March Writing Challenge Day 21: ‘Course He Isn’t Safe.

I’ve felt the dry heat of hell

Nipping violently at my heals

On the darkest nights of my barely lived life

When my sin is no longer concealed

Disintegrating right off my brittle bones

Like the rust on an old automobile

Laid out prostrate and not a single tear left

Now the light can finally do a skin peel

Making its way through all the cracks and valleys

Breaking up habits congealed

Finding its way to the root of my mess

A feeling that’s almost unreal

Attacking my sludge-covered heart like an untamed lion

Squeezing that evil until it squeals

Bleeding the death right out of my tendons

The tomb I was in unsealed

Twisting and blending, what excruciating pain

As the lion devours His meal

Torn apart, massacred, and gracefully broken

I am ready and willing to heal.

 

“Safe? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But He’s good. He’s the king, I tell you.”

March Writing Challenge Day 11: No One Remembers Last Year’s To-Do Lists

Everything seems fine. This morning we all woke up and enjoyed the early hours, ate breakfast, read a couple of books and went our separate ways for the day.

I had a great workout at the gym. Got real sweaty. I enjoyed a much needed food boost of two eggs and a piece of Ezekiel bread, the kind with the raisins and cinnamon. It was so delicious.

I washed myself off, cleaned our bedroom and started my work.

All is well, right?

I don’t know. For some reason, I feel sad; perhaps a little overwhelmed. Last week was kind of a disaster. Abe started the week off with a bad case of strep. He was out of commission for the whole week. Taking care of him was quite a pleasure, because we had many moments of cuddling. It was still exhausting, nonetheless. More so emotional than physical, but one affects the other. I also put quite a bit of anxiety and stress on myself last week, struggling with what people thought of me as a mom, as a part of a group, and as a person in general.

You know how one week it is so easy to believe in who you are as God’s child, and then the very next week that’s all dashed to pieces and you cannot make yourself, with all of your will, believe better?

That was last week. I’m better now, but my body feels faint. Self-inflicted anxiety really does a number on this girl.

Sometimes life calls for rest. It’s so difficult for me to answer that call when there are tasks and responsibilities piling up and people depending on me. The fear of judgement from others for  simply taking a nap is just TOO much to handle! Gosh, as if anyone even needs to know about me taking a nap. What a weirdo.

Maybe I’m afraid of the judgement I’ll place on myself.

But I know that this time next year, my to-do list for today won’t even be a distant memory, because it ultimately isn’t important in the grand scheme of life.

Do you ever think about that? Can you remember a to-do list from this day last year?

Of course not.

I’m feeling the weight of last week. I’m overwhelmed. I’m going to go lay down and rest.

And that is that.

March Writing Challenge Day 7: That Damned Wrong Side of the Bed

Failure and I meet again in this place

Even now it seems I’m failing as I fill up this blank paper’s space

I have no idea what day it is

And I don’t really even care

This day has my permission to be over now

Tired of being caught in the devil’s snare

I call myself a creative writer

But I can tell by her passive look

That on her college degree standards

She’d scoff if I told her I’d like to write a book

And then sometimes I can literally just be breathing

And someone’s gonna find fault in that

Angry, bitter, jealous little liars

Enemies I feel I must combat

I fail and fail over and over again

Try to set my own bones, hoping for just one small win

I insist, most days, that I do this on my own

Hence the perpetual failures

I’m like a plant that refuses to grow

On days like today I find myself hating my sin condition

Which means on all the other days

I ‘m too loud and too proud to listen

I go on thinking that I’m all right, I’ve got it together

Which urges me to condemn my fellow soldier

And right through that gracious love I sever

Cut in half the gift I didn’t deserve

Well, if I refuse to take it

Why would I ever give it to her

This is so filthy

Downright shameful to even share

But I’ll make myself share it anyway

And in doing so lay that shame bare

I don’t feel much better

In fact, I’m more exhausted than before

I need you so deeply, Jesus

Remind me of your love once more.