Making this with Jesus

PLINKY PROMPT - Pick up a book, newspaper or magazine (ok, junk mail will do if you’re having a hard time). Shut your eyes, turn to a page and stab your finger at a word. Pop that in your post title. Do the same again. And again. There’s your prompt for today.

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The nearest thing to me was a bible track thing called The Good News.
First word – Making
Second word – This

Making this. I didn’t like it so I decided to point again and I got the phrase “With Jesus.”

-Making this with Jesus. Wow! What in the world just happened?

Who am I, and what have I made with Jesus? Those are the questions this prompt brings to me.

I am a follower of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I have many interests, and I am terrible in social situations, but I try anyway. I am in love with the American Pit Bull Terrier, I am in love with people who genuinely care and like to make others feel worth this shot at life. I love film photography and abstract art, I love wildlife and our common cat, I love this life and I thank my God for allowing me to live it, to enjoy it, and to show others by example that life is totally worth every breath we take.
I love to debate, I hate that I get angry with people, I hate to feel like a failure, and I hate that I get overwhelmed so easily. This is what I know of my identity. I love, I hate, I live and I look forward to life after death.

In this life what have I made, what have I done with Jesus? Here is where I begin to feel disappointed in myself though I know that is not what my Father wants. What have I made? What have I done with all that He has gifted me? I know I have spent time writing poetry to Him. I have gone on missionary trips, but there is something else I have to do for my God. I have to speak. I have to create. I need to make something.

Yesterday my mother and a friend of hers were placing toys in bags with candy for our Christmas trip down to Mexico next week. The toys were mostly the old mcdonalds and burger king toys, not in bad condition, but we were certainly short on toys. As I helped I wondered if I could crochet toys for the trip next year. If I could start now and just crochet away until December 2013. Could I do it? Would I give up half way through as I have so many times before? How many headless toys have I made and never finished? I have always been distracted by one of my other many interests. I felt like I was kidding myself if I thought I could actually make hundreds of little crocheted amiguramis for the children in Mexico. I dismissed the thought, I threw away the challenge. But this morning somehow it has come back in such a delightful way. I realize that of course I cannot do it on my own, I need someone’s help, but whose? I need my Savior to help me as He has so many times before. He will get me through it.

Thank you Plinky for the reminder! I will begin to make amiguramis for the children and I will post my progress on my blog togodigivemysoul@worpress.com !

I ask of my Lord that He give me the excitement, and the drive of a pit bull to see this project finished.

Making this with Jesus will be my Life’s only goal. this year, next year and for the rest of my life!

Let Me Be The Hope That Must Exist

The heat murdered what was left of my little army.
The soldiers that held my motivation melted and
Fell through the grate that was to protect my hope.
The beaten motivation hid the light with a tar like substance,
What does one do when emotions are not enough?
When reality is too real, too blunt,
When you feel that you would rather keep your insanity
Than face the blood and fear in the people you love

How does one shake off the frustration, the hurt
Of being strapped into a role you didn’t ask for?
When a father’s betrayal or the disapproval of a mother
Break the heart of an otherwise brave and compassionate soul
Where does one turn, when even the sun won’t lift the darkness?
The thoughts of the mad merging with mine,
At times I feel that I am pointless,
That I fight for nothing.
This is the insanity I bring.

Then I see the eyes of a broken being,
And I understand at least one of us has to stand
At least one of us has to burn brightly
And if we are one, I can escape the tar, the fear
With a fire that can tear the despair,
Char the vines that try to choke me
If I hang on to the insanity, I won’t have arms
To extend to the world, arms to illustrate
The hope, the life that still exists
Fists to fight, to beat down the ones who try to smother my light, my existence.

Slightly Sleeping

I’m getting back to writing. Here’s a poem I wrote a few days ago. My brother had said he was only slightly sleeping, and we began to laugh at how silly that sounded. But I figured I could probably get a poem out of that. I adjusted it to simple sleep, somewhat asleep, and wrote the following poem.

Awake I drone into a dream
Unflinching, creeping onto me
My mind begins to wonder,
What is that coming closer,
Grappling with my soul?
Am I walking, am I waking?
Have I gone into the world
I love, I miss, the times I simply slept

Sleep’s long fingers
Wrap around my throat.
A soft grasp causing me to choke
I sway and hope, it’s all I have
This sleep I keep right under me
If only it moved more rapidly !

I know not why I dream
Nor for whose sake
Always slightly sleeping
Never do I wake

I think It’s about time for a new post.

I missed my blog. I started a new blog about a new walk I’m taking through the dog world. Feel free to check it out here: http://myapbt.wordpress.com/

On to my post!

I have been away from my pen and paper for a while so here’s a poem that I am just making up as I type.

Panic subtly reaches around my shoulders.
Smiling, Panic grips my arms
It waits, anticipates
my shaking, my nerves
Panic, oh so quietly, removes my work
distracts my drive
How often do I fall into its trap?
Blinded we fall back into a panic
into a place unkind and hectic.
To breathe without a worry
is a gift
A gift I am most grateful for.

Voices.

Writing is so very fun. I wrote this one last night, while listening to Modest Mouse. I’ve noticed that their music makes me want to write.

Are there voices
Whispers
Damaging a heart?
Are those questions
Picking us apart
A dry world never
Letting us press start
I see a little more
Each day
I find what makes
A heart
What drives my mind
Can only be found
In these hands of mine.

Stumble In And Stay For A While

In the dark night, nothing seemed more important than her own reflection. Idea after idea, after realization, after epiphany, she thought and thought, her reflection never getting any clearer. She wrestled, boxed, raced, fought and lost sight of the breeze, of the Earth’s great beauty, as she stumbled after this reflection. A soul troubled by nonexistent fears, by pressure placed so delicately, but permanently on her shoulders. Life, time, the race never-ending stood at her heart’s door, wanting only to make itself known. “Known to whom?” She would ask. And the light would dim; just another fight with self would begin. A mind not so quiet, rambles on and on, until the thoughts of another stumble in and stay for a while. Stumble in and stay for a while…

Reflection, mirrors drink me in and will not allow me leave, until this puzzle is solved. A mind not so quiet, and another thought: What comes with a day? The sun moves away too quickly to ever consider staying. The cowardly clouds move farther, as my steps push them away. A way into the world is what my mind tries to avoid. A void within the day drives me into the night, to contemplate what is in a mind.

Silence

I was feeling like I was trapping myself, or making myself quiet, when all I wanted to do was speak. I was very much frustrated when I wrote these.

–

Its a shy crush
A small wave not
Tall enough to break
Not wide enough to matter
My heart aches
And I shatter
At every
Step closer
Its something different
And unconquered
How can I cope?
When his stare
Causes me to choke, and lose hope
In myself?

–

Its how I feel in the moment.
How I lack a soul,
A tongue…
My conversation stops
Just talk!
The frustration is pitiful
I ache, I suffer,
In my silence I die
I cannot do what is important
That necessary trait humanity owns
I cannot speak!
Simply because
I won’t

–

Your eyes
Your movement
Your speech
Make me
Want to speak
To reach,
But here I am:

Hidden. My tongue unable to speak,
unable to describe what stirs in this heart.
The one thing I can do
(Hide)
I do inefficiently