the 'f' word

guys, i said, 'yes'.

it's been five days, fourteen hours and thirty nine minutes since i was face-masked and pyjamafied asked to marry him - and i said 'yes'.

we are already one set of tears and a migraine in but i am praying we are quick to recall that the real prize God is calling us to is heavenward and slow to forget the width and length and height and depth of Love.

i will keep readying my heart for Zion, more than 'i do'.


i'm not sure how we got here
to these tents we call our own
but I'm glad for our direction,
for the time we have to loan
to one another,
every grace and patient word -
they chime, a choir of reminders,
of the home we head toward.

there are tunes when hearts be heavy
even when the load be light,
though we know the day is dawning
and that soon means no more night
or grief or pain or tears -
for the broken that we bear
will lift and, like the dawn of spring,
pave steps to summer air.

but the melodies most precious,
tucked away when volunteered,
are the joyful, holy keepsakes
from the days with little fear
of want, distraction,
insecurity of soul -
songs are sweetest, fullest, loudest
when they quietly sing you whole.

fog

yesterday, one of my favourite people was in a car accident.
the car was totalled, but by the grace of God she is completely fine. 

more than completely fine, even.

because in the awful chaos and fog of writing a car off and spilled oil all over the road in the middle of the night, the Lord answered so many prayers. just like when that weight lifts from grieving the last person you lost or you begin to forget the first person you ever fell in love with, he lifted the haze and delivered her.

eventually, we will stop forgetting the lesson we are taught over and over, that we are not very good at knowing what is good for us and that the Lord is much better.

it will probably take a lot more of falling on our knees, and crying out through tears, and waiting and waiting and waiting on the Lord to answer in the wonderful way we least expect.

i am thankful for the counter-intuitive intervention of the Lord in each and every one of our days.

i am glad to be growing up together.

this, on repeat.

a wrecking ball

i am not very good at this thing they call affection. my instinct is to try and fast us forward to a point where comfort is our genre of choice, bypassing all the steps it takes to get there, rather than relishing the variations of the themes that build toward amity.

when playing truth or dare as a child, i managed to maneuver each and every turn to truth. i am not one for thrills or the spilling out of adrenaline into my bloodstream, heart racing, lips pursed, ready to burst with a scream or shout of fear or freedom.

and right now, it's as though i've somehow drawn the dare card from the pile. the little girl in me would like to trade it back for a truth because i can feel my stomach falling and the pace of my pulse picking up.

but this is where they all begin, the development of the first recurring motif; a twenty-something melange of terror, joy, panic and daydreaming. all i can do is clutch my tiny card that reads, 'i dare you not to stumble as you maybe fall' and double dare you in my head to do the same.

the difference

i don’t know how or why we started to think that caring is weak and nonchalance is strong but it hardly seems right to have to console friends and remind them it’s actually alright to be sad about things that are broken.

it’s a dangerous lie to believe that joy is being ok all the time and that easy is better than perseverance.

an apology

lately,

i’m sorry that

by the time i’m with you

i always seem to have 
run out

of the words

to love you with.

redefine prerogative

i promise -

to be kind to you

with all the words i speak; 
to turn away

from bitterness,

from blame, 
instead,

to seek to hold you up

in high regard

in all my thoughts;

to try to treat you as you are,

not were or could or ought;

to trace with care

our fault lines that

we both are scared to tread;

to put your good

before my own

and love you best instead.

it's raining, it's pouring

i’m sorry that i so often take the big things into my tiny hands and cry from having them so full my arms get tired and all sorts slip through my fingers from trying to grasp hold of this and that and the other when each of them is so much happier being held by you in hands that encompass land and sea and sky and the hearts of billions from beginning until end. 

when i remember what tiny hands were made for it’s easier to try and fill them with nothing but your words which ooze like sweet honeycomb into my palms for me to eat and crumble to the ground at my feet to light my path and fill me from top to bottom so that my eyes can see and my soul can sing and my arms can at last let go and rest.

all that is required then is to watch and wait, because you will not give me a stone and you will not give me a snake, and all the big that tiny could not carry will be ok.

the heart of the law is love

sometimes it takes a small bit of awful to set in motion a whole lot of good. i'm glad that, amongst my friends, i am surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses who are willing to persevere through those little bits of awful and to work hard to spur one another on to love and good deeds. 

it can be tiring to pour yourself out, day by day, but i am glad that in doing so we are seeking to leave no debt remaining, except the continual debt to love one another. 

dear girl

i had planned to write this note to your broken heart a while ago now. i'm sorry it's taken me so long to get here. there are only a few things i wanted to say, with the limited number of years i have to my name and the even more limited experience i have with functional relationships.

the closest i've come to falling in love is coming close to falling into something like what i imagine fallen-into-love would feel like. it's only happened a couple of times, thank goodness. one boy used to sign off his letters with 'something,' followed by his name and i guess that captures it pretty well. when it's not nothing yet it seems misplaced to call it love, 'something' is kind of all there is left.

the short of it is, i have some understanding of what it is to have a deep affection for someone and for that to be appropriate for a season and then rendered inappropriate for whatever reason. maybe you called yours a boyfriend, and though i've never done that, i don't think that makes me less qualified to say what i'm about to.

first, don't run away from people you care about who care about you because they remind you of him. or because you think there's a timeline of friendships which somehow gives him the rights to those he knew first and you the the rights to others now that you're not together. or because you think you might jeopardise longstanding history. we are all grown ups - let people decide which bridges will be burned and which will not. some bridges faltered a long time ago and while the cracks may be in the spotlight now, the buckling is probably more a result of once upon a time and a set of completely different circumstances. give people the benefit of the doubt when relationships shift. trust people's words when they're coupled with action. don't try to bring yourself a sense of accomplishment by getting your hands dirty manoeuvring networks to fit the way you feel they ought to. just be. let things settle. observe the lay of the land. push on from there. if there seems to be change between people, it is not your fault. it's a good rule of thumb to remember that the things happening around you are always less about you than you think they are.

second, please don't believe the lie that to be ok, you must no longer have a single shred of affection left for him. it is as much a misunderstanding to believe that, if there is still feeling there, it is false to have affection for another as it is to believe that, just because there is still feeling there, you have any prerogative to pursue once more what once was. for a long time, you can use normality in the presence of past entanglements as a litmus test to 'recovery'. you can frustrate yourself over and over that months or years later it still hurts to see them, that you still get angry with them when they say kind words to you in passing or when there is awkwardness in conversation when once there had been nothing but comfort. please do not be disheartened by the fear that persistent care will weigh you down forever. even in these situations you are more ok than you think and you can still make rational decisions that aren't enslaved by lingering affection. coming to terms with the fact that there will probably always be a small part of you that has affection for anyone you cared for deeply will always be more helpful than seeking to 'move on'. it does not mean that something is wrong with you when you remember his favourite band as they play on the radio or his emotional instability as you watch that film when he first held your hand or the way he walked away as you drive down the street where there were tears and a good bye. you will forget, don't worry. in the same way we often stumble into affection and cannot trace our steps backward, you will fall into forgetting in time. try less to do things to mend your heart as you count the days. make the most of just doing them wonderfully - as you lose count something magical will happen in the mending.

third, and finally, that saying that 'it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all' is only a little bit helpful. it could be twice as useful in less than half as many words. 'it is better to have loved' would suffice. please don't sully these words by only using them as a comfort to counsel you through your past when you're curled up on your couch eating ice cream out of the tub. i want you to look back in five years and be able to yell, 'it is better to have loved!' loudly and proudly, not just about the one that tore you in two, but about anyone you laughed with, dined with, cried with, prayed with, walked with, lived with. let those six words do the transforming work they are capable of as they guide you in your yet-to-be-made decisions and daily calls to sacrifice, care, patience, kindness, and sweet mercy. they will catapult you into new worlds, by setting your eyes not on the one ship that sailed but on an ocean's horizon teeming with the galleys and gullets you are yet to learn the names of. in each and every circumstance it is better to have loved than to have not, whether you win or lose. and while living this may not make your days easy, it will make them rich and deep and a messy sort of beautiful.

 girl, there's no need to run.
 you are ok.
 it is better to have loved.

 xo