I dreamed I kissed your feet
Between the cigarette butts
On the side of fourteenth street
I got down on my hands and my knees
With an alabaster jar

I dreamed I'd bleed with your praises
Just to make the world
Smell like your grace again
I got down on my hands and my knees again

And I'm crawling on the floor
Just to find you now
To tell you how I feel I'm falling all over myself

Good morning brokeness
You know you've cut me to the bone
Like one of those days in the middle of the winter
The kind that you can't run away from
And we've been here for so long
But I found a way to appease you
Inside this alabaster jar

And I'm crawling on the floor
Just to find you now
To tell you how I feel I'm falling all over myself

And all my afflictions
There only light ones anyway now 

...The rawness, the realness, the brokeness, the redemption, the dirtiness, the cleansing. I want such a desire to kiss the Lord's feet, to lay myself down in humility and realness, and offer all I have. Even when I'm in the most darkest of places.

hold on, hold tight

photocred:kristianne marøy

Dear Jesus,

"I keep stalling out
I just can't keep up
There's alarming doubt
Am I good enough?
But you keep coming around
To convince me
It's still far from over, oh

We are still far
We are still far
We are still far from over"

mutemath, stallout

embers

i've learned that beauty smolders
in the heat of things gone wrong
all that i thought it ever would be
has made a different song

it's true it doesn't tickle
no, the fire fiercely burns
it burns away the ashes
of past's old nagging hurts

it's true it doesn't tickle
no, the fire fiercely burns
it burns away the past debris
of harsh ill spoken words

the beauty that's within me
i once thought true to be
but when the fire burned and raged
that's hardly what you'd see

maybe blue against the rubble
but mere ash against the gold
the anger and resentment
at times i tightly hold

but in the end
when all is said
and all is left behind
the beauty that's been smoldered
in the end is purified.

A Child Again

i miss the almost always available arms to fall safely into.
a heart to go home to
and hugs that hold with
a heart that connects.

i miss a leg to hold to
and fingers that tickle
to compose vibrations of exploding laughter.

i miss love to listen to
grooved sides to burrow into;
like a penguine would nestle right into it's father's protective pouch
keeping safe from the cruelty of a long, hard winter.
i don't want to face the winter season alone.

i find myself longing to revert back to being a child.

free and loved.

i miss a voice to come home to
a lap to lay my head
and a hand to stroke my hair
smoothing out all the confused notions, bantering conflicts, and mountain top expectations of that day.

i'll take a well of love to drink from
and promises to overflow from
this worn down mind of mine.

The true peace of God begins at any spot a thousand miles from the nearest land
-Joseph Conrad

?

i'm desperate to know what i AM.
i know all the this' and thats
of what i AM NOT and it's worn
me to exhaustion.















-a heart that's desperate

It's winter in my heart.

I feel like my whole life I have been waiting for the future and dwelling on the past. I have wasted my time doing this when I could be growing in who I am in Christ.

I have been listening to "Enter the Worship Circle" lately and it takes me back to the times of going and cleaning the art factory. I was assigned (chose to, actually) clean the dance room. Getting me excited about going there rarely happened but once I was there it was such a beautiful haven of praising God and reveling in his majesty. Reflecting on what He had done and showed me in that specific week and searching my heart and making it right towards Him. It was ALWAYS a time to dance and be silly and love on God and let Him love on me.

I miss those days.

Little understanding, roller-coaster faith. Which I suppose isn't quite faith at all.