Sometimes.

So many thoughts. So many things dancing and diving, swirling and spinning. Sometimes I want to borrow trouble, to let what could have been, what could be, the "what ifs" of life, to let myself drown in them. Sometimes I want to run far and deep and long and get lost. Without a name in some distant place. Sometimes life twists in a knife, knowing where the scars lay hidden, pressing down just so, right there, releasing pain that radiates and steals the breaths taken.

Sometimes I want all of this. To bow my head and drown in defeat.

Sometimes.

And then.

Then, I am reminded. Gently, like a whisper through my soul, I am reminded. I hear His voice. There it is, riding on the stars and wind. Striding into the broken places, shining Light through brokenness. I am met where I am, lifted up, bound tight in grace, and poured through with strength and confidence. Lifted head that was bowed is now met by His eyes unwavering...and this is enough.

There are times in my life when I wish I could walk away from this Calling. There are times when I wish I could pretend that my soul doesn't cry out every second of every day to the One who created me. There are times I want to  just...live. Yeah, I have those times. But, and it's a really big BUT, as Jim Elliot said, "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose." Whew. I want to give all of this life that is so temporal, because...because...I have nothing to lose by giving this one life and I have everything to gain with eternity in sight. I want that. My spirit wants that, but everything in this world screams loud with voices lifted high, that I should give up. That this will never be enough.

The voices lie. I have tasted and seen that He is enough. I have witnessed the faithfulness of my God in the land of the living. I have seen Him prove over and over and over again in my own life, that no matter what comes, no matter the pain, there is still joy that runs deep beyond all of this. There is a gold cord that testifies to joy unending despite all this world can create.

I am one woman, and I am no one really. I am small and insignificant. Or so I've believed most of my life. However, I now know this too is a lie the enemy would use to keep me still and silent. Yes, I am only one woman, but the very breath of the Living God abides in these lungs inside my chest, the very blood of His son flows through my veins, and I am His daughter!

And you see, I have found my voice. So, while this world is plunging in the knife, pressing down on scars, letting pain flow, I would lift this voice high and proclaim: I have seen the goodness, the faithfulness, the joy, the great love, the astounding strength and power of the Lord in this place. I have caught a glimpse of the face of Jesus, and while I am waiting, longing, to see Him face to face, may this one life of this one woman be spent in whatever way He sees fit. Because He is enough. He is always enough.

No borrowing trouble, no giving up, no bowing in defeat, oh child of the Living God. You are His. Yes you, the one reading these words in this moment. I know you are no different than me. You carry scars, you have pain snaking through your life, you hear the voice in your soul telling you your God is not enough. None of that, oh Child of the Living God. You have His voice abiding in your soul, so lift it up to fulfill the Call that has been placed upon your life, whatever that may be. He is faithful. And you...you are so greatly loved by Him.

of days and stars and bleeding out.

Days slip silently by. Moving quickly, one after the other, propelling forward all that this thing called "future" tugs us towards. It's that thing that happens, when you feel like nothing is changing, and then, without being aware of it in the least, you look back and everything has changed.

That has happened a lot for me over the last seven months. This constant shifting and changing, it would seem it's the only consistent thing in this life. It's good. Really good. You know, the further I get, the deeper I go, the more I understand that to not change is death...this life is about the journey. This journey is ever changing. There is an end, but it's definitely not on this earth. The further I get, the deeper I go, there is one thing that keeps resonating through every fiber that I am made up of: You are a child of God. You are loved. Your identity is found in Him, and in Him perfect love is known. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.

When did it become a cliche? When did radical love become something we decided to push aside? When did our Savior become the cause of every bad thing in our lives, instead of the reason for all the good? I'm really guilty of this. I've blamed Him, I've screamed in His face that I'd done my best and none of it mattered...except, I screamed and believed lies fed from the deepest pit of hell. I held them close, let them fester, and spewed out of my heart things that could simply never be true.

Here's the thing: I don't have all the answers. I can't explain why certain things happen in the way they do. However, I am absolutely 100% certain, that my God, my Savior, He is good. And I actually don't even like the word "good" because using it to describe all that He is seems incredibly shallow. He's not just good, He's AMAZING, INCREDIBLE, STUNNING, BEAUTIFUL, FAITHFUL, all of these words of which none can accurately capture the fullness of all He is. I don't know...the older I get, the more time passes, the more I feel and taste and see what this life is made up of, the more I'm convinced He is worth it all. The more I yearn to go deeper still. The more I want to be in over my head, surrounded by all He is. Because, if I'm over my head, lost in Him, to sink or to swim, to flow with the rushing river, tugged out on the current of an ever changing sea, if it's all in Him, what does it matter if I sink or swim?

Truly, I'm at the point in my life that I'm full to overflowing with Him, but I'm not satisfied yet...I think that will take an eternity. An eternity to pursue and know and fall ever more in love with the One who has pursued me all my life.

So, here we go again. When words break forth from a dam cracked open. When what I was created to do comes forth, called out, because words flow through my veins thicker than blood. This is who He created me to be. One who willingly rips open her heart and bleeds across black keys, while drawing a bow across strings pulled from a crying soul. Writer or musician. Musician or writer. Both.

Writer first. Here to proclaim one thing alone: You are loved more than you can possibly begin to imagine.

Tonight, know this.

Tonight, this is for you. So read the words, let them seep in deep. He loves you. You are not alone. You are His. And you are loved.

My boxes are constantly broken open. My God constantly pushes me forward, teaching me that I can surly know that I know nothing. But, there is one thing I DO know, beyond all that I am, beyond the borders of all I feel or the boundaries of all I want...He is enough. I have wanted much in my life. I have yelled and screamed at the sky when I was not given what I wanted when I wanted it. Oh, I can now exhale a breath of thanksgiving to the One who knows me far better than I know myself. Who waits to fulfill the desires until I begin to see them move across my heart.

Take heart.

Even if you don't believe it.

He knows you. He loves you. This is enough. Yell and scream if you must, because He can take it. But, in the dark of the night, when the stars burn brightest, know that He has you exactly where you are meant to be. In the deep of the night, even the stars shine down love from the One who created them to sing brightly a song born from fiery depths.

This song...it is for you...

Don't wait.

The sky is slate gray and harsh. Blood red trees reach dying leaves up to the sky, death never more alive and beautiful than now. Gold and orange, copper and salmon, reaching high, making one last stand before falling still, silent, forever silenced from thin arms left naked.

I sit here, staring out at ever changing shades of gray drifting across the sky, and thoughts come quickly, slowly, and I am filled up, longing to be poured out.

Someone asked me last night what I was doing. If I was in a season of waiting. My knee jerk response was, yes. Actually I am...But then, it came quickly. That gentle wind and whisper, the Spirit moving across the soul dwelling inside of me. You are not waiting. You already know. Yes. I know. There I was, sitting in a room full of others who use words because they are gifted in this way, and I had the audacity to tell this beautiful lady posing the question, that I am waiting. Waiting. I am not waiting because I don't know what I'm suppose to be doing. I am standing still, not moving, almost holding my breath, because once the breath comes out, once the dam breaks, once the arrows are pulled taught and sent flying, there is no going back. There is no going back once you hear the Call that has been placed on your life...and you answer. 

I listened to others talk about how they lack confidence, or time, or words, or whatever it was. I sat there, almost wishing I could come up with some of these same reasons...except I can't. Literally. I cannot lie and say I lack time, for I am in a season where time is available. I cannot lie and say I lack confidence, because I have heard the Call, as if the very blood in my veins runs black with ink, I know that I was literally created to write words that are not from me but Him. Whether this is in the form of lyrics, notes, or words upon the pages of a book, or across the screen of a blog, this is what I was created for. I cannot lie and say that what I write holds no value because not enough people read the words penned, for long ago, when the words were taken away for a time, I learned how valuable even one person reading what I say is. It's not about the numbers. It's about you. That one person. So, I gave up writing with the aim of having many followers, or many readers, but simply write for you and for Him and because I literally can do nothing else.

So, there is no going back once the Call is answered. We lose our lives, we die to all we first wanted, that we may find all we are in the One who sends forth the Call. It is beautiful and terrible and scary and it makes us brave all at the same time. We are Called. Chosen. Yet, the hardest part is not hearing the Call, but answering. Making the first stroke upon the canvass, penning the first words, seeing the first vision of what we can create, being the one that takes care of children, being a parent, or guardian, a singer or carpenter, banker, doctor, lawyer, whatever it is, we are all Called. We have been Called. How we answer, this is the crux of it all. This is what will determine where our joy flows from. What will the path laid before our feet look like. For there will surely be a fork along the path where our feet may walk for the One who Calls or where they may walk for us and us alone. Which fork will we choose? Where will we go? For to answer the Call, whether for the One who calls, or for ourselves, this will make all the difference.

Sitting here, watching red leaves reach high, I wonder what it will look like. What the answer to this Call will do to the life I have been asked to lead. I know one thing- it will be an adventure! It always is when I smile and grab hold of the hand reaching out to help me along this road. It will be joy filled, Spirit lead, hard, amazing, and everything I could ever dream. 

Listen. There is a gentle whisper, a moving of the Spirit across the soul dwelling in you. It is calling forth the flame that has been placed there to change the world. What will you answer? Will you go on this adventure? Where the most ordinary of moments are exchanged for the extraordinary? Where the most simple of lives is transformed into that which makes a difference? What are we waiting for? Life is too short...oh darling, let's be adventurers!

for you in this moment.

(not my picture, I just think it's beautiful)

It's late. The night is black and dark and deep. Sitting here in the stillness, the words come easier and all that is felt becomes that which can be held, examined, and looked upon closely. Feeling slightly drowsy, hauntingly beautiful voices drift in and out, woven ever so perfectly with strings played, like silken dark chocolate, bitter and wonderful all at the same time.

Crickets sing an ancient song and stars gaze down. Alone in the dark, here in this moment, I take into my hands the words that will capture the shadowlands alone of what is felt. Gazing up at silver lights dancing, there is this achingly sweet knowing that though I cannot see all that is laid out before my feet, the One who holds the lights in the deep of the night does.

He knows.

Notes drift, strings sing, crickets speak, all in the dark and deep, all in the heart of the night. Stars gaze on, and thoughts come slow, waltzing in and out, lilting back and forth. Slowing sweetly as the dim beginnings of lyrics form. Oh life, how strange and wonderful, bitter and sweet, aching and lovely you are. Continually twisting and turning, yet, beyond all, so worth the living. So worth the breaths drawn, the songs sung, the moments captured in the deep of an ever fleeting night. Stars still gaze on and crickets still sing of the One who holds the silver dancing lights in the ink black canvass of this night sky. And what I know to be true beyond all else is, He knows. He knows and this is enough.

He knows.

All.

I am small, and all I worry about is smaller still. I am human. He is not. There is a sweet joy that flows from this thought. He is not. He is faithful. He holds silver, laughing, dancing, lights in each night's sky and has for every night that has ever been birthed through all the ages of this small world that has never been my home. He is faithful. Faithful unto the stars and far more faithful to this one daughter of His. It has been so for all of my days. This thought, this is joy. And a smile breaks across this face He thought up as He created the foundations of the world.

So, here in the deep of this night, He knew you would read words penned across a screen. He knew that one small child of His would take words felt, writing out the rhythm of a night breathed into a heart held by Him, sending them out and beyond to be read by...you. Now. For all He does is planned and done when we need it most. So read now the words He would have you know. You are His. He has a plan that was set in motion for you when He created the world, and He will be faithful to see it brought to completion.

The war is real and the fight is hard. Often we want to give up. Don't. Keep fighting the good fight, knowing that He is with you. Every step and moment lived, you are not alone. And you will know Him by His voice whispered, perhaps heard clearly through words written on a very ordinary night...

....you are loved. Child of the Living God, you. are. loved.

This is enough.

let's talk.

Let's just go out for coffee. Or better yet, let's meet for breakfast. Let's talk about Jesus and Ireland and how good really good coffee is, and how music is like the air we breathe and how if we couldn't write it or play it or sing it, we might be in serious danger of losing ourselves. Let's talk about movies and books and writing and photography and how life is really weird, and kinda insane, and we're really just trying to somehow make it through. Let's talk about adventures and how we really want to just whisper, "Oh darling, let's be adventurers." But, then we don't, and we're not really sure why. Let's talk about how we absolutely couldn't do this thing called life without our Savior. Let's talk about how we're pretty sure our friends could be legitimately nuts, but we wouldn't have them any other way, because at the end of the day they color our lives like the strokes of a paintbrush across canvas. I mean, let's just really see each other. Why? Well...because...I see you. And I want you to see me too. I want to know your story, and my heart really wants to share mine. I want to laugh with you until our sides hurt for no other reason than we simply can! Life is beautiful and crazy, but it gets too serious and I want us to be that bright spot in each others day. Like....a sparkler lit:) Would you be my sparkler?

It's just...I saw your face, and I really wanted to know you. 

Coffee? Maybe? 

Or breakfast? 

Because, I think I might change your life.

And there's this kinda amazing and beautiful chance that you could change mine too...

dedicated to all of you who've seen me. you know who you are. 

because of this.

There is this beauty that I'm discovering. This unimaginable, soul stirring, breath stealing, life altering, I can't imagine anything "more" kind of beauty.

Here. Because of this. It's all because of this.

Morning light. Glass shattering. Fragments scattered across floors bare. The room is unfurnished, golden beams glistening off pieces strewn. Murder deep, remembered. On a tree...how do I realize the scandal of the beauty all around me? The scandal of grace. Forever shattering the mold fixed and set. The hour glass was altered, the glass shattered, and the sands of time through the room contained in earth, changed.

Here. Because of this. It's all because of this.

Hands palm up. Heart flayed open, mortally wounded. Dear God, here it is. Surrendered forever, held close by this scandal that is grace. This scandal that called out, voice piercing time and space. Eyes gazing down through the ages. There. I feel them on me. Gazing deep and calling forth the fire within.

Tempted. I am often. I am weary and tired of the fight. I want to give in, drop my sword. Jesus. I cannot bear up under it anymore. Let me create what I want, be what I want, do what I want. No. STOP. These words given are not my own. This life bought is not my own. It was bought with blood running down, with the murder of the Man who has captured this heart so many ages later.

Here. Because of this. It's all because of this.

Love reaches out. I am stretching forth arms grown weary. Soul longing to know ever deeper the Author who pens the story of this life. The One who shattered the glass. The Creator who changed all that should have been. The Savior who reaches back, grasping onto hands reaching up, smiling deep, eyes pouring forth love that is beyond anything I've known. It's because of this. This is why the sword is grasped tighter.

Let me not forget. I am weary and time runs short. Yet, He is greater still. May He call forth Lazarus in our lives, where hope is dead, bringing forth from the grave a radical new life, crying out like a trumpet blast:

"I am HIS. I am LOVED. I would change the world by losing that which I cannot keep, gaining that which I may never lose!" 

Here. Because of this. It's all because of this. Because of Him. He is enough. 

Always.

Send forth a trumpet blast through the land of the Living and call forth those whose hearts burn with the fire of the Living God. Elohim sits on His throne and you are loved by the One whose face shines like fire! 

"There is no fence that can keep the advancement of the Kingdom of God from pressing forward. Therefore, I will strive on, until the world is brought to the feet of Christ." ~Charlie Cederberg

I find myself here again, heart burning, eyes piercing, standing with sword drawn...

scars born and hearts wandering.

Today…is slipping by, silently, slowly, quickly. These are words that pour forth from the cracks where light leaks out of a soul sitting. Sitting. Thinking. Pondering. Aching. Hurting. Longing. Knowing.

And today, it is slipping by.

Coffee steams. Milk and honey float and dance, gently becoming one. Sipping slowly. Thoughts swirl and dip, diving deep into a place where you pull them back. Thoughts of beautiful faces. Kindred hearts spread across a country large…Alaska, bringing visions of winter and somehow, warmth. Of kitchens and laughter, wrapping scarves tight and holding coats closer, laughing and running from one house to the next with a beautiful friend who captures and holds stories close to her heart. These images float and drift about, like the snow that is sure to come soon to this Narnian world in which she lives. Northern lights will shine bright, stars with look on with laughter, and this place will heal that which needs to be healed, and scars will form where once were wounds, and there will be beauty and joy from ashes. For scars born are reminders of hurt, but scars also prove that healing has been done. And for this, I am thankful. Learning now, finally, at the very end of my twenties, to bear my scars proudly. They make us who we are and remind our hearts that our God still knows what will make us more beautiful than even we can imagine. Scars. Imperfections that show we are perfectly capable of running hard after the One whose past is our future.

And today, it is slipping by.

Hearts across the miles. It's beautiful and strange how distance can be breached. How conversations had can close the caverns that stretch out. A Wisconsin morning and today started off with her voice, sleepy and waking, sipping something from a cream colored mug. Down comforter bearing warmth and still holding her close. Laughing and talking about a summer almost gone, catching up and shaking heads at how things are never what we anticipate. Oh, life…you're….strange. And beautiful and terribly hard and we know this. She and I, we know. We have laughed and cried in the deep of the night, hearts breaking and texts reaching out, asking if the receiver is still awake. The receiver opening heavy eyes to simply text things like "I understand" and "I'm praying" and "It will not remain this way forever." We know. Across the miles that feel large and small, we have reached out hands and found that, we are not alone. Morning light has broken many times over after these sorts of nights. With the light we remember, He holds all. He is all we want. We want only Jesus, and light creeps through the cracks of souls which are weary. But still, we would have it no other way. Let scars born bear forth that He is all we need. Let hearts shattered into a million pieces cry forth unto the One who bends low to hold us close. We can whisper and cry out about these things, sharpening iron upon iron, because there is no room here for the other to simply stop because it is too hard. So, we push and pull and tug each other closer still to the One who has captured our hearts.

And today, it is slipping by.

Tennessee hills have welcomed her laughing eyes and sweet smile. She was for so long, just the author of letters that came when the soul within me was bent deep in night. Pressed down and unmoving, feeling alone. Somehow, out of this, gentle words found there way through her beautiful heart to mine which was broken. Her heart that had been shattered before mine, it shone light through cracks made and reminded my own that it too would one day shine out again. Jesus drew near and knitted us, smiling at His story, authored into a beautiful friendship. Smiling now, at miles spanned, until there she was. Waiting at the train station. This soul that mine knew though we'd never met. Eyes shone bright, smiling and shining forth the love she bore for the One whom we both love. And we walked. Talking and laughing, feeling how surreal it was to finally meet, yet knowing, even if we never had, we'd still be the dearest of friends still. We talked. About life and hearts and souls and scars. For she too bears scars that bear evidence of pain and healing. We smile. Knowing. She and I, we know. That faithful is the One who allowed the scars, and He will bring all to a beautiful end, though we have no idea what the story will look like between now and then. More scars? More pain? Probably. But, we know. He is faithful. So, as iron sharpens iron, we remind and push and tug each other closer to Him.

And today, it is slipping by.

I am reminded again, how blessed I am. Not materially, for I don't boast a large bank account or nice car. Yet, I am rich beyond comparison. For I have souls in my life who constantly remind me how beautiful each and every day that slips by truly is. However, these three souls, they understand what it is to be a wanderer. A creative. A musician, photographer, writer, a soul that constantly craves the movement of the sea and tides, sweeping us out to lands unknown. Stirring up our creativity. They are the ones I could whisper to, "Oh darling, let's be adventurers" and with no hesitation or questions asked, would simply pack up bags and cameras, computers and journals and reply "When?" They understand the war inside that constantly craves adventure, change, no ties, and yet would have roots that run down deep at the same time. They are the gypsy souls that my God knew I'd need in order to not feel alone. They are the ones that care not for logic and rules and plans, but love all that is within the reaches of imagination.

And today, it is slipping by.

I am not the woman you will ever find coloring within the lines of this life. I fear nothing more than a gilded cage, made beautiful with white picket fences. Let me smell the spices of India, the blue of a Mediterranean sea, or the quaint gardens and moors of England. Let me find the hidden and enchanted beauty of the Oregon coast, the haunting sweetness of the Lowcountry of South Carolina, the colors bright of Colorado. Let me see all this. Let me be a storyteller always. I am the one who will not be tied down, but loves the deep conversations of long nights spent under stars in tents pitched high.

And today, it is slipping by.

Oh darling, let's be adventurers...