sunglasses

sometimes i feel like i am in a marathon

on a treadmill

i keep running and running

toward the light

away from the dark

but as soon as i take a breath

to look behind me

it is all still there.

note to self:

buy sunglasses

because i will only look ahead

directly into the light. 

coffee

i love coffee. anyone who has spent any measurable amount of time with me has probably witnessed the consumption of coffee by non other than my self. just yesterday, Chad was making fun of my methods of consumption. when i first meet the mug of choice, i grab it, instinctively, with two hands. i then pull the mug close to my chest, just under my chin; savoring every pleasant aroma, warmth, and the prospect that this cup might bring life to my sluggish body. coffee is more than a beverage, it is momentary comfort. yes, perhaps, an addiction. My resolution for 2009: make God my addiction, more than my coffee. i want to have instinctive qualities in my relationship with Him. i want to reach for Him at all times, without even knowing. i want to pull Him close because in His arms i'm already as close as it gets. i want to savor Him, to find life in Him. really....i want to know Him more. complacency, idleness, being spiritually stagnant is not okay. 

so, i'm not that awesome at computers...obviously...but i accidently deleted this entry and can not find it again. many apologies. :)

you spoke

the air is thick,
heavy with your presence

thank you

i sing with all i have
from the bottom of my depths
in efforts
simply for you to hear me
but you've already heard
next to me
your arms are wrapped, tight

heart open,
i long for you to see it
to hold
but you already do
you've held me from the start

don't let go
you're so good, so great
don't let go

my tub

I just emerged from the bathtub. I take baths when I am emotionally burdened and need some time to organize my thoughts. I usually feel some level of refreshed upon exiting the tub. Oh, my reason for entrance on this occasion, you ask? I felt emotionally alone.

I have recently picked up a new book in which to dive into during my moments of solitude. My current book, The Shack, was recommended to me by my father. Under the pretenses that my father described the book to me, and some feedback from close friends who have heard the author speak, I was under the self formed idea that The Shack was a piece of nonfiction. In fact, the writing is crafted so precisely that I only had one minute question to the validity of the piece of nonfiction as far in as page 56. 

What initially drew me so far into the book was the raw emotion. Without spoiling the book for you, the story details the incidences surrounding a father following the disappearance of his youngest daughter, Missy. Having lost a younger brother and seeing the pain and challenges a loss of that magnitude has on a family, I identified very closely with the father, Mack, as William Paul Young so vividly depicts each thought and emotion that he experiences directly following Missy’s disappearance. There is one scene on the morning of the disappearance where Mack burns two fingers while trying to prepare a lavish campground breakfast for his three youngest children. The morning that my brother died, before I became aware of the accident, I was working in a restaurant and while carrying a bowl of soup out to a table, I tripped and spilled the soup, burning my finger in the process. I couldn’t believe that I was learning of someone’s story who experienced the same emotions, dealt with the same loss, even suffered from the same odd nuances of the day that I did. I envisioned myself, following the completion of the book, writing this man and sitting down over coffee pouring out and finding comfort in the similarities of each other’s triumphs over past struggles.

It was at that moment, overwhelmed by the companionship I had already established via readership and unacquainted stranger, I paused in my rash journey through the first 56 pages. I laid the book to rest on my leg, page kept while the cover of the book faced up. I was glancing over the reviews incorporated on the back cover and was a bit amused that country singing sensation, Wynonna Judd left a review.  Then I jumped to the top comment on the back cover which was written by Michael W. Smith. The comment read something I’m sure featured nothing but praise and adoration over Young’s amazing ability at his craft, but I do not remember exactly what it said. All my eyes allowed me to focus on was the word “fiction”. I was startled to imagine I was so naïve to simply believe, without actually knowing, that this was a piece of nonfiction. I frantically flipped to the front hoping to find something to falsify Smith’s statement. Then I saw the words plain and clear: “A Novel ...” 

I couldn’t believe what I read. Was I so foolish enough to believe that someone else in this world actually experienced the loss that I felt? I felt entirely alone. Yes, I cried. Yes, I drew a bath and spent an inordinately unneeded amount of time lying there wondering how I could have actually believed someone, somewhere felt what I felt.

Then I felt even more foolish as my mind went to my creator. I was lying in the bath tub, sobbing over a novel, sulking over the fact that I felt no one had ever felt the loss I felt, and my mind went to Jesus and my salvation. My heavenly father did not lose a bother in a tragic accident, He did not have a daughter unknowingly abducted, He knowingly sent his ONLY, PERFECT son to die for MY sins, my glaring, blatant imperfections. His selfless loss is by far greater than any I will ever know. I am not alone. 

today

there is beauty in morning peace

the kind where the sun has recently conquered the horizon

coffee has its usual appeal

a toasted bagel adorned 

with just a smidgen of cream cheese

invites you to a lone table

sure there are the handful of retired gentlemen

partaking in their own cup of joe

and ink ridden newspaper

that seems to hold such importance today

but will become alarmingly irrelevant with 

the arrival of tomorrow

but i am here

at this table

there is nothing in front of me

but time

as i gaze out the window 

and sit in awe

of the beauty in this morning peace

Thank you, Lord, for today.

i smiled

eyes closed

so it was only me and God

hands raised

out of reverence

thankfulness

desperation to draw myself closer

to Him

i sang

slightly off key

loudly

from my heart

the words

" . . . a child in awe . . . "

resonated

the voices of those

more on key than myself

built exponentially in volume

as the song played on

for a moment 

as i looked up to my hands 

stretched as close

to my God

as i could let them be

i envisioned the angels

singing with me

i smiled.

sometimes

sometimes i . . .

am easily disappointed

forgetful

a slacker without coffee

frustrated

too loving

not loving enough

. . . at a loss for words

today's instructions

dear heart,

don't lose focus.

love and don't stop.

be humble.

be thankful.

forgive.

misdirection

i am falling

like the swatches
on a tree
that just heard news
it is autumn

in admittance of fears
comes vulnerability

certainty,
your validation
of my open heart,
is scarce

will you see my fears
as items to be:

' ' fragile, handle with care ' '

it is all a web
of misdirection

my hope for happiness
does not rest with you

nor does yours with me

nor either of ours in anything of this world,
which will wilt like autumn swatches

my hope for happiness
rests in God.

e.n.o.u.g.h.

a person that i consider wise
once told me,

in the moments when you
are not sure if you'd make it
you're overwhelmed
or discouraged

say to yourself

:: in this moment, God is enough ::

i need nothing more.

when . . .

do you ever feel entirely

disconnected

from the world around you?

then you feel guilty for
the glimpse of self pity you
allowed yourself?

when is it okay?

when is it okay to say:

over here!
look at me!
see me!
notice me!
care for me!
love me!

shiver no more

i'm cold
it reminds me of home
i miss it
but not so much

i left home
and left part of me
the part that held me down
kept me from love,
from life eternal

i don't want to be reminded of
who i left in new york

i am now
the 'kimberly'
i was meant to be

i was looking for her for a long time
blinded by the dark

it was there when His arms
reached around me
held me tight
and i heard His whisper

. . . "I love you" . . .

i am not cold anymore.

i will sing . . .

I've been thinking a lot about friendships lately. The friendships I have, the friendships I wish I had, if I am a 'good' enough friend. Then I got caught up in thinking, "what exactly is a 'good' friend?" Oddly enough I went to dictionary.com to define the term 'friendship' for me. No, I do not resort to an internet word search engine for life guidance. Anyway, there were several things that popped up for 'friendship'. What caught my eye was a synonym at the bottom: harmony.

So, of course, I looked up the term 'harmony'. One of the offered definitions stated the following:

A consistent, orderly, or pleasing arrangement of parts; congruity

There is a verse in James that I love, James 5:13. The verse says, "Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray. Is anyone cheerful? Let him sing psalms." There is a footnote in the MacArthur study Bible for this verse that states, "The natural response of a joyful heart is to sing praise to God."

I'm always captivated by the concept of love. I'm always shocked to see the torment of this world, and I sit back and wonder: why can't all people experience and display love? Perhaps I am so taken aback by God's amazing love for me, in spite of all my sin, that I am so shocked when others find love so absent in their lives. I'm often times consumed with the wonder of whether or not I love enough, in every situation.

Looking back at friendships, I wonder if I approach them in a way where I am showing them love in every possible aspect that love is, as God showed it to be? Could friendships that truly model love, that strive to make each other better ambassadors for the kingdom of God, that rejoice in the forgiveness and grace of God create a harmonious melody to the ears of our Lord? By the definitions provided, and God's Holy Word, is it possible that friendships can be another way to bring praise to our God?

Just a thought . . .

rise above the bird feed

Too often we get swept away in our own worry. We worry about having a job, paying our bills, if we will remain healthy, the safety of our loved ones, and so much more that in the grand scheme of things are relatively minute.

I can not say I am exempt from the aforementioned catalysts of worry. I recently finished reading through the book of Philippians and was contemplating what book of the Bible to tackle next. I thought about it briefly and the book Matthew popped into my head. I can't say I meditated or prayed on the decision for an extensive period of time, but I felt confident God placed Matthew on my heart. My belief was confirmed when last Sunday Journey, the church I attend, was challenged to collectively read through Matthew 6 this week. Complying with my pastor's request, I stumbled upon Matthew 6:25-27, not for the first time, but this time it resonated in me a bit differently than before.

"If you decide for God, living a life of God-worship, it follows that you don't fuss about what's on the table at mealtimes or whether the clothes in your closet are in fashion. There is far more to your life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the birds, free and fettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count far more to him than birds. Has anyone by fussing in front of the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? All this time and money wasted on fashion-do you think it makes that much difference? Instead of looking at the fashions, walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shappy alongside them. If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers-most of which are never even seen-don't you think he'll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I'm trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God's giving. People who don't know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep you life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don't worry about missing out. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met." Matthew 25-33 (The Message)

We all worry, some more than others, but it is inevitable. What we do with our worry and the situations that inspire a worrisome heart, is what I believe to be the bigger question. I can either focus on how I can rid myself of worry, rather unsuccessfully, or I can turn it over to God. Easier said than done, right? What if we approach the situations that cause us worry in a scope that looks at that same situation that used to inspire dread in a way that asks, "how can I live in this one situation in a way that will show God's love?"

In teaching, how can I show these children slivers of God's grace? How can I reveal God's love? How can I display forgiveness in the way God ultimately forgives us all?

As a girlfriend, how can I be a spiritual encouragement? How can I show true, selfless love every day? How can I be a Biblical woman of God to the man that I love?

As a friend, how can I be a spiritual supporter? How can I hold those I love accountable to Christ, and ask them to do the same? How can I best pray for those I love?