Broken Birdsong

Scott Henry Photography I am learning to appreciate endings Not just the happy kind And not the kind that screams, “Sequel!” or “their lives go as such” But endings True—perhaps upsetting—but Authentic endings In an age in which our phones are always open We get so very little closure Except silence As a teenager, I did not know That no one would call me to say that I was not being considered for that job at the market Their answer was silence I followed up And was told that my application Was more or less in a wastebasket Like the messages I had sent a stupid boy Who considered me not worth meeting In the movies I watched as a child, with my mother There were no unhappy endings She didn’t allow those in our house I remember watching one with her “Funny Girl” And sitting in shock as the credits rolled At having witnessed something so crushing That couldn’t be the ending, could it? I lived my life in similar denial Horrified by goodbye...

I imagined him a thousand times And every single time, he walked away Saw it coming; never even cried Experience said love could never stay They couldn’t convince me otherwise Oh, how I wanted to believe their song But each time someone leaves, something dies And they were the ones that proved themselves wrong “I told you so … goodbye.” Their words grew stale, then dissipated ‘Til the rare response that hurt more than silence Cut deeper than anticipated “Was,” “knew,” “had” – the bitter sting of past-tense “Love” becomes “once loved,” “stay” becomes “long gone” I lose all childlike faith in forever Along with the instinct to hold on “Wake up, heart! Wake up, wake up – whatever What help were you anyway?” I decided that I was worthless And then You came for me, Lord – You sought me out You chose me when I was still heartless Your wild love opposing each fear and doubt “I don’t want You!” I screame...

Leadership tip: You always want the ball to be in your court. I've always carried the misconception (as I'm sure many others have) that I needed to get the ball out of my court as soon as possible. I apologized constantly, any time I thought I had been too assertive or "babbly," as I used to say. I had no idea what to do in conversation and no clue how to run a business (bonus tip: those two things are linked). My pattern was to say my piece as quickly as possible and then to shut up so I could stop embarrassing myself. I shoved the proverbial ball at whoever I was talking to as quickly as I could. Lately I've been through a lot of personal and business development training for my small business . I learned so much about doTERRA, but the most surprising things I learned were about myself. I'm bigger than I thought, and I don't have to apologize for it. I have more to bring to the table than I thought, and if I don't show up, I do a disse...

Teachers and parents alike will often tell of the “light switch” or “light bulb” moment that they take great joy in. Some say it's the moment when everything seems worth it. When they can see the light switch get turned on in a child. There's a look in a child's eyes when understanding dawns, and something isn't pointless anymore. Words cease to be a string of letters. Abraham Lincoln is no longer just a solid name. A rule is not in place to inflict harm. The words of C.S. Lewis come alive. The variables x and y are no longer seen as letters that came in to screw math up. I work with children, and I love that moment. No matter how small, I love that moment. I love watching minds grow, and personalities take shape. Even better is when that moment becomes a turning point. Not only do letters become words, but words become what dreams are made of. Behold, the next great author or orator. I know God invented that look; that spark in us. I believe that ...

I have a plant on my bedside table that makes me jealous.  This plant seems to have achieved more growth in the past four months than I have in the past year.  It's delicate, strong, and challenging all at once.  It's defying the boundaries I gave it, and thriving despite the fact that I didn't pot it properly.  I named it after Ella Fitzgerald, and honestly, it's hard to sit next to the pretty, successful thing.  I've felt this way next to people. Next to stories.  I've wanted to make myself smaller, invisible. Just because I felt I was coming up short, and ::ahem:: THIS IS WRONG, THESE ARE LIES. ::excuse me:: I keep on crawling deeper into myself, as if I'll find meaning or comfort there, and all I find is humanity, in all its lack; all its depravity.  Now, what to do, what to do? Where to go with all this need?  Up.  Out.  I have Someone safe in my corner who always wants to help me up, hel...

This is a funny sort of place to speak my heart now. I haven't done it consistently in a long time. It's something I want to change. I need to process in a healthy, productive way. But lately this blog has felt a little like a white wall. I know that's flawed thinking, but I could do with a show of hands. If you're out there, quietly receiving these words in your email If you check back once in awhile for new posts If you read my blog when I share it on other social medias If you're listening ... Click the title, open the webpage, get over here. And leave me a comment to give faces to this white wall. Maybe tell me when/why you read this? Share what you'd like to read more? Thank you in advance.

This time last year ... exactly this time last year, I didn't see the sun. I can't remember it shining, even now, unless I force my mind to realize, that logically, it must have. The sun must have been shining almost every day as my heart hemorrhaged. The days bled into one another like the soggy mascara I eventually gave up on. I bit at my lip and pulled at my hair as I tried desperately to fix my eyes on truth; tried desperately not to let everything be pulled into and tainted by my sorrow. The sun is shining now and I wrestle with it. This shining has significant implications. I have to admit, the sun must have been shining then, too. If it sounds like my mind is spinning in circles, I apologize. It is. My heart aches as I let my memories of a year ago resurface. The series of events that felt like a thousand good things withering away in my hands. I let go of dreams, let go of plans, let go of hands I thought were mine to hold forever. My pastor said so...

It makes necessarily divine sense. That when this child, perpetually scared of heights, would feel, when she is doing what she is called to do ... As though she is flying. And perfectly safe. I know no other love that casts out fear. No other life that brings fresh life to dead places. He's the hand on the back of the socially anxious, encouraging them to engage. He's the quiet voice that shuts up the fiercest of nightmares. He's walking on the water before us, inviting us to join Him. Inviting us to walk on top of the thing that made us fearful. I see myself standing at the edge of a dock. Whipped by the wind. Tears streaming. Laughing at the abandonment of it all. Laughing because fears cease to make sense within Christ. I hope you feel like you're flying today. I pray that the Spirit lifts you up. You were not created for cowering. Hiding is something we do apart from Christ. It should never be something we feel we need to do in the ...

I had never felt so heard, so understood, so empowered in my writing as on the day that I discovered Go Teen Writers and its founder, Stephanie Morrill . I felt like I had discovered a hand to hold, and I discovered a community of support that was exactly what I was looking for. Stephanie began to feel like an online big-sister to me, showing me the ropes and occasionally sharing her latest chocolate and peanut butter recipe. I want to start by highly recommending the community of Go Teen Writers to any young author that stumbles across this post, and to give you a glimpse at Stephanie's heart. This girl knows authors, she knows readers, and she knows teens. She knows their hearts and their struggles. I am on her team, 100% of the way. Stephanie Stephanie Morrill is the creator of GoTeenWriters.com and the author of several young adult novels, including the historical mystery, The Lost Girl of Astor Street. Despite loving cloche hats and drop-waist dresses, Stephanie would h...

Dear you, You at the edge of the social scene. You in the corner near the punch. You, counting the steps to the door, the minutes till home embraces your quaking heart like a warm blanket. Dear you. Let me pour you a cup of hot tea; give you something tangible to grip & receive as I speak these words over you. You've been in hiding for so long, trying not to burden anyone. If you're telling the truth, you've adopted the word "burden" like a name. Allow me to break that off of you right now. That's not your name. That isn't your identity. And I promise you it's not what people think of when they think of you. If someone has made you feel like that? If that is a wound you hold deep inside, & a fear always at the edge of your thoughts? Please, let me say this for us all - us blind, amateurs at love - let me say I am sorry. My heart hurts just knowing what you've gone through. Darling, I've been there. I have felt t...

"To the pure, all things are pure, but to those who are defiled and unbelieving, nothing is pure; but even their mind and conscience are defiled. They profess to know God, but in works they deny Him, being abominable, disobedient, and disqualified for every good work." {Titus 1:15-16} "I want to be the only one On the throne of your heart The only one that moves you I will remove the names of your lovers Even the memory of their face will fade away I will write on you My name forever I will be known by you as Faithful and True So come back, come back I'll take you to the start Come back, come back I'll take you to your First Love." { Only One by Harvest} There is a terrible habit one must be cautious of when approaching Scripture: the habit of skipping over things that you don't think are for you. I slip into this more than I'd like to admit. I close my eyes when the words are hard, I thumb through the pages for feel-good books. Or ...

Someone told me today that they try not to think in terms of years, but rather, days. I was thinking something along those lines this week as I prepared for the celebration of a new year's dawn. That word alone struck me. Dawn. Sunrise. My friend said that he wakes up, puts his yesterday behind him as he gets on his knees. It could have been the worst, most sinful day ... but he refuses to bear that shame for a full year when the Lord's mercies are new every morning. So he starts each day with a prayer for forgiveness & a fresh start. (Note: I am in no ways endorsing a lifestyle that does not strive for holiness & then just says, "oh, God will forgive me." Neither was my friend. We are simply refusing to carry around chains that the Lord stands ready & willing to break.) As I anticipated 2017, I simply asked the Lord for a new morning. I can't erase every hard thing of 2016 from my memory or my reality - it changed me, & my world. But...

I reached towards heaven To cover Your eyes Ever since I was seen I've wanted to hide And ever since I hid I've wished they would see -- Beggars, saints and scholars -- And deem me worthy Camouflaged, I lay there Begging for notice In shame, doubt and fear To be seen like this To be caught in my sin Exposed as myself Naked broken poser No doll on a shelf Look away, look away Away from me, Lord Yet You don't shift Your gaze You don't say a word I realize it was You - That it was Your sight That I tried to remove Yet craved morn and night Put my roots in darkness Ran rather than fight As if this was progress I was made for the light Look away, look away Away from me, Lord Yet You don't shift Your gaze You don't say a word I dare look up again You're somehow nearer Your love won't look away It's ne'er been clearer Where are my accusers? Where are my idols? All of them were scattered And here I stand, w...

When the muse strikes May these hands of mine Ne'er be found idle Nor waiting for lightning When a song moves my soul May I not let it slip Moving on to another Who might treasure it When my heart gives a stammer As if catching its breath May I still myself enough To explore the cause May I embrace confusion Until it becomes clarity May I never neglect the wonder Never forget its origin May I always pause when The light invades my skin May I always exhale Then begin once again May the wind of change No longer be my enemy But rather, a strange partner In a brand new dance May I sink beneath the waves Only to emerge again, new May the broken and tainted Become a stained glass window May I let the light shine through it

(image found on Pinterest) I have always been the one to hold back. I've been scared. I've seldom thought myself good enough. I haven't had the nerve to commit. I am the girl that suffered intense joint pain through most of my childhood. I have often wondered what my body was even capable of. I doubted it was anything significant. I didn't take advanced math in high school, because I never thought I would amount to anything that would require a degree. I didn't touch a guitar for years, because I thought my fingers incapable of applying so much concentrated pressure. I have balked in the face of auditions & applications. I have looked at a person & deemed them above me. I've pruned my expectations time & time again; cut down my dreams until they looked realistic & acceptable. I have given up when I should have kept on fighting. It turns out, a lot of things are closer to my grasp than I first thought. I have discov...

Your love, has met me where I am You see, where Your chosen bride has been You know, just how far I ran Yet You come, and You choose me once again You have not forsaken me Your love has not rejected me You are always here with me You pursue me when I flee No, You have not forsaken me Your blood, has washed my sin-stained hands Your grace, gave Your bride a thousandth chance You breathe, and a flame begins to dance Purify, my love in Your romance You have not forsaken me Your love has not rejected me You are always here with me You pursue me when I flee No, You have not forsaken me Oh, how I've longed For the fullness You provide Lord, I have searched You alone can satisfy Oh, how I've wandered Now I'm coming back to You Meet me here, Jesus Do what only You can do Oh, I'm coming back to You I'm coming back Oh, You never left me Though I left a thousand times Oh, You are steady You have never left my side You hav...

Jesus, Jesus. I am coming to You. Straight to You. I'm not waiting til I get my act together, I'm not lining up my ducks I'm just running. I'm running broken. With my idols, my ideals, my illusions. My addictions, my confusion, my obsessions. With my anger, my distraction, my repression. I'm coming towards You, knowing I cannot shake these off & bind them without You. I'm coming sick with grief I thought I should have overcome months ago. I come because I know now that no one else will do, no one else could save me. I was waiting for a savior on a white horse, & it's You. It has always been You. So here I am, here I've come, & this is what it's come to. My stomach is turning as I reflect on the mess I've made, & the ways I've tried to clean it up. I confess, & I leave my hands open. They're bloody & stained, full of lies. I thought I could bury this; cover it all up with the rig...

It was getting late ... My body was limbered, but weary. I could smell the oils I had rubbed on my aching feet with a prayer that I would get rest. I had stayed up far too late the night previous, & I'd let my thoughts reign free. Never a good life choice. Things seemed so out of control, & I felt isolated. There are nights where just going to bed is something I'm not sure I'm brave enough to do. It requires that I turn the lights out. That I lay next to my thoughts & I face them alone. These are lies, but a friend once told me that nighttime always exacerbates things, & it seems like it seldom exacerbates truth. Especially when you haven't been entertaining truthful thoughts all day. Let me speak this out: muffling the negative thoughts & the lies is not renouncing them, & it's not speaking truth. Non-thought still lets the wound fester. We cannot afford to merely stifle our pain. Now that I have gotten that out...

I take a deep breath & turn to whitespace. I have been practicing this all day. I don't know quite how to tackle these online courses, & I've decided that maybe that's okay. I've decided to let go of this nagging feeling that I'm not working hard enough or long enough. I'm on week two of 45+ hour work weeks, while taking four credits in my "spare time." Spare time. As in, when most people sleep. On my break. In the car. While children nap. I've studied on my laptop, on my phone, with my books, with my notebooks, reciting to friends, making up study cards ... It's week two. I looked down at the end of week one, & I realized that I had read two weeks' worth of material in my one class. & it still hadn't felt like enough. That's when it dawned on me: maybe my perception is vastly off. Here's the thing. The textbooks aren't meant to be read like a novel & then memorized like Scripture. ...

I twist my own fingers, & warm them - like a pianist preparing to perform her own concerto. A little like that, but smaller. My cup of caffeine is cold & almost empty, as the morning wanes. A morning of waiting. Stillness, in its least filling form. I quietly resolve to wait with better purpose than I normally do. I am a waiter. A right-on-timer. If you tell me I need to be ready for something by 8a.m., I will try to wake up two hours before then, & be ready by 7:45. When the clock reads 7:56, I will already assume you are late, & might have died, until I stop & Read that aforementioned clock. It's a little psychotic, the way I wait. It's a panicky wait. Eyes on the door, as if my very life depended on it. Hands clutching the phone in case they contact me & it's desperate. My idea of desperate has become wildly skewed. "Desperate" is 5 minutes late, or worse, a cancellation. If I'm really feeling like taking ...