Moonless, Starless Night: A Poem

I can't sleep.
It's nothing new,
but my early morning physical therapy looms,
stressing me out. 
I keep thinking of someone,
someone I haven't been able to let go of. 
He's someone who loved me.
Someone who was there for me,
making me laugh
when my world was crumbling down. 
And when I feel like I have no one,
I think of a time I had him. 
But if I'm real, I never had him. 
Like a forbidden love in a cheesy romance novel,
we could never be,
so we laughed
and we loved
until we couldn't anymore. 
And when I can't sleep on nights like these,
when neither the moon nor the stars can comfort me,
I think of him
and weep
and cry myself to sleep.

Remembrance:Remembering 9/11 and Those Still Mourning

Ten years ago today, I was awakened by my father calling. That was before auto voicemail was the norm and I could hear his panicked voice from the living room. I got up to listen again to his crazy message, so confused. What is he talking about? I turned on the TV and that's when I saw the same tragedy the rest of the world was seeing. It only took a minute for the shock to be replaced by fear. My best friend lived in New York City and I couldn't get through. Phone lines were a disaster and all I knew about her job was that she was working near the towers.  I was panicked over her safety. Where was my sister?

Praise God when her sister called me to say she was okay. They were able to get through to one another before the phone lines went crazy.

Such panic the world was in and I remember my sister calling me from work because of the plane that crashed near Pittsburgh. Could I get hold of Aunt Rosie to make sure she and the family were okay? No one felt safe and I was sick to my stomach watching the TV but could not drag myself away.

I worked at a restaurant and the owner wouldn't close so I had to go in. I was so angry, as were the other employees, because he only wanted us there so he wouldn't have to cancel his monthly wine luncheon. I remember the one table we had in two hours: a woman upset that her flight was cancelled because she had planned on vacationing somewhere in Europe. I couldn't believe it. Such entitlement when America had just been attacked by terrorists. I don't remember what I or the rest of the staff said to our boss, but he finally relented to letting us leave once his wine luncheon party was served their first course. I remember my disgust at hearing the laughter coming from the party as we left the restaurant. How could anyone laugh when our country had been attacked a few short hours ago? When thousands were dead? When the image of people jumping out of windows was so vivid in my mind?

For the days and weeks following, I couldn't tear my eyes from the TV. My obsession for ESPN was replaced by this tragedy and as I think back to that day, I want to call my dad and tell him I've forgiven him.

It can't be easy for those personally affected by 9/11 to find forgiveness in their hearts. It's taken me two decades to forgive my father. 

However, my prayers today are for those of you still mourning your losses from 9/11, for those of you still anxious from the terror experienced.  I pray not only for the victims but for the rescue workers and others involved. May the Lord bless and comfort you all.

I end with lines from one of my favorite Scriptures:
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on us, because Jesus Christ has been sent to preach good news to the poor, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom from the captives, and to comfort all who mourn. He will provide for those who grieve, bestowing on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. 
(Found in Isaiah 61)

God Bless America

March 2010

I'm behind in posting so here is a poem I wrote on March 5th as a new Christian:


   The sun on my face
a warm breeze caressing me
   the rainbow on my drive
that set my teardrops free
   for I knew you were there
loving and romancing me
   but it has been years
since I've opened my heart to anything
   Oh Jesus, my God,
you've not given up on me
   I can still feel your kisses
softly whispering to me.
   You are opening up my heart
for all that I can be
   and I know that I am loved
for your Son, Christ, died for me.

A Poem: A Teardrop Fell

I wrote this around my first anniversary as a daughter of Christ. I was sitting in church next to my dear, inspiring sister in Christ, Sheran, when this happened and I went home and wrote this:


In broad daylight
a teardrop fell.

I don't know why,
but then I do.
There is so much feeling, Lord,
it overwhelms me.
You overwhelm me.

I wonder how I can
even exist with this love
so strong it only grows
and I feel as though my
fragile and damaged heart
will explode.

I could lay on the floor
face down, arms spread,
and wail with something
uncontrollable in me,
new to me,
but Sheran pats my arm
and assures me that
I am not alone, that
I'm not crazy and she tells me
this overpowering love,
Your love,
I don't need to fear,
I don't need to run from.
This love cannot hurt me.

In broad daylight
a teardrop fell.

Poem revised on April 23, 2015

Early Mornings with Jesus

There is nothing I love more than my early mornings spent reading Scripture and being with God.  I make my coffee, grab my journal and bible, and sit on my kitchen floor to read, write, pray, and hear from the One who loves me more than I could ever even imagine.  With Him, I can lay down all my troubles, all my joys, and all my flaws.  With Him, I can be me.  No mask, no trying to think before I speak, no trying to sound wiser or smarter or more righteous.  No hiding for He knows me more than I know myself.  For someone who is labeled "control-freak" by siblings (and ex- roommates), how energizing and refreshing it is to let go and just BE.

When I fail to arise early enough to do so, it's as though something is lacking in my life the entire day.  I miss God all day long, and if I allow myself to fall out of a pattern of these early mornings, it isn't long before I start crumbling.  When my soul becomes so weary that I find no joy in things I once did; when I'm in a crowded room full of friends and feel utterly alone, I can connect this disconnect to a break in my early morning moments with God.  He is my strength.  He is my Protector.  Without Him, I cannot live.  More importantly, Jesus gave His life for me.  His LIFE!   The least I can do is spend time with Him each day (doing something that makes me feel so good anyway!!).

I wonder, how much time do you spend each day just letting go and being with God?  How well do you know Him who knows you so well?  Are you always tired, cranky with friends and co-workers, or just plain weary from life?  Then friend, I recommend an Energy that will never fade: Our Sustaining, Loving Jesus!

"To this end I strenuously contend with all the energy Christ so powerfully works in me." Colossians 1:29

The Beginning

I start this blog in mourning. But though I have lost many loved ones, it is not them I mourn these days. I mourn the childhood of three little girls. For these precious girls, I mourn not only the childhood they lost, but the rich and abundant life they should have had in their adulthood. I know with every fiber of my being that God has been and continues to turn this horror (for abuse of a child is absolutely horrific) into something greater than I ever could imagine. For though I rarely trust anyone enough to open my heart, I mentor young girls in the foster system with no hesitation. For them, my heart is open before I even meet them. With them, I discover a love that I never had. Each of these girls takes a piece of my heart and soul without even knowing it and were it possible, I would open my home to all of them. 

God has placed in me a passion and a burden for these girls that I spent the early part of my adult life running from. I didn't want anything to do with the abusive life I and my older sisters were subjected to. I didn't want to face the anger and the pain that were buried so deep in me, disconnecting me from the woman God intended me to be. Not knowing my Savior, Jesus, I sought healing and redemption in all the wrong places. A student of life, I read every new age, self-help book I could get my hands on. If peace and happiness were offered, I absorbed it with profound desperation to free myself from the misery I ran from. I majored in Psychology to understand myself (and others). I investigated religion after religion (but never Christianity) hoping I would find the peace I sought.

I hated God, blaming Him for the wretched life I lived, the intense self-hatred that consumed me, but He loved me still and pursued my heart while I cursed His. One day, I felt His presence so strongly I could no longer deny Him. I began seeking Him and found the love I sought my lifelong. I found Jesus. 

Within months of giving my life to Him who gave His life for me, my passion and burden for these girls was revealed. While many things have inspired me and inflamed me only to burn out quickly, this has stayed, growing stronger and stronger with each seminar I attend, each book I read, and each girl I mentor. I have found my life's purpose. 

Through the ashes of my childhood, I have found the thing I was created for. I ask you, if you have not figured out God's purpose for your life, what are you running from? Is there a pain so great in you that you are consumed by it? If so, I wonder, is it perhaps the thing you have been created for?

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, 
who have been called according to his purpose."  
Romans 8:28