We bob up and down 295,
And I’m just lounging back,
Spring feet on the dashboard.
Naked toes as I unearth thoughts.
Bending down to pick each one up,
Like Easter eggs cradled in green blades.
I look back and realize that God uses Springtime to breathe Resurrection wind into my collapsing lungs.
Inflate, inflate, inflate.
Old reveries dust themselves off
To the pitch of d-flat major.
Paradoxical can be cathartic; sweet with a melancholy aftertaste.
God pulls the tides by lunar strings,
Weaving patterns through the swelling crests,
Perfectly orchestrating each drop into submission.
It’s eyes adjusting to the unfiltered light,
While bumbling through a meadow speckled in wildflowers—
Bursting red, purple, and yellow life!
You’ve not remembered their name for two decades, but yet you’ve loved them.
At first glance, you’ve reasoned you don’t need a name to love something inexplicability.
I so vehemently want to peel away these onion layers of thought.
Wipe up the layer of soupy fog.
I feel one thought away from a lobotomy, one second from being overthrown.
But I will stake my existence on You seeing me without magnification.
Zephaniah 3:17 ESV
“The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.”
I am instantly in love with this verse. God, Your timing is impeccable. 🙂
On a dark night outside and inside, I plaster myself to my Heavenly Father’s promises for my life.
:screams:” It doesn’t matter how I feel. It doesn’t matter what I see. My hope will always be in Your promises to me.”
Marriage means looking at everyone you’ve ever known
And saying, “Wait. This human being comes first in line–”
When it comes to who gets the most mashed potatoes or when it comes to heart space occupied.
It’s theme songs playing every 45 minutes as one episode blips to the next
holding when sobs rumble bodies.
It’s you and me.
Not always cuddling like a romantic comedy in the heat of summer,
Living on pasta and hotdogs.
One running late, one getting snarky.
It’s imperfect and sometimes work,
And it keeps getting more beautiful as time walks along.
We moved to North Carolina on Friday. In my excitement for the move, I think I bypassed something that I need to recognize is happening.
Moving here was brave, is brave, and will continue to be brave in the year(s?) that we spend here.
I don’t like to “ring my own bell,” but I felt, as I always do, that writing it out would help make it real.