Published

published in Fathom Magazine

 

what I wouldn’t give                      to rise
from this window seat of longing
and brave my way into the gray
and through the gray                    to part
the veil that obscures life from Light

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published in Fathom Magazine

 

Grief ebbed onto my shore last year. It came at first just slapping at my ankles with a catastrophic rift in my family. Then a dream died and it sucked the hope like sand from beneath my feet. Months of chronic pain that no one could explain or alleviate brought it higher still. Finally, with the awakening of past trauma I had never quite confronted, sadness like the tide rose to my waist and chin.

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published in Fathom Magazine

Fear was my father’s favorite game

and one I learned to play at four years old.

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I would still consider myself a “baby-Christian.” I have not been doing this Jesus thing all that long. I am struggling still with some of the qualities that go with Christianity; things like patience, virtue, and self-control. I practiced life for a pretty long time the other way, so such Godly attributes do not come as naturally as I would like.

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Gypsy Soul_Page_1

Got a gypsy sort of soul
keeps runnin’ with the wind
Anywhere that I’d call home
is no place I’ve ever been
So its somewhere further on
from where they taught me how to live
Hurtin’ people never know
how to give
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 listen to a rough cut by Jessy Napier here

 

 

 

no laughing matter

Every September, my hubby and I pack up all our gear and set off for a week in the mountains.  To us, there is nothing more healing than that week of quiet; nothing more likely to salve the rough spots of our souls that the world has rubbed raw.   And every year on this trip, I have what many people would call a “mountaintop experience” (pun intended.)   God meets me in those mountains and ministers to me through all He has created and the resulting rare quiet in my soul.

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god shaped hole

I’ve stitched life together with fear-colored thread

trying to mend my own pain

stood back and admired my own handiwork

just until the wound opened again


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daugher of the king

Grace, now sufficient for my sin

It covers me. It quiets

all these voices from within

The people that I used to be

they fight against your will

But your love keeps them still

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 Listen to a rough recording by CONVINCED

 

good friday - Copy

Who am I

that you’d suffer and die

That your innocent blood would let

So that I’d be redeemed

and now be free

To be the person I am not yet

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