That’s Okay
I made you like a god to me.
Me, covered in sores,
you also.
You were like an idol,
and there I was on my knees,
you idolizing me
for my proper stance of humility.
And we stayed that way for some time.
Stayed there until we forgot.
Forgot about love, and life,
and about each other.
Sun beating down upon our necks,
and chests, and ankles.
Rewriting the pigment of our skin,
making us beautiful again.
Turning me into marble, and you into wood.
You were my idol, and I,
well I was probably no good.
Or at least that is what I thought.
And I never really wrote it down till now,
because,
well,
I suppose I was scared to.
The breathing,
in and out,
panicky.
Every time I put pen to page
it was that way.
But I couldn’t help myself this time;
that’s okay.
What A Shame
Christians have been apologizing for the Crusades for a long time now (at least the two decades that account for my life). I have heard the apologies ring out, and I have watched them as they have been tucked away into neat, beige filing cabinets, so that when the time comes, we can tell others that we have done the right thing. We quote and re-quote the idea that “those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it,” but yet here we are. In my estimation of the current American wars in the Middle East, our acts of violent retaliation against the Muslims we claim hate us are a second crusade of sorts. Jesus called us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us. There is an ideological war going on. The airwaves are full of propaganda on all sides, but I keep hearing those words whispered softly against my heart’s eardrums. And the longer I hear them repeated, the more I can’t help but cry out against how incongruent our creeds are with our active world-views. What a shame it is for the Church to float on down the river of popular culture that tells us to defend and take violent action against those who wrong us.
I wish I could have quit you years ago.
Closeness and Separateness
Last night I woke up from a symphony of nightmares.
There came a ringing in my ears,
and I could just barely see your silhouette in the blackness.
I was scared, knowing that you were there, and also not there.
Insecure as hell, breathing all a mess, I asked you to hold me.
And in your familiar not-too-comforting-but-aiming-to-please way,
you came ‘round behind me and wrapped your arms around me
like saran wrap holds a sandwich.
99% necessary business 1% real love and devotion.
Caught somewhere between the fear of closeness and the fear separateness
I drifted back to sleep,
and the paradox swallowed me whole.
Engagement Video
Directed, Filmed, and Edited by Grant Jensen
Toddlers with Tiaras getting Tipsy
My sister and I saw this and I couldn’t help but make a gif for it.
Resolution
I am making a resolution to be more vulnerable this year. To be painfully honest. I am resolving to open up to experiences of beauty, pain, suffering, and goodness so that I can look back on this year as a year that I embraced life as it is, not life as I wanted it to be. I resolve to love in the face of great adversity. To seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with the Lord. This is my part. And I shoulder it with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.
(Source: jessekreib, via sonofastoryteller)
Numb
I remember the feeling each time you try to reach for the bottle.
Instead you reach through my chest,
breaking my ribs like glass,
tearing through my skin
like a giddy, eight year old boy
ripping through a piñata
with an aluminum
Louisville Slugger.
I can feel it as the scars burst open
leaving me open and exposed,
unveiling my palpitating heart.
There are your fingers,
searching desperately
for that plastic, Popov monster,
finding only my veins and arteries
to drink from
and get drunk off of.
You become frantic,
digging deeper.
Acid rain pours from my stomach.
My head gets light.
I see stars.
I am numb.
I am anxious/comfortable.
I am numb.
Beneath my eyes,
buried under my cheeks,
I can feel my heavy heart beating,
struggling to make ends meet
like a 45 year old auto mechanic
in a faded blue,
oil stained jumpsuit.
My fingers twitch nervously,
but I am composed.
I am a well fitted suit
on the body of the CEO of a fortune 500 company.
I am a 3 year old Tootsie Roll
getting hard in a bowl
on a mid century dining table.
I am cool, calm, and collected.
I am the engine of a NASCAR vehicle.
I am numb.
But I am okay.
Growth is full of beauty and pain, beauty because of pain, beauty in the midst of pain, and pain after losing beauty, but the good life is full of all kinds of mystery and paradox.
Scan 61
my band is playing a show
(Source: theroyalsons, via sonofastoryteller)
