Broken Birdsong

(taken by moi) I'm feeling incredibly quiet right now. & it's not in the "absence of noise" sort of way. It would be best described as peace, I would think. Peace so beautiful, I could cry. I might cry. I'm pretty sure I'm going to cry. I have a head cold, but I was able to get an amazing chunk of sleep last night, so I'm feeling more like myself. I'm thinking about things, studying things, & preparing for things that would stress nigh anyone out. They would especially stress out the Lydia I know. But I don't feel anxious, worried, or stressed. This feeling of calmness as I recognize that everything has been placed in Jesus' hands, & I am completely satisfied in knowing that. I am safe. I have soft music playing ... oh, how I love my soft music. The words brim & spill through my fingertips, & it isn't a panicked rush ... it feels more like the rhythm of a symphony. The makeup & facades are off

I wasn't planning on writing today. Writing takes effort, & to make something beautiful, you must find something beautiful. & it takes effort to find something beautiful in the midst of a heap of mud. Maybe not my best choice of words. I am not in a mud pile. It would be better described as a valley. A low, dark place between mountains. These aren't the places one likes to write about. I stubbornly don't want to admit that there is good in this. I'm too lazy. I feel too defeated to discuss that thing called hope. My prayer journal pages are filled with question marks. A valley between mountains. I've already come so far. I remember the pain & the sweat of every step of the last mountain. The sweat wasn't from succeeding in & of myself, no. It was from striving to. Fighting the gentle leading of my Lord. The pain was found in the suffering & refining that transformed me. I stubbornly want to be done transforming. To not h

I feel frozen at times.  Torn between revelation & lamentation.   The darkness of one becomes so much more painful in contrast to the brightness of the other. & yet, the light is revealed as all the more glorious through the perspective of the black that surrounds it.  Surrounded, but not overcome. 

This time of the year is one of my favorites. I love the feeling of a fresh start ... the damp ground, the hazy skies. Autumn is the season I love best, but there is something about spring that just embraces me like an old friend (despite the choke-hold of seasonal allergies). I slip on my running shoes & step out the door, feeling a kinship to the birds singing, the earth gently giving beneath my feet, the sky that almost un-magnificent shade of grey-white. I appreciate that color more than most, with my sensitive eyes. It's one of the few daytime skies I can openly gaze at unscathed. It reminds me of blank canvasses, & rainstorms that bring life to dirt. I'm reminded of Someone who makes life out of dust. How I am dust. I am the dry ground in need of refreshing streams of water to pour down from heaven. I need the lush green in my life to break forth. I ponder on how the birds do not wait for a prettier day to break into song. Spring is here, & they must

I love how in the Kingdom, things can become redefined. I listen to a song about fear. I realize it is an anthem. Where else can we find such a hope? Such life? One of the darkest vises this world can threaten us with ... one of my greatest battles ... now transformed into a joyful cry: We are no longer slaves to it. Fear doesn't have to control us anymore. What we see is not the only reality. The darkness has tried to trick us into believing it is unquenchable, but we know better. We have seen the light. We have felt His love. & the darkness has not overcome it. He is more powerful than the dark. His love closer than our fear. {1 John 4:18. John 1:5, Closer by Tenth Avenue North}