Security in Contentment (Poem)

Security in Contentment (Poem)

Contentment is not found in the “one day”, it’s found in the flowers along the highway. It’s found in the secret place where solitude leads to breakthrough. It’s in the break time at noon, but also the sweat that drips from your brow when your working harder then you need to because you know it’s a joy to be able to give yourself fully into what you do. 

The sun is out and the sky is blue, yet even if it was raining, it’s alright too, because the flowers along the highway would not have bloomed if it wasn’t for the rain. 

I will not push what is to come, because right now is the sweetest place to be. It’s painful at moments, but that pain is worth it every time I come out on the other side wiser and stronger, more aware of the purpose of that painful moment. 

I love the days that are purely happy! They give us hope that pain is temporary, but I don’t want to live a day discontent because things hadn’t gone my way. 

May my life be a banner of joy, laughter, humor and awe. Would steadfastness be my anchor, love be my compass, compassion, my rudder, and faithful be the name of my ship I sail through this life.

Jesus is the wind in my sails and the builder of my craft, so may he be truly glorified. I do not boast in who I am, but boast in him. I don’t want to stand alone (and I know I don’t) admired for who I’ve become. I want to encourage every person along into their own destiny, fully known and dependent on the author the wind, unwatered by the waves that will come their way.

If I’m looked at as a great person and people aren’t encouraged to live a life greater than mine, may I decrease so that God’s grace is lifted high. Humble my heart God, so your truth can come through, that people don’t see just me, but see you shining through.

I dream to join a fleet that joins together, each uniquely and securely trusting in the purposes God has set before them. There are many among me, and many to join along. would our flags bare the cross of Christ no matter if it is trampled, mocked or or weathered. It is the only kingdom that brings freedom in surrender and will surely last forever. Join me.

To Someone *but not just anyone (Poem)

To Someone *but not just anyone (Poem)

Oh future one, who you may be, I’m giving all I have to be the one that you would fall for. I share the things I’d rather let alone, the moments that I treasure, I post in plain view, hoping that who you may be would see southing in me; something you haven’t seen.

I find myself shooting shots to every screen,  hoping that it would be a place my love hasn’t been, place that one would find my heart and treat it better then just another one. I don’t want this futile desperation, falsifying my character, overemphasizing my desires and heightening my anxiety with fear of rejection.

This is not who I am and not at all who I plan to be. My funk I’ve planted myself in will not be the place I stretch my roots in. I want to be at a place that God is all I need, with friends by my side. The family of God being unified, but in Christ, being satisfied. There’s still something about a life partner though. Something I long for, but something worth the lull, something worth fighting for.

I don’t want to settle for someone I don’t feel free with. Being tied down and walking on egg shells are thing I want to avoid like prison and bomb shells. I want to be able to be free without selling myself and advertising that I’m worth someones time. I want to be seen for me.

I want to be believed in. I want to be valued from one who’s willing to take me on; and it’s selfish in part, but I want to invest in someone and champion them for everything they are and everything they’ve done. I want to love. I want to hold hands and dance. I want to talk about the things we don’t understand. I want to stay up way too late, feeling drained, doing something mundane, but knowing who I’m doing it for is worth every second of the pain. I want to grow and be known, but more so, learn about someone from head to toe and toe to head and back again, because in each season we change and I don’t want to be ok with knowing who that someone was yesterday.

I don’t think my desires are too much of a fairy tail or a romantics dream, but if it is, I hope that someone is my dream come true.

An Undiscovered Diary (Poem)

An Undiscovered Diary (Poem)

I’m locked into this device.

I want to be free to write, like Ann Frank, like some of the people who didn’t think anyone would read what they had written in secrets.

I want to write like an undiscovered diary, that isn’t refined or worried about what other people would think, but raw, and in ink, and not typed like I’m doing.

For fear of judgement, or fear of misleading, I type on eggshells, because words shared on a webpage can be posted in a moment, and potentially cause effects that last a lifetime. There is no taking back a statement shot around the world in an instant.

There is reform in my writing, growth in my typing. Backspace hides my mistakes that would be otherwise scratched out; illegible behind scribbles, but their indents still present. If nothing else, the blotch is a reminder that their had been correction.

As I write for all to read, an open book, my life, my struggles and my everything. I share from poetry to concepts and grieving, there is still chance it will go unread. Maybe I didn’t write something as captivating as the one last week, or maybe it did not create enough posts in-between. There’s a possibility that what I write will change one life; bring them toward a more holistically human life. It’s changing. With each word, it feeds. With each  writing, leaving something not yet seen. If that human was me, then it’s my publicly placed undiscovered diary.

Losing Control (Poem)

Losing Control (Poem)

I’m falling for the longing of a life of no control.
Of a life that’s void of restraints, and free of tolls.
These stations do nothing but slow down my bones.

Life is made to be taken by the horns, but when the bull is coming head on, I used to run.
Either option, to stay or run seems worthless, but no reasoning will stop the bulls from coming, so I will stop running and start fighting.

I’m falling for that longing of a life of no control.
Of a life I’ve given everything over to the creator of my soul.
And the desire rings on louder then a Rotary phone.

Life is made to be flown like a kite, and when negativity comes by, it can stand on by because I’m far lighter, soaring high up in the sky and I won’t even bat an eye or let my joy subside, because I know my worth and know the lies I won’t and can’t let in.

As I fall deeper for that longing of a life of no control,
Of that life that takes gain and pain and morning all in full.
There is a time for every season and a lesson closer still.

Life is made for tears like oceans, when new life comes, or long life fades or love begins or money flies away, the tears from plenty and tears from little surely flow; although, there’s no question each tear will dry or be wiped away. Yet, before the tears are gone, may I not loose sight of the joy in each aching strain and the lesson learned in the waiting.

life is not made for control, so as the jellyfish is pulled by the current, may I embrace the flow of life, but may I propel myself toward truth. Jesus commanded the seas for his frightened and doubting disciples, so I’m sure he’ll direct me on to him.

Exposure: First Performances

Exposure: First Performances

Music is one of the most influential and most widely partaken in arts of history. For me, I’ve always been around and involved in music my entire life. Music is found in virtually every culture, if not every culture, and it doesn’t fail to move us humans; even the hardest of hearts.

Being in my family, I’ve had a bunch of first performances on stage. from silly skits at my grandparents house, performing fan favorites and classics like The Road Kill Cooking Show and plenty of others, to Sight and Sound Theater, where my first show ever, my wig fell off in front of the entire audience of roughly 2,000 people. I’ve been in school musicals and National Fine Arts (a church competition) to just performing at my church in various ways. There are definitely stories to tell, but this one felt different.

I started writing poetry and songs in my junior year in high school, and I had shared my music and poems with others before, but I got to share an original of mine and accompanied my brother, Stephen on a cover at a girl from our youth group’s event to raise money for her missions trip, and I had this overwhelming feeling: I wouldn’t mind doing this. Like, if it was my career, even just for a season, I would feel at home; because that stage felt like home. It wasn’t really because of the stage itself, or the audience in particular or the atmosphere, although it was nice, but it was sitting on my cajon drum, next to my brother, playing music.

This first performance was followed not but a few weeks later, performing a song with my friends at a dinner theatre. A song Luke Cassidy and I wrote together for our band that has, of now, only performed one song at one venue, but it also felt like home. We performed the song “Flesh and Blood” (really the only song we’ve finished so far together) that is really one of the most vulnerable songs I’ve personally written exposing my insecurities, but sharing them in my favorite art form with some of my favorite people was liberating.

Theres just something about the first time we do something, and theres something even more amazing about realizing as you’re doing it for the first time that its something you want to be involved in for the rest of your life! your thing might not be music or writing or mountain biking, or bee keeping, or anything I’m into, but it might be painting or skateboarding or swimming or math or any other sports, or counseling, or welding. Whatever it may be…

GO FOR IT!

Do it with everything in you. don’t let stats or money or time in your way. Stats might always be agents you, but theres always a percentage that succeeds. You be in that. You’ll never have enough money, so budget and work your butt off! My friend, Andrew always says, “do things you don’t want to do so you can do the things you want to do!” As for time, it is always passing by, and what I have to say for time is you don’t have time to keep talking about doing the things you love. You do have time to do them, but it priority time!

It’s always a balance, and the best way to balance out my advice in the previous paragraph is in two words: Love. Pray.

Loving,  and in turn, serving others will never bring you down, because love never fails! (Check out 1 Corinthians 13. It talks all about it.) And God is always rooting for you to succeed and through desiring him and taking pressure off yourself to make things happen, follow him as he leads you, as your pursuing your dreams. Your biggest dreams are only a fraction of the plans God has for you, if you’re following him right now or not. Through giving him control, you will enter the most thrilling times in your life filled with joy, hardships, pain and peace, but the best part is the hardships and pain will come and go, but they and peace will last through it all.

 

Tumbleweed


Overturn, next place, new town.Tangled up, formed together in one ball.

The tumbleweed’s found tumbling past a young lady fumbling through her belongings, trying to come up with another quarter to finish one more load in the laundromat’s washing machine. She overturns her purse to find a single quarter. Be it luck, predestined or prayer, she found it and was thankful to be able to finish her last load before fumbling home.

Overturn, next place, new town. Broken up, Scorched by weather, rolling.

It found itself trapped beneath a farmers wagon. Not much to grow in a drought such as this. If it wasn’t for hope, he’d be drunk half to death, but he holds onto hope like he holds fast to the plow, and will hold on fast until Christ saves him, rains in or takes him. He cannot loose hope. 

Overturned, next place, new town. Broke free, blown by breeze into the city.

Now, near the end of free life, it blew into the the backyard of a boy. If only this boy knew everything he ever learned about his father was a lie, he might not have so much joy. In ignorance and innocence, he pictures his father bringing justice, a cowboy in the wilderness saving woman from distress. So he jumps on the weed, as if it was an enemy from his mothers stories and his own dreams, praying to some day see his daddy who, indeed, he didn’t know he’d never meet. Be it answered prayer or divine destiny, he’d find joy through God the father, trading his dreams for redemption.

Overturned, no new places, three towns. Six feet under, different decades, one with the ground.

Like the tumble weed, these lives ended just the same. Different places, different cultures, different days, but as each passed on, with hope still seeping from their bones, they joined in one hope. Unified on the other side, they would reach the joy found only through their only hope, Jesus Christ.

“Don’t Stop Writing”


This phrase to me has a lot of significance. My friend, Kami made this wood burned plaque for me by request (she is raising money for her missions trips, one way being wood burnings. Let me know if you want her info to support her and get some awesome art!) and I asked for this message because it has become more than an encouragement to me and has become a mandate.

Let me back up some few years ago. I always enjoyed writing, always disliked reading. I don’t understand it either, but it happened! I would as a child sing songs of my own creation and forget them. If only I could go back and write down all those silly and serious songs, I would fill a book. 

I wrote for school and randomly other stuff, but was mostly inspired to write by an artist, Levi the Poet and others that performed their poetry along with musicians or sound tracks. I was also inspired by different bands and song writers, journals from people long dead and some teachers in school, including my mother.

Somewhere around my 10th grade year, I started writing poetry, but always just for girls I liked. I also tried to start a band that was a flop around that time, but it wasn’t until my senior year where I really started to break out in creativity and write music with my banjo and voice and poems that all were more personal and relatable and introspective and outward viewing as well. Much of my work now a days resembles this style, with verious word pictures and such, and it has all grown from a place of growing passion, longing for authenticity, and mostly just drive to write. That drive came from a realization that as I write, I learn more of myself.

Don’t Stop Writing!

For about one year, I was writing and sharing my work. After hearing it for the first time, probably 10-15 people, maybe more said that quote to me before they said anything else. I quickly realized that that wasn’t a normal response since after that year, I haven’t heard it since. The reason I think that it is significant is because I believe God was encouraging me through his people to not stop writing.

Through the past few years, I have found that when I am actively writing, if it be journal, poetry, music or this blog, I have a deeper understanding in everything I do because I am able to process everything through words on a page (or a screen) and it is my outlet and platform I’ve been able to share love, share encouragement, friendship and Jesus. 

What does this mean for you as the reader? 

Don’t Stop ______!

You can’t give up. If it’s writing, don’t Stop Writing. If it’s loving, don’t stop loving. If it’s serving in some way, don’t stop. 

I believe we all have passions and giftings that are from our creator, and when you find them, use them! If you’re already a follower of Jesus, give your desires and gifts to him and he will bless you with pure intentions and purity in your gifts and passions!

Also, if you’re like me, WRITE! You can’t afford not to at least write something. If you can, write down your thoughts, feelings, prayers, etc. as often as you can without going overboard. You will learn more about yourself, more about how your Creator thinks of you and be able to follow the progress as you grow and learn and age. 

If you’re like me, “Don’t stop writing!”