For Those of Us Left Stuttering

There are times when what you want to say has already been said. This seems like one of those times to insert lyrics.

In this broken place where I was born

It seems there is no peace,

And the very soil that we walk upon

Is filled with tears that never cease,

And you can trace the scars of hopelessness

Like sweat upon the backs

Of all the outcast downtrodden,

Water slipped through cracks

Hold on,

Hold tight

 

And I am overwhelmed with grief,

to see such suffering,

For those who lack the voice to speak

For those of us left stuttering

 

May this not prevail,

Dear Lord, your love will never fail

And these frail hands,

They tremble as they pen perhaps their last

And these weak words,

Can never say what cannot be surpassed

 

When the concrete of the world

Becomes too cumbersome to lift,

And the cataracts of fear and doubt

Cloak truth beyond what we can sift

And darkness, darkness bleeds its way,

When crippling anguish clouds our sight,

The ghosts of dusk have bared their teeth,

Set their claws to bring the night

 

Hold on,

Hold tight

 

Darkness can't perceive the light,

though lightlessness has chilled us numb,

And though its wings may cloud the skies,

The dark shall never overcome

Light of the world,

Your love, has never failed

And these frail hands,

They tremble as they pen perhaps their last

And these weak words,

Can never say what cannot be surpassed

I need your love,

And most of all I want to feel your peace,

I need your love,

Let everything that you are not decrease,

(Your love,

Your mercy,

Your light unending.

Your hope,

Your peace,

Your strength my heart is mending.)

--Brave Saint Saturn's "These Frail Hands"

There are times when we are called to grieve. Invited to weep. Allowed to feel the weight of brokenness. And perhaps with that grieving protest the chasm between what should have been and what is. This seems like one of those times.

Maybe it's the countless victims ravaged by the Tsunami in Japan that I can never comprehend. Maybe it's the gunfire and war in Libya that I don't really understand. Maybe it's the three clients we've seen in the last two months who have tested HIV positive. Maybe it's the funeral of a friend and the loss of a great man. Maybe it's the deferred hope of healing.

Sometimes we are called to grieve. And in grieving learn to hope again.

With an ear turned toward the suffering of this world and with all of us left stuttering without words (although I guess I've been able to come up with quite a few) I wonder if hope is reserved for those foolish enough to believe that though the dark may come the sun also rises. I want to be among the foolish.   



on being unbound

Do you ever feel too scheduled? Too confined? Your time too demanded? Between two jobs and graduate school I am about one crazy card away from being in a padded room. I've recently been introduced to the harsh reality of "this is life, kid, grow up". So....to balance the craziness of my demanding schedule I've had to be intentional about pursuing activities that permit freedom.

photography

poetry

music

and....my bike

Before you ask...yes it's a boys bike (but who could resist that sapphire blue?) and yes it was a rollback special!

There is something about being on a bike. Being unbound. Being free. An illusion of escape that is much needed.

so get free today as much as your space permits!

dreary january



For all my fellow comrades affected by seasonal dreariness here are just a handful of photos that I've collected this month reminding me of the beauty that can be found even in times marked by winter's cold.



So Gather Up Your Jackets

And move it to the exits, I hope you have found a friend.

I am thankful for new years. Grateful for markers in time that signify the end of something and the start of something else. I am thankful that seasons of winter do not last forever. I am relieved that seasons of sorrow eventually and always give way to seasons of life, creativity, and beauty. This year has brought its share of sorrow and pangs of growth and change that I hope can only be followed by new life. This year has also been marked by the richness of friendships--those who have continued to walk with me, hope with me, and laugh with me.

So as Semisonic tells us....every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

Whatever this next year brings face it with courage, hope, and a good amount of humor.

As one little Hobbit reflected on the darkness of his journey, he offered this outlook -"there is light and beauty up there that no shadow can touch".

And I think Sam is right.   

of peace on earth and good will to men

 I am drawn to the Christmas songs that usher me into a place of reflection, remembrance, and waiting. The songs that echo a sentiment of longings still unfullfilled seem to be the only Christmas songs that reach my soul.
Ransoming the captives

A weary waiting world

Oppression ceasing

People waiting for chains to break

Songs that acknowldge the dark realities as well as the thrill of hope crashing in to awaken us from the despair of sleep.

I also am really taken by the words of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in the poem "Christmas Bells". Written in the midst of a flurry of national chaos and personal tragedy his words capture the paradox of this season-- of agony and triumph.

 And in despair I bowed my head;



"There is no peace on earth," I said;


"For hate is strong,


And mocks the song


Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"



Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:


"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!


The Wrong shall fail,


The Right prevail,


With peace on earth, good-will to men!"


May this season be one of reflection spurring you to hope in the midst of waiting.

Check out two artists that inspired me to connect these thoughts....

Shellee Coley

Future of Forestry

lyrics lately

I've been contemplating how my life would read if it were comprised of the lyrics that have occupied my thoughts lately. Perhaps something like this...

Can I be used to help others find truth
when I am scared that I'll find proof that its a lie


Weep for yourself
you'll never be what is in your heart


When all your fears rain down
I'll take you back a thousand times again
I would sing you songs of innocence
For you were once a child of innocence

God's moving in your bloodstream
where the cross beats aren't so slow

So there you have my life lately in lyric. A mess of Nickel Creek, Mumford and Sons, Future of Forestry and Freelance Whales.

I'm not too sure what "cross beats" are but I think it may mean that sometimes redemption sweeps over you so gradually that you don't notice the small shifts of grace and hope. Redemption moving through your bloodstream where resistance to His movements aren't as strong. At least, for my sake, that's what I'm hoping for.  

Rewriting the Plot

Listen to this

This is a song that has been playing in my head for weeks (I recently included it in the third volume of a series of songs that will wreck your soul...in a good way). Something about the honest admission of the absurdity of life intrigues me. I find myself at times growing weary of the plot of this broken life...asking God to rewrite it and come and get us.

Do you ever stop to think about the story we are caught up in? Something has been radically broken. Someone has come to restore what is broken.

These are my thoughts so far on this song. More to come.

"i don't know if reason's ever gonna see why love has come to die"