Saturday, May 15, 2010


The longer I look around, the more I am reminded that truth means little in today's society. At my workplace, children (even the smallest of them) lie with ease and gusto, even about the pettiest things. I have never really understood the motivation to lie... that's not to say I have never lied, because, of course, I'm no more perfect than the next person. Maybe what I mean is that because I have never been a "good liar", I have never had a desire to be. I grew up in a home where the truth was told, even if it hurt to say it and it hurt to hear it. In fact, my mother has sometimes called herself "honest to a fault", because she tends to tell people much more of the truth than they even want to hear.

I remember when I was a teenager and some friends wanted me to stay the night with them at a male friend's house. He was then and always will be a completely platonic friend... we used to call him our "girlfriend who's not a girl" or something like that. Anyhow, I told my friends that I probably couldn't stay the night because he's a boy, and some of them said, "Just tell your parents you're at (insert female friend's name here)'s house." "I can't do that!" I said. I didn't even have to think about my reply; it was automatic. I've just never been much of a liar. As I said before, I still have my faults. I have withheld plenty of truths, or said things that made what I was doing sound one way when it was another, so I admit that I have been plenty deceptive in my life. I will also admit that I feel terrible about those times and all of the things I did that destroyed my credibility.

Anyhow, I wrote all of this to get down to another point: What is truth? Is it OK to lie? What if it's just a little white lie? I have struggled with these questions throughout my life and continue to struggle with them, but in order to help some of you who may not have come to this realization yet (or who may have a different take on it) I offer my opinion freely to you. :)

As with anything, I would like to see what the Bible says on this subject. God is the author of all wisdom, and any insight we gain on the subject ought to be based on the Lord's perfect knowledge, not on flawed human reasoning. In Psalms 31:5, the Lord is referred to as "the God of truth". Jesus verified this when he came down to earth and said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me" (John 14:6). We see clearly that the Lord is truth. If He is truth, He cannot be deceiving. In fact, it says that He hates deceit (Psalm 5:6).

God is truth and Satan is his opposite, thus making Satan the ultimate liar. The Bible backs this up in John 8:44, in which Jesus refers to the devil as the father of lies, even going so far as to say that lies are his "native language". I was pondering this verse quite some time ago, and it struck me what He said to those he was addressing (namely, the Pharisees, but it can apply to anyone) about being the children of the devil. Here's the passage in context: John 8:42-45 "Jesus said to them, "If God were your Father, you would love me, for I came from God and now am here. I have not come on my own; but he sent me. Why is my language not clear to you? Because you are unable to hear what I say. You belong to your father, the devil, and you want to carry out your father's desire. He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies. Yet because I tell the truth, you do not believe me!"

A liar can't even understand God's language! I've come in contact with a few compulsive liars in my life, and you can't even tell them the truth about their own lives. They have completely rewritten their life stories, and if you were to try and correct their versions of the story, they would become indignant. I believe that something terrible happens to a person when they repeatedly lie to people. They start out lying to people but eventually lie to themselves. These lies become so ingrained in them that they start to believe it is the truth.

When I came to this realization, I wondered whether God would accept a person's lies as truth based on their belief that the lies ARE the truth (I hope I'm not losing you out there!). The more I weighed this question, the more I came upon the realization that truth is not relative and God's standards are the same for everyone. God gives grace to everyone, and all who ask for it. My main concern (and the danger here) is that a person will not receive grace because they will not ask for it, believing that they have not sinned in a certain way or fooling themselves into believing that they don't need God's grace. And what about the unconfessed sin of lying? These are some of the questions that grew more daunting as I thought on about them.

Matthew 7:21-23 says, "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles?' Then I will tell them plainly, 'I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!'"

I wonder how many self-assured, "holy liars" will be in this position. How many self-professing (yet lukewarm) Christians will be in this position? In addition to that, though, how many people will be in this position who were truly "spiritual superheros" in our minds? The ones who cast out demons and do great things for the Lord? How do they get in that position? Perhaps it has something to do with lying to themselves, letting Satan in and convincing them that two lives are appropriate and acceptable, as long as someone wears the appropriate masks.

"For such men are false apostles, deceitful workmen, masquerading as apostles of Christ. And no wonder, for Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light. It is not surprising, then, if his servants masquerade as servants of righteousness. Their end will be what their actions deserve." (1 Corinthians 11:13-15)

How many people in our churches are working as double agents for Satan, without even realizing it? I don't know, but I hope and pray that I'm not one of them!

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

He Knew He Was Going To Die

Sunday, December 20, 2009 at 5:03pm

I keep thinking about a dream I had quite some time ago. I'm not sure why, but it's stuck in my head lately. Cam gave me a lot of insight about what it means, but I don't know yet what to do with it. If anyone else has an idea of what they think it might mean, let me know. I might take it or I might leave it, but at least you put it out there. :)

Here's the dream (I can't remember all of it, so bear with me):

I was putting in a resume to start acting (I want to be an actress one day) and dropped my resume off at a booth. When I was done, I ran into two of my friends (Courtney and Brittney). I talked to them about how much I was enjoying it and encouraged them to go put in resumes too. (I think one or both of them did, and I went with them.)

Then, I was upstairs in a hotel or something. Cam and I were waiting for the elevator and an elevator came up... but it was filled with lots of stuff. It was all dusty furniture, and there was a crib in there too. Everything was empty and dusty, and I was terrified. Cam kept urging me to take that elevator but I wouldn't get on it. It felt like someone had died and that was all their furniture... just left in that abandoned elevator. I waited for the next elevator (and so did Cam, although I think he was mad at me).

The next elevator came and there were two really rich looking guys in it. One of the men was very tall and imposing, and I could tell they were both wealthy because they were wearing extremely nice suits. :P There was a little boy (I think) in the elevator and the tall man asked me to watch him. He was playing with a huge gold brick, and I kept my eye on him because every time the elevator doors opened, it seemed like he wanted to wander off (I was also afraid of him getting stuck in the doors).

Before we got to the lobby, the man was acting strangely and handed us a card. I started to get that weird feeling again like something bad was going to happen, and in my head I was freaking out. He said a prayer with everyone in the elevator (I think the boy was gone by then) and while he prayed (and everyone's eyes were closed), I took out the card and read it as fast as I could. It said something like, "Thank you for what you did for my family. I was very grateful to you for that." There was just something about the way that it was written... and the way that he used past tense as if he didn't exist anymore. I was even more freaked out and just as the prayer ended, the elevator dinged and we were at the lobby. As soon as the doors opened, the man stepped out. I was hot on his trail because by then I was really wondering what was going on. I watched as he quickly and purposefully walked out of the hotel, turned right, and walked across the street. There was another hotel there, and as soon as he got to the double doors, he laid down on the ground, then died. The shorter guy who must have been his assistant called for people to help him, and all I remember saying before the dream ended, was: "He knew he was going to die... he knew he was going to die... I don't know how he knew it, but he just laid down and died... look at this card... he knew he was going to die..."

Post-Christmas Bummer

Now there's nothing to look forward to, all gifts have been unwrapped
Now I notice with greater distress the tight'ning of my pants
Now the family's gone, no sounds of delightful laughter I hear
It seems there's nothing left to do but shed a bittersweet tear

Come back, oh Christmas... come just one more day
More love to spread and more kind words to say
Bring a smidgen more of that Christmas cheer
Just a bit more at the end of the year.

The lights and gifts and songs so distracting
All life was on hold; now it's reacting
The squeaky wheels silenced by "Silent Night"
Are again looking to be quite a fright.

If ev'ry day were Christmas, what a joy it'd be
And ev'ry day a vacation from life, for me
If every day were Christmas, the manger-bed
Would be always full of a third of the Godhead

If every day were Christmas, then you and I
Could forever celebrate the day God drew nigh
We'd only have the promise of our little king
No Savior to depend on for everything.

I will miss you, sweet Christmas, but if you honestly must go
I'm grateful that you have Easter arriving safely in tow
The bitterness of the Christmas child's death is so hard to take
But His own sweetness grows sweeter as our redemption, He makes.

Jenn Wallace
2:02 PM

Clouded Thoughts, Careful Actions

Great, swirling clouds above my head
A shaking quake under my bed
I cannot simply find my mind
Nor am I e'er the tidy kind

I truly wish that I could be
Some more like you, a better me
I'd strain each sinew 'til I die
It doesn't help, why even try?

I'm sure that, still, I'll wake up soon
Some more like me, some less like you
Striving torments this weary heart
Assurance is a with'ring art

I'm still not sure yet who I am
I'm putty in my Closest's hands
If you can say (I pray you do)
Please tell me what I mean to you.

10:03 PM

The Least of These

(For context, read Matthew 25:31-46. Feel free to use to do so.)

Matthew 25:40 - "The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'

When I was a teenager, I would read that verse in the Bible and found that concept kind of difficult to understand. I was in the age of “raging hormones” and jealousy and couldn't fathom how anyone doing something for “the least of these” would be “unto God”. From my perspective, if someone did something nice for my little sister, then that stuck-up brat just got ANOTHER nice toy or pair of shoes that I didn't get! (Note: I feel differently about my sister now... I love her a whole lot!)

Now that I'm a mom, though, I think I comprehend what Jesus meant a bit more. Cam and I haven't had much money to buy Amber new clothes or toys, but every now and then, out of the goodness and love of their hearts, someone will bless us by giving her some new toys or clothes. THAT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME!

These people don't have to get me anything at all, and I'm ridiculously happy because they got my CHILD something. It's the same with a compliment. If someone gives her a compliment, it's a compliment to me as well, since I'm her momma. (Pretty much all mommas think this way... compliment a mother's child and nine times out of ten she'll say “Thank you” as if you were complimenting her.)

A baby may or may not be the perfect comparison to “the least of these,” but it works pretty well for me. Anything someone does or gives generously to my daughter, they give generously to me. How much more does a generous gift to one of the least of these bless the Father, who created each and every one of us and gifted us with talents and abilities?

Monday, March 8, 2010

Itchy Flealas

Monday, January 04, 2010

When I look around all you do is sigh
when I talk to you all you do is lie
I'm tired of living this charade
Plastered on smiles that are swiftly made

there's enough going on right now
you don't need to bring more to it
there's enough that concerns me now
I don't want my thoughts brought into this

you have a way with words, you craft them pleasantly
you spin a pretty self-portrait for all to see
your venom was inherited by you maternally
yet she applauds her own conduct so ignorantly

How convenient, you now interject
even in your absence, I must respect
Your systematic brainwashing, if nothing else
And let's not even mention the double standards dealt

I've got other things on my mind
(forgive me if I'm not so kind)
But your words spring forth like dung on the ground
The putrid stench of them lingers like an elephant's mound

And as for my other worries, they compound my stress
Like a junkyard environment, cluttering my brain
the obsessor, the aggressor, the ignorant mouthpiece-
A mouthpiece so loud, useless just the same

Let's add to the number, what have we to lose?
There are a couple more parasites to my consciousness:
the annoying investigator, the game-changing giant
Who both helped to steal my sought-after rest.

This show of emotion does nothing but tell
the state I'm now in, you all spun it well
But I know that soon, God will restore my peace
And perhaps then, my words will be more at ease.

11:33 PM

How Does It Happen??? My thoughts on DIVORCE

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

It starts with complacency. You stop trying to make a good impression, stop trying to make them happy. You let pride sink in and start to feel a sense of entitlement, thinking you deserve more or are better than what they've given you. You think selfishly rather than selflessly, and suddenly you realize that injustices against yourself are all around you. You become appalled at how terribly they treat you, and use that sense of shock to justify your own inaction (or your cruel words and actions). You mull over the bad times rather than the good, and rather than building bridges of hope, you build thick, impenetrable walls around your heart. You refuse to let that person in, and instead look elsewhere for the affection you crave. You've convinced yourself that you deserve better, so now you put that line of thinking into action and start looking for what you think is better. You find someone who feeds your ego and tells you everything you so badly wanted to hear, and that person is let into your heart, while helping build a thicker wall against the one you once loved. Repentance and humility are not words you like anymore - they are words of attack. The people who lovingly offer you scriptural advice are now enemies because they refuse to play into your game. You convince yourself (or Satan helps convince you) that these people do not love you. They are the selfish ones, the wrong ones, the sinful ones. You feel free to drudge up the past that God has already forgiven them of and gotten them through to justify and make you feel better about your present. You loathe the people that know what you've done, but are happy to spill your version of what's happening to people who are unaware of it. It feels good to cry in a restaurant to a group of new friends about how victimized you are, rather than admit your own faults in what has happened. You lose all desire to be with the one you once happily married in the sight of God, and instead choose this other person who seems much more fun and exciting. Maybe it just started off with you being bored of the routine, but now you are acting as a child and assessing which will give you more instant gratification and personal enjoyment. You've forgotten that the greatest things God has to offer us come with a time of waiting, and often some suffering. We only know the sweetest things in life because we were willing to suffer through the hardships and bitterness and come out to the other side. We don't learn sweetness by running from life, or seeking another to fulfill a need. We don't grow in God by blaming others, but by asking Him to reveal what's wrong with our own motives and actions.

If you've seen the movie Fireproof, you probably know what I'm talking about. All these things are what the wife did, and it took the husband a long time to realize what he'd done (they were BOTH wrong in what they did) and he had to work VERY hard to rebuild their relationship. The wife got involved in an emotional affair, which is easy to do when you start looking at life the way she did. I've been reading The Love Dare, a book inspired by the movie, and I'm realizing a lot about how I need to treat my husband better and not think of myself as entitled to more than he is. I need to focus on MYSELF, not on fixing him. God will work on him, and I will pray for him, but my job is not to offer up to God a list of all of my husband's failures. I married a GOOD MAN and I am so proud of him. Anyway, as I read the book I'm reminded of how easy it is to slip into those thoughts... and that we must GUARD our marriage above all else, and keep our lives centered on Christ so that our focus remains where it needs to be. The things I said above describe how divorces happen, how affairs happen, and how families are literally torn apart. If you know me, you know how I feel about abortion... there is a form of abortion known as suction aspiration in which the baby is literally torn apart and forcefully ripped out of the mother's womb using suction. This breaks my heart, yet it's exactly the same way I feel for families going through divorce. A baby is half her mother's and half her father's... when divorces occur, it ravages the family and utterly destroys it, whether or not the parents involved in the divorce think it will have an effect. Saying a divorce doesn't hurt a family or affect the children is just as senseless as a pro-choice mother walking into a clinic and saying that aborting her baby has no effect on its life.

Anyway, just wanted to put that out there. Those of you who agree with divorce can hate me if you want, but I'm not just speaking my mind here. The Creator of the universe Himself hates divorce, so don't take it from me, take it from Him.

Christianity ain't for the popular... or is it popularity ain't for Christians?

Friday, November 13, 2009

I've been thinkin' about a lot of stuff (most of which I'm not going to mention) but one of them is that once someone really tries to live for God and does their best to honor Him, any amount of popularity or coolness goes out the window in the minds of "the world".

Not that I was ever really popular. It's just that people on average seemed to talk to me more and be more interested in what I have to say. No one wants to hear "don't spit in God's face if you want His grace". People are much happier carrying out their lives as if He's not around, living in sin or whatever else, than having someone there to remind them (audibly or by example) that He's there, watching. I had an interesting experience recently where I dropped in on some very beloved people when they weren't expecting me and stumbled across some old-fashioned drinking and partying. It was different, to see their reactions and the way they spoke to me. I didn't say a word about it, but you could tell it was like Jiminy Cricket just walked in the room, and - oops! - I didn't know SHE was gonna be here. :P

I remember being kind of hurt that day, because the whole reason I dropped in was to spend some time with someone I love who had made plans with me earlier then decided to cancel. I held back the tears on my drive over, because I'd been missing that person so badly and couldn't understand why they would decide not to come see me. When I came over, it took a while for all of what was going on to sink in. It was like the dimmer switch of a light was slowly going up, and all the darkness and confusion in my mind was being illuminated. I would say that I discovered that what had gone on that day was nothing personal, but it was personal. I was left out (in a sense) because this was to be a party day, a day of good-ol'-worldly-fun, and they couldn't invite me to it because that's not who I am anymore. My affection for God drove a barrier between me and these dear people, and I hadn't even realized it until I walked in. My mind was then left with questions: "How long has this been going on?" "What did I do that made them think they couldn't tell me about this?" "What do they think about me?" "Whose idea was this?" And so on...

I think about popularity, and I realize that was one of the things that always seemed to evade me in life. My loved ones found it so easily (though they'll deny that to this day), but I've always been a bit too strange, too awkward, and more recently, too "Christian". I'm not saying I WANT or even NEED to be popular, I'm just kind of contemplating here. I didn't have to say a word, yet no one wanted me to be there... I wonder if they think I look haughtily down from my high, lofty place as a Christian of perfection and scoff at their evil, sin-stained lives. I thought they knew me well enough to know better.

Writer's Block

Sunday, October 04, 2009

Flubber hubber wubber blubber
Dappy, doodle doo

Yakkernoodle, Snickerdoodle
Willy nilly, you

Crackerjack, a bric-a-brac
Silly, slammy joe

Hope you grow, that's where it's at
Just don't know where to go

Gimme, lemme, cantchasee
Got lotsa time to spare

Momma said it'd be your dread
if yagotson dirty underwear.

(Yeah, I was bored... :P )

Brutally BLUNT.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

BLUNT. Tired of beating around the bush.
Current mood: disgusted

You annoy me
Don't make me say it again
You perturb me
The irksomeness won't end

You drive me crazy
And no, we're not talkin good
You let me down again
Like I always knew you would

They said, "Give it another chance"
They said, "Just be more understanding"
But I knew you'd only take and take
Your drama's so demanding

So just go away, for all I care
You don't listen to me anyhow
You're so stinkin' frustrating
Why don't you leave now?

I can't wrap my mind around your thoughts
I'm sickened by your actions
You run around like a donkey in heat
Looking for sexual distraction

You prance around like sex is free
Go on and get an STD
You already pay no mind to me
Maybe if you get it, you will see

Life is not a game to play:
Not "Whoever has the most boys, wins"
Your values make me stop and think,
Your morals make me cringe.

And to think, your upbringing was better than this
Your loved one would roll in her grave
Your drugs, your boys, your hatred for God
These all make you who you are today.

What do I do?

Monday, July 27, 2009

You change your mind like a Hanes model changes her chonies
You can't decide what's right or wrong, how to get along
Everything to you is so very dramatic
Nothing is calm, you're sad or fantastic

You play the game of "What can I fill my body with next?"
You're always on drugs - that's you at your best
I can't stand to see you the way that you are
I'm sick of reading your updates, you take things too far

Is life just a game to you?
You talk as if you're the star
Of the sad show that makes you
Just who you are

I want to help you, but you won't tell me how
You have people who need you, but you're busy now
You're bogged down by depression and high on pot
You think things are fine, but I know they're not.

Look at Me!

Monday, June 15, 2009

Look at me – Look at me!
I've got “candy-apple” skin;
They've torn apart my limbs – look at me!

Look at me!
Their vacuum ripped me out;
Where's their “No Harm”
oath now? - Look at me!

She took a pill to starve me;
They don't want her to hold me
She'll close her eyes so she can't see -
Why won't my mommy look at me?

They say I'm just a lump of flesh;
They say I'm merely “pregnancy”;
If that is true and you believe,
Why can't you bear to look at me???

June 15, 2009
10:31 AM

Ignorance is bliss... but ignorance kills

Friday, June 12, 2009

I am small, humble, obscure - hidden in a safe place
Yet my minute frame is a heated debate topic

Am I or aren't I?
So much hangs on the answer to this question...

But so few are truly willing to seek out the answers. Let me speak:

My heart beats and pumps my own blood.
I can comprehend what's taking place around me. I recognize and favor my mother's voice.

I can taste. I have emotions. I scowl, pout, and turn my head.
I feel every pain that pervades my body.

I have fingerprints. I have toes.
I think my own thoughts... yet you do not treasure them enough to uncover what they are.

The horror that my peers have faced, the silent screams...
Silent because you cannot hear, or because you do not wish to listen?

Will you hold me in your arms? Will you allow someone else to love me?
Or will you cast me away as a scrap of trash, unworthy and undeserving of that chance?

I AM a human life, I AM a child...

I am an unborn 20 week old baby...
Handle me with care.

-Jenn, 6/12/09

How conciliatory

How conciliatory your words!

How graciously they flow forth,

showering love upon me and begging my understanding.

How contradictory your words!

How effortlessly they flow forth,

showering betrayal upon me and forcing my compliance.

You are not who I thought you were -

You are not my trustworthy, faithful friends.

I was just a means by which you received compliments,

An endless droning of grateful agreement.

I was a pawn and you played me well;

a satisfactory fool: a used and useless tool.

Words cannot express what I lost in you

when you revealed what you never had in me.

Respect, admiration, and trust:

All this time I'd treated you as a friend while you warily regarded me as the enemy.

This is the second time I've been betrayed, but at least the first time I was betrayed with a spit.

No betrayal hits harder or hurts more than to be betrayed with a kiss.

Perhaps I should thank you for opening my eyes:

I just wish you hadn't used a dagger to do it.

(written 2/22/09)

Wasted Energy (It's a blessing... and a curse)

Wasted Energy

I spend my life calling out to others,

Hoping they'll hear the song of my soul

I spend my time, crying out to others,

No one hears, they have no ears to

I'm writing poems about my mistakes,

Grateful for my successes

Yet it doesn't matter in the least bit

To the apathetic masses.

Will someone hear? Will someone

Will someone take this vapor of my

Does anyone care what I have to say,

Or are you all dying for me to give it
a rest?

I take my time, writing love to

Waiting for a polite reply

I take my hands, typing out their

No one cares, they have no heart to
hear me.

The poetry is all destroyed,

this body shakes at the thought.

My body will soon be destroyed,

All this fervent passion for naught.

Obsidian Sea (inspired by a Michael Sanville photograph)

Saturday, April 04, 2009

Here I stand,

Alone amidst an obsidian sea,

Waves crashing on the shore behind me,

And in front of me: an endless horizon.

My shadow reminds me of my past failures,

but that, too, is behind me.

Alone with my Maker, I breathe the briny air

It's as if He created this moment for me.

The events that led up to this moment are a distant memory -

Here and now, I bare my soul to the Lord, and it is all that matters.

Kick me Baby One More Time (Britney Spears) Parody

Saturday, May 24, 2008

(Dedicated to Mommies and Mommies-to-Be Everywhere)
I was bored and decided to write a parody of Britney Spears' "Hit me baby one more time". My version's about pregnancy:

Oh baby baby, oh baby baby

Oh baby baby, how was I supposed to know
That when you are inside here
Oh baby baby, I always have got to go
And no restrooms in sight, yeah
Show me how to be a mommy
Tell me baby cuz I need to know now, oh because

My nauseousness is killin' me (and I)
I must confess I still believe (still believe)
With all these hormones, I'll lose my mind
And when I unwind, you kick me baby one more time!

Oh baby baby, I cannot breathe 'cause of you -
Your butt's up in my lung
Oh pretty baby, theres nothin' that I wouldn't do
My mom said childbirth stung

Show me how to be a mommy
Tell me baby cuz I need to know now, oh because


Oh baby baby, how am I supposed to know
Oh pretty baby, my stretch marks are proof you grow
I must confess that my achiness
Is killin' me now
Don't you know I still believe
That you're safe right here
And give me a sign, kick me baby one more time


I must confess (my nauseousness) that my achiness
(is killing me) is killing me now
(I must confess) don't you (I still believe) know I still believe
That you're safe right here (I can't unwind)
And give me a sign...
Kick me baby one more time!

To my Firstborn (and all my future children)

You're a little bean inside me
You can't yet see or hear
I'm only five weeks pregnant-
You haven't eyes or ears
But you're still my little angel
My blessing sent from God
You're my sweet little baby
For now, I'm all you've got.

As you grow, on through the years
My hopes and fears will collide
You'll make me want to scream-
But even then, I'll be your guide.

I know I can't be everywhere,
But I'll always be here
I know I can't be everything
But I'll always hold you dear
Now, you won't tell me everything
But I'll be a listening ear
And if you scream, afraid at night-
I'll try to calm your fears.

Yes, I'm a youngish mommy
And I may not know much
But I have the sense to know
I'm longing for your touch.
I'll count your little fingers and
I'll count your little toes.
I'll see your widened eyes and
I'll touch your little nose.
I'll shower you with kisses
'Till you're hungry, then
I'll feed you 'till you're full
And kiss you yet again!

You're my little baby now,
Asleep inside my womb
All comfy-like and cozy-
We'll meet somewhat soon.

Your daddy loves you too, sweetheart
He's grinnin' ear to ear-
Every time I call him "Daddy",
His face lights up with cheer.
We know we can't be everywhere,
But we'll always be here
We know we can't be everything
But we'll always hold you dear
Now, you won't tell us everything,
But we'll be a listening ear
And if you scream, afraid at night,
We will calm your fears.

You oughta know I love you
And daddy loves you, too-
But there's a debt that we all owe,
That we can't pay for you.
All the love we have for you
Could never be enough
To straighten out the crookedness
And smoothen out the rough-

God knew this, and so He sent
HIS one and only son-
The son he showered with kisses
When he made love so fun-
To come to earth, to pay the price
Sad price he had to pay
Everything was cold and lonely
For three long, sorry days
'Till on the third- the sun was shining!
The Son was shining, too-
'Cause he finally paid the debt
For daddy, me and you!

He gave us all a promise-
And those he never breaks-
That if you only call on Him,
He'll do whatever it takes.
He'll bring you flowers in the spring
And kisses from loved ones
He'll make your heart so full it sings
And never do you wrong.

Daddy and I can only love
'Cause Jesus showed us how
We can only do so much
In worship, we do bow-

We know we can't be everywhere,
But God is always here
We know we can't be everything,
So hold your Everything dear
Now, you won't tell us everything,
But Jesus is all-ears-
And if you cry, afraid of life,
He'll wipe away your tears.

-Jenn W.
Written 1/13/08

To the Ladies, in love

To the ladies in love...

This is not to all of you... but this is to some of you. Feel free to message me about this.

I'm tired of these lies and this sugared coating
Sick of these desperate girls and the pretend world they live in
I scream out truth to them, but their ears are deaf
They hear nothing but what they want to hear.

I'm done with this useless, vain repetition
Disheartened by the lack of sincerity
Disgusted with the guys that tote them around like prizes,
while, like idiots, girls chase after their baited hooks.

Put muscles on an obstinate, pig-headed boy, and to them, he's golden;
Place a smile just right, enveloping white teeth, and you have them-
Take the hormones that rage and disguise it in loving concern,
Leave out God and advice from people who really DO care, and they're done.

Wasted girls, used-up girls, this world is full of them
Why do you feel like you have to be one of them?
Your eyes are blind to what's so obvious to the wiser
Yet you assume that we're crones and just bitter.

If you would let me, I could open your eyes, for the evidence is all around you:
"I love you," he says, but "Bros before Hoes"... his profile pic is not of you, but of his own body. Can't you see that he's infatuated with himself? How can he love you when he's only concerned with himself?

You're a walking contradiction, and I hear it in your words:
"He's the best of the bunch", but then you change your mind
Boys who use words like they use don't care about you, your spirit, or your mind
They're after your body, dear- I know their kind.

How would you feel if a complete nerd called you those words?
Or a stranger that you didn't know? You'd react differently? You know you would!
So why do you put up with it from him? 'Cause he's pretty, huh?
Do you honestly think he's gonna hold you when the world turns its back? You think he's gonna let you cry in his arms one day and expect NOTHING in return?

You're tearing us up... because WE'RE the ones that truly care-
When you were growing up, WE were the ones there-
We tried to hold you, to show you real love, but you were distracted.
You're taking the love we and God have for you for granted.

You're on a road that has no easy end- once you pass "Go," it's hard to get back
We're warning you now, so you don't follow that path
But our pleas fall on deaf ears, and our hearts are broken-
Over and over, you're killing us...

But you don't care... because he says, "I love you..."

Jenn 1/7/08 9:21 PM

Ezekiel 16

Tribute to Joe Reynolds

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

A Soldier Coming Home

"Welcome our soldier into the gates-
Reward him for his faithfulness.
Welcome our trekker through the doors-
He's finally come home.

Give him his crown, adorned with jewels,
for rarely has he complained
Give him his robe, whiter than snow
for he will never sin again.

Arrange a reunion for his loved ones here
Let his mother be the first to see him
She's spent two years preparing his place
at my table to welcome him.

Give our soldier a place of honor
for he's inspired so many
to be determined and fight the good fight;
He's surely finished the race.

Let him prepare a place at my table
for the loved ones he left so suddenly
Truly, their places will be the best-
Proof of Joe's undying perseverance."

Written at 7:02 AM on 9/12/07

This is how I imagine the Lord welcomed Joe home... with high esteem and honor.


Friday, August 31, 2007


The leaves rustled in the wind as I sat on my garage roof. There was nothing quite like sitting up there and catching the scent of flowers in the air as the sun warmed my back. I quietly sang the first song I could think of as I closed my eyes and thought about life. This was my place of relaxation, where I could forget about my already-troubled, young life.

I had a lot to think about when I climbed the tree that stood right next to the roof. My mother and father's relationship seemed to spiral endlessly downward in those days, and as a result, I didn't feel very loved or appreciated. I constantly compared myself with my overacheiving sister who was, by far, more social than I. I dreampt about being whisked away to some fantasy land, where all was right with the world and everyone loved me for who I was. I shed many tears on that old garage.

Looking back, life wasn't as bleak as I imagined it to be when I was young. My mother and father did love me, but there was so much going on that they neglected to spend the time with me that I hoped for. My sister wasn't competing with me, she was trying to do her best. Yet I needed those times of solace to console me in my grief. The wind never criticized, the flower-buds never scorned me. Life was good atop that roof, and I will never forget the calm that permeated through my soul due to my time spent there.

My thoughts on abortion

Friday, August 31, 2007

Take a look outside any abortion clinic. What do you see? You see picketers protesting the death of unborn babies, usually with nauseatingly vivid pictures of unborn fetuses that have met their untimely demise. These people are passionately against any human death, regardless of the age of the infant. The truth is that we all know that child is alive in the womb. From the moment of conception, that baby is growing and waiting for a chance to see the light of day.

Many pro-choice activists bring up some very hard-to-answer questions on what can go wrong with a pregnancy. They bring up such questions as, "What if the woman was raped?" "What if the child is deformed?" and, "What if the mother is too young to care for a baby?"

I personally have an answer to each of these questions, and my own set of possible solutions for each problem.

If a woman was raped, as difficult as it would sound to most, I believe that the woman should not penalize the product of rape for the fault that belongs only to the rapist. Therefore, if it is possible by any means, I think the woman should carry the child until birth, at which time she could put the child up for adoption. I have several reasons for this. First, no matter how young, a life is a life. To abort a baby is to extinguish a life. There are several cases of mothers that have aborted babies and dealt with horrendous guilt. There are also cases of mothers that have gone through abortions and suffered severe damage to their uterus and other vital reproductive organs. This can cause health problems that haunt those mothers for the rest of their lives. Finally, I say that the mother should put the child up for adoption because there are many couples that are trying to have children and are unable to. These parents would love a chance to care for a child, but as it is, there aren't enough children to accommodate the many parents vying for a child. However, there ARE almost the same amounts of people getting abortions as those who desire children and are unable to do so. It would be such a wonderful thing for a woman to see beyond her pain and do what's best for her unborn child!

A deformed child. That leaves a bad taste in most peoples' mouths. Yet I say a life is worth a CHANCE at life. There are many children, teens, and adults that have passed through my life and made an astounding impact on me that some would consider "damaged" or "deformed". The idea that a baby with a defect should be thrown out in an attempt to get a more perfect baby sounds uncomfortably like "Survival of the Fittest". If we condone the abortion of unborn, malformed babies, are we not advocating an infant holocaust? What difference is there between Hitler's obsession with the perfect and ours?

If a teen mother is unable to care for her child, I defer again to my position on putting the child up for adoption. I won't waste your time by restating what I already said on this subject, so I'll move onto a subtopic of abortion: contraception. I personally don't think anyone should engage in sexual acts unless they are fully ready for the possibility of bringing a new life into this world; however, since that idea is both unreasonable and unhelpful considering the condition of living we're accustomed to, it's best for people engaging in sexual acts to use the proper protection. By this I mean condoms for men, and even birth control for women. This does not, in my opinion, constitute as "killing" a child, because a condom prevents the egg from ever being fertilized, and the birth control is doses of estrogen that fool a woman's body into thinking she is pregnant, thereby inhibiting the possibility of pregnancy. I consider both methods acceptable ways to avoid ever having to grapple with the ethics of abortion.

There are ways to avoid dangerous and disastrous situations, we just need to look harder to find them. A baby is a life that should never have to be penalized for his or her parents' bad decisions. Pregnancy can be avoided as easily as drinking and driving. If we are wise enough to think before we drink and drive, we should be wary enough to make better choices about our personal lives.

Her Story (Original Version)

Thursday, August 16, 2007

You see the torn and dirty clothes that hang about my body, yellow eyes and rotted teeth. You smell the stench of sweat-soaked (days old) clothes; the odor of the garbage I rummage through to find my food. You cannot feel my hopelessness and despair, or understand my vices, and you will never hear, as I do, children's desperate cries as they wretchedly withstand another night without food. You don't think you are me. I am nobody.

Do you think that I don't hear your remarks about me? Do you think I don't see your nose turn up in disgust as you walk past me? As the sounds of my own lonely march echo through my ears, do you think that I can't feel the bugs crawling in my hair?

You consider me below you. A useless, repulsive cancer of society. My cracked, darkened skin and unkempt hair are the antithesis of those pictured in your tabloids, and rightfully so. What maddened psychopath could ever want to photograph this?

The sound of sirens at night and a crack dealer's hushed whispers are my lullaby. The grime covering my hands and the grease covering my jacket are my feeble protection against those who would harm me. I feel the shame that comes with my disgrace as vividly as the aching of my feet at the end of a day's journey to nowhere.

The garbage can is a treasure to me. There I find stale, discarded bread, spoiled and curdled milk, and fat left over from a coveted prime-rib steak… but prime-rib steak is for people: fat is for beggars. This meal will be all I eat today.

You look at me as if I am sub-human. Yet, I was you. When I was younger, I taught your children about the love of God in Sunday school. Seeing them learn and knowing their excitement brought joy to my heart. I prayed for them constantly and when their hearts were broken, my heart broke with them.

Not long after becoming a Sunday school teacher, I fell in love with my best friend, Anthony. He was such a kind-hearted man, and swept me off my feet. Nothing on this earth could have stopped me from marrying him. I knew we were meant to be together for the rest of our lives.

I gave birth to my first child 2 years after we got married. His name was Alex, and he was my warrior. Alex decided at a young age that he wanted a brother or sister, which Anthony and I had been considering as well, so when Alex was 3, I gave birth to Katie. She was the light in my eyes and the sparkle in my soul.

When Alex got old enough for school, I joined the PTA, and frequently baked cookies for the other parents. They couldn't get enough of my chocolate chip cookies, and I couldn't get enough of the stories they told me about their own adventures in raising children! People once admired me for the hard work and love that I put into my family. I had many fellow parents come up to me, telling me that they didn't understand how I could do it. I always told them that my love got the best of me. In those days, I was a jewel, but to you I am rust.

You never took time to hear my story. You never gave me a second thought. You never thought to ask me my name, and now my name is gone.

If you had asked, I would have told you about the car accident. Everything I knew and loved died that day; broken bodies beyond repair. Anthony, Alex, and Katie were rushed to the emergency room, and I spent every penny I had trying to pay for the medical help they needed. The day they were taken off life support because I could no longer pay the bills was the most sorrow-filled day of my life. I didn't even get to tell them goodbye… I couldn't.

For nine years, I had lived for the joy of my husband and children. I wasn't a working mom; I considered raising my kids the best investment I could make. In one fell swoop, all that made me thrive was taken from me. How could life be so cruel as to take them from me? Why did this have to happen?

I'd lost my strength, my resolve, and my sense of purpose. Without a desire to live and without the resolve to die, I resigned myself to the streets, to become one of the living dead. To you I am another nameless, homeless woman on the streets, an easy face to forget. Yet I can never forget… never will I forget the nightmare that torments me both day and night, and continually brings me back to the place of weeping and gnashing of teeth – my only solace: a dim street light and a newspaper to shield myself from the cold.

(This is her story, and the story of so many others like her.)

A Calling Unwillingly Aborted

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

a mission torn asunder

a fault-ridden blunder

a love too blind to see

'til 'twas too late for me.

an energy spent

none will repent

an everlasting sigh

she won't wonder why.

a takeover of an intelligible kind

seeps thru the eyes and into the mind

defenseless due to naive ignorance

thoughts of such make her wince.

psychology of the worst degree

abuse of one who's genuinely

trying to figure out her place:

legacy's gone, without a trace.

Original title :h i n s h n j a h i r n s h! (Beatles)

a wonderful year to start out
had plenty of reason to shout
a time when i could unwind
and now i'm losing my mind

things can go wrong in plenty of ways
somehow it happens mostly in may
the month that should be a celebration:
the breeding ground for my consternation

yet i'll have joy despite the rain
and strength while going insane
i bet things wouldn't bother me nearly as much
if only i could raise my hands and feel your touch

yet, every closed door leads to an open one
new beginnings happen when we think we're done
every frowning face is a prelude to a smile
i know pain must happen every once in a while

so here i sit, and bite my lip, and pray a little prayer
because my God knows no facade, and Someone out there cares.

11:12 PM

The kitten of wonderfulness :D

Friday, April 27, 2007

an odd dream... in story form... i dreampt this at least a month before its original post.

We felt like we were dumped here by some cosmic hand. Hungry and helpless, we didn't know where we were. There was, however, an odd feeling of contentment, for though this may be our new prison, far worse prisons we had seen.

We resolved ourselves to try to accustom to this land of desert dirt, tables, stoves, and skillets. Our hunger took control and eating was our first priority. Some moaned our sorry state as seeds rained down upon us. The seeds were fairly large (about the size of sunflower seeds) and didn't hurt when they rained down; it was a similar feeling to that of an itch being scratched all over.

Those that had chosen to moan moaned even louder as the seeds came, because the seeds would only continue to pelt and harass them. Upon closer inspection of the seeds, I devised a plan. As far as I could tell, those seeds looked much like the stuff that fell from the sky in the book of Exodus. These seeds were larger… and had a hard shell, but nonetheless, this gave me an idea. I looked at one of the tables and found a small metal nutcracker that I was sure hadn't been there before. Taking it into my hand, I held the seeds between the two crushing sides and soon had cracked open a substantial amount of seeds. I took the end of the nutcracker and began crushing the seeds into a moist powder. As I molded this new stuff into a cake shape, I tried to remember how it was long after they received this blessing that they started to complain again. I prayed a silent prayer that I would not have to be in this unknown land for forty more years on account of the complaints of others.

In the same fashion that I had found the metal nutcracker, I found a can of Pam cooking spray and a container of Canola oil. I sprayed the Pam into the skillet and started to fry our manna. After I had given the first cake to the person sitting closest to me at the table, I decided the next one would be for me to eat.

I began frying my manna-cake and got distracted by the canola oil. I wasn't sure if I'd sprayed Pam into the skillet, or if I'd poured Canola oil into it. This preoccupied me so much (the thought of accidentally mixing the two oils together) that by the time I gave my attention back to the frying of the manna, I realized that I had burned it.

Just then, I heard a loud noise, though I wasn't sure what it was. I looked the way of it, and saw someone who was obviously accustomed to the desert, coming toward me.

"Rescuers!" I thought, "They'll know the way out of here!"

I started toward him, with a smile on my face. It was then I realized that he had no smile on his.

"That cake," he said, without a shred of kindness, "You know how to make it?"

"Yes…" I replied, "I could make one for you, if you'd like." Then, looking down at my burned cake: "I burned this one, though. I could make you your own. This one was going to be for me anyhow."

As I said this, he was flanked by a few (but considering the large amount already in our Israelite group, there were many) of his own men. I asked him how many of them there were. (I'd tried to count, but gave up trying because I didn't want to point and be rude.)

His response to my question was, "I don't know how many there are."

"Don't know?! Alright, I know what to do!" I said cheerily as I ran to the man on my farthest left and stood there, looking from him to the middle, where the dark man I'd been talking to stood, and then to the man on the farthest right, at the end of the line.

"This man will start the count off by saying 'One,' the next man will say 'Two,' and so on and so forth until I know how many there are for me to feed! Ready? And go!"

My enthusiasm was met by empty, nay, even angry, stares. I had just assumed that they could all speak my language as their leader had, and I had either been wrong to assume that or done some wrong in their eyes, because before I knew it, my people were being enslaved and I was being dressed in a dark blue ritual garment that flowed and had a long train-piece. The enemy took me and placed me upside-down on a wooden structure, hanging by ropes tied to my ankles. For a moment I tried to imagine what the Lord had gone through, when they nailed his hands to the cross. It was so real to me in that moment; I thought I saw my accusers nail me to the wooden boards.

This place had gone quickly from being a land of the unknown to being the place that God lived, and just as quickly as that had happened, it shifted again into being a place of torment and suffering. Perhaps then you will understand why my natural response was to remember that of my Lord's: "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?" I cried out in as loud a voice as I could, pleading with the Lord to come and remember me. I knew that this place would be the place of my death if no one heard me.

As I began to lose my voice, I continued to cry out until my throat was raw. While I hung there by my feet, I saw a flash of orange under me… it looked like a housecat 1,000 times its normal speed. It stood and became a man. The long train-piece of the garment they had forced me to wear started at my neck and went down my back and behind me when I was on my feet. Since I was quite the opposite, the train-piece hung down to the ground from my neck, which was amazing because of how high up I was. The man began to climb the train, and though you would have thought he'd be a strain on my ankles, it was as if he weighed next to nothing. Somehow (though you can be assured, I have no clue as to how) he loosed me and set my back on the ground.

I now saw a cat that looked much like the one I had at home. It spoke to me without an audible voice and I trusted it wholeheartedly. It started to make very short dashes (short for it because it was so fast) that were difficult for me to keep up with. Since the dashes were so effortless, the cat would stop and wait for me while it cleaned itself. I found this rather amusing, and it almost made me laugh. The dark man's minions would often walk by, but the cat had told me to put my head down and lie very still wherever I was, and they'd not take me into account. I found this to be true once when I was slinking in a sort of aisle, on the very end of it, and the men came by. They were marching, and I was so close that I saw their shadows. They could have clearly seen me, had they been looking, but I surmise that they weren't a very observant people.

I passed though a building (the same that had the aisles in it) and saw my people in chains, kept in dark, dank places and, I suspected, just as hungry as they had been before this tragedy. I saw my friend; the first person I'd given a cake to, and his sister, whom he'd shared it with. They were behind a fence in the building, and I was separated from them. The cat was still dashing about, but I told it to wait as I tried to promise them that they'd be rescued. As I tried to console them, one of the dark man's guards heard me and realized I'd escaped. Soon the place was in frenzy as he tried to find a way around the fence and other men poured in from different directions.

I tried to run, but I still couldn't keep up with the cat. Out of breath and knowing that the men could catch up to me, I asked him without words if he could carry me. The cat immediately took me on its back, and we were on our way out. Ahead of me (in the same direction I'd seen the dark man come from) was what looked like a wall that had been boarded up with various crates. We barreled through it and landed safe on the other side.

We were now in a land very familiar to me, and just as sure that it was familiar, I knew that I'd never set foot in it before. It had well-formed rock formations like that of Utah, but I knew I was not there. I felt at home here… strangely at home. There was nothing eerie about this place; I only felt loveliness and security. There was music coming from everywhere: music I'd known all my life. And the people walking this land were all old friends that I'd known at one time or another. There was a sweet smell in the air; the smell of flowers on a warm, breezy spring day. The song that played now was, ironically, one that had been playing in my head as I rode the cat out of the dark land. I watched in amazement as my friends strolled by.

Just then, one of my friends looked up toward a rock formation with a look of disgust on her face.

"Ugh, who's playing this music? It's AWFUL!!!"

I'm not altogether sure why, but in that moment, my heart broke a little. She continued to walk, not seeing me, and I began to cry.

"Cat," I said, "Why do they do this? Why do they ridicule my heart's song?"

Cat looked up at me with a sad look in his eyes and said, "They don't know any better. They're caught up in themselves and don't see the harm it does to you."

We continued to walk in this land, which I now knew was the land of my heart. It felt everything I had ever felt in severe intensity. The joys were unspeakably wonderful; the sorrows insurmountable. I felt grateful to have the cat with me, for I knew I could not survive this land alone. We soon came to the house that my family had moved into in Cherry Valley. Actually (and I'm not sure why) we came to the house in front of ours.

I looked into the windows from the curb of the street and saw brilliant colors bouncing around the walls of all the rooms. Everything in that house looked wonderful, beautiful, and new.

I asked the cat what this was, and he said, "This was when you fell in love with Camron. Everything was glorious and filled with wonder."

I smiled as the emotions of that time swirled about in my head. I knew that I was in that house, happy and loving life.

"This is a really good time, then, isn't it, Cat?"

"For you, yes," said the cat, with a somewhat grim look.

Completely shocked that this time could be anything but a joyful one, I looked at the cat and asked, "What do you mean?"

"You were so thrilled with where your life was going at that time, that you hardly paid attention to anyone else's. Not everyone was going through something joyful, and they wanted to talk to their leaders about it. But they knew not to disturb you in your joyful state."

I thought back to the place of the dark man, to being a prisoner and feeling abandoned. It was then that I realized that I had imprisoned some of my friends and left them abandoned in their pain.

"But it WAS a joyful time!" I pleaded with the cat to understand that I didn't mean any harm, and that I did think I was entitled to joy at that time of my life.

"You WERE entitled to joy, or else the Father wouldn't have given it to you. But had you just been a listening ear when you were needed, that entire room would have shared in your joy instead of feeling left out."

God's Hand

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

You might think that a tragedy is just that: a tragedy. But I know now that when things don't go quite the way we planned it, God is using that situation to bring about a better thing. That's not to say that God CAUSES pain, but he does use it. Some of the most tragic events in my life have been the starting point for something good to happen.

My grandmother's death: My grandma, Darlene, had cancer when we moved out to this area. We actually moved here so my mom could take care of her. I know that I prayed for her to get healed, but she wasn't. She died, and I didn't understand what was going on. Later on in my life, though, I realized that had it not been for my gramma being in bad health, we wouldn't have moved here, and I wouldn't have been around the people that influenced me and talked to me about being a Christian. And if my gramma hadn't died, my mom's life probably wouldn't have gotten so bad that she knew she needed divine help. God used those circumstances to help me grow, and also to help my parents grow. Many times, we've chosen the hard way to do things, but God is faithful each time and picks us up, spurring us on to continue life's hard journey.

My best friend's death: Amber died while I was on my honeymoon. I was somehow strong enough to withstand the viewing and funeral without thinking, "Why, God?" but later on, though the months, I found myself in pain. I guess the shock just wore off. At any rate, I found myself angry at God for taking her away when I so badly wanted her to stay here. She was only 17, and again, I didn't understand. There's still a lot that I don't know, but what I do know is this: God brings people into our lives through our loved ones who have died, and it's our duty to care for those people as that person would. I'm not sure exactly why Amber was called home that day, but I know that, if there is a right timing for someone to leave this earth at such an early age, God chose the right timing. I know He will reveal all the reasons to us later, but this is what I know so far.

National tragedies, such as Columbine, Virginia Tech, and the World Trade Centers: Again, let me say that God did not cause these to happen. But God did not let evil reign in the sense that we were overwhelmed and lost all hope. God gives us a spirit of strength and dignity through these hard times, and a willingness to band together. This togetherness is vital to us. It helps us forget our trivial problems and lets us support and love one another, as is needed during times of hardship. No, God doesn't even let tragedy go to waste. He uses it all and reties the loose ends to still carry out His divine plan.

Every hardship, no matter how hard or small, whether it was imposed upon us by evil in the world, or whether it's "friendly fire"... God uses it all and is able to make great things come of it. Just watch a flower as it grows. Something disgusting, that nobody wants to be around, is its bed. The vulnerable seed is stuck, trapped in manure, and seemingly buried. But it grows. And the sun... the sun is nice and something we all appreciate, but if all that little flower gets is sun, it dies before its time. YET rain, as hated as it is sometimes, pours down over that flower, along with the sunshine, and it continues to grow. Sometimes the things that we appreciate least and most want to get out of are the very things that are helping us to grow.

Don't look with doubt, fear, or depression into your seemingly hopeless circumstance. God's holding the open door for you on the other side, and this is just life training. Learn what you can... nobody ever learned anything with their head down and their eyes lowered.

God bless you all!

About healing and dear little old ladies. :)

sweeps in from your prescence

you are still here
you still care

the ones who died for your cause did not die in vain
the sweat and tears they shed have persevered

do not say that miracles were for the early church, and not today;
i have seen visible proof

my tia angie, who was bound to a wheelchair; a walker, at best
got up and praised the Lord last night

not only did she stand; she danced before her Father
with tear-filled eyes and words of gratitude

it was not her time to sit;
it was her time to be used by the Lord.

many people say many things about christians...
many christians give Jesus a bad name;
but tia angie, with a heart full of love for others,
and a heart full of love for God,
danced with her Daddy last night.

5:41 PM

Harsh Words and Thoughtless Actions

You pick me up, you take me out
But you never want to hold me
You give me old letters, you bring me dry flowers
What I am to you is no mystery

You treat me lke dirt, give me broken gifts
Don't think I don't know how selfish you are
You keep it all to yourself, 'til it's no good
But you never let me go too far.

You don't appreciate me 'til I'm gone
And when i'm back, it's all the same
You won't admit when you were wrong
And you even forget my name.

You cheat on me and you use me
I never hear you say, "Thank you."
You leave me in the cold all night
To dump me in the morning dew!

You know you need me but you hurt me
Throw me around like I'm nothing
I do my best to please you
But for you, it's always something.

"You stink!" you say! And "You're nasty!"
But I know that it's you, not me
And then you tell me that I'm fat!
Believe me, I've had enough of that!

I've put up with you for far too long
I'm tired of your cigarette ash
Maybe someday you'll open up your eyes
And think twice about how you treat trash!!

9:54 AM

a poem written about and dedicated to abused TRASH CANS everywhere.

had you goin', didn't I? :)


a write i will have
i will have a write
give me a hot day & i'll give you
a cold night
if all i am is all i've done
i need more time, fight's never won
another scream, another dream
another smiling face
i'm always rushing
off to something
i've got no hours to waste
every drop of time is poured
into others, not the Lord
the word "secure"
is so demure
a liar and a flirt
and on the day
i feel that way
i pray you'll be alert.

5:06 pm

How it is

Lord, i am nothing
what do you want from me?
Lord, i know nothing
how could you teach me?
For i am ignorant, stubborn
resistant to the goodness that is you.

i haven't a thing to offer you
but pain- my pain and the pain
i'll inflict on you.

covered in this leprosy of humanness
my flesh and limbs fall off-
i see you coming and scream "unclean!"
until my throat is raw and my mouth tastes of blood.

yet you do not back down.
you speed your pace, looking purposefully into my eyes.
you venture toward me and tell me you love me.
your words healed me before
your miracles ever did.

still, you give and i take
i holler, "injustice!"
when you take away what's yours-
all of mine is only on loan- even my life.

i'm an obstinate, naive child,
love me.

2:32 PM

derob... derob yrev

give me something to do
before i explode
i tried to take it today
but i'm about to die of boredom-

"what a gut-wrenching death!"
he'll cry-
"my wife... she died
of boredom!"

"what an uneventful cause
of death-
boredom bored out
her last breath!"

all the youth group
would moan and scream
and shriek-

for as boring as i was,
even i did not deserve
such a cruelly stifling chapter
to grace the last pages of my book.

4:34 pm

The Ballad of the Most Intelligent Woman in the World (sarcasm speaking)

you impudent fool- you know nothing and i have won
i have all the skill and know you have none

i'm here to help, but instead i demean
i'm mother superior, yes, i am the queen

no answer is correct unless it matches mine
i'm so sharp-seeing; everyone else is blind

here, take this and that, you lout- you haven't any sense
for i got 4.0s in college-dare not venture hence!

for all i know compared to God is very minuscule
but as far as you know, it is I who rule.

it's not my own children i hold and coddle
it's my precious ego, an untouchable model

so draw back and away, you, with the doctorate degree
you'll never be nearly as learned as me!

9:15 PM

For Camron

Awaken my heart,

My love.

--> -->

Bring your kisses as

The morning brings the dew

That falls softly…


--> -->

May I always feel your lips

Pressed against my cheek:

Soft as a rose petal-

And softer yet.

--> -->

Wrap your arms around me,

Let your embrace be my home.

Before you say goodbye,

Hold me tightly.

--> -->

Speak your mind to me,

Share your


With me.

--> -->

Let me gaze

Into your mysterious eyes-

As busy as a forest,

Yet as calm and clear as a brook.

--> -->

Whisper your prayers.

Sing your songs.

Laugh carelessly.

Only let me be


--> -->

Let me be your


--> -->

May I be part of the reason

Behind that smile.

--> -->

May I have a piece

Of every prayer.

Include me in your dreams.

Seek me out.

Search for my love.

--> -->

Until your breath

Flows over me like a warm breeze,

My heart will



And yearn for you.

--> -->

The warm tears

That stream down my face

Can never match

The warmth I feel when I think of you…

Your love…

Your embrace.

--> -->

I grow weary, I become faint

When I think of you.

You make me weak in the knees.

--> -->

You don't just give your love to me,

You immerse me in it.

Freedom abounds.

--> -->

Though thousands of words exist,

None can describe what you mean to me.

Each word gets choked by my tears.

Yet my tears tell it all.

--> -->

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

About God, but Odd

Buried underneath all that I hold dear

There's a truth that's still so clear

Though letting it go is my great fear

--> -->

My brain's a mule without a fence

I float by ladies, dames and gents

Not one bothers to venture hence

--> -->

I give in to the will of forever

No matter how far under the weather

Knowing there's no such word as never

--> -->

As they all say, I continue to dream on

Through the vast wasteland and the steel dawn

The endless expanse, close with a yawn

--> -->

The marrow and veins of love had all leaked out

While mockers and fools led with a shout

Not one understood what it was about

--> -->

"My father's business" a voice is heard

The curtain is torn, social lines blurred

Sound of silence, no, not a word

--> -->

Here comes the night, it's what we expected

And we can't think we'll all be protected

It leaves every last one here dejected

--> -->

Some write iambic, some write prose

Yet three days later, there she goes

To the dead place, drowned in her woes

--> -->

Covered with undying gloom

To prepare her broken Savior whom

Was perfect since conceived in womb

--> -->

Finding herself at quite a loss

Her eyes with a small faint gloss

Feeling as if covered in dross

--> -->

'Twas her destiny to find

A man with sides and back all lined

For he bore the sins of all mankind

--> -->

The woman had gone down to weep

The soldiers must have fallen asleep

But death could not our Savior keep!

--> -->

The world is amassed and overgrown with haters

To me, myself, and I, selfish people cater

But as for the rest of us, call us waiters

--> -->
'Cause we know to wait until he comes back

The Lord, concerning his promise, not slack

His blessings we will never lack

--> -->

If we remember, and we bring

Our laughs and joy, and songs to sing

The gated pearls will always ring

--> -->

From now on to eternity

Outward and internally

Not void or infernally

His grace is life- eternally.

John Mark's Ballad of Sorts

Never again will I feel the pain
I'll never lean against wind and rain

For my life has finally met its end
And soon I'll be with my Savior again

No need to cry, no time to fear
Life so fragile, eternity near

Once brought down, I ran away
But now, through Him, I'm here to stay

They tore my flesh like chunks of meat
They dragged my body through the streets

No words could describe, nor could horrors tell
What grace to play second fiddle well

Yet, if all this is what sacrifice takes
Keep beating my body until it breaks.

1/15/07 5:30 PM

In honor of all the martyrs who showed us what it means to worship God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. But far greater than these is the ultimate sacrifice: Jesus Christ.

I love Him more than I love Camron

shining ethereal being, speak to me
for i am only who i am, i only have myself to offer

you laugh and open wide your eyes, trying to make me see
what you see

yet my heart cannot contain the
awful mix of joy and pain buried deep within you.

i sometimes think i must feel nothing
my heart's song is scratchy and dull to yours.

and yet you chase, you pursue me
when i dare not breathe in your direction.

your arms draw me near but your eyes draw me nearer
"draw me close to you... never let me go..."

caught up in the feeling of your touch,
you captivate me

no longer do i call you a being
for you are now my knight, my love.

i gather all the fragrant roses of my talents, knowledge, and beauty
and throw them down at your feet

does no one understand?
how could anyone live without this love?

we dance a dance of a thousand unspoken words
my mind is reeling as you kiss me

then, in my moment of greatest joy,
you bend down to me and lift up your sleeves

you show me the scars and how i put them there.
i drove the nails in by my own hand.

as i cry out in anguish, ashamed of the monster that i am,
you comfort me.

you tell me of how you've planned this all along,
how you've just been waiting for me.

it didn't end at the cross. you were meant to dance on your grave.

so though i don't understand, you pick up my hand
and ask me to dance one more dance.

i accept, not knowing what i did to deserve such forgiveness, and as we dance, you are swept away into the wind.

yet i clearly heard you whisper, "dance, my love, until i can join you again..."

Teen Angst?

keep on screaming

rip my heart open, tear at your own voice

you were only my parents, how could you know

that the pain that you spilled on me

would continue to flow

my uncle hears voices

that are not there

and as i speak to him, i realize

things will never be the same

another uncle visits

just after my grandma dies

and the void in my heart continues to grow

until the only thing i can think

will fill the ache is chasing after vanity of vanities.

i visited a church once

and the fire of the truth seared my soul

i had to change

had to stop abusing others out of my own pain.

i gave it all to God, or so i thought

but not

and i finally realized all these years later

that everyone was not against me...

i just had to make up my mind

who to follow.

10:18 pm 1/19/07

A Wii Little Poem

Race to a place -
It may be there

Wait hours in line
Keep patience intact

You will have it,
You must have it

All to find
They're gone.

Wake up early,
call around

Ask again...
Almost lose your mind

Call out of habit
expecting nothing

Wake your man
Jump and plan

Spend most of the day wondering,
all to find...

The Wii
is mine.

(a tribute to how long it took and how aggravating it was to find a Wii.)

What if they were gone?

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Tomorrow you will know
the pain of letting go

You've hated for so long
thinking everyone was wrong

But now it's gone, there's no way to go back
It's been so long, now your heart is stained black.

But would you do it over? If you could?
Would you see reality as you should?

Or just relive past mistakes?
and let your bitterness dig your grave?

I'm sorry that I'm blind, but the world doesn't hate you
You cry out in anger cause you're not catered to.

Perhaps I have no sympathy, perhaps I'm cold and cruel
Perhaps I'm just too ignorant and I've played the fool

But everyday people can only reach so far
and you can't feel loved when busy staring at your scars.

Valentine's Day 2004... Part Two

I was on the road of life, going towards God, but I had started caring more about people's opinions of me, and tried to look good to them. I decided to try to turn my life around, going the opposite direction that God wanted me to go, and I fell, hard. My world seemed crashing down around me and my ego went out the window. I realized how ugly I was and I didn't like it. I was numb... numb to God and numb to the things that once mattered to me.

I realized I didn't want to be this way forever, so I got help from people that I trusted and knew would not give me the wrong advice.

I had to get rid of the dirt, to clean up the wounds that I had gotten from the fall. I hated hearing how I would have to change, that I could no longer be as careless as I had been before.

That time in my life was filled with pain. I don't remember a whole lot, but I do remember much crying and screaming. I thought the pain would never end, and that nobody could ever know how much pain I was in. I had to try to be positive... to make people think I wasn't as hurt as I was.

Then, one day, I'm still not sure when, I realized it was gone.
I wasn't in pain anymore. I had been healed.

That scar was still there, but my heart had been healed.

During that time of pain, God also gave me joy.He gave me friends I could trust, that I loved, that helped encourage me in my walk with the Lord.

He gave me love letters.Some days, I would look at the sky and it seemed like He did all that work, just so I could see it at that moment.

He gave me hope: hope that I would one day walk with him and be beautiful to Him.

It was not until I fully submitted to Him and spent the time with Him He'd been pursuing me for, that I was able to shed the ugly masks I had once so proudly worn and stood before Him, vulnerable and broken. He took the grotesque ugliness of my sin and carefully crafted my character into that of a loving, caring woman. Of course I fell short, but now, when I fell, I knew exactly Who to run to, tears streaming down my face. For all the vanity and selfishness I had, for all the time I spent in front of the mirror those days, I had not even a whisper of the true, captivating beauty that only God can give.

Finally, through the course of the year (during which I had chosen not to date and instead focus on Jesus), God had, by his awesome might and power, transformed me into something lovely. A month before my year was up, my best friend of eight years fell in love with me in the middle of worship at a casting crowns concert.

Cam said that he knew, at that moment, that I was the one God had for him. I knew, at that moment, that I was having a very good time of worship. I love telling this story because it speaks volumes of how God operates. God is in the still, small voice, and if you're listening for a booming command, you may miss it. I did not instantaneously receive revelation of who I was to marry that night (although I must confess, I did have a strange feeling of being watched!). The Lord was so faithful to me in how He worked things out. I'd suffered such tragic endings looking for love and fulfillment on my own, yet when I was completely enthralled by his presence, he sets me up without my knowledge! God is so cool like that!

Cam kept silent the entire month (although he would sort of hint at things, which I chose to ignore, partially because I was supposed to not think about guys and partially because I thought he would NEVER fall in love with me) until November rolled around.

He told me of his affection at the end of a fun filled night of bowling and movies and Olive Garden. It was truly a magical night, albeit a little awkward at the end, considering I was not expecting such news. I wanted to say "YES!" right away, but had already experienced the downsides to emotional impulse. I told him I would pray about it, and six days later, we started the very beginnings of our two lives together.

Since then, I find that I'm learning new things every day, from him as a husband, and about how to better serve the Lord. I still have my selfish, ornery, spiteful moments, but the Lord has done much in me that I am grateful for. He is good!

Valentine's Day 2004... Part One

Here's my first blog, about a life-changing (and tough) experience, cleverly disguised by God as a fluke accident. :D

Valentine's Day... 2004

I went to my then-boyfriend's house, trying really hard to look sexy, wearing a little red dress and some black heels, with hair and makeup 'looking good'. Since it's valentine's day, I figure I'll seduce him like the girls in the movies do and have a "good time". I walk in the house (where all his friends are) and people start telling me how good I look, thus inflating my already over-sized ego. Soaking in all the compliments, I smile and thank everyone who noticed. At one point in the day, my boyfriend suggested that we ride a motorized scooter that his friend had. I didn't really want to, but I figured I'd be more appealing if I did what he wanted me to do. He weighed around 300 pounds at that time, and I weighed 130. He rode the scooter, then me, then him. The next time it was my turn, I (still in a little red dress and heels) went to turn the scooter around...

and the handlebars BROKE IN HALF as I was on the scooter!

Needless to say, I went flailing-hands-first toward the asphalt, rolling before I came to a stop, covered in dirt and road rash.

As I limped my gimpy-lookin' self back to the house, these thoughts ran through my mind:
"Ugh! I looked so good, and then this? "Valentine's day is ruined! I'm ugly now!"
"Stupid Curtis! I should have known better than to do this!"
"I'm so embarrassed!"

I think the first words I spoke going into the house were, "Curtis, your scooter's a piece of crap! It broke in half as I was on it!"

I said those words practically in tears, not because I was in so much pain (considering my body hadn't yet gotten over the initial shock of the partial skinning I'd gotten), but because I was ugly and dirty. I knew what I was planning would not happen now.

My boyfriend took me into the bathroom (or did I walk in there without waiting for him? I WAS embarrassed) and I started cleaning myself up as I cried, telling him that I wanted today to be special, or whatever...

That day, nothing happened.

Besides the fact that I was sore and could hardly kiss him without being in pain (I had road rash on my hands, knee, face, and arm) I just didn't feel like it anymore. I had such high hopes, and they were destroyed by one lame scooter.

The next day was a Sunday, and I decided to skip church. (Yes, that's right, folks, after all of my lewd thoughts and actions, I still considered myself a Christian!) I couldn't move without feeling pain. (The shock had worn off and every nerve felt like a firecracker on the fourth of July.) I think I did go to the night service... and that's where I heard the most horrible, terrifying, grotesque thing in my life: how to clean my wounds.

"Pour peroxide on it, and take the inside of a sock (the TEXTURED part) and RUB your knee with it, twice a day, to get the dirt out. After that, put an antibiotic ointment on it and wrap it in gauze. Do this EVERY day until the wound is gone."

There was, literally, a CHUNK of my knee missing... well, not a huge chunk, but still big enough for me to jokingly search for on the road after the incident. It was a deep wound, and I had to have my boyfriend pour peroxide on it, scrape it, put ointment on it and bandage it... but every day the pus and blood that was on there would soak into the gauze and dry, putting me in immense pain every day that he had to rip that thing off (and remember, he had to rip that thing off EVERY DAY).
All i can really remember about that time is lots of pain and screaming... crying, etc. It was not a fun time of my life. but one day, I was thinking...
Timmy weighs 300 lbs, and I weigh 130...
It didn't make any sense to me! I just sat there, pondering that fact, in pain, until:

"Maybe God was trying to tell me something. Maybe Timmy wouldn't have gotten it. Maybe it's not just a freak coincidence... What if I'm supposed to learn something from this?"

After all, I had been planning to do something that day that I knew was wrong.
I'd been going to church ever since junior high and had now graduated high school... and as I reflected about my choices in dating relationships, it did seem as if God had been trying to get my attention (so far, to no avail).

Eventually my wound had healed, and all that was left was an ugly scar.

It wasn't until November, after I had finally broken up with him and given myself more time to think about God, that I realized the full lesson of my painful scooter moment.

Blog Content/Disclaimer

*Disclaimer: I am starting out with my OLDEST blogs (a la myspace) and moving toward newer ones.*

Three things you can count on: 1. There will be stupid, pointless blogs that I wrote for the fun of it; 2. There will be grumpy, venting blogs, most of which are just reminders of how I felt at one time more than an example of how I feel now; 3. There will be the highly occasional, feel-good blog that is actually (hopefully) a joy to read. :P Don't say I didn't warn you. :D

Taking my recommended dose of blogspot

This blog is a direct product of my friends' prodding. My friend, Ronnie, suggested I start a blog, and when I offered that I knew of none that worked the way I hoped to, my other buddy, Angie, recommended blogspot, saying it was very easy. I have to say that based on my very limited experience, she's right! Anyhow, I'll now proceed to posting and uploading the dozens of poems and stories I've got on here. It'll be nice to have a place to put them all!