“What we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory He will reveal to us later.”
I like that people leave messages on chalkboards in craft stores.
I am ninety eight percent happy
ninety five percent of the time
I have rough weeks,
sad days, bad moments
sometimes I can’t breathe
occasionally the sinking feeling in my stomach
is so heavy
eating or drinking anything
But mostly I am happy
I am alive
I am high (on life, of course)
I am in love
I am loved
and I love
I know God
I know, God
last night i found a row of scars
that i didn’t remember having.
last night it just struck me as strange,
tonight it screams beautiful
and points to something like grace.
because how could i forget even just one,
never mind a dozen thin little
lines that i once carved
into my fleshy paper white thighs?
when we allow our wounds to heal,
they do and that’s beautiful.
God showed me how to forget,
but he also taught me to remember.
and i remember the time i traced
every self-inflicted scar
with a red pen,
the expensive kind art-school kids use.
and R was glad to know where
every unbearable moment landed
on this body, the first naked girl
he’d ever seen in person,
but it broke his heart.
We are God’s poem…
I found myself in Church this AM.
The pastor wore plaid.
I’m looking Jesus
straight in the eyes.
God wrote me long ago.
He knows everything
I lose and find.
He knows the end is perfect.
My heart transplant
began years ago,
but I’ve got years to go…
Until He stitches me closed.
And gives me perfect sight
and perfect love to give.
On Saturday I started reading Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. It is amazing. I want to read everything he has ever written. I’ve only got a few pages left and I seriously want to just start reading it again as soon as I finish, it is that great. I can’t type the whole book here because that would be plagiarism or something like it and plus it would take a really long time, but I do want to share some of my favorite parts so far.
If God planned it all,
then this is part of the plan too.
That means God knew
we’d have these methods of communication
and how easy it would be
for someone to prevent
two people from having an exchange
of innocent words
was nothing more than co-parenting.
Could someone really be that insecure
that they’d prevent a mom
from checking on her sons
because they’re worried
they could lose a lover
the same way they got one?
Only God knows.
Love like an ocean.
You have kept me from drowning.
You, God: both water.
I thought about letting you go today,
but then I saw you just being you.
I don’t think I can ever get over you
as long as I can still see him in you.
The sixteen year old boy
who lent me his towel
after I had the crazy idea
to go swimming in the middle of the night.
It’s as if God is whispering,
“Don’t give up on him yet;
he still loves you, even if he can’t
say the words out loud.
Actions speak louder than words.”
The seventeen year old boy
who knew he wanted to spend his life with me.
The boy who became a father at nineteen
because he couldn’t bare the thought
of another man ever getting the chance.
Now he’s twenty four
and a better man
than he knew he could be,
but I think I knew it all along.
He shows he cares
without knowing he’s doing it,
gives himself away.
So I’ll keep holding on
because tonight you said “I love you”
but the words came out differently:
“Here’s some goat food.”
I love you too.