slipping by | pt. 8

dear august —

i. our love for each other broke loose as we ventured into greater depths and allowed ourselves to look into into the heart of the other.

ii. he whines and drags his feet, sending her voice to rise and fall with increasing intensity, then snap. and there i sit, bending to accommodate, but whispers cloud my brain. missing out; disregarded; alone; not special anyway. turmoil boils within me. should i have gone? i will never know.

ii. anxiety rose and despair bubbled from within me. things that ought to have been were no longer there. and yet that thought pops up – practice faith instead of projecting with fear – and gives me peace of mind. when disappointments and stress abound, you were my comfort.

ii. she is upset with me. i did it out of love, but i feel she didn’t feel it in return. oh, to think that there will be a time when i will no longer be your mate as i have been all these years. let’s make these times count, dear. i’m sorry.

iii. living a love does life requires daily surrender and conscious effort. thanks for showing me how i need to make love an action verb and not just a state of being.

iii. i feel bleh now that my heart is stable. now i’m not okay with being okay. and life moves on…

v. in the midst of lows and discouragement, you gave me words to say. you put a song in my mouth. you planted seeds of truth that just kept on flowing. and it felt beautiful… and oh, so freeing to be a vessel of assurance. it was not i, but him. keep speaking truth…

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slipping by | pt. 6

dear june —

x. belly laughing until you’re gasping for air — the best kind of nights.

xii. i love you… the best three words given and received.

xi. he asked me if i was generally happy with my drawing, to which i nodded. he asked, “how about in life?” to which i was taken by surprise. thankful for little reminders to always stay positive.

xiv. my world was rocked upside down. i felt shattered. alone. broken. i could scream forever and still not be okay.

xiv – …. thanks for being there. for being “a ray of hope in my heavy and dark world”. for “paving the path to my recovery.” for listening. i still go back and read your words when i feel like i can barely hold on.

xvi. thanks for your gentle presence. for not saying anything superficial to fix things, but always being there to listen.

xix. thank you for my twinnie. she is in tune with the Spirit and on fire with You. she constantly and consistently points others to Christ. she listens, and when she speaks, it is Christ through her. thank you for her love and her courage to speak the Truth even when i didn’t want or know it.

xx. my stomach wrenched. i wasn’t sure how i would survive that day but i did. standing there, my toes wiggling in the sand … i wished it all away. i wanted to drown, to die in the waves. the sea – it called me home. but somehow, someway, that call was not answered that day.

xxiii. thank you for sisters who drop everything to make it all better. who can tell when something is wrong before i even have to say it. thanks hon for spurring me on, for lifting my head, for telling me that everything may not be okay, but it will be okay someday. you are so strong. you and me – we will keep plowing ahead. one step after the other.

 


and when the night is closing in, don’t give up and don’t give in. this won’t last, it’s not the end. you’re gonna be okay. 


ps. 28.7, 2 thess. 3.13, ps. 105.4, is. 26.9

slipping by // pt. 5

dear may —

xii. something sprouted in the garden. a newfound desire, an unquenchable hope. barefoot, my toes wiggle in the goodness of the fertile soil. arms high, i receive the refreshing pouring out of rain. i’m free, i’m free, i’m free to dance and sing

xiii. in the midst of chaos and unexpected worries, his gentle command retuned our hearts to center. why don’t we pray. with open hands and heads bowed low, we called out for deliverance. for revival. for courage. sitting there, in the garden, something beautiful had manifested and taken root.

xiv. her random love notes fill my heart to overflowing. grace comes like a wave crashing over me. the fact that we’re still friends at all is a miracle in itself. so hon, no need to apologize. because really, we’re still going strong by nothing other than the wonders of his love and grace. i love your beautiful soul with every fiber of my being.

xviii. for unanticipated conflicts and frustrations along the way, you taught my heart to tune to yours. in the quiet of the day, you reminded me to live out the very words we were proclaiming.

xviv. here’s to heartfelt, bittersweet goodbyes. my spirit is unwilling to let go. so instead let it be farewell. farewell to beautiful soulmates and gorgeous gems. farewell to treasured mentors and sisters who hold your hand in the darkest of days. farewell to missed opportunities to be that someone for someone else. farewell, till we meet again.

xx. ‘i’m sorrys’ and ‘i love yous’ calm my fear and anger as tears stream down my face and scars sting as they fester in my battered soul. and here i say to you: i’m sorry.


i know the night won’t last, Your word will come to pass. my heart will sing Your praise again. Jesus, You’re still enough. keep me within Your love. my heart will sing Your praise again… 


jer. 32.26_27, job 8.21, ps. 24.7_10, 1 samuel 15.29, daniel 4.35, ps. 63.1_8, ps. 27.4_5, ps. 31.21_24, ps. 86.5_6

slipping by // pt. 3

dear march —

i. thank you for heart-wrenching convictions. for wakeup calls. for shouting your voice loud and clear like a megaphone.

ii. i sit in a hard back swivel chair in his private office. so many unknowns. the future draws near and my head spins like the swivel chair. it’ll be okay. i’ll be okay. how easily i fill with despair.

iii. i’ve never felt so dumb in my life. maybe i was good for nothing. i gulp and turn back to the voice. so many voices. which one will i listen to? i sit in silence and ponder.

v. sometimes i wish God would speak to me. loud and clear. but then i realize even in the subtle moments his voice becomes clear. p.s. i hate migraines

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a light at the end of the tunnel

If I’ve learned anything from life, it’s that sometimes, the darkest times can bring us to the brightest places. I’ve learned that the most toxic people can teach us the most important lessons; that our most painful struggles can grant us the most necessary growth; and that the most heartbreaking losses of friendship and love can make room for the most wonderful people. I’ve learned that what seems like a curse in the moment can actually be a blessing, and that what seems like the end of the road is actually just the discovery that we are meant to travel down a different path. I’ve learned that no matter how powerless we feel or horrible things seem, we can’t give up. We have to keep going. Even when it’s scary, even when all of our strength seems gone, we have to keep picking ourselves back up and moving forward, because whatever we’re battling in the moment, it will pass, and we will make it through. We’ve made it this far. We can make it through whatever comes next.

– Daniell Koepke