…awakening…

motionless. the whole of life participates as she begs and strives to be seen, mustering energy from her structure’s marrow – bathing on the banks of rivers wept from the evening’s massacre. crags in her womb echo promise of the new dawn’s birth, yet fragile cloaks of fog as holy burial shrouds, swaddle her until resurrection hour. silent battles rage and groan twixt slumber and widened eyes newly opened. these doors of flesh, soul’s window panes, house gazes hungry as a war torn lover down abandoned country roads – struggling to recall if such passion truly ever existed, questioning the validity of memories stenciled with fingertips in gold on a tired heart. day stampedes toward iron fortresses of night and fragments of broken days past slam into promises of restoration.  dark giants dig their roots, majesty takes hold of the upper bow and gold trickles and drips morn’s honey slowly, steadily, sweetly – branch . . . to bark . . . to mulch – marinating creation in wakefulness.  heartbeats trip and sputter, fighting blood  pools.  seconds tick on the edge of canyons, waiting for permission to exist. the sea’s breath has caressed ridge and valley into pebble and sand fit for the hourglass and  roaring challengers dare jaded  hearts and blistered hands to spark in hopeful renewal

goodmorning.

…still.and.will…

“I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord  in the land of the living.” Psalm 27:13

 

 

“still” and “will”.  two tiny words. such stature, such conviction.  good ol webster likens “still”  to “tenacious, stubborn, constant, continual, diligent.”  they add pound upon pound of weight, yeah? morph the whole sentence. the sentence doesnt read “i am confident i might see . . . it doesnt allow this confidence to be one that is simply adopted, one that is acquired through birth, culture, or on a whim.  it cant be one that is simply preserved because it is unchallenged, or because we have slaved away to build a numbing barricade between ourselves and the land of the living – convinced ourselves death exists only in campfire tales. “still” lends that this confidence has been tried by fire and the result is strength and refinement.  it is not satisfied to wait around hoping that glimpses will be snatched if the waves arent too big, if people arent too human and nights arent too long.  it says in spite of this flesh, in spite of this life  I WILL FIGHT for this confidence because it lies in something bigger – in a taste my soul cant shake.  i WILL be the hands of this confidence and i WILL be the roaming feet of it.  this confidence serves to hold the frightened and nourish the sick, to dig the well and wrap the wound. it sits for hours over bottomless coffee cups and gushes at 70 mph over snaking asphalt.  this cries out for help and runs richer than pride because it no longer believes it can be good enough – strong enough – capable enough.  it giggles with the oppressed and dances unashamed with the broken because it is no longer afraid to live – this confidence is not bound by circumstances and is not as fragile as our bones.  it became flesh, lived among us and conquered death 

may the provision in salvation be seen in this life

*selah* nattie

www.iseethemoon.wordpress.com

*

 

www.iseethemoon.wordpress.com

…i.will…

i will break, abuse, manipulate and monopolize you. i wont want to, but left to myself  -

i will.

 i will commercialize your heart into a multi billion dollar hallmark holiday and drain the coins through the hole my tongue stabs in your back -

wash your feet in your own tears before making you carry me across this so called promised land.  

i will.  

i will notch your conquer into the hunter’s belt i don at the center of my own universe and make you a casualty of my drive-by shooting star -

kiss your wounds in betrayal as they come for you.

 i will.

i will give you the shirt your fingers bore bone over off my back after i purchase it with your two cents i claimed to value -

block my life into 30 minute reality show investments and never learn your name -

preferring to feed the bin rather than your belly, snarling when you climb in after it.

i will.

These hands cannot heal

This heart cannot love

This mind cannot know

These arms cannot hold

He rights the inverted image in my minds eye and projects it through tired lids, reconstituting dissolved blueprints of an unfractured world.  His heart bleeds in my veins carrying oxygen to my mind – it is no longer i who live, but Christ in me.

“Let all mortal flesh keep silence, and with fear and trembling stand; 
Ponder nothing earthly minded, For with blessing is His hand, 
Christ our God to earth descendeth, Our full homage to demand.
King of Kings, Yet born of Mary, As of old earth He stood, 
Lord of Lords, In human vesture, In the body and the blood; 
He will give to all the faithful. His own self for heavenly food.
Rank on rank the host of heaven spreads it’s vanguard on the way, 
As Light of light descendeth from the realms of endless day, 
That the powers of hell may vanish as the darkness clears away.”

 

- maranatha, Lord, come quickly -

iloveyou

www.iseethemoon.wordpress.com

 

independence

theres so much new unfamiliar info coming in meeting with the usual daily observations, questions, conundrums, opinions, reflections yet seemingly no time for it to come out.  like Im creatively constipated.  no – more like im in the backseat of a crowded mini-van with a big gulp and bag of trailmix on a cross-country roadtrip being told to hold it.  or like that waaaaaaaay overdue phone call with the BFF that has gone from days now to months –  latest news now old.  you keep waiting for that long quiet opportunity to give it what it deserves, but theres just such a chasm to bridge.  the feat sounds exhausting when that third arm you prayed for broke in a time management train wreck and instead of letting Him do it, you’ve decided to try adding scrap metal juggling to the agenda, but you’re wounded. 

thats kinda how it is.

 

www.iseethemoon.wordpress.com

…take.todays.load.today…

 ”I appeal to your spiritual leaders. I make this appeal as a spiritual leader who also witnessed Christ’s sufferings and will share in the glory that will be revealed. Be shepherds over the flock God has entrusted to you. Watch over it as God does: Don’t do this because you have to, but because you want to. Don’t do it out of greed, but out of a desire to serve. Don’t be rulers over the people entrusted to you, but be examples for the flock to follow. Then, when the chief shepherd appears, you will receive the crown of glory that will never fade away. Young people, in a similar way, place yourselves under the authority of spiritual leaders. Furthermore, all of you must serve each other with humility, because God opposes the arrogant but favors the humble.

Be humbled by God’s power so that when the right time comes he will honor you. Turn all your anxiety over to God because he cares for you. Keep your mind clear, and be alert. Your opponent the devil is prowling around like a roaring lion as he looks for someone to devour. Be firm in the faith and resist him, knowing that other believers throughout the world are going through the same kind of suffering.  God, who shows you his kindness and who has called you through Christ Jesus to his eternal glory, will restore you, strengthen you, make you strong, and support you as you suffer for a little while. Power belongs to him forever.”

Amen.

 

www.iseethemoon.wordpress.com

…good.morning…

“O may your glorious name be blessed and exalted above all blessing and praise – You alone are the Lord.  You have made the heavens, The heaven of heavens with all their host, the earth and all that is on it, the seas and all that is in them.  You give life to all of them and the heavenly host bows down before You.  You are the Lord God, who chose Abram and brought him out from Ur of the Chaldees, and gave him the name Abraham.  You found his hart faithful before You, and made a covenant with him to give him the land of the Canaanite, of the Hittite and the Amorite, of the Perizzite, the Jebusite and the Girgashite – To give it to his descendants, and You have fulfilled Your promise, for You are righteous.  You saw the affliction of our fathers in Egypt.  And heard their cry by the Red Sea.  Then you performed signs and wonders against Pharaoh, against all his servants and all the people of his land; for You knew that they acted arrogantly toward them, and made a name for Yourself as it is this day.  You divided the sea before them, so they passed through the midst of the sea on dry ground; and their pursuers You hurled into the depths, like a stone into the raging waters.  And with a pillar of cloud You led them by day, and with a pillar of fire by night to light for them the way in which they were to go.  Then You came down on Mount Sinai, and spoke with them from heaven; You gave them just ordinances and true laws, Good statutes  and commandments.  So You made known to them Your holy rest, and laid down for them commandments, statutes and law for their good in light of your holiness, through Your servant Moses.  You provided bread from heaven for them for their hunger, You brought forth water from a rock for them for their thirst, and You told them to enter in order to possess the land which you swore to give them.  But they, our fathers, acted arrogantly; they became stubborn and would not listen to your commandments.  They refused to listen, and did not remember Your wondrous deeds which You had performed among them; So they became stubborn and appointed a leader to return to their slavery in Egypt.  But You are a God of forgiveness, gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness; and You did not forsake them.”

- Neh 9:5-17

 

www.iseethemoon.wordpress.com

. . . home . . .

been a bit nostalgic lately which in turn makes me a bit dramatic

 . . . love these lyrics . . . love you . . .

“I gotta get home there’s a garden to tend.
there’s fruit on the ground and the birds have all moved back into my attic, whistling static,
when the young learn to fly I will patch all the holes up again.

well i can’t believe that my lime tree is dead
I thought it was sleeping
I guess it got fed up with not being fed
and I would be too I need food in my belly and hope that my time isn’t soon

so I, try, to understand, what I can’t hold in my hand, and where ever we are, home is there too
and if you, could try to find it too, cause this place is overgrown into with works in bloom, 
home is wherever we are, if there’s love there too.

in the back of our house theres a trail that wont end 
we were walking so far that it grew back in, 
there’s no trail at all,only grass growing tall,
get out my machette and battle with time once again, 
but i’m bout to loose because i’ll be damned if time don’t win

I gotta get home theirs a garden to tend, all the seeds from the fruit burried again 
there own family trees teach them thank you and please as they spread their own roots they watch their 
young fruit grow again
and this old trail will lead me right back to where it begins

So i, try to understand, what I can’t hold in my hand, and whatever I find, i’ll find my way back to you
and if you could try to find it too, cause this place is overgrown with works in bloom
home is wherever we are if there is love there too.”

. . . tis.the.season . . .

i vividly remember the first wedding in which the wedded to be were my contemporaries.  it was the year 2000 and i was 15, a sophomore at huckabay high.  one of my schoolmates a year ahead of me had become pregnant, and four months later, we had a wedding.  it had been a long road, but the parents had decided this was best.  its fascinating looking back on that time and seeing life through those eyes again.  i was so clueless. we were so clueless. our heads spun with color pallets, boy giggles, baby names and dresses.  we as the “wedding party” thought it was all just grand, like an ultimate prom of sorts.  our bride to be, brandy, was the source of as much envy as gossip if we were honest,  and she wore it with fearless pride chin held high.  the groom to be, ryan, was from a neighboring school and an ace at free throws – i remember that being impressive.  the day came – two rows back on the left, i watched her stutter step down the aisle.  i watched  him fidget with the foreign cufflinks. i caught a glimpse of deeply rooted terror that i still cant shake.  she was a girl asked to vow her life away – his pride and  joy was his dropped chevy.  this was going to be ugly, and they knew it.

 

fast foward almost 10 years

 

engagement! shower, dress fitting, shower, lingerie, bachelorette party, rehearsal, rehearsal dinner, brunch, pictures, i still cant walk in heels, ceremony! reception, vacuum, shower (water kind this time) – repeat.  In all shapes, tones, scales and emotions – thats the gist of it, the general outline.  i joke about having a wedding every weekend and my own second hand bridesmaids store.  i go through the rhythm in awe of how each beautiful bride has her own twist on the event, her own pizazzz. how each groom caters to her day and the look on his face as she finally walks toward him.  each story has its own rhythm. i’ve witnessed new levels of love, sacrifice and dedication i wasnt sure actually existed.  i watch the lives of those i cherish and respect most change forever. i rejoice.

i was home a few weeks ago and celebrated the 10th wedding of my closest friends.  i was home a few weeks ago and mourned the first divorce . . . .”its beginning,” i thought.  

i ran into brandy at the H.E.B. in town (or “stephenville” as the city folk call it).  she’s still so beautiful, still so young, still so the mom of a 9 year old who looks just like his daddy.  ryan didn’t fight the papers at all.

our national divorce rate today is right at almost 55% (up from 48% in 2000) with most ending within the first 8 years,  - it IS coming for us, its no secret.  i can line you all up in my mind with 5 pairs watermarked out in defeat.   look at our parents – many, if not all, of us come from broken homes. we are the mirror image of their yesterday on a runaway train headed straight for the collision that is their today.  already, at almost 26 years of age, i have been an intimate part of many of your weddings and have had the privilege  of observing so many more on top of those.  i could eat cake, catch flowers (i hate that part) and pretend everyone i know is cut out of a different cloth. that the national average does not pertain to us.  that we’ll “all make it”  . . . . in a plague situation – ignoring the dying, ignoring the trends – is the most devastating action that can be taken.  this feel good, quick fix plague on our fast food society wont go away by pretending it doesn’t exist.  we. are. at. war.

i haven’t always looked at it this way – it has actually only been within the past couple of months that the weight of the topic has rested in its fullness on my heart, maybe thats strategic, maybe its because its more than personal now.  i bucked it at first – what a lame viewpoint to have.  what a pessimistic ”fear.”  . . . . oh, but what a holy fear.  what a prompt.  the magnitude of understanding what it is we are up against in the fight for our marriages, our commitments, our faithfulness, is beyond me.  ill stand in full confession before each of you who have or who are about to take the “plunge” as it were,  and ask your forgiveness for the lack of time i have invested in praying over your marriages.  rest assured though, that has changed.  in my singleness i’ve come to recognize the amount of time, energy and focus i posses is quite uniquely fashioned to be used on your behalf.

i spose what i’m meaning to say in so many words, is i take you seriously.

pleading for you, fighting for you, loving you,

nattie

*

” Are these the days when thou dost gird thyself and walkest where thou wouldest – battle days, crowded and burdened and yet lit with praise, days of adventure; eager, glorious choice folded in every hour?  Rejoice, rejoice, o happy warrior, if so it be, for surely thou shalt see Jesus himself draw near and walk with thee.”

                                                                                                   — Amy Carmichael