i’ve been sinking on the low,
cradling my broken pieces in between bent arms,
trying to figure out what i’m going to do with them.
but i forgot that i didn’t have to figure it out alone,
because along with the puzzle, my heart was a riddle Einstein wouldn’t have the brains to solve.
i forgot who went before me,
followed behind me,
and in desperate times, carried me.
He knows my heart and has solved the riddle ages ago,
now we are both waiting:
i wait for him to show me what my eyes cannot see
he waits for me to realize that he is all that i need.
i wait for Jesus.
let me see Jesus.
and when i want to give up,
i think of where i want to be.
i visualize victory and joy and peace
take a breath.
i want to be better.
i want more than this.
so i continue to amad,
and stand firm and still.
i’m not giving up this time,
no, not until i see the finish line.
how much i have changed.
my covers are clean and sparkle
under the bright lights shining down on me.
and i smile when i go off to sleep
because i know in the morning who i will meet,
so i grab hold of life and air
and roll off the bed with effortless grace.
so much grace,
draped down on me but held light and tender on my shoulders.
what was dirty
is now white as snow.
white as snow.
nowhere to hide because daybreak is no longer a curtain
and there is no theater or seats or dreadful laughter.
night is light and no longer is there a struggle with
hands to my throat
and grave whispers in my ear.
it is unbelievable
how i have changed,
those voices have come to adore me.
You have seen this flesh through.
When it consumed me,
When it bled alongside you on the cross,
In your arms, I was wrapped,
Tucked away until I was complete,
And plucked from the edge of
I almost plummeted but,
You gave me wings,
So now I soar and I’m whole,
And it’s just because of you,
I lied to you because the moment was right.
I said I would give you every bit and piece of myself, but the truth is,
I’m storing some in my soul just in case you get frusterated with the puzzle.
I’m sorry for being a wanderer. And a doubter. And a confused little child.
I mimick the road I see instead of the destination of glory.
It’s a habit I’m trying to break,
Along with all the other chains.
But I guess that’s my problem.
I take my problems into my own hands and try to stitch things together with a makeshift sewing mechine and clumsy fingers.
My clammy palms always cause me to slip up and nearly mess up the masterpiece…
I have learned to run back into my arms when the unknown is a bit of a jump.
I am the clay.
I need to learn to be still as I am being molded.
God, I want to make you smile.