shelter

Magnetic refrigerator poetry thoughts.

Sometimes they're the only way to capture the hummingbirds in my head.
Because my heart beats a million miles a minute somedays.
For people and for the things they've heard. For you.

For the days that crawl by at an aching speed, begging for relief.

For the stories that so many are silent about sharing.

For the person that's been defined too many times by other people's words.

words
have
power

to build
shelters that chase away rain

to fight away darkness
and usher in light

I think
it's alright to tilt at windmills sometimes.

it's alright to not know where you're going
or have all the answers
or be
do
go
everything
all the time.

so this is your permission
to go where the wind is

to use your words
to mark where the symphony finishes

to be outlandishly kind
and wildly forgiving

because sometimes we miss life in the living

and a little uplifting
is just what we need

to dance in the shadows
and take a minute to breathe

so come seek shelter from the storm
come by the fire and warm
your hands
that were made for holding
and writing
and building
and molding
and so many other good things

I'll tell you a story
or
write you a song
because the only words
that I've been told
are this:

you
belong.

no tap dance,
no jumping through hoops,
no prerequisite-
just you.

And if you've been told the opposite,
I'll string words together
and pull back the tether
and fight Goliath-sized lies
to find what is true.

So if you are tired,
come rest for awhile,
shake off the old
and welcome the new

there is nothing to do
and nothing to prove
and no one to be
except you.

Spring.
I can feel it in my bones.

Seeing the earth shake off winter leaves me breathless.  excited.  ready.

Classes.  Writing.  Missions.  Internships.  Graduation.  Travel.

My plans have been falling apart lately like a worn patchwork quilt.

At first I was frustrated and a little disappointed.

But now I am finding great joy (and I don't use those words lightly) in watching God bring pieces back together.

Not in the ways I expected.
Not in any fashion that I can predict.
Not in any way that makes sense to me.

But slowly, intentionally, needle and thread are coming together to mend and make things that I could never dream up.  And as I sit here thinking about timing, I'm struck with a resilient hopefulness.

The same God that creates the seasons
-the leaves and snow and rain and sun-
knows the seasons of my life.

And I feel small.
humbled.
grateful.
and excited.

Snippets of my week:

-The way tree branches reach towards the sun.  Growing, arms open, strong and yet beautiful.

-Replaying encouraging voice mails from good friends.  Hearing their voices was the best medicine.

-The story of a strong and honest stranger, poured out to me when I least expected it.  Being caught off guard by his honesty and authenticity.

When he spoke of struggle and pain and freedom-
when he shared his story-
I felt like I had been entrusted with an extravagant gift.

-Being covered in paint.  Joining my classmates for a service project.  Getting messy for something worth believing in.  Feeling convicted of my own selfishness.  Remembering how much my life is not about me.

 -Stained glass windows.  Exploring downtown by myself.  Walking in the sunshine, wind in my hair.  Taking off my shoes and watching the sunset.  Feeling loved, taken care of, alive and not alone.

-Turning on Mumford and Sons and dancing wildly, arms flailing, voice loud and unashamed.  Realizing that my windows were open and my neighbors could both see and hear me.  Not caring.

-Going to the bookstore and feeling itchy.  I've never, in the history of my entire life, felt uncomfortable in a bookstore.  So why now?  Why couldn't I shake this weird feeling?

I ached inside, right where my ribs connect around my heart.  And for an instant, I couldn't help but wonder- do I have a story that belongs here too?  Maybe, in its own time, I'll find it.  But for now I rejoice in the promise of spring.

What's your favorite season?

less and more

A dear friend posted an entry on the roles we play and the different facets of our personalities.  It inspired me and got me thinking.

Who am I?

Ask ten people in my life and they will give you ten different answers.

I am Elizabeth.  person.  daughter.  aunt.  student.  learner.  lover of language.  worker.  writer.  reader.  tutor.  grammarian.  friend.  listener.  talker, too.  helper.  goofy dancer.  letter writer.  volunteer.

And yet-  

I am not what I do.

 

Take away all of my responsibilities, and I am not valuable because of how much I can accomplish.  I am not valuable because of how much (or little) I benefit other people.

I am not the sum of forward motion.  I am so much more than words on paper, the numbers of my GPA, the amount of errands I can run.  Push all of the pieces together, and something is still missing.

I am valuable because I exist.

That's it.

I was created with love by a Creator and that alone is enough.

Everything else...it's just extra.  I think it's so easy to get caught up in this dance, especially for women.  We play so many roles that it's easy to forget the only one that matters.

I spend so much of my time asking myself things like- Should I have said that?
Should I have done more?  Should I have not done anything at all?
Am I a good enough person/student/daughter friend?

I wonder if anyone else replays these tapes in their head.
Something tells me I'm not the only one.

I went into my room today- my messy, whirlwind, chaotic room- and realized how much junk stuff I have.  Stuff that other people could actually need or use.  Last summer I lived off 1 pair of jeans, 2 pairs of shorts, 7 t-shirts, and a whole lot of grace.  What happened to that?

So I'm sorting through my stuff and giving a lot of it away.
I am also taking a long, hard look at my priorities.

Why?

Because what I have and what I do
don't even come close to making me who I am.

And when I realize that, really realize it- that's the place where I don't have to be anything else but myself.  I don't have to do more, or have more, or be more.  Not faster or smarter.  Not more talkative or more quiet.  Not taller or prettier.  Not a better writer.  Not more capable, more adaptable, more anything.

That place is where I am His.

And that's where my heart was made to rest.

Take away everything you have
everything you do
and everything earthly that could possibly make you valuable-

and your worth stays exactly the same.

Am I enough?

dear friend,
the answer is yes.

flashback.

Everything she owns is sprawled on a floor you wouldn't even want to breathe close to.  She's in the stall on the far right, the one with the creaky door.
The paper crumpled in her hands is covered in red.  She's crying softly.

Your writing is clearly below average and lacks quality.

I'd consider transferring to a community college and rethinking an English major.  Not everyone is meant to be a writer.

That girl- the one with odd, impossible dreams- that was me.

I've come a long way from crying on the university bathroom floor.  I still remember that feeling of being utterly crushed, like all of my dreams were galaxies away.  And yet, that good thing that never feels like it's going to happen- I open my palms to find it there.  I open my mouth to tell you it has.  I open my heart and find that the right words were there all along.

It's with a humble heart and cheer of celebration that I redirect you to (in)courage:

I'm a guest writer today.

Stories, words, writing, sharing life-
sharing all of this with you-
it means more to me than you know
and I'm honored to be apart of it.

so thank you-
just thanks.

consistency and grace

[Quick update.  I'm between classes tucked away in a coffee shop.  I hope you're encouraged by the last five hours of my life.]

I blocked out some time today to pray, something I haven't been very consistent about doing lately.

I thought about how much I would love more community and encouragement in my life.  Metro Detroit is a funny city in that no one actually lives close to each other.  Most of my friends are spread out 30 minutes in every direction.  It's near impossible to get all of them together, let alone find the time to hang out one on one. 

That's what I was thinking about while walking around campus today and bumped (literally) into a good friend.  We had a crazy wonderful conversation about God and the church and what it means to be a body and care about people.

And then I ran into another friend, who I barely ever see, and got to talk about what God is doing in our lives.

And then I stopped in the food court to have lunch and ran into TWO more friends who invited me to talk.

At this point, I am dancing with excitement.  It's like I literally cannot escape community.  Everywhere I turned, I saw more people who I never usually see who were encouraging, uplifting, honest, and insightful.

In case that's not enough, FOUR more friends later, I'm overwhelmed with the feeling that I'm incredibly loved.  Five hours ago I sleepily prayed for more community, not even knowing what I was asking.  Or maybe not fully realizing to whom.  Not only was I encouraged a little, I was flooded with people.  believers.  hopers. dreamers.  friends.

And I sit here in between classes feeling so good, and a little bit shocked, at how I always get so much more than I deserve.  That's the tide of grace, or so I find myself relearning.