tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18887553932951964982024-03-12T19:19:02.974-07:00point of viewan archive of my poetry and random writing blurbs...Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.comBlogger160125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-3592758240485293472021-07-18T17:41:00.002-07:002021-07-18T17:42:57.873-07:00learning to talk<p> Sometimes I forget that you are so small</p><p>your mind is so busy, your emotions are so big</p><p>the saga of backoe and weedeedeeders and pocsles that weaves through your concerns is a part of my every day.</p><p>Pow in da Waa is not too intelligible to most but when we're playing the Getty's Power in the Blood and you are yell-singing about the "wun-wuckin pow" it's pretty special to you and to me. </p><p>I forget to remind you that Jesus is our Shepherd, and I worry about all this transition</p><p>But you're loved</p><p>you love </p><p>(us, and your squishy baby sister who alternates beaming at you and looking terrified about what you might do next)</p><p>please keep telling us what's on your heart</p><p>Jesus wants to know too.</p>Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-40549854014495256512020-04-05T13:03:00.002-07:002020-04-05T13:03:25.938-07:00Prayer for a Pandemic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://i0.wp.com/post.healthline.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/world_map_with_pins_pandemic_concept-1296x728-header.jpg?w=1155&h=1528" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="449" data-original-width="800" height="179" src="https://i0.wp.com/post.healthline.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/world_map_with_pins_pandemic_concept-1296x728-header.jpg?w=1155&h=1528" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
Our Father,<br />
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In these strange and uncertain times we see you, and we see that you are a God of both holy anger and of tender mercy. <br />
<br />
We thought we were in control, working to make our businesses profitable and fill our leisure hours with activities that felt fulfilling.<br />
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We are reminded, as we erase appointments and sign up for Zoom accounts, that man plans his way but you establish our steps. We are reminded that there is much we don’t know, didn’t anticipate, and is in your hands and not ours.<br />
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You hear the discussion, oh Lord, about what the right measures to take are. Only a few of us need to decide the steps that will be enforced. Please help these few to be wise in the face of a million unknowns, and please help us to fear you and honor the magistrates (whether we agree with their orders or not.)<br />
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Help us to love our neighbor. To think of the elderly and those who live alone, to text or write or call or video chat, to share our toilet paper, to spend some money at the struggling business, to say hello from our six-feet-away jog.<br />
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Thank you, Lord Jesus, that we can love in anxious times - because you first love us. Thank you that you are not apathetic about evil, and we are reminded that in times where everyone does what is right in their own eyes you have often used calamity and suffering to shake our world and our false sense of security.<br />
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Thank you for giving many of us more time with our families and in the beauty of your creation, for helping us to see the power of interpersonal contact, and for employers to consider how the demands of family intersect with the demands of employment.<br />
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Thank you, God, for your mercy - that you have not brought the judgement day yet. Please help us to take a look at ourselves and to see our need for you. Let us repent from our sins and put our hope and trust in your forgiveness. Let us yearn to be with your people. Let those of us who are not in the habit of gathering to worship press play on a livestream and learn to crave it.<br />
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Let us honor the minimum wage employee who we couldn’t function without. <br />
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Let us grow in gratitude for the food on our table, the amazing capacity of technology, the luxury of grocery pickup and online shopping.<br />
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In the face of sickness, loss, and even inconvenience, humble us, we pray! Let us respect our elders, many of whom have wrestled loneliness and isolation daily. They have lived through poverty and wars, lost loved ones - some have lived sitting in the walls of houses for weeks and months of hiding. Let us give thanks for the grace and richness you’ve given even as we grieve the brokenness of this sin-scarred world.<br />
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Help us, oh Father, to turn to you. As we must more often listen to our own thoughts, as we spend more time with our selves, let us confront our hearts with the knowledge that you are always with us. As we rage against the evil of death, as we grieve the loss of fellowship, celebrations, milestones, hopes and plans for these months - may we find comfort in your compassion and your sovereignty. Help us to place our trust in your promises. Thank you for Jesus, who has paid the price for our sins, brings redemption, and promises a full and perfect restoration in the life to come.<br />
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Amen.<br />
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<a href="https://i0.wp.com/post.healthline.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/world_map_with_pins_pandemic_concept-1296x728-header.jpg?w=1155&h=1528" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>image source</i></span></a>Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-2232616449641139882019-07-31T06:46:00.000-07:002019-08-26T12:46:52.470-07:00Come on in!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3qk6fWzrhKaRvUriVpouqwRUTIdlrH6v18KEu_J60zYBK6v_hLe0qqAjk3TTN9sRM_KiZbjh2F1MAlT41zWwGAIN9I9JVnf-ooMDfMxvEqgdHZSl3p_P3EGkKo8GCgrKZWtguLwyORnQ/s1600/80692F68-DFFC-48F1-B8F9-AF581FEA2674.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="559" data-original-width="778" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3qk6fWzrhKaRvUriVpouqwRUTIdlrH6v18KEu_J60zYBK6v_hLe0qqAjk3TTN9sRM_KiZbjh2F1MAlT41zWwGAIN9I9JVnf-ooMDfMxvEqgdHZSl3p_P3EGkKo8GCgrKZWtguLwyORnQ/s320/80692F68-DFFC-48F1-B8F9-AF581FEA2674.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I want a table that says<br />
Tell me your story<br />
I want to make meals<br />
You're not self-conscious to eat<br />
To cook for restricted, or slow, or messy eaters<br />
And a baby to cheer your view.<br />
Food is a gift!<br />
So is a good coffee<br />
Let us make you a treat or scrounge something quick.<br />
We want to give blessing we've also received<br />
We want you to to know:<br />
You're cared for<br />
You're heard<br />
We're glad you are here.<br />
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<a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=family+kitchen+table+illustration+&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwiB_P2joN_jAhUQQawKHfVVADQQ2-cCegQIABAC&oq=family+kitchen+table+illustration+&gs_l=mobile-gws-wiz-img.3...44169.56154..57030...3.0..0.312.3908.0j4j11j1......0....1.........33i10j35i39j33i299j0i30.K_iO8pdXbQE&ei=F5ZBXcGUPJCCsQX1q4GgAw&bih=531&biw=375&prmd=simvn&rlz=1CDGOYI_enUS843US843&hl=en-US#imgrc=ghMydB95ykBkXM" target="_blank"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image source </span></i></a>Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-11205073159933997582019-06-30T19:31:00.000-07:002019-07-01T18:51:37.811-07:00The undeserved love I receive<i>This is a poem says things that many other parents have said before me. I am writing it anyway because it is new and mysterious and wonderful to me. </i><br />
<br />
You think my hair is meant<br />
to help you pull in close.<br />
Your wet baby kisses<br />
extend my energy, my perseverance, far beyond the limits I thought I had.<br />
There's a look when you know<br />
you have all my attention<br />
I can't put a name to it<br />
but oh, how I hope you don't outgrow it anytime soon.<br />
Please, my Father, help me to look more like you.<br />
Please, my Father, help me to trust you like he does;<br />
expressing,<br />
unhindered by any thought that You might not want to hear,<br />
content,<br />
to know that You delight in me too.<br />
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<br />Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-89511880363452876612019-06-21T17:30:00.003-07:002019-06-21T17:52:00.557-07:00to live by the wildflowers<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
turn off</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
turn onto the gravel roads</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to wander</div>
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to reach for a spray of the wildflowers,</div>
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not as a taking of the fruit of another's possessions</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but as a recognizing</div>
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welcoming the delight of sun, wind, sky</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
mountain and plain</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to gather the glories in</div>
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highlight their riotous worship.</div>
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Yes, we see</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
we join with the</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
ringing, repeating song of praise!<br />
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<a href="https://lorenphotos.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/7.jpg" target="_blank"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: xx-small;"><i>image source</i></span></a><br />
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Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-33429467093667764372019-06-09T17:54:00.001-07:002019-06-11T20:29:51.807-07:00finding my voice again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvUvwPmINU5XgKpvbv0WTw9uEp9mpcxzEkIYlisxHILlDEqX-9k-oTdjPSh0p0j5AZkDgQLxHt8jkmlSwZTe8cVYmaFWFCyUwn8sOQnhkjSpGyxoVkqVJc2mXn2dA1ZzTYT3B5jWXfJcs/s1600/IMG_0349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvUvwPmINU5XgKpvbv0WTw9uEp9mpcxzEkIYlisxHILlDEqX-9k-oTdjPSh0p0j5AZkDgQLxHt8jkmlSwZTe8cVYmaFWFCyUwn8sOQnhkjSpGyxoVkqVJc2mXn2dA1ZzTYT3B5jWXfJcs/s320/IMG_0349.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Finding my voice again<br />
feels a little presumptuous<br />
What do I have to say? Only the unfinished<br />
Perhaps I'm no longer grieving,<br />
No longer longing as before<br />
Perhaps I don't dare to speak<br />
for fear the good will vaporize<br />
More likely<br />
I'm less alone these days<br />
There are two and the Lord who hear my heart these days<br />
I have become wife<br />
I have become mother<br />
Perhaps I don't dare to speak<br />
for fear of hurting those who long for these titles<br />
Perhaps I've heard some try to teach the how<br />
As if they knew it all<br />
I don't<br />
goodness, I don't.<br />
But I am learning new things<br />
I suppose we all are.<br />
<br />
<br />Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-84231733265301714382018-09-10T20:05:00.000-07:002018-09-10T20:21:42.884-07:00This Year"Hormones."<br />
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Kind of an ugly word to explain the flood of emotions, don't you think?<br />
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So many different things to hold in my heart this twenty-eighth birthday. So many things have changed so quickly in the space between my twenty-sixth and twenty-eighth birthday - I hadn't even met the man who woke me singing "Happy Birthday" so I would hurry to open the gift he would use to make my morning coffee for me, while our child kicked his or her greeting inside me.<br />
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My twenty-seventh birthday was just after our honeymoon. The newlywed stage is beautiful, but for all its thrills and despairs, treasured new things and bumbling adjustments, I don't wish to be back in that stage. How thankful I am for all we've learned, the trust we've built, the skills acquired for cheering each other on.<br />
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How much more we have to learn.<br />
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Each of us hold our everyday sorrows, together with the immense and humbling realizations of how much good we've been given.<br />
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Lord, we thank You for the time we had before we had to learn all the difficulties of pregnancy. Thank You for the ways You've equipped Damon to know what is most helpful as he cares for me. Thank You for helping me to move through the fear of the vulnerability of carrying a child into confidence and trust in Your hands that hold us all.<br />
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I can learn to rejoice in the beauty of being given a child as soon as we asked, even while I weep for another dear woman who has been praying for a child for years. I may have my fears about how we will care for this little one, and I can bring them to the Lord in the same breath as I bring the pregnant teens I love who will have a much more difficult time providing for their precious babies.<br />
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Joy and sorrow never come unmixed, do they? But oh, how much I grow in gratitude when I take and enter into them. Thank you, my friends, for rejoicing with me. Thank you, too, for opening your heart to share your weepings. Thank You, my Shepherd, for Your tears and Your pain, and thank You for Your delight.<br />
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<a href="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/15/62/31/156231abb231c7e319975627b3515482--encouragement-scripture-scripture-art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="461" data-original-width="570" height="258" src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/15/62/31/156231abb231c7e319975627b3515482--encouragement-scripture-scripture-art.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-66731335957799237462017-02-20T18:23:00.000-08:002017-02-20T18:29:42.970-08:00my sister is strong.<i>Although I could write many things about my beautiful biological sister, </i><br />
<i>this is about one of my little sisters in the family of Christ. </i><br />
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<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/f6/94/23/f69423154009f7d7b6ebdd4388656d45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/f6/94/23/f69423154009f7d7b6ebdd4388656d45.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<i><br /></i>My sister is strong.<br />
The others, when they start to act tough<br />
and they vow they'll never care about anything again<br />
you know they just can't handle it anymore.<br />
The others, they're so angry<br />
because this isn't right,<br />
this isn't the way it's supposed to be<br />
that they give up hope of learning<br />
what it IS supposed to be like.<br />
<br />
Somehow, my sister's not like that.<br />
Me, I haven't had a quarter of her hardship<br />
written into my story<br />
I, at her age,<br />
wasn't anywhere near so resilient.<br />
<br />
My sister still dreams.<br />
She is strong enough to love the way<br />
the winter branches kiss the sky<br />
She is strong enough to want to care<br />
for the more vulnerable<br />
She is strong enough to love the people<br />
who make life so difficult for her<br />
She is so strong,<br />
she still knows how to cry.<br />
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My sister is a very special person.<br />
My sister is strong.<br />
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<a href="http://werkvankemp.nl/?gallery=819" target="_blank"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">image source</span></i></a>Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-12927787290739017562017-01-24T15:58:00.002-08:002017-01-24T19:34:40.137-08:002017<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is a rather belated New Year's post, but I've been thinking about it for a while so I thought I would still go ahead and post it. <br />
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For 2016 I chose to think on the word "Faithfulness", to try to keep in front of me how the Lord has been faithful to me and what I have in front of me to be faithful with. As I look back on my thoughts from last January I am humbled by the abundant grace and kindness the Lord has shown to me. To be honest, I entered 2016 with a predominant feeling of dread. How, I wondered, was I to soldier on through the limitations and difficulties of the life God has given me? I wasn't finding much to anticipate with any sense of joy, but I knew that the Lord would lead me and give me enough to survive whatever He had in store. <br />
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And He was faithful.<br />
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Faithful in the midst of a crazy work schedule + class + regular pain from a year-long dental issue that ended in oral surgery = more exhaustion than I've ever had to walk through, faithful through some sad goodbyes as dear friends moved on to other corners of the world, faithful through a hard and painful year of camp prep, faithful through a beautiful week of with my young Rez friends where I got to witness God's work in ways I never have before, faithful through blessed transitions into life with new roommates and a new job and a wonderful man who I started dating in October. <br />
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How like the Lord to end a year that began with dread in a season of abundant joy. <br />
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As I look on this year, I want to be grateful, I want to continue to rest in His faithfulness, and I want to grow in awareness of the ways I am alive in Him. I am alive in the vine even though sometimes my ideas of what that ought to look like are a little off base. So I chose the word "Fruitfulness" to think about for 2017. I want to be thoughtful about what it means to thrive, to live fully in both sorrow and gladness. I want to be rooted more deeply in dependence on Him through His word, to be freer in service, joy, and grief. As I think about what kind of fruit I am bearing, I want to be reminded that I will fa<span style="font-family: inherit;">il at growth if I think I can do my own self-improvement projects with my life. Yet because I have been grafted into the vine, I ought to be watching for good fruit in hope. Anywhere I see it I hope to respond more and more in thankfulness, and when I don't see it I want to keep my eyes open to where the Lord might be pruning me, to cry out to Him for help. I want to grow in dependence and gratitude.</span><br />
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<span style="box-sizing: border-box;"> Galatians 5:22-23 says,"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law." I want to grow in all of these things, but a couple things stand out to me. As I think on these things, I realize that they are things that, in our fallen sinful state, feel foreign and unnatural to us. And yet because we are human and bear the image of our Creator God, they are things that bring such satisfaction. These are definition</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="text Gal-5-23" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px;"><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box;">s of what it means to thrive. See, </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">I have a natural desire to hide from others, to ignore difficult things, to close myself off in an illogical attempt at self-protection or to try to please others in order to feel good about myself. But these reactions don't help me, they hurt me. To do the hard obediences is to spring up alive and become more and to have purer, deeper sorrow and fuller, more abundant joy.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i>Lord, You are holy God</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i>You have set Your love on me</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i>You have bought me with the blood of the Lamb</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i>I need You</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i>apart from You I am dead, cold, dry</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i>but grafted into You</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i>born anew</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i>I live, love, thrive</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i>Would You give me eyes to see good</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i>joy in encouragement</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i>Softness to grieve and hate with </i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i>fullness, gentleness, faithfulness, righteousness.</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i>Slow me to see hearts</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i>Strengthen me to be peaceful, to be kind</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i>Give me a little gladness here and there for the hope to continue steadfast</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i> Teach me to lay down my life as I have been loved first.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.feastoftheheart.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/Fruit-Open-Air-Market1.jpg" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>image source</i></span></a></span>Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-64910976835123196342016-08-24T19:34:00.000-07:002016-08-25T07:11:18.550-07:00radio silencelike the moment during takeoff<br />
just before your ears pop<br />
the pressure of the quiet gets to me<br />
stillness is a song<br />
but silence is a tense hum<br />
waiting<br />
perhaps it's a struggle to catch up,<br />
to get ahead of the tick of the clock<br />
so that there's time to hear the music<br />
to pause, to observe the symphony between the lines<br />
to create the music that's already around<br />
there are riches in the drumming rain<br />
the pulsating surf<br />
the teeming streets<br />
riches waiting to be spoken<br />
but first, someone needs to pause<br />
and listen<br />
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<br />Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-38894510047139044272016-05-08T11:12:00.000-07:002016-05-08T11:18:23.826-07:00an effort to recognizeToday, I thank You for<br />
A home that was always open<br />
How many birthdays I heard the story of my birth again, how she became a mom for the first time, how she saw her own face when she looked at mine<br />
The pushing, prying, once in a while tears because she wanted to know how I was doing<br />
Pizza and ice cream in the freezer and the knowledge that we could invite first and<br />
inform her second<br />
For the big dreams and enthusiasm for our futures<br />
That she prays for us.<br />
<br />
For the tea, always tea<br />
The orchids in the window, pansies in the garden peace that was always at Oma's place<br />
Always the listening and the special treatment like she was so honored that you were there.<br />
The recurrent gathering again, how she is a magnet in the drawing together of our family<br />
All the hearts that have been under that roof<br />
The foster kids who still send a note every now and then<br />
<br />
For the niece who is mine in a small way<br />
For those who let me hold their babies and rejoice with them<br />
For all the kids who've accidentally or jokingly called me Mom<br />
For the one week a year when my arms are full<br />
For my first-loved and how proud they can make me<br />
For the ones I carry in my heart, the ones I've labored for in prayer and tears<br />
<br />
The richness, the anguish of love<br />
The mothers that lay down their lives for us in everyday servings,<br />
For Your love pulsing through<br />
Thank You.<br />
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<br />Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-36284008028203807152016-03-31T17:13:00.001-07:002016-04-07T01:44:59.867-07:00summer in the air<br />
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<a href="http://cdni.wired.co.uk/1920x1280/s_v/smell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://cdni.wired.co.uk/1920x1280/s_v/smell.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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wild rose in the churchyard<br />
watermelon,<br />
salty sandy sunscreen<br />
engine oil<br />
dandelion-rid soil<br />
dark roast coffee and open-window green grass clippings<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.wired.co.uk/news/archive/2012-11/20/white-smells-block-bad-smells" target="_blank"><br /></a></span>
<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.wired.co.uk/news/archive/2012-11/20/white-smells-block-bad-smells" target="_blank">imagesource</a></span></i>Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-76600564262548675812016-03-25T20:39:00.000-07:002016-03-25T21:17:59.140-07:00and the darkest of hours was the best day ever<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Good Friday is my favorite holiday</div>
although sometimes I'd rather pass over the darkness quickly<br />
look to the Sunday sunrise<br />
but you've got to sit in the horror of it a little while<br />
make your home beneath the Cross<br />
and you'll see<br />
how He was torn<br />
the slow suffocation<br />
the life-blood that seeps away,<br />
congealed and continual<br />
how His loved ones must have prayed for death to hurry<br />
what agony to see Him suffer, exposed and ashamed,<br />
for hours on end<br />
but they didn't even know the half of it<br />
all hell's darkest powers<br />
many eternity's worth of torture, concentrated into this slim span of time<br />
creation strains under the weight of this confusion<br />
something is terribly, terribly wrong<br />
the sun knows it, and dares not look on the horrible sight<br />
the earth shudders violently in fear<br />
the agonizing shriek rings out<br />
Forsaken<br />
and yet, He has asked for the bitter wine and vinegar<br />
He is willing to drink down the dregs of His Father's wrath<br />
The crumbs of His broken, broken body are a bridal feast<br />
and the blood is the water of life that He turns to the wine of joy<br />
what wondrous love is this?<br />
at last the Ruler pronounces that it is finished<br />
and God takes His spirit to rest in the grave<br />
Resting in the knowledge that He has paid the ransom for His beloved<br />
they are His forever<br />
the veil is torn,<br />
because God has exploded out of the sanctuary<br />
and Sunday will dawn so soon.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz36Uqq1PKGfo3oOcRnvNTRD94q0LI1ASQSdpE7qnDecwQB7J1W3bM9D8xKksfhth5A0Hbn-RtH8LFR9HgdPO-oTjB3CdumVXwIfCxSRV4cq6fVQ1QZ00b35nGNGulr5B5aLemB3PGNUw/s1600/thorns1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz36Uqq1PKGfo3oOcRnvNTRD94q0LI1ASQSdpE7qnDecwQB7J1W3bM9D8xKksfhth5A0Hbn-RtH8LFR9HgdPO-oTjB3CdumVXwIfCxSRV4cq6fVQ1QZ00b35nGNGulr5B5aLemB3PGNUw/s320/thorns1.jpg" width="202" /></a>Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-83849346947268294542016-02-06T20:21:00.000-08:002016-02-06T20:55:08.436-08:00winter journal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i>I didn't categorize this as poetry because it's too long, and if it was a poem I would try to have some sort of understandable progression of thought instead of popping along from one thing to another. In short, I don't really know what this is :)</i></div>
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Today the sun warms the chilled February birdsong,</div>
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yesterday the fog drifted sleepily</div>
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I'm having trouble keeping up with this steady passing of time</div>
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life continually slipping on past</div>
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the days a blurring of the calendar, </div>
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trying for more sleep, more food, to remember my weakness</div>
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but it would be much handier to be invincible,<br />
to have enough time to plan and dream and learn</div>
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the nights are too short but my dreams are flashbacks</div>
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moments and faces I've treasured and sometimes forgotten</div>
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it's a strange place to be.</div>
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Oh Love, that will not let me go,</div>
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I rest my weary soul in Thee</div>
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Odd, bumping into that loneliness whenever I turn</div>
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but I have so so many to love</div>
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so many to cry for</div>
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and this humbling unassailable confidence </div>
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that I am so loved.</div>
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Oh, the wonderful blood of Jesus</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There are dark-eyed babies</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and beautiful women limping </div>
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through my head at 4:00AM</div>
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when I wake to this unsettling sense of homesickness</div>
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but I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger<br />
traveling through this world of woe<br />
there's no sickness, toil or danger<br />
in that bright land to which I go<br />
and home is the "tornado" of people in our converted-bowling-alley church after the service<br />
home is that building with multiple cameras, multiple layers of locked doors,<br />
to shelter its sacred contents<br />
home is the sunshine through the iron windowpanes at CCEF morning prayer<br />
home is my piano keyboard that grows a layer of dust faster than I expect it to<br />
home is Christmas with my family by the fireside<br />
home is the long table filled with soup-eaters before small group<br />
home is anybody's baby in my arms<br />
home is downtown Toronto through the dirty bus windows<br />
home is green shoots poking through dark soil<br />
home is my niece's smile, in person or on Skype<br />
home is the flowers and teacups on my Oma's coffee table<br />
home is my cousin's french press and steaks<br />
home is the dip in the prairie grasses when you come over the hill to see the oaks and the graveyard and the community center and the elementary school and the little white church stake out my favorite town on the rez<br />
home is hymns in four-part harmony<br />
home is a latte on a Sunday afternoon<br />
home is a beautiful thing<br />
Oh, joy, that seekest me through pain<br />
I cannot close my heart to thee<br />
I trace the rainbow through the rain<br />
and feel the promise is not vain<br />
that morn shall tearless be<br />
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Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-71283841744332790352016-01-02T21:27:00.000-08:002016-01-02T21:43:38.110-08:00keeping up with traditions......yup I am that type. I like that our family has random traditions like having an appetizer/finger food dinner while we open gifts, I like that my home church keeps the Dutch tradition of singing "Glory to God" after the annual Christmas program (we don't sing it in Dutch though, we're good Canadians that way) ...I have my own silly tradition of putting up a "tree" that consists of a couple fake branches in a vase and always has to be topped with a bow, rather than a star... I guess it's the remembering part that I like about traditions. I had a hard time remembering what I did last year for New Year's, but when we keep up our little traditions they bring back memories for me. The tradition of choosing a word for the year helps me to remember in a different way. I guess it's a moment of looking back and looking for some particular way the Lord has led me and is teaching me. Click on the "one word" label at the bottom of this post if you want to see the words I've chosen for past years. <br />
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This year's word is simple, and I think of it in two ways:<br />
Faithfulness.<br />
God is faithful, and as He continues to take over my life I'm realizing in new ways that I can't control my life, I can't do enough to get the results I want, but God is pleased when His children love Him and love others in whatever circumstances they're in. In other words, I just have to be faithful where I'm at. I don't need to figure everything out. <br />
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This year, I:<br />
<br />
<b>understood my weakness and my need in new ways.</b> When I ended up in the hospital for three days after an infected tooth reacted badly to a root canal, I was left physically weakened so much that I could hardly walk at first. I've never been seriously sick before, so that was a first for me. I was so thankful for the way the Lord showed His care for me through countless small and large kindnesses shown to me by my church, coworkers, friends and family in that time. All year I've been less resilient than I'm used to being. It's hard to remember that for whatever reasons my physical reserve is lacking and I can't push myself. I'm slowly learning to listen to my body and slow down or go to sleep, and emotionally, not to spend too much time alone, to try to make more space for laughter and silliness.<br />
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Speaking of laughter, this year I <b>gained a new title: Aunt Lizzi</b>! My niece Lydia made her appearance last January, and she is very beloved by all her family and friends. We are all enraptured by her, and it's so fun to see my little sister and her husband as parents. They are doing such a wonderful job. Lydia reminds me that time passes quickly, which is a bittersweet realization when I am so far from family. My Opa's health problems have been another reminder of this, and I treasure each visit with family knowing in a more tangible way that each time I see them, they have changed. I am so looking forward to meeting three of my cousins' first little ones, who will be 2016 babies :)<br />
<br />
This year I also <b>said goodbyes and hellos</b> as two of my roommates and some other good friends moved on to Florida, Michigan, Canada and other places after finishing their schooling here, and new friends have moved into the area. I've also said hello to two roommates I already knew quite well - it's been such a blessing to live with two girls who have been good friends since my first year here.<br />
<br />
I <b>asked for help in new ways,</b> taking advantage of working for a great counseling center to get some counseling for myself :) My church has also offered me help in so many ways that have been such a blessing.<br />
<br />
<b>I started three new jobs, </b>babysitting & tutoring/homeschooling three sweet kids from last March until I recently started working for an Opthamologist's office... I also started subbing for the front desk at CCEF in addition to my cleaning work there.<br />
<br />
<b>I learned that grief and joy are deep and ought to be spoken and shared.</b> This is a little harder to explain, but I have been so comforted by Christ's simultaneous grief, joy, and sovereignty... Personally I think of a number of things that I saw this in, but one that I particularly treasure was our week at Camp Oak Hills with the kids from Rosebud Reservation. I've watched some of these kids grow up, and I was so honored to be able to share our week at camp. Some of them are dealing with such hard things and they were so courageous and vulnerable in sharing their lives with us. I was so privileged to be able to cry with them and yet I know that there is hope for us to be healed and so we can also rejoice like silly idiots because of that hope. I think one of my favorite moments of the year was all the hugs I got from my girls after teaching one evening. <br />
<br />
<b>I faced one of my worst fears this year, </b>or came close to it when one of my young friends attempted suicide multiple times. There have been a number of other hard things this year, some very heavy burdens carried by and for people I love very deeply, but it's hard to express how much I fear losing one of my Rosebud friends who is not ready for eternity yet. I love them very deeply and so that shook me, hard. But I thank God that my friend was unsuccessful and is still with us. I was reminded that last year a wise friend of mine told me, in a rather prophetic fashion, that if I loved broken people one day I would lose one of them. He said it would help me to remember that they are not in my control, and in that way it will free me to love them better. Oh, we are all so broken, and so in need of the Healer!<br />
<br />
There are other things that stand out from this year but I think these are the ones I want to record for now. Now it's 2016. As I think about this year I am afraid, and I am confident. I dread and I trust. I long for restoration and yet the grace is sufficient because I love and I am loved. I cling to Jesus because <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+6:68&version=NKJV" target="_blank">where else would I go?</a> He is everything, and I am content.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Photo credit: my talented friend Rachel Heaton</i></span>Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-59103366433562565442015-11-26T17:09:00.001-08:002015-11-26T17:13:03.859-08:00because I am lovedThis year I missed Canadian Thanksgiving but celebrated American thanksgiving with friends today. I don't know if that means I'm acclimatizing or what. Actually, I was just told by one of my Canadian cousins that I'm developing an accent =) <br />
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<a href="http://www.ccef.org/resources/blog/learning-be-thankful-even-when-im-told-i-have-be" target="_blank">This was a bit of perspective that helped me today. </a> As I give thanks for God's admonitions that are <i>for my good</i> because He loves me, I thought it would be a good idea to reflect on some of the things I have had to be thankful for recently.<br />
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3898. "The Old Rugged Cross" and the unique way singing harmony allows you to simultaneously listen and agree.<br />
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3902. Bubbles over the street<br />
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3938. Apologies<br />
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3952. Roommate laughter<br />
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3968. Instagram squeals from the niece<br />
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3975. Waking to the sound of rain<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9hLOV5qAia9-G0rmjus0pfUWh34kY-C9LvDkITwV3TW1btCG5lH39rV_LGog83bPHIKTyM_44HuQpJfJYqj2An0Y8w6BfVXA9A4hyC9SZBKFpJrNw0hiE4TY8TiDM1yLzEplKSdTwALA/s1600/20151104_082913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9hLOV5qAia9-G0rmjus0pfUWh34kY-C9LvDkITwV3TW1btCG5lH39rV_LGog83bPHIKTyM_44HuQpJfJYqj2An0Y8w6BfVXA9A4hyC9SZBKFpJrNw0hiE4TY8TiDM1yLzEplKSdTwALA/s320/20151104_082913.jpg" width="252" /></a><br />
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3979. Irrepressible birdsong<br />
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4076. Another free trial version of Photoshop<br />
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4086. Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow<br />
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4095. Stocking pigs and and toothbrush robots<br />
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4194. My name on a welcome sign<br />
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4200. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3c385wmY910" target="_blank">The Psalm 126 song</a><br />
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4201. Fall-scented candles<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb9zzw3si2PStVCOHREFFhkkEIYYoE988rz6G9hCd6z4AX5vIx9yr2rQLiwqiQ_1Tcbp6s4qWB8CHxSm7csWmuTSyZAg3nMjWFeQ2WL6kou58oI54VrpOzVhcd2V3912YXmjUi7ifXtqw/s1600/20151103_173631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb9zzw3si2PStVCOHREFFhkkEIYYoE988rz6G9hCd6z4AX5vIx9yr2rQLiwqiQ_1Tcbp6s4qWB8CHxSm7csWmuTSyZAg3nMjWFeQ2WL6kou58oI54VrpOzVhcd2V3912YXmjUi7ifXtqw/s320/20151103_173631.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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4206. How much my niece loves her mama<br />
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4211. Breakfast with Mark, hot chocolate with Kenny<br />
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4212. Grease and wrenches and the comfort of the shop, dad and brothers<br />
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4215. Coworkers hanging over the railing yelling at me while I pull parts off the underside of my car =D<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl4doo2maRkkY6iyFzvy2xqfZDra-onshmnnuXm1SxTaiZX7dTbn5_dcV8sgHn7ahDTh16oyOGwELq3s_Bt7Q9TudnVwbpUvkqS1umQfnsf5Ha1IW4rKYOwT2NaDKeWjqY7BTYeyYVfDU/s1600/20151102_210617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl4doo2maRkkY6iyFzvy2xqfZDra-onshmnnuXm1SxTaiZX7dTbn5_dcV8sgHn7ahDTh16oyOGwELq3s_Bt7Q9TudnVwbpUvkqS1umQfnsf5Ha1IW4rKYOwT2NaDKeWjqY7BTYeyYVfDU/s320/20151102_210617.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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4218. Lunch-break poetry<br />
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4222. Light that shines in our hearts (2 Corinthians 4:6)<br />
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4227. The kids that I babysit asking if I get paid extra for each meal I make for them because they think I enjoy "serving them"<br />
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4230. Tilapia with cilantro, lime and parmesan<br />
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4232. So many thanksgiving pies<br />
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4234. Hopeful watchmen, waiting for the Sun of Righteousness with the healing in His wings.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg41ZGd9tNMq7SgTLIX355rkEb65EITV1ieQqRfAxBk0UgCW3rxjEgQkQVpA3FBD-UNnv91DXb6tK63u0Cf1FkbDAjGjJIXhZru_TzF9S-mCl3rxbzSRLWsZJV5zkW1_o-qGCCSG8gN5R4/s1600/20151123_134411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg41ZGd9tNMq7SgTLIX355rkEb65EITV1ieQqRfAxBk0UgCW3rxjEgQkQVpA3FBD-UNnv91DXb6tK63u0Cf1FkbDAjGjJIXhZru_TzF9S-mCl3rxbzSRLWsZJV5zkW1_o-qGCCSG8gN5R4/s320/20151123_134411.jpg" width="261" /></a>Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-11583725502478469302015-11-08T19:40:00.001-08:002015-11-08T19:47:07.208-08:00sunrisestark velvet chill<br />
bits of icy illumination<br />
surround the contented moon<br />
<br />
ahead of me the horizon blushes<br />
faintly rainbowing the blue-black quiet<br />
the light is certainly coming, but the anticipation drags on<br />
<br />
there's a ray of promise,<br />
I think<br />
it builds a swell of glow<br />
<br />
the sky-blind is lifted<br />
and like a holy unveiling,<br />
a sacred disrobing,<br />
the brilliance overtakes us<br />
<br />
after the shy of it<br />
did you expect it to be this warm, this blinding?Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-79592330102052321602015-09-21T06:44:00.000-07:002015-09-21T18:16:31.917-07:00pilgrimage<div style="text-align: left;">
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it's a strange state we're in</div>
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that's for sure</div>
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you can't be strong unless you know you're weak</div>
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won't feel held til you've tasted the lonely ache</div>
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must be broken down if you want to be made whole</div>
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can't be blinded by brightness without being encompassed by the dark</div>
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you can't love</div>
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without hurting, fearing, bleeding, weeping</div>
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oh friend,</div>
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push on for the prize</div>
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<br />Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-81228648790729242352015-09-08T21:40:00.001-07:002015-09-08T21:44:43.663-07:00late night ramblings, because it's that time of yearTechnically speaking my birthday has just ended. I suppose I should be in bed but it's that time of night and of course I'm waxing eloquent and ignoring my need for beauty rest...<br />
I just wanted to nail down a few things that stand out from my year of being 24. (Because I know when I am finished being 25 I'll get nostalgic and go looking for <a href="http://lizzispointofview.blogspot.com/search/label/birthday" target="_blank">birthday blog posts</a>.)<br />
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I've had dark years. Years that were marked by what one of my professors/coworkers calls the "dark night of the soul." I don't know that I would say that 24 was dark. But I think I have been learning how to grieve this year. More than ever before I have seen my own weakness, my own limitations, my own fallenness and the lack and brokenness of the world around me. And in many little ways I've been forced to give up the notion that I can <i>do</i> enough to reverse these things. Oh, what precious grace that has driven me to cry out to the Lord more than I ever have before! I've learned that very often surrendering to sanctification sounds like, "Lord, help!" It's that breathing rhythm of "Oh God, how I need You!" There have been countless times where I want Christ to explain, to share answers with me. But in those moments He so often does not speak, per se; He just <i>is. </i>Oh how precious His nearness has been to me. How can I explain to you how much it means to me that my Lord Jesus wept? He weeps with me, and the Spirit purifies my tears to image this weeping God by my own grief. Because He's been showing me that this world is so very broken. I am thankful to just lay aside the facades of "we can make this work, we can make our own hope, we will be successful" let's just go ahead and be honest with each other. Life is messed up. So much hurt, so much pain, so much evil.<br />
But if my Savior is the Human who mourned perfectly, He is the one who rejoiced perfectly too. I hope this will be something I'll grasp more fully this coming year. He is also the God who is so pleased to see our joy. And I will say my joy-spots this year have been so ecstatically rich in the context of this grief. Sorrowful yet always rejoicing, I guess. (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2+Cor+6%3A4-10&version=ESV" target="_blank">2 Corinthians</a>) I want to learn how to be sillier and happier, more willing to enjoy the people around me this year. May I surrender my will to the God who designs, cares, feels and acts perfectly. I live 'in Him'.<br />
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<br />Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-4128721635286024392015-08-27T20:28:00.000-07:002015-08-27T20:29:28.340-07:00well, let's get on with it then<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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holy fire,<br />
overwhelm the whens<br />
when I hate everything that hurts<br />
when I adore my ease and comfort<br />
when I couldn't care less<br />
when everything seems tantamount except Yahweh<br />
holy fire,<br />
insert the untils<br />
until I love You fully<br />
until topsy-turvy is set right side up<br />
until I take another step in the right direction<br />
until the Day dawns<br />
holy fire,<br />
please bring the finallys<br />
finally You will come again<br />
finally my rebelliousness will be silenced<br />
finally the darkness will leave no trace<br />
finally our eyes will be opened<br />
holy fire that's<br />
burning away<br />
til God and man<br />
stand<br />
face<br />
to<br />
face<br />
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<a href="http://www.adu.ac.ae/portals/0/AduImage/calendar-banner.jpg" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>image source</i></span></a>Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-42426517902268625362015-06-21T11:06:00.002-07:002015-06-21T11:07:56.311-07:00seed<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I feel like my creative juices have been depleted after a spring semester of exhaustion. </i><br />
<i>But I am trying to rest, and trying to take time to reflect and be still. This is a product of that effort...</i></div>
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it's the smell of damp,</div>
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it's rattling dormancy</div>
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crumbling velvet, under your fingernails</div>
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a little sloshing of faith</div>
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the anticipatory wait</div>
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just a little poke, </div>
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and it's verdant</div>
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life and growth</div>
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sprung out of deadness</div>
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here come the light-seekers.</div>
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<a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://i.ytimg.com/vi/czRUxCJwVjw/maxresdefault.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v%3DczRUxCJwVjw&h=1080&w=1440&tbnid=EyLVb4-RLGdkuM:&zoom=1&docid=8UYu6R0erclueM&ei=V_uGVdPoApGYyATdh5XYBQ&tbm=isch&ved=0CIYBEDMoSjBK" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>image source</i></span></a></div>
Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-26269783957839860742015-04-24T22:07:00.001-07:002015-04-24T22:08:24.783-07:00when enough doesn't feel enough<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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insufficient<br />
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that's it</div>
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insufficient for the tasks at hand</div>
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but they</div>
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must</div>
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be done even though</div>
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the clock ticks a time-warp</div>
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don't we wish </div>
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we could do them <i>well</i>? </div>
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but sometimes it's all we can do to strive for </div>
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done</div>
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when it comes to hearts</div>
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when I think of the flash in your veiled eyes </div>
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your hesitating words</div>
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I feel as though I <i>must</i> do well</div>
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because how could I dare to hurt you with carelessness?</div>
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insufficient</div>
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simply insufficient</div>
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very insufficient</div>
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yet</div>
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the full plate is a gift</div>
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from a Master Chef</div>
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He wants me to enjoy</div>
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He wants me to live</div>
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and so all I can do is plow on</div>
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if I act</div>
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in worship</div>
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out of love</div>
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the failure holes in my pot</div>
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will merely serve as </div>
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light-diffusers</div>
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and together</div>
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we will <i>see.</i></div>
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Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-73025537013715394172015-02-20T22:18:00.000-08:002015-02-21T15:09:49.155-08:00cabin fever<a href="http://livelighter.org/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/winter-blues.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://livelighter.org/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/winter-blues.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a><br />
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fuzzy sentences<br />
mucky brain cells<br />
all I want to do is drink tea and stare<br />
at the candles on the table<br />
formulated thoughts<br />
are as far from my grasp<br />
as spontaneous space travel<br />
ah the life of the student<br />
pondering<br />
concepts that ought to be<br />
concise and captivating<br />
but I'm actually out on the ocean<br />
warm scent of salt<br />
victorious gulls<br />
breeze-whipped hair<br />
ok but this introduction is<br />
pathetic<br />
so I'll backspace until I'm<br />
gone<br />
to the somewhere<br />
where the green is rich and deep<br />
blossom-speckled shady moss<br />
quietly ringing brook-song<br />
ticklish cushioned forest floor<br />
Focus, focus, read the words again,<br />
fourth time through the paragraph<br />
except somewhere it's warm enough to sit<br />
without shivering in the grasses while<br />
the stars<br />
dance in and out of the<br />
thundercloud<br />
as it rolls in<br />
sorry,<br />
you lost me<br />
what?<br />
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<a href="http://livelighter.org/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/winter-blues.jpg" target="_blank"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">image source</span></i></a></h2>
<br />Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-45666825679973958002015-01-11T17:15:00.000-08:002015-01-11T17:24:27.571-08:00manna<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.dali.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/300px-BasketofBread-255x226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.dali.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/300px-BasketofBread-255x226.jpg" /></a></div>
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I'm sure most of us have heard it at one point or another. You're talking to someone who loves you dearly and is trying to comfort you after a plan or dream has fallen through. You are disappointed, and they say, "God has something so much better in store for you!" They are right, but somehow it's not comforting. You might have wanted to say, "I don't CARE! I don't want a better plan, I want this one!" Sometimes God's sovereignty can feel like a cruel joke. Certainly it's more comforting to know that an awful struggle is a gift from a loving God, rather than an uncontrolled catastrophe with the power to destroy us, but still I find myself looking in confusion to my Father and in my hurt crying out, "Really? Why this?" In times like this it can be easy to become angry with God for not letting us have it our way.</div>
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A few evenings ago I was with two friends and the conversation turned to the past year, of the things that have happened that would have surprised us had we known at the opening of 2014 what the Lord would do. For each one of us the opening of 2015 had found us in a place where life feels as if it's spun out of control, and the year is full of uncertainty and difficulty yet to come. Anyway I mentioned that I wanted to choose<a href="http://lizzispointofview.blogspot.com/2014/02/how-my-studies-suggested-word-for-2014.html" target="_blank"> a word </a>for 2015 but all that I see right now is Uncertainty. One of my friends, with a wisdom that blesses me daily, said, "Maybe it should be Manna."</div>
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Sometimes it is SO good to be stopped in your tracks. </div>
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See, God's sovereignty is no comfort if I think the goal is for me to have answers or to have my life figured out. But it isn't. Manna was about dependence and God was always enough for His people. I look at 2014 and I know He has not changed a bit. So in the midst of two January intensives and two jobs and a guy going back and forth on me whether or not he'll sell me his piano and my car in the shop more often than it's home this week but we still don't know why it randomly doesn't start, and keeping my phone with me at all times because my sister's two days overdue and I am so sad to be so far away from her right now,</div>
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I have enough for each day. </div>
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Most importantly,</div>
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God is enough for each day. </div>
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I guess I'm just being reminded that <i>He</i> is the point. He doesn't inundate Scripture with reminders that we don't need to fear because we are strong enough, smart enough, or beautiful enough. He says, "Fear not, <i>for I am with you.</i>" <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=isaiah+41&version=ESV" target="_blank">(Isaiah 41:10)</a> Last night while babysitting, I had a few pertinent conversations with an adorable four-year-old who was having a grand time thinking of reasons to come out of bed (There's too much mess in the bedroom, it's too dark in the bedroom, I was wondering if we should light a fire in the fireplace, etc.) At one point I went into the kitchen and when I came back into the livingroom to sit down with my homework there was a small foot poking out from under the coffee-table. After he found a shriveled up potato (I think) under the couch we had a little discussion about what Mommy and Daddy had said about listening, during which I reminded him that even if I couldn't see him under the table, God knew where he was. When we talked about how God was watching over him to keep him safe even if the bedroom was scary, he said, "There's just something I don't get. How can Jesus be with me in my heart and in [his brother]'s heart and in [other brother]'s heart AND in your heart all at the same time? How does He DO that?" I told him Jesus could do it because He is also God, and he responded, "But why would He do that?" As I replied, "Because He loves us!" I knew I needed this reminder more than the four-year-old needed to hear it. God is with me because He loves me. </div>
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This song just popped up on my YouTube feed today and somehow it was just the missing puzzle piece to tie in all the thinking I did last month about what incarnation means and how each of us as image-bearers also live out the character of God in a million little ways. Do press play:</div>
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So as I enter into 2015 I am reminded that manna is given one day at a time so I will look to the Giver. That is why He doesn't show me what is coming, all the ways He will provide for me and give me enough for every car breakdown and late-night paper and friend in trouble. He just promises that He will always be enough, not because it's an impersonal trust exam but because He wants me to turn to Him. He will always continue to show up in people and resources and even sometimes in lack of them. He wants me to <i>know</i> that I am not alone, not merely on paper but because I have lived it. </div>
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<i><a href="http://www.dali.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/300px-BasketofBread-255x226.jpg" target="_blank">image source</a></i></div>
Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888755393295196498.post-86403880576345385822014-11-25T16:24:00.000-08:002014-11-25T16:32:16.626-08:00moon fog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89u_1xmCUlWNi7USm24QegyeK9_zHh7HY4rOqybF9LaBP16XVqLu_g1rC9z0OH8I7NN9VOCg2JMjEgHVUP6QaZ73dE2HZVI-vxavKQKtnfklpBkQ4o9tOIlVS_d0HHkMb_-V0ItaMhCzU/s1600/Setting+Crescent+Moon+1+9+2011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89u_1xmCUlWNi7USm24QegyeK9_zHh7HY4rOqybF9LaBP16XVqLu_g1rC9z0OH8I7NN9VOCg2JMjEgHVUP6QaZ73dE2HZVI-vxavKQKtnfklpBkQ4o9tOIlVS_d0HHkMb_-V0ItaMhCzU/s1600/Setting+Crescent+Moon+1+9+2011.JPG" height="304" width="320" /></a></div>
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sometimes it's all blurry</div>
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like the moon tonight</div>
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warm and sleepy and yet there's restlessness and hunger</div>
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to know this is not <i>really</i> home</div>
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and that means THANK YOU</div>
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thank You that I get to be where I am</div>
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wading in the messiness of human hearts and many mistakes and</div>
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the fathomless depths of Your Words<br />
stars spoken in a treasure chest with beat-up leather covers. </div>
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it's so not the neat and tidy I am comfortable with</div>
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but somehow I love that</div>
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because You're rearranging my heart</div>
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and there is no good symphony built of resolved chords</div>
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and the best music is the beautiful tension,<br />
You transforming dark chaos into the light of hope</div>
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and in these moments of </div>
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sweat and elbow grease,</div>
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blood and baby skin </div>
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empty arms and full, full hearts</div>
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somehow even the ache can be beautiful</div>
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because even though I will always mourn my little ones</div>
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and all the loved ones too far to touch</div>
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my heart continues to swell and stretch, </div>
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and I never knew I could carry so many souls inside my story</div>
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washed by the sparkling salty water we spill together</div>
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wrapped in the hugs that sometimes are all we have to offer</div>
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and the sighs</div>
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but laughter</div>
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<i>will</i></div>
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come</div>
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sure as the rising Sun.</div>
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Lizzihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17124090587058909828noreply@blogger.com0