard and love moves by,
and so do we,
we say goodbye
when, nothing is certain, nothing is sane
nothing is seen past the walls of your pain
and its so real that
when we feel it,
we wish it didn't hurt,
...but it does,
and when it does
we pray goodbye
there's a homeless man with a cup in hand
a hand held out for some he hopes will understand
but life moves past, and love's gone dry
and so have we
we say goodbye
there's a girl too young on the corner of the street,
selling her body so that she can eat
but love is empty and life moves by
and so do we
we say goodbye
when, nothing is certain, nothing is sane
nothing is seen past the walls of your pain
and its so real that
when we feel it,
we wish it didn't hurt,
..but it does
and when it does
we pray goodbye
there's a little girl praying fervently into the sky
praying that her daddy lasts through the night...
but life is cruel and love goes on,
and so do we
even with goodbye.
when life hurts,
we pray goodbye
we don't do anything but say goodbye.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
all about me
me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me CARRYING AN OLD LADIES GROCERIES me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me SMILING AT AN OLD MAN WITH SAD EYES meme me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me GOD. me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me PAYING FOR THE KID WHO DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH MONEY me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me GENUINELY LISTENING TO A FRIEND me me me me me me me me me me me me me me meme me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me HUGGING THE HOMELESS MAN ASKING FOR MONEY me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me PLAYING A SILLY GAME FOR A CHILD WHOSE PARENTS ARE BUSY ALL THE TIME me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me
its funny how I spend most of my time making it about me,
and yet the most significant moments are the ones where i've stopped.
its funny how I spend most of my time making it about me,
and yet the most significant moments are the ones where i've stopped.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
untitled.
Memories litter the floor like ashes,
Once vibrant like we were,
they're cold and grey
it could be time to burn them all away.
How it used to be doesn't matter anymore,
so I'll grab the match and
set the past ablaze,
like it's okay
But the wood, it was wet
Yeah, I'm not ready to give in yet
because something is worth putting out
the fire of this pain,
I'd rather keep the memories
than let a million more degrees
prove that I have nothing to hold onto.
Ashes litter the ground like memories,
I had to forget you
because you went so cold
and memories like that are hard to hold.
How it used to be, I barely know now
Our past dances in the flames,
and when it smolders,
thats when I'll be okay
Because the wood, it was dry.
Yeah, I was ready to say goodbye
because nothing was worth holding back
the fire of this rage
I'd rather burn away the past,
leave the memories in the ash,
and prove that I had nothing to hold onto.
The memories,
the ash,
there's always something left to grasp.
and to hold onto,
and to remember you
Memories litter the floor like ashes
it could be time to burn them all away...
Once vibrant like we were,
they're cold and grey
it could be time to burn them all away.
How it used to be doesn't matter anymore,
so I'll grab the match and
set the past ablaze,
like it's okay
But the wood, it was wet
Yeah, I'm not ready to give in yet
because something is worth putting out
the fire of this pain,
I'd rather keep the memories
than let a million more degrees
prove that I have nothing to hold onto.
Ashes litter the ground like memories,
I had to forget you
because you went so cold
and memories like that are hard to hold.
How it used to be, I barely know now
Our past dances in the flames,
and when it smolders,
thats when I'll be okay
Because the wood, it was dry.
Yeah, I was ready to say goodbye
because nothing was worth holding back
the fire of this rage
I'd rather burn away the past,
leave the memories in the ash,
and prove that I had nothing to hold onto.
The memories,
the ash,
there's always something left to grasp.
and to hold onto,
and to remember you
Memories litter the floor like ashes
it could be time to burn them all away...
Monday, November 30, 2009
impossible love.
have you ever thought to comprehend
the impossbility of God's love...
to attempt to breach the narrowness of the human mind
to grasp just how God can love you
when
you
are
you.
And grasping this concept to me
is like trying to untie the strands of my brain
and lasso the moon,
because its so unfeasible, that someone could ever love
someone
like
me.
Someone who has seen the things I have done.
Who has had read every thought on my heart,
where I hide the my secrets and guilt.
Someone who see's my shame,
and is not repulsed,
but who pursues me and the reciprocation of my love
that
much
harder.
You see, anyone else who knew me,
and I'm not talking the color of my eyes,
or my opinion of the current weather,
but really KNOWS me,
every thought, every hair on my head, every thing..
should never be able to love me.
Not after
all
I've
done.
It's inconcievable, that such love can exist,
a love that keeps no record of wrongs,
that loves in all circumstance,
that forgives instantly,
that perserveres always,
that would
die
for
you.
But He is that love.
That impossible, unthinkable, unfathomable love.
And everything about myself that I am ashamed of,
His blood has turned to beauty.
He has perfected every weakness.
His love is impossible,
but amazing...
and I can only aspire to be an outlet of His love,
to accept peoples flaws and weakness,
to kiss the faces of the diseased and dirty,
because my narrow mind cannot comprehend that love,
but I want it,
to have and to give...
impossible, love.
the impossbility of God's love...
to attempt to breach the narrowness of the human mind
to grasp just how God can love you
when
you
are
you.
And grasping this concept to me
is like trying to untie the strands of my brain
and lasso the moon,
because its so unfeasible, that someone could ever love
someone
like
me.
Someone who has seen the things I have done.
Who has had read every thought on my heart,
where I hide the my secrets and guilt.
Someone who see's my shame,
and is not repulsed,
but who pursues me and the reciprocation of my love
that
much
harder.
You see, anyone else who knew me,
and I'm not talking the color of my eyes,
or my opinion of the current weather,
but really KNOWS me,
every thought, every hair on my head, every thing..
should never be able to love me.
Not after
all
I've
done.
It's inconcievable, that such love can exist,
a love that keeps no record of wrongs,
that loves in all circumstance,
that forgives instantly,
that perserveres always,
that would
die
for
you.
But He is that love.
That impossible, unthinkable, unfathomable love.
And everything about myself that I am ashamed of,
His blood has turned to beauty.
He has perfected every weakness.
His love is impossible,
but amazing...
and I can only aspire to be an outlet of His love,
to accept peoples flaws and weakness,
to kiss the faces of the diseased and dirty,
because my narrow mind cannot comprehend that love,
but I want it,
to have and to give...
impossible, love.
cold eyes of the past
A shred of the past reflects in your eyes,
a gaze I cannot meet.
I'm afraid of what I'd remember,
and I'm scared of what I'd see.
I'll wish away a glance
and I'll pray to never know
what lies behind those past-stained eyes,
what hides in their shadow.
Because just a fleeting glance
brings every moment flooding back,
and when it does, the eyes I knew
dull into empty black.
I'll never look into the past again,
nor dare to catch your gaze
I'm holding to the memories
of warmer eyes from older days.
a gaze I cannot meet.
I'm afraid of what I'd remember,
and I'm scared of what I'd see.
I'll wish away a glance
and I'll pray to never know
what lies behind those past-stained eyes,
what hides in their shadow.
Because just a fleeting glance
brings every moment flooding back,
and when it does, the eyes I knew
dull into empty black.
I'll never look into the past again,
nor dare to catch your gaze
I'm holding to the memories
of warmer eyes from older days.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
take my hand.
I was crying out to You,
how could I do this on my own,
the obstacles rose high above my head
I was blinded by my doubt,
went and forgot all about
the words to me that You always said
"Take My hand, and do not fear
what I have planned
for I'll be here, just follow Me,
I'll provide you everything
...just take My hand"
So I took Your hand halfheartedly
but never gave You all of me
My fragile mind just couldn't comprehend
that You were bigger than I knew
and should have surrendered all to You,
my almighty God and my best friend
So I will take Your hand,
forI believe in what You've planned,
I know You're here to guide my feet,
and provide me with all I need,
....I'll take Your hand.
No box can confine you,
no dictionary can define you
You're bigger than any box or page
and of all the things You see
You still choose to love on me
may my life be an offering of praise.
No, I never understood
why You'd choose to be so good
But I'll take your hand and let you lead my way
I'm not holding back my heart
I finally see how big You are
I'm so thankful for the words that You still say
"Take my hand, and do not fear
what I have planned
for I'll be here, just follow me
and I'll take care of everything
...just take my hand."
how could I do this on my own,
the obstacles rose high above my head
I was blinded by my doubt,
went and forgot all about
the words to me that You always said
"Take My hand, and do not fear
what I have planned
for I'll be here, just follow Me,
I'll provide you everything
...just take My hand"
So I took Your hand halfheartedly
but never gave You all of me
My fragile mind just couldn't comprehend
that You were bigger than I knew
and should have surrendered all to You,
my almighty God and my best friend
So I will take Your hand,
forI believe in what You've planned,
I know You're here to guide my feet,
and provide me with all I need,
....I'll take Your hand.
No box can confine you,
no dictionary can define you
You're bigger than any box or page
and of all the things You see
You still choose to love on me
may my life be an offering of praise.
No, I never understood
why You'd choose to be so good
But I'll take your hand and let you lead my way
I'm not holding back my heart
I finally see how big You are
I'm so thankful for the words that You still say
"Take my hand, and do not fear
what I have planned
for I'll be here, just follow me
and I'll take care of everything
...just take my hand."
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
my kid brother.
I never fully appreciated what it was like to have a brother until I grew up. I didn't capitalize on this valuable resource until I had wasted so many years, and now I hardly ever get to see him. It feels like I am missing a sizable chunk of my heart.
There are some things that a brother just makes better. Your favorite TV show, for instance, is never fully enjoyable unless you have someone to share it with, and most importantly that someone is your awesome younger, allbeit taller brother. A terrible job? Its not something you can endure alone. There has to be someone to whine to about whatever ridiculous goings-on is going on. You cannot plot evil schemes of destruction and the *awful* massacre of the evil owner alone sufficiently. A hug is always a wonderful thing, but its somehow all the more great when the person you are hugging is someone you would do anything for. Heartbreak isn't even worth going through if you don't have someone around to cheer you up, someone who will threaten to defend your honor and beat the crap out of the sucker who hurt you, and even though you consider the idea, you will eventually just decide to take a walk. And then you will be cheered up by this special someones views on house reproduction and discovery of the underground coke factory.
Now trips to WalMart seem dull in comparison, and aimless drives to nowhere warrant no satisfaction. I miss having someone to go home to talk to, and to steal awesome music from. I miss hearing about his day and everything thats going on with him.
I miss my brother. I wish he knew how amazing and talented I think he is, and that every day I am so thankful that I can say "Derek Friesen? Yeah... He's MY kid brother". Because I know everyone else is just so jealous that they cannot say the same. Maybe someday I can show him just how highly I think of him, because he is the coolest guy in the world.
I'm lucky to be his big sister.
There are some things that a brother just makes better. Your favorite TV show, for instance, is never fully enjoyable unless you have someone to share it with, and most importantly that someone is your awesome younger, allbeit taller brother. A terrible job? Its not something you can endure alone. There has to be someone to whine to about whatever ridiculous goings-on is going on. You cannot plot evil schemes of destruction and the *awful* massacre of the evil owner alone sufficiently. A hug is always a wonderful thing, but its somehow all the more great when the person you are hugging is someone you would do anything for. Heartbreak isn't even worth going through if you don't have someone around to cheer you up, someone who will threaten to defend your honor and beat the crap out of the sucker who hurt you, and even though you consider the idea, you will eventually just decide to take a walk. And then you will be cheered up by this special someones views on house reproduction and discovery of the underground coke factory.
Now trips to WalMart seem dull in comparison, and aimless drives to nowhere warrant no satisfaction. I miss having someone to go home to talk to, and to steal awesome music from. I miss hearing about his day and everything thats going on with him.
I miss my brother. I wish he knew how amazing and talented I think he is, and that every day I am so thankful that I can say "Derek Friesen? Yeah... He's MY kid brother". Because I know everyone else is just so jealous that they cannot say the same. Maybe someday I can show him just how highly I think of him, because he is the coolest guy in the world.
I'm lucky to be his big sister.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
sidetracked.

The silence pierced by the whistle,
and I know its coming fast,
that eighty mile an hour freighter
speeding down the tracks
And here I stand in the tunnel
in the dark where I can't see
that the only light I'm finding
is the train speeding at me
and I know its coming fast,
that eighty mile an hour freighter
speeding down the tracks
And here I stand in the tunnel
in the dark where I can't see
that the only light I'm finding
is the train speeding at me
Won't somebody save me.
pull me out of dangers path,
I'm frozen, fear has rooted me
onto these steel tracks
this is the end of me
pull me out of dangers path,
I'm frozen, fear has rooted me
onto these steel tracks
this is the end of me
I try to move my feet
but my breath has left my lungs
And the seconds are suspended
as the train so swiftly comes
The metal nails screaming
and the shaking rocks my faith
When my limbs regain their movement
but my breath has left my lungs
And the seconds are suspended
as the train so swiftly comes
The metal nails screaming
and the shaking rocks my faith
When my limbs regain their movement
its gonna be too late
Won't somebody save me,
pull me out of dangers path
I'm frozen, fear has rooted me
firm on these steel tracks
this is the end of me
pull me out of dangers path
I'm frozen, fear has rooted me
firm on these steel tracks
this is the end of me
Seconds left, my life won't flash
my eyes just paint the pain
and through the window, I can see that
I'm the driver of the train
Nobody can save me,
I have mapped out dangers path
I'm the reason I am rooted here
onto these steel tracks
I ended me...
my eyes just paint the pain
and through the window, I can see that
I'm the driver of the train
Nobody can save me,
I have mapped out dangers path
I'm the reason I am rooted here
onto these steel tracks
I ended me...
You're brighter than the headlights
and You're here with me on the tracks
And You hold me so that I don't fear,
and walk me to Your path
and You're here with me on the tracks
And You hold me so that I don't fear,
and walk me to Your path
Only You can save me
pluck me out of dangers path,
Your love saved me from destruction
and got me set on track
You see the end of me,
Yeah, You pull me back
pluck me out of dangers path,
Your love saved me from destruction
and got me set on track
You see the end of me,
Yeah, You pull me back
Monday, October 12, 2009
little black box under my bed.
I don't remember the first time it happened. I do know though, that the choices I made after would follow me for the rest of my life, and cause me to fall far as believed possible from grace.
It started so innocently. But then again, doesn't it always? You do it because it feels good and nothing else. Nobody told me what I was doing, just that it was wrong. Because of this, I learned to hide it, but never to control it, because why should I control a reasonless sin?
By the time I found out there was a reason, it was too late. It had become a habit, a sinful addiction that was insurmountable to overcome. And I knew it was wrong, so I tried to quit right away. Cold turkey. Cut it right out. Never let it consume me again.
But I failed.
And not once, no, instead of becoming better, it was getting worse. It controlled me, and I let it.
In order to mask my shame of failure and weakness, I began to justify it. I ignored the reasons why I shouldn't do it, and instead deceived myself into thinking that I wasn't so bad, other people did it, it was normal. But my excuses never convinced me completely, for I knew inside how disgusting I was.
It became my secret. Tucked away in a little black box, under my bed where I would know right where to find it. Too often, the lid would be opened, the contents used, and then nicely replaced when I was finished so nobody would know. It remained hidden, and my guilt with it. It was so easy to pretend when I could separate it.
I do not say addiction lightly. The contents of my little black box were used often. I don't even know why, only that it was something I had to do, because if I didn't, I was thinking about doing it. And as my addiction grew, so did my shame, and so did the reason for hiding it.
Nobody knew about my little black box, and I made sure it stayed that way. I pushed it farther and farther towards the wall when company came, and then reached even farther under the bed for it when I wanted to use it. I was consumed. I was disgusting. I was filled with shame. And I was most of all, utterly alone.
Or so I thought. One day, over a bathroom sink and a library book, I was confronted. I was cornered and trapped out of a careless slip of the tongue. I was embarrassed and so very ashamed. How could I ever be seen the same way? Once my little black box was opened, I would be seen for what I truly was. Disgusting.
But I wasn't. Instead, I was told that I wasn't alone, that the struggle was not just mine. I was not, as I had thought, the only one. This surprised me and overwhelmed me, for that knowledge alone was freeing. I was still full of shame and guilt, but I was not alone.
My addiction had choked me. It had separated me from the One that I needed the most. But I was able to start seeing that I was not disgusting. I was loved. Loved despite my weakness to temptation and my bitter struggle. Loved even though I continually opened the little black box.
This was my struggle. This IS my struggle. But maybe, just maybe by opening that little black box wide, I will be free of whats inside... forever.
It started so innocently. But then again, doesn't it always? You do it because it feels good and nothing else. Nobody told me what I was doing, just that it was wrong. Because of this, I learned to hide it, but never to control it, because why should I control a reasonless sin?
By the time I found out there was a reason, it was too late. It had become a habit, a sinful addiction that was insurmountable to overcome. And I knew it was wrong, so I tried to quit right away. Cold turkey. Cut it right out. Never let it consume me again.
But I failed.
And not once, no, instead of becoming better, it was getting worse. It controlled me, and I let it.
In order to mask my shame of failure and weakness, I began to justify it. I ignored the reasons why I shouldn't do it, and instead deceived myself into thinking that I wasn't so bad, other people did it, it was normal. But my excuses never convinced me completely, for I knew inside how disgusting I was.
It became my secret. Tucked away in a little black box, under my bed where I would know right where to find it. Too often, the lid would be opened, the contents used, and then nicely replaced when I was finished so nobody would know. It remained hidden, and my guilt with it. It was so easy to pretend when I could separate it.
I do not say addiction lightly. The contents of my little black box were used often. I don't even know why, only that it was something I had to do, because if I didn't, I was thinking about doing it. And as my addiction grew, so did my shame, and so did the reason for hiding it.
Nobody knew about my little black box, and I made sure it stayed that way. I pushed it farther and farther towards the wall when company came, and then reached even farther under the bed for it when I wanted to use it. I was consumed. I was disgusting. I was filled with shame. And I was most of all, utterly alone.
Or so I thought. One day, over a bathroom sink and a library book, I was confronted. I was cornered and trapped out of a careless slip of the tongue. I was embarrassed and so very ashamed. How could I ever be seen the same way? Once my little black box was opened, I would be seen for what I truly was. Disgusting.
But I wasn't. Instead, I was told that I wasn't alone, that the struggle was not just mine. I was not, as I had thought, the only one. This surprised me and overwhelmed me, for that knowledge alone was freeing. I was still full of shame and guilt, but I was not alone.
My addiction had choked me. It had separated me from the One that I needed the most. But I was able to start seeing that I was not disgusting. I was loved. Loved despite my weakness to temptation and my bitter struggle. Loved even though I continually opened the little black box.
This was my struggle. This IS my struggle. But maybe, just maybe by opening that little black box wide, I will be free of whats inside... forever.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
the Great Artist
I met Him in the art gallery, awed by the paintings depicting the stories of other lives, lives that were surely more vibrant and kept under more careful control then my own. He wanted to take my life and turn it into a masterpiece, but I was unconvinced. My life was full of ugliness, nothing that could be painted into anything special. He took my hand and spoke of vivid colors and brilliant strokes, and I was intrigued, for surely the mess of my life could never amount to what He imagined in His mind.
He assured me it could, but on one condition.
"Let me have the canvas."
Instantly afraid, I held my canvas tighter to my chest and shook my head fiercely. "Anything but that!" I begged, for my canvas was painted with shame, guilt, fear, and failure. I couldn't let Him see! He would be disgusted, and give me up as a hopeless case. I so longed to be made beautiful.
"I cannot create My masterpiece without you giving up the canvas" He said.
I was afraid of that.
"But...please! I have seen your work..."I cried. "These halls are filled with Your art! You don't need THIS canvas."
He motioned to the walls. "All these... these came from the ones who gave up their canvas."
I looked to the walls again, and averting my gaze slowly handed Him what I had been keeping so close. I winced, expecting to hear His disproval and disgust echo in the halls before sending me away.
It didn't come.
I looked up timidly, and saw Him at work already, working with a steady hand to sand off the mess that was there. He was gentle enough for me to sense His care, and yet firm enough to make sure the gunk did not return.
Sanding off the first parts were easy, for the guilt had gathered so high it raised off the page. My shame was rubbed down with tender hands that were not disgusted, but loving and eager to create.
The hard part came when He got close to the canvas, to the parts where the ugly paint clung the hardest. He began to scrape it away, and this time it hurt.
"What are you doing?" I cried. He looked at me with tears in His eyes and whispered "I know, but hold tight to me and I will bear your pain." I grasped His hand and squeezed hard, and He cried. His teardrops hit the page and dissolved the paint away until there was no trace of failure, and He was left with a blank canvas.
I watched him dip his brush into the paint, and began His strokes. Each brush was soft and purposeful, and His hand remained steady. Colors flashed across the page, blending vibrantly into a picture I had not known was possible. Then he dipped His brush into the black...
"Wait... don't do that!" I cried. "You're going to wreck it! Here... let me do it MY way." And so, I grabbed the brush from His capable hands.
At first, it looked alright, and I was happy with my work. "This isn't so hard..." I said smugly, as I painted happily away. I continued on in this manner until, not as careful as He had been, I slipped and the brush left a long, ugly stroke.
"I didn't want this to happen!" I cried. "I can't do this on my own... please... take it."
I gave Him back the brush, and He worked silently, ever softly, incorporating my ugly stroke and turning it into a part of the picture. When He finished with it, it was more beautiful than it had been before. And so happily, I continued to let Him work.
Stroke after stroke. Color after color. Each line sure and slow. I got antsy watching. "Is it finished yet?" I asked impatiently. "Why is it taking so long?"
He replied, "Masterpieces do not happen overnight. Wait, and I promise you it will be worth it."
Hours passed, then days, then weeks, then months, then years, until finally He finished.
Wearily, I asked to see what He had done.
Smiling, He turned the canvas around. In it, I saw the places where I had tried to take over. I saw traces of the places I had hurried Him, but yet He remained steady in His work. But more than anything, I saw beauty.
The Great Artist held me close, and said "You are finished." as I breathed my last breath.
He assured me it could, but on one condition.
"Let me have the canvas."
Instantly afraid, I held my canvas tighter to my chest and shook my head fiercely. "Anything but that!" I begged, for my canvas was painted with shame, guilt, fear, and failure. I couldn't let Him see! He would be disgusted, and give me up as a hopeless case. I so longed to be made beautiful.
"I cannot create My masterpiece without you giving up the canvas" He said.
I was afraid of that.
"But...please! I have seen your work..."I cried. "These halls are filled with Your art! You don't need THIS canvas."
He motioned to the walls. "All these... these came from the ones who gave up their canvas."
I looked to the walls again, and averting my gaze slowly handed Him what I had been keeping so close. I winced, expecting to hear His disproval and disgust echo in the halls before sending me away.
It didn't come.
I looked up timidly, and saw Him at work already, working with a steady hand to sand off the mess that was there. He was gentle enough for me to sense His care, and yet firm enough to make sure the gunk did not return.
Sanding off the first parts were easy, for the guilt had gathered so high it raised off the page. My shame was rubbed down with tender hands that were not disgusted, but loving and eager to create.
The hard part came when He got close to the canvas, to the parts where the ugly paint clung the hardest. He began to scrape it away, and this time it hurt.
"What are you doing?" I cried. He looked at me with tears in His eyes and whispered "I know, but hold tight to me and I will bear your pain." I grasped His hand and squeezed hard, and He cried. His teardrops hit the page and dissolved the paint away until there was no trace of failure, and He was left with a blank canvas.
I watched him dip his brush into the paint, and began His strokes. Each brush was soft and purposeful, and His hand remained steady. Colors flashed across the page, blending vibrantly into a picture I had not known was possible. Then he dipped His brush into the black...
"Wait... don't do that!" I cried. "You're going to wreck it! Here... let me do it MY way." And so, I grabbed the brush from His capable hands.
At first, it looked alright, and I was happy with my work. "This isn't so hard..." I said smugly, as I painted happily away. I continued on in this manner until, not as careful as He had been, I slipped and the brush left a long, ugly stroke.
"I didn't want this to happen!" I cried. "I can't do this on my own... please... take it."
I gave Him back the brush, and He worked silently, ever softly, incorporating my ugly stroke and turning it into a part of the picture. When He finished with it, it was more beautiful than it had been before. And so happily, I continued to let Him work.
Stroke after stroke. Color after color. Each line sure and slow. I got antsy watching. "Is it finished yet?" I asked impatiently. "Why is it taking so long?"
He replied, "Masterpieces do not happen overnight. Wait, and I promise you it will be worth it."
Hours passed, then days, then weeks, then months, then years, until finally He finished.
Wearily, I asked to see what He had done.
Smiling, He turned the canvas around. In it, I saw the places where I had tried to take over. I saw traces of the places I had hurried Him, but yet He remained steady in His work. But more than anything, I saw beauty.
The Great Artist held me close, and said "You are finished." as I breathed my last breath.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
MMRY LN.
-I'm taking a walk down memory lane,
but only if you'll walk it with me too
I need to get away from here,
and chase a feeling I forgot I knew,
you were there.
The rustling of the dancing leaves
reminds me of the
words you breathed,
the most bittersweet of memories,
remember?
But if you choose to forget,
I'll not watch you turn your head
that way I won't see
your cheeks are wet,
no I won't linger.
But the sun burned in my mind
the smile I haven't chanced to find
since you left it all behind,
I can still picture
We'll trace the footsteps that you left,
and if you choose to forget
I'll pretend that you were never here.
But there's a footprint on my heart,
in its faded former glory,
and in its foolish way,
its telling me the story
I once knew
The path winds to the place
where your footsteps cease to tread,
and my heart still stops to see it
and for wishing you had said
that you'd be leaving.
I remember.
I knew you wouldn't walk with me,
retrace a past, so beaten and well-worn,
memory lane never looked so forlorn
no, not without you.
I still remember.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
through the eyes of daddy's little girl.
Today, my dad was laid off from his job. I haven't wrapped my head around it. When you were younger, didn't you see your dad as invincible? Someone who couldn't be touched? My dad was that guy. If anything ever happened, there was no need to worry, because dad would take care of it. If there were monsters under my bed, he would pray at my bedside and they would know better than to mess with him. If my heart was broken, I could turn to the only man that ever truly loved me, the one that would never cast me aside. He was the man who I could fall apart on, and he would always be the rock that held me together. He did all these daring things that I admired. He climbed up a mountain with me wrapped tight on his back because I was too scared to climb it myself. He scaled our climbing tree when me and Derek could only make it to the third branch up. He had climbed the Lethbridge bridge. He conquered things. He took risks. And he wasn't afraid of anything.
Today, I found out my dad isn't invincible. He isn't untouchable. He was knocked down by some jerk (cough- bias) who does not fully appreciate the work ethic that my dad has.
No. He's not invincible... He's better.
Because even though something finally touched him, he didn't tell me how worried he was, or how scared he may have been. When he told me, he spoke of opportunity and God's plan, and I just knew from listening that he truly has confidence in it.
My dad may not be superman. He may not be capable of taking a bullet to the eye. And he definitely does not wear a cape and tights (to the relief of us kids!). But my dad is truly strong, because he believes in the Most High, and because he gave me reason to believe too.
Today, I found out my dad isn't invincible. He isn't untouchable. He was knocked down by some jerk (cough- bias) who does not fully appreciate the work ethic that my dad has.
No. He's not invincible... He's better.
Because even though something finally touched him, he didn't tell me how worried he was, or how scared he may have been. When he told me, he spoke of opportunity and God's plan, and I just knew from listening that he truly has confidence in it.
My dad may not be superman. He may not be capable of taking a bullet to the eye. And he definitely does not wear a cape and tights (to the relief of us kids!). But my dad is truly strong, because he believes in the Most High, and because he gave me reason to believe too.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
meeting with my maker.
He asked me to meet with Him,
and so I decided I had to prepare.
There was much to do, for how could I go before a King,
in my tattered rags and with my heart in pieces.
I scrubbed.
I washed all the places He would think to look, and then some.
Even behind my ears and under my fingernails,
but to my dismay, I found I was still unclean.
Disappointed and ashamed, I went to the closet
hoping to find an outfit that would hide my filth.
In disbelief, I pulled out rag after rag,
finding nothing suitable to wear before a King.
Moth eaten and torn, I knew they would never do.
Distressed, I decided to address my broken heart.
Too big a job for me to piece back together,
and my emotions too tangled to try,
I then knew.
I wasn't good enough to go meet with the King.
He wouldn't accept my filth, my shame,
my tattered rags or my broken heart.
And so instead of meeting with Him, I hid.
The time I was supposed to meet with the King came,
and it passed.
Minutes ticked by as I sat in my hiding place,
guilt-ridden and ashamed.
And then, a knock.
A knock followed by His voice carrying through the door,
and He said my name.
"Jessica,
Jessica, why did you not come meet with Me?
I waited for you.
I'm still waiting for you.
Please, answer the door. I know you're there."
Astonished and scared, I remained silent,
letting the shock of His persistence sink in.
He knocked again.
This time, fueled by my longing to see the King,
I opened the door, careful to remain in the shadows.
And He asked me,
"Why didn't you come?"
I hung my head.
"King, you don't understand.
I wanted to meet with You.
I looked forward to it, I tried to prepare,
but I can't let You see me like this."
He reached through the door and lifted my chin,
and whispered softly
"There is nothing that could keep Me away.
Please, come into the light.
I long to meet with you, just as you are."
He must be kidding, I thought to myself.
I had been judged before, it was what they always said
until they saw, and they walked away.
But His honesty was reflected behind His eyes,
ringing true with every word He spoke.
And so I stepped out from behind the door.
"See?" I said, redfaced and teary-eyed.
"Surely you do not want to meet with the likes of me."
Slowly, and deliberately
with the most tender of expressions,
and the most gentle of words,
He looked me in the eye and said,
"I love you.
I love everything about you.
I want to cast away your shame,
fill the holes that leave you empty and cold,
and hold your heart in My hands.
I will take you as you are.
Meet with me.
Will you let Me in?"
and so I decided I had to prepare.
There was much to do, for how could I go before a King,
in my tattered rags and with my heart in pieces.
I scrubbed.
I washed all the places He would think to look, and then some.
Even behind my ears and under my fingernails,
but to my dismay, I found I was still unclean.
Disappointed and ashamed, I went to the closet
hoping to find an outfit that would hide my filth.
In disbelief, I pulled out rag after rag,
finding nothing suitable to wear before a King.
Moth eaten and torn, I knew they would never do.
Distressed, I decided to address my broken heart.
Too big a job for me to piece back together,
and my emotions too tangled to try,
I then knew.
I wasn't good enough to go meet with the King.
He wouldn't accept my filth, my shame,
my tattered rags or my broken heart.
And so instead of meeting with Him, I hid.
The time I was supposed to meet with the King came,
and it passed.
Minutes ticked by as I sat in my hiding place,
guilt-ridden and ashamed.
And then, a knock.
A knock followed by His voice carrying through the door,
and He said my name.
"Jessica,
Jessica, why did you not come meet with Me?
I waited for you.
I'm still waiting for you.
Please, answer the door. I know you're there."
Astonished and scared, I remained silent,
letting the shock of His persistence sink in.
He knocked again.
This time, fueled by my longing to see the King,
I opened the door, careful to remain in the shadows.
And He asked me,
"Why didn't you come?"
I hung my head.
"King, you don't understand.
I wanted to meet with You.
I looked forward to it, I tried to prepare,
but I can't let You see me like this."
He reached through the door and lifted my chin,
and whispered softly
"There is nothing that could keep Me away.
Please, come into the light.
I long to meet with you, just as you are."
He must be kidding, I thought to myself.
I had been judged before, it was what they always said
until they saw, and they walked away.
But His honesty was reflected behind His eyes,
ringing true with every word He spoke.
And so I stepped out from behind the door.
"See?" I said, redfaced and teary-eyed.
"Surely you do not want to meet with the likes of me."
Slowly, and deliberately
with the most tender of expressions,
and the most gentle of words,
He looked me in the eye and said,
"I love you.
I love everything about you.
I want to cast away your shame,
fill the holes that leave you empty and cold,
and hold your heart in My hands.
I will take you as you are.
Meet with me.
Will you let Me in?"
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
I made the bed I'm lying in,
out of crude black nails, and laced with sin
and though my back is ripped and red,
I'll sleep here tonight again.
And I'll pull the covers over my face
to hide my shame from meeting Your gaze
This time I fear I went too far
to ever deserve your grace.
And yet You love, and still You see
past all the sin that's consuming me
And you hold my heart in nail scarred hands,
as You whisper to me of bigger plans
You're relentless love is washing over me.
out of crude black nails, and laced with sin
and though my back is ripped and red,
I'll sleep here tonight again.
And I'll pull the covers over my face
to hide my shame from meeting Your gaze
This time I fear I went too far
to ever deserve your grace.
And yet You love, and still You see
past all the sin that's consuming me
And you hold my heart in nail scarred hands,
as You whisper to me of bigger plans
You're relentless love is washing over me.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
a road not walked, a pain not bore
She told me her story
with the sadness in her eyes,
I saw every pain she ever bore
carved into dark red lines
And it killed me that I couldn't find
the words to make it better,
and that the only thing I could get out was tears,
and that upset her.with the sadness in her eyes,
I saw every pain she ever bore
carved into dark red lines
And it killed me that I couldn't find
the words to make it better,
and that the only thing I could get out was tears,
I never have the words to say,
so they often comes out wrong.
No, I just don't understand your pain
so instead I bite my tongue.
But if you don't mind, I'll cry for you
and I'll give my heart to break
please don't feel you have to hide
behind the smile that you fake.
I don't have any answers,
but I really want to love you,
and show you just how highly
that I'm really thinking of you.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
by the Potter's hands.
"But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show us that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed."
- 2 Corinthians 4:7-9
-
-
-Once unshapen, rough and hard
He warmed me in His hands,
He put me on His potter's wheel
and whispered me His plans.
As I spun He molded me,
and took my shapeless mass,
His hands were gently shaping me
with a love that's unsurpassed.
The lump of clay that I had been
was spun into a jar,
He said to me "You're beautiful
just the way you are."
I admired the Potter's handiwork
and proudly was displayed
until I saw the other jars
the Potter's hands had made.
Some jars He had made taller,
some had much more vibrant colors,
and as I looked I wondered why
I wasn't as pretty as the others.
I gathered dust in discontent
until the Potter came to me,
He said to me "My child,
what is wrong with what you see?
You know I made you special,
every curve and every line.
There is not a thing about you,
that makes you any less a jar of mine."
I pointed to the places that
I'd rather Him not seen,
the places I had cracked and where
the chips of paint had been.
He held me in His well-worn hands
and put His fingers where I'd faded,
He whispered "You are perfect
and thats just the way I made it.
Never question that you're beautiful,
because my child, you are.
I shaped you how I needed you,
and you're a very precious jar."
His love washed over all my clay
until I understood,
the Potter knew He made me,
and He knew He made me good.
He held me just a while longer
and put me back in the display,
I proudly remained on the shelf,
a treasure in jars of clay.
He warmed me in His hands,
He put me on His potter's wheel
and whispered me His plans.
As I spun He molded me,
and took my shapeless mass,
His hands were gently shaping me
with a love that's unsurpassed.
The lump of clay that I had been
was spun into a jar,
He said to me "You're beautiful
just the way you are."
I admired the Potter's handiwork
and proudly was displayed
until I saw the other jars
the Potter's hands had made.
Some jars He had made taller,
some had much more vibrant colors,
and as I looked I wondered why
I wasn't as pretty as the others.
I gathered dust in discontent
until the Potter came to me,
He said to me "My child,
what is wrong with what you see?
You know I made you special,
every curve and every line.
There is not a thing about you,
that makes you any less a jar of mine."
I pointed to the places that
I'd rather Him not seen,
the places I had cracked and where
the chips of paint had been.
He held me in His well-worn hands
and put His fingers where I'd faded,
He whispered "You are perfect
and thats just the way I made it.
Never question that you're beautiful,
because my child, you are.
I shaped you how I needed you,
and you're a very precious jar."
His love washed over all my clay
until I understood,
the Potter knew He made me,
and He knew He made me good.
He held me just a while longer
and put me back in the display,
I proudly remained on the shelf,
a treasure in jars of clay.
Friday, September 4, 2009
at my doorstep
-
Not too long ago, Opportunity knocked
but I hid behind the window curtain,
for to answer the door and invite him inside
meant letting in his friend Uncertain.
Now Opportunity and Uncertain were friends
and they came hand-in-hand to my door,
aware that I had been looking for something,
but as for what, I couldn't be sure.
Opportunity was persistent as he knocked again,
while Uncertain hung aloofly behind,
I hid in the curtain smiting Uncertain,
wishing I could let Opportunity inside.
One knock, then two, and a knock once more,
until Opportunity sighed and turned away
Disappointed, I stood at the window until
I decided I'd rather them stay.
I reached for the doorknob to let them inside
and slowly turned it to reveal,
that all that was left of Opportunity and Uncertain
was a note that began "Here's the deal...
We waited around but you just wouldn't answer
and now youve missed out on your shot,
I know that Uncertain can appear rather shady,
but I assure you, in person he's not.
I'm sorry, but we wont be back on your step,
we've got a tight schedule to tend,
But we wish you luck in finding your something,
Sincerely, Opportunity, your friend."
I finally tore my eyes off the note that they left
and was washed in my bitter regret
for wishing the pair had stayed just a bit longer
so that maybe we could all have met.
I hid from Opportunity, for he brought Uncertain
until I found I was too late,
and now, for the something I'm searching to find,
I guess I have longer to wait.
but I hid behind the window curtain,
for to answer the door and invite him inside
meant letting in his friend Uncertain.
Now Opportunity and Uncertain were friends
and they came hand-in-hand to my door,
aware that I had been looking for something,
but as for what, I couldn't be sure.
Opportunity was persistent as he knocked again,
while Uncertain hung aloofly behind,
I hid in the curtain smiting Uncertain,
wishing I could let Opportunity inside.
One knock, then two, and a knock once more,
until Opportunity sighed and turned away
Disappointed, I stood at the window until
I decided I'd rather them stay.
I reached for the doorknob to let them inside
and slowly turned it to reveal,
that all that was left of Opportunity and Uncertain
was a note that began "Here's the deal...
We waited around but you just wouldn't answer
and now youve missed out on your shot,
I know that Uncertain can appear rather shady,
but I assure you, in person he's not.
I'm sorry, but we wont be back on your step,
we've got a tight schedule to tend,
But we wish you luck in finding your something,
Sincerely, Opportunity, your friend."
I finally tore my eyes off the note that they left
and was washed in my bitter regret
for wishing the pair had stayed just a bit longer
so that maybe we could all have met.
I hid from Opportunity, for he brought Uncertain
until I found I was too late,
and now, for the something I'm searching to find,
I guess I have longer to wait.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
"YACHAL" explained.
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