you are good

in every season

when my heart breaks
when i can’t breathe because my chest feels tight
when the stars in the sky shine so bright
when the wind blows hard
when the rain pours down
when the storm is strong and i’m afraid i’ll get lost in the night
when the whispers of a man’s promise are broken
when i’m drowning in my own sorrow
when tomorrow seems so far away
when i say goodbye
when i won’t ever say hello to you again
when life doesn’t go as planned
when people steal, cheat, and lie
when people die
when people leave
when people break my heart
when people love me
when people hug me
when people remind me you are good
when the wait seems too long and too hard and too far away
when tears fill my eyes
when i lay awake at night and my thoughts flood my mind
when i’m happy
when i’m sad
when the sun shines through my window blinds
when the morning birds sing
when the train shares its loud deep cry
when i lose what i want to keep
when i don’t get what i want
when he looks at me but nothing changes
when i feel alone and lost
when hopelessness pinches at my heart
when my mind can’t figure out how to let go
when my heart doesn’t want to let go of him
when i write and try to find my voice
when i find my voice
when i lose my voice
when the past haunts my mind and scares my future
when i don’t know who i am
when i don’t know what i want
when i don’t know how to move on
when i don’t love you well
when i’m mean, hurtful, hateful to those i love
when i don’t love well
when others don’t love me well
when i’m judgemental
when my insecurities take over
when the darkness falls around me and i decide i want to stay in its shadow
when you pull me out
when tomorrow’s promise is everything begins again but it all still feels the same
when i wake up and decide to be good, kind, loving to myself
when i learn how to love well
when i find the peace that passes all understanding
when i realize life may not be about being happy

but about your goodness.

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am i trying to be strong when only weakness lies ahead

Defeat chokes my lunges and leaves me breathless.

The blues spring forth as perfect clockwork and jar me to wonder about my sensitivity.

Depression…bipolar….melancholy….

Words that force a shiver down my spine.  (They are not me.)

Who am I but a girl with too many emotions – I want to shout.

So much irony, I could laugh until my blood runs dry.

Tears overflow my eyes and burn my checks.  They run on by… Yes, they quiver as they drop to the ground.

Will You hold me until they fade into the dark?  …until they leave me for another night?

Remind me to rejoice in suffering for suffering produces endurance and endurance produces character and character produces hope. (Romans 5:3-5.)

For Your Holy Spirit makes strong even the weakest – chasing away the night.

riding solo in a car

She lays in bed tonight watching YouTube videos raging from trailers to comedy to music – quietly wishing for a long car ride.

There’s a juxtaposition of silence and sound in a car.  The wind blowing, the music blaring, the damn air condition fussing… crafted by a silence of being alone.  (If she sings at the top of her lungs, she knows her neighboring car driver will only see her lips moving but will not hear the possible off-key.)

You see no matter how loud the noises sound, the silence feels louder as her thoughts pound themselves out.  Hitting, bruising and escaping the inside… they beg to render into the silence of sound.

“You do some good processing in the car, don’t you?”  He asks.

A small smile covers her lips as the dots meet.

“I do,” she can’t help but say, maybe realizing this for the first time.

How can she deny the vibrant power of a solo ride?  Trapped in a vehicle with the noises within?  All she can do is finally confront them.  There are no distractions – even the music drowns under the volume of her mind.

it doesn’t always have to make sense

It’s easy sometimes, to think I know the world, but get lost in the details.  To think life is easy and plain but knowing it’s not and struggling to find a balance between what I think and what I know.  I’m scared of the quiet pain that lingers, eventually goring through my veins and running out dry.  Will the pliers come to rip me apart or will I stand strong?

I hear you talk about an old soul, at first fearful of its meaning and what it entails.  I don’t want to be one, but I find myself rooted there.  Unable to stager away and put on a face.  What you see it what you get, there’s truth in that pretty wide-eyed face.  You won’t be deceived but loved, just receive it she says.  I want to laugh because it’s overwhelming knowing but not showing.  Can I keep it up but there’s nothing to keep, there’s no game going on.  I’m just worried life has a way of killing the heart but causing the bones to continue on living.

Struck with endless nights and unending days.  Is that what the old people folk think?  Do they see themselves as living, but have lived and tired of living?  Do they want to leave the world and find Him and rest in His arms.  But are they afraid of the change?  Of maybe saying goodbye…  All I know is that thoughts betray us and people worry, when truth hits the mouth and comes out running.  Instead of acknowledging that sometimes, thoughts neglected are harmful enough to drive us all mad.

it’s too soon to be lost

I tried very hard to please you.

I spoke as I should and was careful with my words.

Until I got tired.

You reminded me of the shadows, told me to be quick.

You shouted with a victorious cry when you thought you’d won.

You belittled my mind.

And I wonder if it makes you happy,

when you make me small.

When you come out the winner, while I am the loser.

I know I do the same thing again and again, I repeat and take too long to explain… but I had hoped you’d be kind.

What happened to the vows?

I will love you in the good and the bad, in sickness and in health…. etc etc etc

Do I believe you lied?  No.

You promised me a promise I secretly wish you’d remember, but understand why you do not.

Maybe I’m not easy to live with.  Maybe I make life hard.  Maybe my mindlessness is not easy on you.  Perhaps, it’s my fault as well

for the hole we’ve stuck ourselves in.

I just wish we knew how to dig ourselves out.

dwindling his fire

She closes her eyes and tries to remember who he was and why he was so important to her.  He had decent thoughts but hasty decisions, blocking her out and seeking power.

She didn’t like the way he said her name.  His voice crisp and sharp, on edge.

He spoke to her when his anger boiled and thought spoiling her with kisses would dwindle the fire.  And maybe it did.

When she was weak and tired, it worked.  His kisses dwindled her fire and infatuated her mind.  She couldn’t withhold nor found herself resisting because maybe that gentleness felt refreshing.

And somehow, the time past and she found the voice she had once lost.  She spoke up and learned to break his habits.

She cut him down, dwindling his fire.

i want her to stay

It’s not easy to let go.  I pride myself in saying, “She never leaves me.”

She hasn’t tried ever.

At least not yet.

I don’t think she’ll ever want to leave.

But then, her eyes drifted.  It was unnerving.  Simple, like a tide in the ocean.

Ever so slowly, softly and gently.

Her gaze moved.

And I am worried she won’t want to stay here for much longer.

And I need her.

I can’t let her go just yet.

 

after the storm

And there will come a time, you’ll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

– ‘After the Storm’ by Mumford and Sons

I’m stuck on this song, this chorus.  Seriously.  Since Friday night, I’ve been putting the song on repeat.  I’ve tried to stop and listen to another song, but there’s no use.  I’ve got to see this through, play this song and let it embed me.  The lyrics are so powerful.  They strike my heart each time I read them.  Smacking me across the face and gently stroking my hair.  I want to sit and sing and play and get lost in the words.  Stay within the bounds of repetition.  I mean, what do I even address first?  I can’t seem to separate one line from another.  I want to comment, but I don’t know how to begin.  Other than say, imagine when love finally embodies us.  When we become as the Bible has said.  How perfect love casts out fear.  I see love as so powerful, so strong, we struggle to let go, but imagine a love which doesn’t break.  Rather it overcomes.  The fears are put aside and forgotten.  Lost because love has won.  And so, I get over the hill – my barriers.  I find something new as I overcome.  I find grace in my heart and flowers in my hair.  I find life full of courage.  Ugh.  This song is so beautiful.

third culture (kid) person

She told me
write about yours worlds.

I was ecstatic at first
and sat down and wrote
for hours.

But my words sounded empty
and my need to make them all
matter drove me crazy,
I gave up.

Yesterday, I came back
to a place many call my home
yet, they are blind and don’t know
that today, this place doesn’t feel like home.

Rather it feels foreign
and strange. I doubt it,
“did I live here?”

Then I remember her
words, and I’m sure
writing about my worlds…
will be easier now.

thinking about tomorrow

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I find, I am incredibly disappointed by people all too often.  Not necessarily, by people I know but by humanity.

I observe them and demean them stupid.  Lost in idiotic ways and easy sheep to an evil prey.  Grown men unable to say no and women too vocal to make any sense.  Suppose, we are the ones to change the world – what a terrible job of ruling we do.

My thoughts tonight come from a movie, a protest and words spoken to me.  Are we just weak and frail unable to discipline?  I speak for myself too.  Countless nights, I do nothing to press forward, but sit expecting life to change.

Friday, I walked the streets of Thessaloniki and found a main road covered with fliers – with a blue font contrasting the white.  I stopped and snapped a picture, continuing my way, noticing the people getting rowdy.

Aren’t they tired of it all?

They want a better tomorrow they say, return Greece to its glory.  Yes, by cleansing the land of impostors and immigrants….adapting their ruling to that of a new nazi, one living and breathing in Greece.  They call themselves the Golden Dawn with worrisome tendencies.  Too many stories have been told about them and I worry.  Thankfully, not all follow their doctrine.

Alas, here lies a nation with a past which dooms its future.

We all know its history… will those once philosophical Greeks remain, just as they were before, stubborn and prideful?