Revisiting a moment

I found a stack of papers from my high school days. I love finding these old notes and sketches. I remember myself during those high school years as if I were a child, not myself. Not myself as I am now. I see her as so hopeful, but she was alone a lot. These words and drawings she created were truly blessings in keeping her occupied. I am grateful to God for the inspiration. Anyway… moving on. I found this one poem, it was short. I might have been 16 or 17, there’s not a date on this sheet of paper. The original poem is a little bland, but powerful to me because I understand what she wanted to describe. So I have rewritten it. It makes me smile as it must have all those years ago. Thank you, young Elizabeth.

How can I explain His love for me?
It is like I am surrounded by shimmering pillars
How I imagine lighthouses look during a bright, starry night
A light coat of snow across a forest of evergreens,
The trees silhouetted against the falling sun
His love for me casts shade when the sun scorches my skin
His love wraps around me when the frozen ground chills me
He is my paradise, my hope, my joy
To think He died so I could find Him, could arrive home
How can I explain His love for me?

Can They Hear?

…The desperate plea of a soul.


I like to dig up very old poetry and make it better. I’ve been rewriting my poems and stories for so long, that I haven’t written anything new. I’m finding it difficult to start.

Whenever that would happen, I would start off with whatever lame line I could think of. I’d write one or two lines, sometime more, before finding the soul. Then those sad, introductory lines are deleted forever. No thank you, no gratitude for choppy, sad letters.

Let’s try one now and see if I can keep the first couple of lines?

The rust, The storm, Listening to the lyrics of a sad man.

Why do we idolize and leech from disappointing spirits?

Or is it admiration for the talent we wish to wield?

There is a tinge of jealousy among the inspiration.

I weave my disappointment with a joyous word,

in hopes my joy will overcome the frown.

And it always does. This joy creates a large smile,

My strength stems from the feeling of accomplishment.

No frown, no despair can hold me very long.

When the bitter pull of jealousy crumbles you,

smile through it, keep smiling until you’re

standing above the puddle of self-hatred

You are bigger than the sticky grime of society.

And there is one who gives this joy. Find Him.

Let me think

Why does my mind race? I used to think I was unique. I don’t know if I am disappointed or relieved to know that there are others. What this large open realm has revealed has been useful. We all know. We all feel that silliness when we ask a question in a social setting, simultaneously typing it into a blank bar.

However, it is the only life I know, and the only life we’ll ever know. Instant. It’s almost here: the end.


In silence we learn who we need to be,

What we must do to stay unchanged.

Our thoughts spread out the strategy

In unison, we nod. We wait for their order.

Their lie to pacify the weak.

Do they know our minds communicate?

We are not alone. You are not alone.

Rise against the false sincerity!


Silence can challenge even the sharpest glance.

In our silence we will shake the universe,

it will break, then they will hear the sound of strength.

I Only Want You To See…

It was a small crowd loosely surrounding the stage in a house of blues venue. The band Blue October had their instruments set up and the lead singer, Justin Furstenfeld, sat at the edge of the stage – armed with a guitar. He looked into the audience silently as the rest of the band members walked toward their instruments. I stood in the crowd with my sister and I watched Justin. His eyes lit up with a brilliant idea. “Okay guys. We’re going to try something new, we’ve never done this before…” The rest of what he said telepathically made its way into my mind. He stopped talking, but somehow I knew he wanted one of us to start singing a Blue October song and if one person could get most of the audience to start singing along, Justin would motion for the band to start playing the music and we would roll into the song. 

The crowd cheered and I could hear all the different lyrics being sung out. Scattered attempts to start a song flew around the venue, then without even thinking about it, I sang, “I must have sneezed, On knees, I freeze, I mean…” The crowd continued the lyrics with me, “I just choked up…”

“Yeah, come on!” Justin stood up and looked at me, eagerly waiting for everyone to join in. 

So we continued,”Somehow I slept, I dream, I mean, I dreamt of nothing !” We all cheered and Justin was just about to signal to Ryan, the violinist, when the singing stopped; complete silence.

I choked up. I could not remember the next word and the crowd stared at me. They only knew as much as I knew. I tried to keep it going by singing the only line I could remember,” I only want you to see, My favorite part of me..” They did not follow my lead. I sang the line again, alone, but was cut off by the crowd cheering in an attempt to get the band to play a song as I had just butchered this brilliant idea. Justin broke his gaze with me and was clearly devastated that it didn’t work, but he wasn’t going to Let It Go. He got the crowd to cheer and asked us to try again. I disliked that I messed up. The attention was no longer focused on me and it bothered me. I turned to my sister to laugh with her about how silly my screw up was since the song was one of my favorites. The concert came to a sudden stop. I looked over and Justin was approaching us. I lead him through a door and into our living room. I attempted to keep him entertained by giving him my journal. The journal was home to my many poems, scribbles, and drawings. The drawings were surprisingly good and creative, but Justin dismissed the entire book as childish. He even let out a laugh. I had to respond that children had a certain innocence and therefore I was fine with being seen as childish. He started to walk away from me and back through the door, when I shouted, “Wait!” He stopped and looked at me then told me that I would have to fight for him. 

This must have angered me in some way because the dream then suddenly took me to a large church surrounded by hostile zombies. I had to prove my loyalty by decapitating a zombie rat with a shard of glass from a broken window. 

I had this dream about two days ago and it has been floating around my mind since I had it. So I thought, Where better to place it than right here on my blog. I had to share it with my sister who agreed with me that it would be brilliant if Blue October let us choose a song in that way. The last time we saw them was a month ago at the House of Blues in Anaheim. I have been listening to several of their new songs. I can only assume that this had influenced the first part of my dream. It just surprised me because I am not obsessed with the guy. I adore the lyrics and the music and the concerts are a blast to go to, but I was begging for his attention in my dream which is just not something I would do. Or maybe I don’t know myself very well. The journal is what interests me most. I do happen to have several journals half filled with poetry and some tiny scribbles here and there, a tree or an eye or sunset scraped onto the paper. They are more like pin-art that relate to my words. I don’t have creative drawings, or colorful drawings like those in that journal. Maybe it’s something I ought to add to my little empty books.

My sister and I had just finished The Walking Dead season 3 on Netflix the night I had this dream. I am pretty sure this is the reason behind the zombie rat in my dream, but why did it happen so abruptly? I love reading too much into my dreams, because when I do I can usually find something a little bit deeper.

So here is my explanation after a couple of days of thought. I went to an Apologetics Conference last night where Ravi Zacharias was a speaker, and I just listened to John Lennox speak this morning. All this inevitably led me to this saved draft, where I reread my dream. It suddenly became very clear. The concert was the world setting. Justin a symbol for someone I am obsessed with, someone I love dearly and could never live without, my Lord Jesus Christ. I choked up because of my realization that I have stopped reaching out. I started with a passion, but then my singing stopped, the prayers and poetry to my Savior have lessened as I began to simply wait for the world to end (more on that later, maybe..).

So my mind tried to contain Jesus to try to prove that I have not gone anywhere. Leading to the Justin that was in my house. The journal had everything I wanted to be in it. I wish I could show someone the journal. It was full of the talent I wish I had. So I tried to say to my own creator that the journal is what my life should be like. I believe that brought out a warm laugh not a mocking one as I had originally interpreted it. The message being that it was time to step out of my fantastic dream world and to face reality and fight. Fight in God’s name. Perhaps that is why the next setting was in a church. I need to stop sitting around and waiting for eternity to happen. I know that God exists and I know the reality of the eternal life, so why in the world am I so self absorbed?? There are people I know that do not believe God exists. I know people who believe in God but live in a way that mocks the seriousness and sacred things of this life. Why am I silent about something that bothers me? I think the reason I don’t say anything is because I have paper and books and ideas to occupy my time. I have the internet to listen to lectures and debates, but when am I actually going to apply what I learn? There are zombies out there who would tell me to keep my beliefs to myself. They would say to let them eat away at the people in this world with their horrid entertainment, with their societal beliefs about human rights, but if I wanted to share that God is here now and forever I would be mocked.

***This blog post was saved as a draft on 11/08/2013. For a second I thought I had lost my mind, until I realized it was a dream LOL. This is not a thought or dream I’ve kept with me. It’s been forgotten, thank goodness I saved it. It’s interesting looking at the old me, my old fears. I think today, I am not afraid. I only wish I knew a way to share the good news.

A small soul waits

I could hear it, they called out to me.
So sweet and clear, they called…
Asked that I might lend my being,
reach out and wrap warm arms around them.
The laughter, so pretty and clear,
but why must it change?

They weep now.

The sobbing scrapes my heart,
The mind wanted to give up,
Nearly broken.
Could they hear my drying heart snap?

I could not console my caged heart, except by reaching for the sweet laughter.

A heart that has given up is not dead. A heart that has suffered and calls out for help lives and I will give it a home.

The Great Indoors.

This is a saved blog post from 2012 that had not body, just this title. It made me laugh. It’s fitting for today. I have the awesome opportunity to work from home and I am so very grateful. I miss restaurants. I am eager for normalcy, though I realize it will be a new normal. Too much has changed, and maybe for the better. This optimist certainly thinks so. I’ll see all the beautiful, monstrous faces outdoors very soon, I think. I can’t be imprisoned forever.

Tree of Life

Playing with words again. Is it control I am looking for? Is it the pain in disappointing poetry I seek?

I spent a lot of time here once, just for them to be erased. Removed, but not truly. They are constant in this mind, I just need to learn how to draw them out.


Music. Notes. The voice of an angel.

The moon, my obsession, asked me a question.

Where can a soul find peace?
Through the angelic voice of the holy ghost?

Listen closely, my dear friend.

Moving through my home and following

My entangled thoughts, it removes the knots

Stretches the strained heart and

Pushes the body forward into

The crippling light.

That bright beaming smile

Pulls the strings of the objects around me

While in my hands I hold strings connected to my back.

How often have I given them away?

Peace settles in as they are handed to the Holy one.

A lesson relearned daily, as I commute through blurred crowds

Strength has only risen when my soul has danced with the innocent light.


Inspired Again

What is a human?

Haven’t we concluded,

we are no more than specks,

just dust to be feathered from a shelf?

What is fear, but an imagination?



Listening to a favorite artist play musical words has driven me to add to a dusty old blog. The anticipation both motivates and stills me. When will the trumpets sounds? Is that them I hear now?