A part of me feels lost.  After this summer, I feel like I was able to be myself more than ever before.  I think a big part of that was through…worshipping in a body of believers….in a community of the body of Christ.  There was something different.  I feel like I was open, and the people were open and we experienced God in a way that doesn’t really happen often.  I feel like we met with God, and through that, God changed us.

Being back in Boston, and being back in the grind and drive and the cut-throat atmosphere, a part of me feels lost.  I don’t want to forget all I learned, and experienced, and I don’t want the rich season to end.  I don’t want these experiences to merely BE a season.  I want to live experiencing and tasting the goodness of God every single day.  Even though there were dark parts to this summer, I felt God’s presence constantly.  I remember that first day leading worship there.

I remember the look on people’s faces as I began to try and lead them into song.  I remember that I couldn’t look for long and I closed my eyes and went to another place, scared of the scrutiny.  I remember talking to God while singing, and him wrapping his arms around me while I tried to lead worship that day.  He surrounded me with his love and He let me know I was exactly where I was supposed to be…in a tiny church in Aberdeen.

The church itself did not feel small…
with 50ish people, it really felt like the right size.  Everyone knew one another for the most part…and in community, sometimes that sucks.  But if you’re not known, how can the church move together to take care of its members?  How can the community really function as Christ intended if we are all foreign and unknown to one another?

more to come.


Thoughts to a Birth Mother

If I could sell you to a pack of rabid dogs I think I would.

I don’t talk to you for a long time because, I just shouldn’t entertain the words you have to say to me.

You never helped me quit smoking.  You were a reason to start bad habits, and to retain them.  I remember the summer when you decided to go into AA.  I remember thinking that you’re not quite an alcoholic, but rather a straight addict/poser/can’t get your excrement together to save your life.

I went with you because inside of me, I had a fear that I was just like you, and that your downfalls were my downfalls and I was claiming your screwupedness as my own.  (Side Note: These fears were extremely irrational and I know that now…on most days)

You joined AA for the community.  You don’t want to go to church because you can’t stand yourself and feel the weight of your sins…you won’t let God forgive you, let alone yourself.  You joined AA for the community you seek…you’re not really an alcoholic, but you wanted to be around people who felt as bad/worse about themselves as you do.  You want strong mentors, but all you found was more brokenness.  All you found were people who want change in their life and are doing something about it…they were being proactive about it, and you would stand on the edge, feeling as if you weren’t as bad off as these screw ups.  But in reality we all are.
I think that is a part of your problem.

You wanted to find lowest common denominators of people to spend time with, but even they got sick of you because they could feel your insecurity and falseness.

You’re always looking to everyone else for approval.  I will say that most of us try to live this way, but when you would approach me in your jealousy, yet still want my love and approval of your life, I never knew what to do.  You treated me with a dark hatred, and could hardly find a way to love me in the present time.  I believe when you gave me up for adoption, it was a love thing.  I feel it was a God thing, directly interrupting my life that I might know him.  I do think you were selfish in your choices all around, and needed to get some of the heat off you.

My views are skewed, I’m sure, because I only have one view and two eyes with which to see the world.  But my perceptions are weighted, and painful and heavy, and I cannot seem to find the floor as my head spins with the hurt I’ve internalized on your behalf.

I want to claim a portion of these problems as my fault.
I want to be fair.
But I also want to punch you in the face to make you step up to responsibility.
I want a relationship with you that is clean, but it is something I know I can never have.

I don’t want to think of you with thoughts riddled with the pain I’ve felt in our short few years of knowing each other.

You try to mother me when you have not the right.  I am an adult now, and I do not need a mother from you.  I do not need your approval.  I don’t know what I need.
Sometimes I think I just need you to know I’m alive.
Sometimes I think I just need to know I have roots.
I want a relationship, but I don’t want your feces.
I don’t need to feel any guilt, yet the way you are is toxic and I cannot sort out truth from lies.  I can’t have you so close to my heart because your actions seem to be a walking timebomb.  I cannot protect myself from you, and for that I am angry at myself.

For some reason, who you are puts you too close for comfort, and your words are weighted.

I hate that your words mean so much.

When you are careless with your words, the destruction you reap is miles wide in my heart.

I don’t know how to do this, and I stare at my phone trying to imagine the things I would say…but you don’t even really know how I feel.  If I share the weight of my feelings, I fear you would go off and try and commit suicide.

You manipulate me, and I can’t stand it.
I won’t carry the weight of being responsible for your mental well being. 

I don’t know how to do this. 

Noise of Nonsense

I do not have the words I wish I had.
They have been buried beneath.
I become the journey in which I tread.
I am the words behind my teeth.
My mouth will speak,
Yet the language I utter, I understand less and less.
Uttered nonsense.

Heated waves,
You move away from me.
Cold is all that remains.
Is this how I am to stay…
Ice heart and frozen caves of thought.

The ghost that is you won’t leave me in peace,
And oh, ghost, you tease.
Ghost stir the dying coals of my disease
And ghost, why won’t you cease.
Let me sleep.

At the Rogue Public House, Dreams Come True

This Sunday afternoon, Nick and Tara, two newer friends, wanted to take me down to Astoria, OR, to visit the Rogue Public House.  We spontaneously decided to go camping, and made sure it was nearby so we could sit and ponder what it really means to be a part of Rogue Nation.

We ended up having dinner and a sampler, and I really did enjoy the Tea Ale, and the Black Saison.  I’ve had most of what Rogue makes, and enjoyed trying the new things to me, seeing as I normally am in Boston.  They really really need to open a Rogue Public House in the Boston area, because the food was spectacular, and, as always, the brews prove to be magnificent. 

I enjoy Dead Guy, but I love the John John Juniper…is that what it is called?  I loved the taste.  Strong.

And the Double Chocolate was a treat.

Thank you Rogue.  This has been one of my dreams ever since I had my first Rogue out of a Detroit, MI store who catered to craft brews.  The graphic design caught my eye, and after my first taste, I’ve never wanted to go back.


Break my Body, Hold my Bones.

"Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed.  Strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord.  See to it that no one fails to obtain the grace of God; that no ‘root of bitterness’ springs up and causes trouble, and by it many become defiled; that no one is sexually immoral or unholy like Esau, who sold his birthright for a single meal.  For you know that afterward, when he desired to inherit the blessing, he was rejected, for he found no chance to repent, though he sought it with tears.”
Hebrews 12:12-17

Set right the bones that are broken for healing.  Don’t let the wounds remain untreated.  Don’t let the damage done never heal.
I don’t want things to seal up and remain still broken and wrong under the surface.  But resetting bones, and cleaning wounds sometimes hurt more than the initial scrape or break.

Sometimes I imagine I am so poorly stitched back together by myself, that I am worse off…I just long to have every bone broken and reset that I might begin again without the previous restrictions of poorly healed wounds if they were ever really healed.
Time doesn’t heal everything.

Break my body, hold my bones.

I recently re-listened to Julia Easterlin’s cover of Break My Body by the Pixies.  There is no other set of words that I want to say.  I just want to be reset…to be new again.

"Therefore, let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire.
Hebrews 12:28-29

Sometimes I forget. 

And that is How the Cookie Crumbles

You mock me so
This I know
You build me up
Then you break me slow

I am a tower crumbling.

Little love that cracks
I want my money back
Ghosts of memory
Is all you left of me

I am a tower crumbling
and I am fading
The sun won’t even shine
To shed some light

Where do we belong
I am weak, and not strong
Little love that steals
The dark never reveals
How my heart breaks
I always give and you always take

I am a tower crumbling
And I’m tryin’ to get past your sins
But somehow does that mean you win?

My patience grows thin
I’m forgiven so I forgive
And you still mock me so
This I know. 

And that is How the Cookie Crumbles

You mock me so
This I know
You build me up
Then you break me slow

I am a tower crumbling.

Little love that cracks
I want my money back
Ghosts of memory
Is all you left of me

I am a tower crumbling
and I am fading
The sun won’t even shine
To shed some light

Where do we belong
I am weak, and not strong
Little love that steals
The dark never reveals
How my heart breaks
I always give and you always take

I am a tower crumbling
And I’m tryin’ to get past your sins
But somehow does that mean you win?

My patience grows thin
I’m forgiven so I forgive
And you still mock me so
This I know. 

Pull me from the dust
And I will fight ‘til I return
The shadows dance in my eyes
where the lights once burned

i never knew I didn’t need to hate you
i never knew my love would never be enough
and i drove you to your madness
you forget now, but i don’t


You Forgot.

    The poem is entitled, “You forgot” because that is exactly what you did.  You forgot my birthday like it never happened.  This is not the first time.  ”I do not exist” are words that have plagued me my whole life.  I never thought I had an origin because I never knew the woman that birthed me.  I never saw the face or the eyes that mirror my own.  I fight the feeling that I am a figment of imagination everyday because I never could imagine a beginning to my life.  My life, my entire being was myth.
    Without knowing the secrets of my blood, I felt more related to the vampire and werewolf legends of our time.  But now I know you.  Now I know you and I still fight the urges to belong to a world of myth.  I know I was born, but I know that there is little of me that is like you.  I like to believe that I share in nothing of your faults.  I would rather lie to myself than share in these darker truths.  But, even in the mix of lies and truths that keep me breathing, you manage to contribute to my insanity by forgetting the day my first breath was taken.
    Perhaps even now you wish you could take back the ‘mistake’ that is me.  You wish you could snuff out my life and start anew again.  You wish you could recall the disease you’ve infected me with.  But this is all too late.
    And you have forgotten again, the day of my first inhale.  You have ignored my life and contribute to the agony that is you, and the agony that is your noted absence.
    Oh, how you can crush me without a word.  The lack thereof destroys and waters bitter roots that I dare not try let grow.
    You wish failure on me by your silence but I will not claim failure over my life.  I claim victory in the blood of Jesus.  I cannot live like a forgotten thing, though that is a part of what I am to you…a bad memory to be suppressed…a bad dream to be erased.

I was never a dream.
I was never a myth.
I am a reality and I fight your constant contributions to my bitterness. 


Take me down from the shelf for sometimes.
Truth takes time, and they weren’t wrong.
Differences pull at different sections of my skull,
And I’m pulled forward and backward in one breath.
I am ushered to relive my past, and relive your harsh words.
On replay, you’re always breaking me down,
And I re-watch the scenes in my head.
Over and over, I live yesterdays.
In the same moments, I’m dragged by the hand,
The future beckons me to leave the past buried.
To never be what could have been, but to be exactly what I am.

I feel pulled to decisions.
Which way will I go.

The Monsters of Delayed Resolution

I don’t want to live
in bitterness anymore
The bitter root has had it’s way
I cannot breathe
Because all my energy is
Spent on fighting my daydreams

The infection only grows
And my heart knows
I cannot live like this forever
The Bitterness in my bones
Will begin to show
The darkness I can’t sever

Lord I need the light
To destroy the endless night
The bitter root must die so
I might rise again.
The chains on my feet,
keep me from wanderin’
Cornered with no release
I long to be free
of the ingrained agony
A freedom I can’t seem to reach

I’m afraid if I don’t change
What’s to become of
The monster inside of me