Showing posts from August, 2013


Isn't it true how we study a bud of a rose, so eagerly awaiting it's unfolding, singing our praises with oohing and awing, so willingly tending to it's every leaf, ever anticipating it's blooming because we believe in what we cannot see; it will become a full and lovely thing. When it blooms in all its glory we take pride. How then does such a beautiful thing fade; slowly, slowly, slowly we look past it all, forgetting the anticipated efforts, the desire for such loveliness and the pride in what we've nurtured. Until one day we notice something amiss, and again we yearn, with much less than a second thought, for that fullness and beauty; a fullness and beauty that was never really ours.

just three things

I want to understand the power in silence
then my gushing river of words
might instead refresh like a gentle stream

I want to understand your faith
then my faith that I claim is strong enough to move mountains
might instead be felt through our embrace

I want to understand sacrifice
then my obsession with the figure in the mirror
might instead reflect deep truth in the words, "I care"

I want to understand trust
then the past that I've worn like old prescriptions
might instead be replaced so I can focus ahead

I want to understand that understanding has it's own limit
then my understanding that is incomplete
might instead wait with fervor for a Completeness

I want to understand that until that Completeness
then I must commit to do three things:
trust steadily, hope unswervingly, and love extravagantly

Me too!

Hyundai puts it well. Mischief loves company. And so do I.

As I sit down this morning to start working on lesson plans in a new town, a new house, a new community, for a new school, with a new age group. I don't know what I'm doing. If I could, I'd purchase a mentor or professor to remind me what I've learned in college the past 6 years. Am I competent? Will I succeed? Will this loneliness go away? Will this place ever feel like home? Will I find someone who will join my mischief? These questions scroll around my brain all day.

Not sure if it's coincidence or an answer to prayer, but the chapter I read this morning in 2 Corinthians said:

"Satan has done a good job of pushing you down. He will push you to your knees. And then you'll beg God to remove the pain and grief, but this is what He says:

'My grace is enough;
it's all you need
My strength fills you
when you are weak.'

What a gift. Now you are strong because you are weak. So take it all wi…

to the north pole

when did the sun fade?
and these clouds that have settled,
from where do they stretch?
when once the life was green and vibrant
trees tall and strong
now they droop and weep
closing in on this frozen ground
filtering through a scale of gray
if I could box this up and send it off
i would
send it to the north pole
where I believe it belongs

the only thing I can box
are a few personal items
my thoughts are not those
they aren't my own
but if I could box them
I would
categorize and organize
alphabetize and synchronize
I would
box them and send them to the north pole

far away I would send them
so the riddles wouldn't rattle at night
and rock my body to wake
stealing such sweet dreams without asking
stealing what's mine
and replacing with fear
oh, how I wish I could box them
I would
label and address them
and send them to the north pole

oh, how I'd like to transport
this grief and vexation
pack it and ship it
bury what is rotten
and pluck what is ripe
I would
but is not all …