Skip to main content


Showing posts from September, 2010

He Who Paints the Skies

Hot air, heavy with moisture, weighted lungs respond without thinking.

Breathe, but don't think.

Gray scale, landscape-shaded to match the outlook. But what of the Matchless One?

What of He who paints the skies and gives heavy air chance to cry?

What of heaven that responds with peals of thunder and illuminating flashes and Creator's glory?

Eyes to see beyond the here and now, beyond the pain, beyond one soul.

Thunder-boom and shake up, begin anew. Cleanse, drop by drop.

Look up and see skies that sing (even as they cry); Clouds that dance (even as the bright sun burns deep).

Hues that seem too perfect for our brokenness swirl above and He makes the sun to set low, bow before Him.

And breathe in, knowing there is more, knowing there is love from He who paints the skies.

Sharing this with Emily and Imperfect Prose on Thursdays.


The same themes keep weaving themselves into my life. Maybe the circuitousness is a result from not fully grasping what I need to learn in order to unfurl this path that has led me through some of the darkness valleys.

Seasons. Heart. Community. Long-suffering. Stillness. Silence. Faith.

The road I have traveled this season has been interspersed with the sweetest reminders of God's care for me (even in the midst) juxtaposed with deafening silence.

I was talking to a dear friend recently who is also in a hard season. Empathy overwhelmed me as I heard her echo some of my own thoughts and feelings.

When I am so burdened, I cry out for mercy. Please. not one more thing. Then, there is that thing and the thing after.... I feel like I am drowning.

I begin to feel hopeless. Defeated. Numb.

There begins to be a disconnect between my heart knowledge and head knowledge. I know better. I know that I am not alone, but my emotions betray me.

I long for my grandparents. They were my comfort (he…

The Deluge

Because today I do not have the words:
Hold My Heart by Tenth Avenue North
How long must I pray Must I pray to You? How long must I wait Must I wait for You?
How long till I see Your face See You shining through?
I'm on my knees
Begging You to notice me
I'm on my knees Father, will You turn to me? One tear in the driving rain One voice in a sea of pain Could the maker of the stars Hear the sound of my breaking heart? One life, that's all I am Right now I can barely stand If You're everything You say You are Would You come close and hold my heart?
I've been so afraid, afraid to close my eyes So much can slip away before I say goodbye But if there's no other way I'm done asking why
'Cause I'm on my knees Begging You to notice me I'm on my knees Father, will You run to me?
One tear in the driving rain
One voice in a sea of pain
Could the maker of the stars
Hear the sound of my breaking heart?
One life, that's all I am
Right now I can barely stand
If You're everythi…

Harvest Moon

Yesterday was the first day of autumn. Yesterday there was a beautiful harvest moon to usher in the new season. I sat in a courtyard, solitary, still. I watched as the moon inched its way up between the tall trees that framed the picturesque view. It was lovely. Oh, how much I wanted to just stay. Autumn moon, Spirit and me. Crisp air and leaves rustling in the breeze allude to what is to come, but not yet.

It is autumn, though it does not *feel* like autumn. This is hard. You see, I can not make it feel like autumn any more than I can change the season that I am in (don't think I haven't thought about how to accomplish this on my own).

Am I overjoyed that a heat wave is approaching bringing with it very non fall-like temperatures? Umm, no. Am I thrilled with the season that I am in right now? Not really (at least not as I type this).

So, how do I reconcile the two? Trust. I trust the God who made not only the seasons of the earth, but the seasons of my life. I may not always …


Today I am extremely thankful for the gift of friendship. I love my friends! I have such amazing, sweet friends. I have prayed for friends throughout my life and have also had friends enter my life because God knew I needed them before I did!

Some friends are 'lifers'. These are the few souls who have been around awhile and have walked the different terrains with us. Sometimes periods will pass without contact, but this doesn't diminish the friendship.

Some friends are in our lives for a specific season. And although life and circumstances can eventually cause a drifting apart, this doesn't mean that we do not have fond memories of those friends and think of them often. In fact, thanks to facebook, I am able to keep up with many of these people.

Some of my friends are opposites of me (which is extremely helpful). These friends tend to complement me, stretch me and hold me accountable. Everyone needs accountability.

Other friends are kindred spirits. It's easy with thes…


Wine of blessing, sacrificial supper's cup; poured out grace
Condemned clay- crimson, drinking in 'til overflowing
Cheeks flushed, burning hot for a season
Vessels catch and release spirit wine, impenetrable, secure source
Sowing grace

Time passes...

Clay of heat-source secure refuses new
Old hastens and beckons and bones-brittle crack clay with its vintage bags
Indian Summer gone to lukewarm autumn haze
Menacing winter lurks in the shadow, harsh cold waiting
Bleeding transgressions

A turning...

Vintage bags, heavy; lukewarm autumn, numbing
Broken bones crying for crimson flow to wash, scour
Set, heal, boil clay; kiln-bake new satchels for the journey
Mended brokenness, dancing summer, hot
Preparing harvest

Renewed rejoicing...

Sabbath Worship

Keys turning steel for the short drive Two minutes late; quietly sit behind scattered people
Deep breath to quiet heart and breathe again
Breathe in, exhale worship

Our voices are the instruments; our hearts, the offering
Scripture-gather us closer still
Spirit-guided words brought forth
Indwelling-acknowledging, truth-affirming worship

Imperfect harmonies from broken people rise
As a sweet offering of incense-infused praise
Feet standing, heart kneeling, hands reaching to grasp
Simple, unadulterated worship

Peace passed by grace-covered sinners
flame-flicker, hot
melting, burning, refining diseased flesh
Eyes closed, candle-glowing worship

Eyes open, heart open, changing Benediction
Bride of Christ released into the world
To worship

Giving Up

Lately everything has seemed so overwhelming that I cannot articulate the enormity of it all and the weight of which makes me feel like I am drowning. It's in these times that I am so thankful that the Spirit intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.

Struggling. It is never pretty. Holding on makes me weary because I am not meant to carry this and I know this (why do we have to learn things the hard way?), but in the midst of everything it feels like if I were to let go of one thing I might unravel. Maybe that's exactly what God wants, for me to unravel so He can bind me up again.

I was a very quiet little girl. I kept most everything bottled up and that's where it stayed in the confines of my mind. I remember overhearing my grandparents talking about me one morning over coffee. I am not sure what prompted their discussion, but my grandfather said to my grandmother very matter-of- factly that "Our Jadie suffers in silence." And even at the age of nine,…

Tarnished Words

I have written several posts this past week. I reread my disjointed thoughts and jumbled emotions contained only by a flashing cursor -- to purge such thoughts from my mind and heart is cathartic to me; to type as I ponder and converse with God is a refuge in a world of chaos and busyness.

But these last posts weren't polished. In fact, they probably wouldn't even make sense to anyone but me. I second guess myself and my tarnished words. I deem them unworthy to post on my blog and letter by letter, line by line the words disappear until I close the page entirely.

The ironic thing is that my words will always be imperfect, because I am imperfect. So, over the last week I have sought to answer this question: Why do I keep a public blog?

Here are a few conclusions:

It is a place I can be transparent. I am able to be real in my writing, imperfect prose and all. This is strangely freeing (the older I get, the less interested I am in donning masks to fit in).
It helps me to sort through …