a finger on it

I can't quite put a finger on it

to quote an old cliche

I carry the emotions

given to me, full force by my Creator

often swept away

cresting waves then

crashing, gulping water instead 

of air, my head submerged

He gives me hills

and valleys, both

to  be savoured

physical pain, shifts

surprising me, in new 

locations, disguises

tones and echos, almost

symphonic in fullness

always its finger on me

unrelenting grip, does this

hurt? how about here?

He gives me hills 

and valleys, both

but dwells with me

up there and down here

 Fear not [there is nothing to fear], for I am with you; 

do not look around you in terror and be dismayed, for I am your God. 

I will strengthen and harden you to difficulties, yes, I will help you; 

yes, I will hold you up and retain you 

with My [victorious] right hand of rightness and justice.

Isaiah 41:10 Amplified

Seeking real

I like to think of myself as a disciple of Jesus
listening, watching, following
His call to abide the song that heats my blood
stirs every fibre, urging me on
to be ever more like Him
in thought, in word, in action
this is my desire.

This too, is where I fall ever short
so unlke Him, so much like me
this tangled maze of raw emotion

This is where it gets messy
when the inside leaks through cracks
to hide behind the mask of perfect Christ likeness
like so many others accomplish with ease
is a lie I cannot tell
my skin too thin to cover
so seeking real I spill out here
recognizing He already knows my ugly

Where I want to find love for those who have wounded me
I have found the storehouse empty
old cuts still sting, bleed fresh tears

yet in that salty confession
waits thousands of second chances....

Walking with Emily and the wounded, imperfect but wholly loved