March 31, 2011

No Matter What

No matter how much I cry, I can’t get it out.

No matter how hard I plead, time won’t move faster.

No matter how bad I want to be, I’m never happy.

No matter how bad it hurts, he won’t come home.

No matter how many people try to help, I only want him.

No matter how much I deny, he’s still gone.

No matter how fast I run, I can’t escape.

No matter how long I’ve been down, I can’t get up.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t forget.

No matter how late I stay up, another day always comes.

No matter how bad I wish I could stay in bed, I always have to move.

No matter how bad I wish I could run,  I’m paralyzed.

No matter how much I hate myself, I’m still here.

No matter how much I pray, it won’t change.

No matter how much Jesus love me, its still hard.

No matter how ungrateful I am, Jesus carries me.

No matter how lost I feel, He’s by my side.

No matter how much I do wrong, He’ll always direct me.

No matter what, He’s here.

March 21, 2011

I've got a melody for this one, but I'm still working on the accompaniment.

Just Come Home Already

I remember the day that we first met
With that beautiful smile that you gave me
how could I forget?

I remember the day that you held me
in the falling snow.
We danced there in the street and I wished you'd never let me go.

But I remember the day that you told me
they were sending you away
Now I don't want you to be gone anymore.

So just come home already
its been long enough.
Its been so long that you've been gone that I'm ready to give up.
I lay here in this empty bed
and I pretend to hear you breathe.
So just come home already
I need you here with me.

I remember the day that you asked me
if I would be your wife.
When you put that ring on my finger
I knew everything would be alright.

I remember the day
when we both said our vows
And no matter what happened
I knew that we'd get through somehow.

But I remember the day that you left me
To go fight someone else's war
Now I don't want you to be gone anymore.

So just come home already
its been long enough.
Its been so long that you've been gone that I'm ready to give up.
I lay here in this empty bed
and I pretend to hear you breathe.
So just come home already
I need you here with me.

I mis that beautiful smile
the warmth of your skin
the sound of your voice, will I hear it again?
Now I'm spending my life,
just looking back
wishing for that life, all the times that we had.
And I don't want you to be gone anymore.


So just come home already
its been long enough.
Its been so long that you've been gone that I'm ready to give up.
I lay here in this empty bed
and I cry myself to sleep.
So just come home already
I need you here with me.

January 27, 2011

Running

I remember running through the grass on a warm summer day. Not running because I’m late, or even because I have somewhere to go, just running. Feeling the warm sun on my cheeks and the tickle of the grass between my toes I lose track of how long I’ve been gone or when I need to be back; all that matters is the gentle rhythm of steps. Until suddenly my foot lands in a hole and I crash to the ground. Trying to avoid the pain I roll to my side and end up face down in the mud. My face covered in grime it’s a struggle to breathe, a battle to move, and a heartache to think of what I’ve just lost. Ever running again is unimaginable, how can I ever feel that way again when I’ve experienced the terrible, painful mud? How can I ever get back up? Eventually I roll to the side and watch the others run along peacefully. Nobody stops, but they all learn from my mistake and avoid the hole. Faces of curiosity, pity, disgust, and loathing march past in synchronized steps keeping their distance from the creature in the mud. That’s all I am now; a creature. Not a girl, not a daughter, not a wife. Just something that lays there in the mud aching for the past and fearing for the future. And that’s what life is now. Some people live their lives running through the grass in the radiant sunlight, while others lose control with one fatal step, given to a life of watching others live the dream. The dream of winning, of achieving, of living. The sun starts to set and darkness surrounds my cold and empty world. Runners return to their homes, hand-in-hand, side-by-side. The darkness deepens and I am left with nowhere to turn, nothing left to do but wait for another day of blistering sun and paralyzing sadness. At the peak of my pain I begin to feel a presence approaching. Help me! I plead through streaming tears, with all the strength I have left. Fear not, little one, I am in thy midst. The invisible Savior whispers to me, immediately filling my heart with the peace I had begun to forget. Arms wrap around me, lifting me from my solitude. The sun begins to rise, and again I feels its rays, warm upon my skin. I can still feel the bruises, remnants of the difficult life of a creature in the mud. As the sun warms I begin to crawl, using my Savior as a crutch. He guides me, ever so slowly throught the green grass sparkling with golden sunlight on drops of dew. The wetness washes the mud from my feet, from my legs, from my hands. Just as I gain hope again my strength gives out and I crash to the ground. This fall stimulates a series of painful blows to the leftover aches, but the mud is washed from my torso, my neck, my face, my arms. A little cleaner, I am a little stronger. Again I feel the Savior approach me and lift me to my feet. And I walk. I walk because there is nothing left to do, I walk because the runners are starting to take to the field, I walk because I can see again a grandiose view filled with peace and excitement. The farther I go the faster I move my legs, my Savior never leaving my side. He pushes me, convincing me that I am strong enough to try a little harder, to reach a little farther. I work and work through the pain in my body, eventually picking up speed. The sound of the wind in my ears echoes the song of peace I once used to hear as I ran aimlessly along, the tug of the air through my hair tugs my memory back to days of glory and propels me forward, seeking the same kind of joy. The liberating freedom of the Savior by my side allows me to run. I run and run, not because I’m late, but because I have somewhere to go. As I run I know that I will never run alone, I know that this is every joy I could have asked for, and I know that one day I’ll be home.

December 17, 2010

Tomorrow

As the world goes 'round I stare out the window at a cold and dreary valley. Cars rush by in their incessant need to keep time flowing freely and quickly; so quickly that my body gives up before my mind even knows its been running. Alone in this room, in this dream of peace, silent tears stream down my cheeks and soak the foreign cushion that holds my lifeless body. My mind is raked with torment of wishing I could be home; wishing he could be home. Internally I curse them for sending him away, but for everyone else I am happy. For the rest of the world I turn my eyes away and put a smile on my face; keeping the silent tears silent. Nobody wants to know the pain that overcomes my body when I think of him on the other side of the world, nobody wants to know of the vice on my heart as I see the affection of husbands and wives, of mothers and children. If he were here he would rescue me. But he isn't here. I hate the reasons that he had to leave, but I am proud of his honor, his sacrifice. He is gone, so I must rescue myself. I must drop to my knees and ask for a miracle. Cry the tears for the one who will listen, the one who will strengthen, the one who will care. Through this I can learn to get up from this lonely room and enter the rush of life that so frequently constrains my heart. I will rescue myself.

Tomorrow.

December 17, 2010

Trapped.

Stuck in a room with two doors

One leading to the open world where time keeps going

One leading to the room where time stands still.

He looks, he moves, but he too is trapped.

Trapped in a body that is no longer perfect

Trapped in pain that will long remain.

Trapped.

Frozen in a world that goes on without me.

Words of smiling, cheerful people mock me in my ice-cold world.

Words of happy, pain-free people tell me how things will be.

He calls, he cries, but he too is trapped.

Trapped in a place of danger

Trapped in war beyond his control.

July 30, 2010

The Climb

I am walking slowly along. The wind at my back and the grass soft beneath my feet. The sun is shining overhead, radiating joy into my soul. Suddenly the terrain turns rough. Rocks and tree roots block my path and the sky darkens with clouds. It becomes too dark to see the road ahead of me, and I stumble, unprepared for the downhill slope. Now I am spiraling, down and down, rocks and thorns grabbing at my arms and legs and ripping the peace away from me. There is nothing to cling to, no place to plant my feet. All security is lost and I have no sense of where I will go next. When finally I find a place to stand and get my bearings, the earth crumbles beneath me and I am falling hopelessly down. And down and down. When there is nowhere left to fall I lay crinkled on the ground, searching for any sign of life left within me. My body aches. I feel broken and battered and torn. The bottom of this hill is bitterness and strife, heartache and loneliness. I walk along, between the cactus pricks and the thorn bushes, searching for a way back to my peaceful meadow in the sun. There is nowhere to go but up. I begin to climb. The pain in my legs causes me to wince at first, and I long to go back to the bottom. When I turn my head and see the dreary, suffocating expanse at the bottom I turn back and begin again to climb. After hours of merciless hiking up the steep hill my legs begin to quit. I cannot climb one more step. I fall to the ground, struggling to inhale and longing to go back to the bottom. Just at this moment a beautiful women steps out of the trees, extending a warm hand to me. She sits with me and listens to the pain I have endured, and I burden her with the sad details of this recent danger. This woman holds me in her arms, then hands me a container of water. I drink. I drink so much I am sure I have finished all of her precious water. Looking down I find that the container is still completely full. I thank the kind woman, renewed in strength and determination to ascend to the beautiful meadow above. She insists I keep the water, and disappears. I begin to climb. With every step I contemplate the lasting benefits of the water, the boundless love and kindness of the women in the trees. A tiny sample of the happiness I felt in the meadow returns to my heart. But, as it always does, my energy begins to fade and again I find myself drained and wishing I could go back to the bottom. Why did I ever think I could make it to the top? It’s too hard. The path too steep, the terrain too treacherous. As I begin to turn, committing myself to the life of loneliness and suffering, I see another woman step out of the trees. This time she carries a loaf of bread. “I cannot go on.” I tell this woman, knowing she will agree. Quietly, she hands me her bread. I eat and I eat, the taste indescribable. When I finish the bread the quiet woman hands me another, and another. I feel renewed, ready to conquer the torturous mountain, no longer afraid. Before I have the chance to thank the woman for the strength she offered me through the bread, I see her disappear into the trees. I begin to climb. With every step the view becomes more magnificent and I feel sure my meadow is just ahead. The trickling of a stream is music to my ears, the song of a bird a symphony. But, as it always does, the darkness begins to deepen, and I begin to feel afraid. Echoes of night creatures haunt me as I wish I could go back to the bottom. How will I ever find peace again? With the night so dark and the fear so real, how can I ever escape? When I am ready to lie down and give up the fight I hear a voice, calling me by name, saying “I’ve got you, little one. Just keep going, keep trying.” I call back to the voice, “I cannot go on.” My attention is turned to the water still in my right hand, and the bread still in my left. Silently, hopefully, I feast. Life is restored in me as I partake of these emblems that have so frequently changed my course, strengthened my resolve and my body. I stand, asking the voice, “But which way should I go?” As the sun peaks over the horizon my eyes rest upon the triumphant view of peonies and xeranthemums. My peaceful meadow. I made it back. Joy overflows my heart, pulsing through my veins. I fall to my knees in gratitude knowing I never would have found peace without the Living Water, the Bread of Life, and the voice of the Shepard. While I know this is the meadow from before, the sky blue overhead and the grass soft beneath my feet, I know that it will never be the same. My journey has strengthened me, made me capable of feeling more intense joy than I would ever have imagined. I turn my head, noticing a landscape I have never before seen. Mountains and valleys span thousands of miles in front of me, beyond the bounds of my eye sight. I know the Shepard is waiting for me past those frightening hills. Overwhelmed by the task in front of me I partake again of the emblems, and I begin to climb.

August 2009

She Stands

There are many in this world that face the same debilitating sadness as me. Many who wake up in the morning just to ask, “Does anyone care that I opened my eyes? Does anyone care that I’m still breathing?” Many, like me, have felt that river of unexpressed emotion well up inside her chest and threaten to burst, threaten to rip apart the pieces held together only by the smile of a loving husband, threaten to tear that big fake smile off her own face and show the world what she really is. The world will see that she really isn’t perfect, that she really isn’t fine. She will feel this threat building inside of her and wonder, “Why did I get out of bed?” And without fail those words of comfort will echo in her ears, “I’ve got you.” And she will be able to face another “How are you?” She will hear the voice of God say, “You have worth,” and she will have the strength to slap on one more polite smile. Because God cares. And in His infinite mercy He sent His son to die for her, to walk on this earth, to feel the unbearable pain of loneliness, to suffer the treacherous journey of rejection. And all because she matters to Him. He hears her broken heart as it screams out to Him to rescue her from her torment and in His miraculous love He reaches out again and again to glue her pieces back together. To say, “You matter to me.” He waits at her door until she cries out in her agony that it’s too much to bear, that she can’t live another day in this life, and He takes her into His strong, loving arms and says, “Yes you can.” And she does. She stands. She stands as she realizes that she still has not been blessed with a child of her own. She stands when she learns that her husband is going to war. She stands as she watches her child leave her side and disobey the Law of the Lord. God gave her these struggles. God placed her in her world of sadness and grief and longing, but He carries her through. He will always catch her when she falls, hear her when she cries, and comfort her when she is alone. Nobody knows of the storm inside women like this, but Jesus does. And Jesus cares.