Broken Birdsong

(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...

(written August 19th, 2014) Speak to me I cannot breathe Without Your Truth Or Your mercy I am undone Unworthy Unspun I'm breathless Stammering In the face Of my King God, increase Make less of me Spend this frail life For Your glory It's worth it Worth all the pain Worth every tear And each heartbreak Grace mingled With faith and love Pours over me And into me By Your blood Your sacrifice You spent Your life To save my soul Mind is blown Heart rent in two My every breath Sheer gift from You Undeserved I pull away Cannot accept Yet You pursue Your kindness And Your great Love They bring me back And fill my cup No longer Am I empty My self traded For Your glory

[maybe the labels cued you in, or maybe you're an old hat at this, & remembered when I told you  of my intent to post these poems. These are pre-healing poems, typed by a post-healing poet, & the perspective is profound & overwhelming to me. This poem, specifically, was so vital at that time. It was a battle. I wept over it. I sketched it. I breathed these words for weeks, & now here they are, & the hope is so much more real to me.] (written August 14th, 2014) Can't get to sleep Cannot wake up Confused, I weep With empty cup Endless cycles Lost trains of thought Shame recitals Battles un-fought Strength all but gone Can't move my lips Hold sketch I've drawn In fingertips I know the words to pray Can't bring myself to say them How can I feel this way, Knowing all I'm saved from? Do You feel rejected As I do? Confused and dejected, I doubt Truth Why do these things feel real When they're false? Were I dead, co...

(written July 23rd, 2014 - almost exactly a year ago) Ink-smudged hands betray me Proof that I'm still fighting My thoughts can be rambunctious I don't quite know where I am I'm a finger puppet Keep forgetting my lines I can't seem to stop it Mimicking roles not my own I want out of the gray To stark lines of paper Where I have found a way To stitch together my thoughts With a black pen as thread Here I can find my voice Preaching inside my head Odd, how now they all listen So observe my stained hands Tremble at what you know Who you know that I am "What has her pen done this time?" I underline the Scriptures Claiming promises as mine I pray to the Creator Writing His words next to my own I make art through the pain Writing poems, sketching Proof that I still remain You have not defeated me My God sees the darkness As I view blank paper He readies His brushes And paints with His light and grace His hands are twice as ...

(written June 26th, 2014) The music storms within me Strains I can't express I am a chained melody These chords left unpressed My soul aches with feeble hands When that one song plays And my brain mimics the band The hurt lasts for days Years And that's when I know That's when I decide It hurts That's the nature of the thing Maybe It hurts me more than most Me, with my trembling heart Me, with my pain-filled hands No one thought I could do this Or should Not even me Especially not me No one except The One Plus one. I tried not to hear her and the Infinite And found myself immeasurably outnumbered With a guitar in those hands Call me crazy? Get in line. I'm first. I strum with bum hands Until I think I've gone mad Or maybe I always have been And for once I'm doing something sane.

(written June 7th, 2014) Oh rambunctious mind When will you unwind? You toss & you turn Like this body of mine You pound in my head As if you're filled with dread From each dream that lurks Between blanket & bed We both cry in pain: 3 a.m.'s new refrain Until God soothes us & sings His song again {this is the first of several poems I will be posting here; poems written during some of the hardest parts of my battle with Lyme disease. If you're interested in this story  & my journey, I have created a corner of the blog just for writings that stemmed from it. Check out the label: Lyme Disease Journey.}

(written June 8th, 2014) Bitter tongued Weak handed Exhausted At the thought of waking up It came down to this Fragile heart Weighted mind Lonely soul Waiting for an ounce of hope Can't live in my strength So He came Lifted me Weak made strong Satisfied in His embrace Helpless no longer His power Made perfect In weakness This symphony of mercy Melody of grace

I told you once that it would take a miracle for these hands to play the guitar. These hands could never do such a thing on their own, because, in addition to being perpetually weak, they were also burdened with migratory joint pain, from my Lyme disease. I erected a stone in my mind's path. A stone marked with weakness & pain. A stone of memorial. And, reader, I'm so glad I did. I love that I wrote during my darkest of days, because now, they are not just a fleeting memory, but they are part of my story; my testimony. I stamped them with ink, like tattooing the internet, my heart, & a half dozen journals. It's marked down in my life as history. The kind that bears repeating. He met me in the midst of the worst pain week I have ever had. {If it had hurt less, you would have heard about it, but typing wasn't exactly easy.} He met me, through His people. I was surrounded with an army. Prayer warriors lifted me up. Friends comforted me & foug...

I almost cry Such foolish tears I should not cry I know better Tears held inside Blur my vision Logical thought Is beyond me Changes I face Overwhelm me Mindful of grace I can still breathe Where He leads me I will follow Though the pain ebbs And the tears flow Thy will be done Yours and not mine I count the cost I choose You still For holiness Means more to You Than happiness And I'm convinced That You're faithful E'en though I fall You still hold me And comfort me I know joy comes With the morning Your mercies dawn And they blind me And then one day I will look back See Your grace, and Tell the story

It's been over a month. I haven't walked these halls in over a month. Time to sweep these floors, brush aside the cobwebs. A month, & it seems like years. Years since I last sat here with a divine desire to write. Not the kind of writing that defines days. Not the letters & poems I've managed to stay on top of ... but the writing where my soul somehow becomes paint on this canvas called the Internet. It seems so commonplace; too much so to capitalize ... & yet when I do, I feel I bestow some added worth & honor to it, the Internet, & what I do here. It isn't much, assuredly. Lines & curves on a once-blank space. It reminds me of music. That's why I'm here, really. That's what drew me back to this keyboard today. I wanted to make music. Isn't that a silly thing? I wanted to make music, on this ancient Dell Latitude D430. It doesn't even have a space for a CD. There are far nobler instruments in this house. A small gu...

I am numb and distracted. Inconstant and inattentive. When faced with pain, I have tried to drown it out or become unaffected by it ... and in the process I have lost much more than I bargained for. And I dare confess that I didn't even mind the absence; I hardly noticed. And then one day, I did. I heard His voice clearly, and I realized He had been speaking all along ... I had simply drowned Him out. I didn't listen. My prayers were performances and duties, rather than intimate conversation and bloody battle. In the midst of struggles, I ran elsewhere. In the midst of pain, I sought other comfort. In discouragement and drought, I went to those who had been to the Well, rather than to the source Himself. My every act ignored His name and lordship. And He still speaks. He still waits for me. Still, He loves me with a Love unlike any other. I've counted up the cost , and You are worth it.  Worth everything He could ever ask me to give up. Worth losing my reputation o...

This is my stone. This is the stone I am erecting as a memorial. Years later, I will return to this place --maybe you will, too-- And I will remember. I will remember the feel of my not-yet-calloused fingers pressing keys to form these words. I will remember my tears of inadequacy and defeat. I'll remember the pain. Time will tell what perspective I will have when I come back. I hope I'll be looking down from the mountain that I now squint up at. ... So here's the thing. Here's the truth. Lyme disease. It has made my hands trembling, twitching, weak shadows of things. At least I think so. I actually cannot promise myself that these hands will work again if and when I get better. Some days I think they're ruined for good. Most days. These hands have caused me to give up even the smallest of dreams. They stopped me short of conceiving the tiniest of notions of big dreams. I wouldn't even let myself think about such things....

4:36 a.m. I shouldn't be awake. I don't want to be awake. I am very much Awake. Not to say that I am having coherent thought processes. No, ma'am. I stopped having those before I even got to midnight. I unthinkingly ate something I shouldn't have. That didn't turn out so well for me. I spent the day hanging out with a varying crowd of people I'm not sure really like me. I tend to think that of a lot of people. When you know yourself very well, you wonder why people stick around. I mean, really, is the fact that I cry at literally anything and everything that appealing to you? To add to my problem, before I gave up on the whole 'sleeping' notion, I took my not-so-happy medication. How it makes me feel is implied in my term of endearment for it. Mucho pain.  Mucho mucho. I take it before bed for a reason: trying to sleep through some of the worst. Bang goes that theory. 2 a.m. found me sobbing. Thinking sad thoughts. Writing an email, and then only...

In this moment, I am keenly aware of my own weakness. Most of my body is pulsating with pain. Sleep hasn't sounded so good in a long time. I join in earth's labor pains for Christ's return; for heaven and restoration. Arms to hold me. I long to be emptied of something. All of me trembles, and I wonder as to what I could release that would bring relief. It's one of those odd moments when I actually want to throw up; to dispose of whatever's inside me. Or maybe just cry. Long, wailing, freeing sobs. This longing has reached other parts of me also. Spending many a moment in a huddled mass of pain somehow makes you familiar with what's inside you; your true, unfiltered nature. I don't like what I see. I want to expel myself from my body, abandoning pride, self-reliance, selfish ambition, my so-called rights, my plans, my preferences, greed, rebellious nature, judgments, fears ... everything must be surrendered to Him, because I am unable to trust myself. I nee...

To tell the truth, I felt more drained and spent on this day with no to-do's than I felt all that week past that just refused to end. My friend tells me that sick people need rest; everybody needs rest, and if there's anything I've learned today is that I am sick and I am human. I cough and sniffle as petals fall from the wildflowers I picked the other day. I relate to them. One day, all fresh and dewy, beautiful and fragrant ... then the next day they're fading. Pieces of them are falling off. Nobody look at me, because I'm not supposed to look like this. Give me a second to put on my makeup. I'll be acceptable, I swear. Because somebody told me that when I wilt, I'm no longer beautiful. I think the name beneath that quotation was my own.  Breathing is a fight today. I had intended to rest and prepare myself for another crazy weekend. Halfway through the mandatory TV show, I get an email that changes everything. Finally, a diagnosis for my condition...

You won't relent until You have it all.  my heart is Yours. I set You as a seal, upon my heart as a seal upon my arm for there is love, that is strong as death jealousy demanding as the grave and many waters can not quench this love come be the fire inside of me come be the flame upon my heart come be the fire inside of me until You and I are one. //"You Won't Relent" by Jesus Culture// He wants my heart. All of it. Every beat. Every desire. Every longing. He calls after me, naming me Beloved, asking for this: a sacrifice worthy of Him. How could I hold anything back from such a Love? It's sinking in now, what it means to give everything to Him. It means that if I never travel outside of my country again, I still love Him. I still trust Him. If the tests come back, and I have this disease, I still believe that He is in control; that He knows best. If they give no answers, and I continue to wonder in vain what is wrong ...

(Photo by Tara Gourley ) It's been a blare-my-music kind of week. I have these emotions that I can't justify, and so I listen to songs that deal with feelings, and I listen to them loudly. I find some sort of insight from their lyrics oftentimes. They aren't always the good-girl worship songs, either. I have discovered profound thought beneath the layers of secular music. Even if it only shows me the reality of my life, if I do not have Christ. Thank God, I do. But still, I am confused by myself; puzzled at my trembling and tears. If you were to look at the pages of my journal from this week, you would be as perplexed as I. "What a great day ... It was so happy and wonderful ... I laughed until I cried." Can so much good cause such emotional struggle? No, I do not think it is the cause. I am frustrated with myself for being upset. God is good. My family members are in relatively good health. My needs are provided for. I got my hair trimmed, and those spli...

(Photo by Anna Hart ) (Linking up with  Holley  Gerth  here ) Tears fall steadily after the trauma If you came to grips with it, at least Those around you whisper things like "drama" Each of us faces a diff'rent beast You didn't expect it to hurt so bad Or you did and you wanted proved wrong Lost are the logical thoughts you once had Something so simple lasts for so long Mascara lines down paling cheeks Trembling hands clutch bathroom sink How long since you have felt this weak? "Give her water," drink, drink, drink --Inhale Exhale-- Coherent thoughts Routine and necessity numbing the pain You are responsible - think of the gain This too shall pass And it does You do not have to tell yourself to breathe But you do and it's steady; a habit Discover the feeling of sweet relief Tell people it was hard, but you made it But you don't talk about that first moment Five minutes, maybe? Or longer Are we counting th...

It's another Monday, and yet again, I have no hymn study for you. I only have a few left to do, and I'm trying to make the best of them ... and that sometimes means not tackling them when I don't feel up to them. Honestly, I don't feel up to anything today. My current health state leaves me feeling deflated some days. When you add that to several restless nights, you get what I was like today. I went to church feeling all right, then found myself spent after thirty minutes. How did I exert myself, you ask? I took notes. It's as pathetic as it sounds. I am in this constant battle to be okay with my condition. If you can even call it that. It gets tiring having a nameless enemy. I stayed home after church ended. My family visited an injured relative. I was asked to babysit for a small group. I sat in my room watching reality tv and putting off this blog post. I tell myself I could cope if my health prevented me from the big, normal things. No long runs. No heav...

I'm currently in the backseat of a vehicle as I type this. I am on an adventure. Some would call it a road trip. Is this commitment, or what? I'm not sure when I'll be able to post this – I don't exactly have wifi always available on this trip. Another thing I'm lacking is good health. The bouncing of this car, and something I keep eating (because I don't know which thing it is) are leaving me with sore everything … and then there's the strange positions I keep on falling asleep in. My sister can verify that there's been many questionable ones. Anyway … this girl is in pain. That's never been my favorite pastime, but you know, whatever floats your boat, right? I've been using my pain as an excuse, though. Sometimes, it's an accurate one, like in this instance: “I didn't sleep well last night, because I wasn't feeling well at all.” Other times, it's been less than a favorable complaint. “I didn't spend much time with You la...