slipping by | pt. 9

dear september —

i. paralysis… worry and fear paralyzed me. oh no, Father… not again. but yes, it seems. yes… again.

iii. pride… pride got the best of me, and i could feel it. i was running on a performance cycle rather than a serving heart. i wonder if hamsters get exhausted once in awhile or maybe that’s just me.

iv. memories… bowling alleys and bbqs. cannolis and laughter. lighthearted conversations, but also bittersweet ones. sitting on the pink carpet, posing for a last picture, with our faces forlorn – all i think about is how dreadfully short life is and how whatever we have now we won’t have forever.

v. mr. nice guy… i understand now. my heart cringes at every menacing act and now i’m just as fired up as before.

v. voice… gonna help you find your voice… 

vii. prayers… when you realize the prayers you utter for someone else become your heart’s cry too.

viii. midday encouragement… i had one person in mind, but when God gives you an idea, he likes to make things as big as he can. so out it went. and wow God. it is more blessed to give than to receive. 

viii. wifey… you helped me be myself tonight. you filled me with laughter and silly antics until we had to be shushed. but girl, if i had to be shushed for once, it’s a good sign indeed. in fact, you made me feel safe. and most of all, you helped me break loose and be free. free to finally be me– in a place that’s supposed to be home and feel like family. and for that, i thank you.

viii. victimized… i feel like the victim. she broke down, and all of a sudden tension broke loose. and i got so annoyed when he came over and invaded my personal bubble. there is therefore no condemnation… 

iv. mornings texts… i genuinely appreciate that mixed with promises of truth and sending angels your way make my heart just a few ounces lighter.

xi-xii. heartache… here i sit, writing a date at the top of my page. flashbacks, numbers, anxiety. is this what depression feels like? i wrote for therapy; some cared to ask, some didn’t. and sadly enough, some of those who did ask, didn’t seem to really care for that matter.

xi. just listening… that’s all i did. but what came out of it was so beautiful. so beautiful that it could have only been arranged by Him. it’s not me — it’s God.

xii. grateful… and forever thankful for thoughtful hearts like yours. i am so glad God brought me a gem like you. your love you mores and sorrys mean the world to me as all else fades away.

xv-xvi. resuscitation… today, an extra bit of fresh, living air was pumped into my heart through the mouth of the beautiful brokenness of another and through the reviving power of one of my favorite bands. your failing heart is never actually failing. when God claims you, He will never fail you. 

xvii. Joyce… its meaning – cheerful and happy; bringer of joy. oh tis so sweet; what an angel! you gave me a quick hug, and reached over and gave me another — this time hugging even more tightly and longer than before, then facing me with your bouncy manner and smile so broad. that was the love of the Father! 

xvii. reminiscing… celebrating accomplishment, community, and the incredible power of cheerwine.

xx. trying to understand… in the midst of this chaos, open up my eyes in wonder. show me who you are and fill me with your love to those around me.

xxiii-xxix. serenity… grant me the serenity to accept the things i cannot change, courage to change the things i can, and wisdom to know the difference.

xxvii. walks… thank you for walking life with me. for guiding me in wisdom and truth. let’s make this a daily thing, shall we? from now till the day i embark to the next place i’ll be for four years. alas, senioritis. it is real. i am going to miss you so much.

xxvii. sweet friend… with statistics as a conversation starter and personalities as a common bonding, we started sharing of each other. oh sweetheart, thank you for being real with me, and letting me be the same with you. counting down the days till we meet again…

xxviii. words… they bleed. the pixels and ink — they smear the torn, wrinkled, scorched pages. they haunt too. repeated event after repeated event, not sure whether to laugh at the devil’s schemes or cry in defeat.

xxix. bitterness… holding it together until i could stand no more. where’s the sky when i hit the ground?

xxx. i sat there on the couch, holding back tears. you take my hands and beckon me to look into your eyes. my small frame melts as yours envelops me — things are going to get better, baby

xxx. i feel alive… i’ve come alive. the joy of the Lord, yes it’s been restored in me. the peace of the Prince, yes oh yes… it’s come over me.

walking around these walls, i thought that by now they’d fall…waiting for change to come, knowing the battle’s won, for You’ve never failed me yet. 

col. 2.6_7 / ps. 37 /  dan. 12.3 / ps. 125.1 / is. 45.2_3 / is. 46.4 / ps. 30.5 / ps. 94.18_22 / jer. 17.7_14 / 1 pet. 1.6_7 / 2 cor. 4.7_11 / is. 57.18_19 / ps. 77.16,19_20 / job 11.13_19 / ps. 37 nlt / ps. 55.22


5 thoughts on “slipping by | pt. 9

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