A Christmas Carol

How soft the sound of tears, how loud the laugh—
How soon the scab of sin becomes a grudge,
and then with knock, nail, noise makes me a scrooge.
To freeze the soul, not fly away like a leaf.
To never see the world— not hurt, but aloof.
Not one of them. Closed eyes must work, not drag!
The pain inside concealed by pride, a drug.
No help for those begging for food, a loaf. . .
But when I see the world outside, I pause.
How cold the heart that I have bought, oh how lost
to love and kindliness— awake to stress!
I look for love inside me, not a trace,
for I have given all to money-lust.
Yet you have come to me, and I ask why?

Little Sunflower

Oh, little sunflower, where are you going today?
Your petals have found the pleasure of the star’s rays.
Turning your face to soak in the warmth.
You realize how far away you are from the source
There are other flowers, far more beautiful than you.
They are growing so fast, they will reach the sky soon.

Oh, little girl, what have you given up this year?
Your eyes are always wet and your makeup is smeared.
That promise you made to yourself is proving costly.
Your drive to be famous and to become more than motley.
There goes your innocence, there goes your pride.
There goes that girl’s dream of being a shining bride.

Oh little sunflower, you have gained thick skin.
You have worked so hard to be beautiful and slim.
Those bright yellow petals define your value.
The comments and the scrutiny are going askew.
All you really want is to fit in with the elite crowd.
But they’re so high their heads are stuck up in the clouds.

Oh, little bud, which problem are you going to start?
You joined in with the guys, you decided you aren’t smart.
Spread your wings, spread your things, spread your influence and your roots.
One day you might go back to them to find simple truths.
You lay on your back and wallow in your numbness.
Knowing you hate the questions, relying on toughness.

Oh little sunflower, your heart is not fine.
You know there’s a hole that’s stupid deep inside.
You look for the sun, but it has suddenly disappeared.
So have those other sunflowers that you so revered.
Your goals in life have become vague notions.
Every day is determined by simple faint emotions.

Oh little sunflower, you have chosen a dangerous path.
All your confusion will lead to destructive wrath.
No more sunflowers will be there when you need them.
You have poisoned the ground with your hatred and venom.
Who is there to gawk at your bright yellow petals?
Your life is too broken to calm down and settle.

Dear little heart, why have you decided to jump?
Don’t you grow tired of trying, your shoulders slumped?
No one is perfect, and we shouldn’t try to be.
Focus on is what’s growing from our fallen seeds.
What have we given to the world, what’s our legacy?
Do not let yourself get caught up in pitiful jealousy.

Home

Today we have a post from Essie-Marie Weigt!

Put your hand on my heart.
Can you hear it?
Can you feel it breaking apart?
Do you know why?
Know the reason I have to cry?
I miss you, come Home.

You say you have one, but
No.
You call it that,
While ignoring the cracks
In the foundations,
Believing you’re your own creation.

Can’t you see
My liquid agony?
It’s carving an acid stream towards my open mouth.
No matter how many times I shout,
My voice fades across the miles that separate us.
This has made us
Strangers in new territories,
Characters in different stories.
I wish I told you I was sorry
For when I judged you,
For when I was rude,
When I was self-righteous, haughty, a prude.

You changed in ways I never foresaw,
And I did too, isn’t that odd?
I’ll tell you a secret;
I don’t care if you keep it
Or discard
It, like all the other people who were close to your heart.
I’m aware it’s surprising, but it’s true
How easily I could’ve become you.

Our pasts are the same, our struggles
As well.
We can’t help but stand out, we’re bold, not pastel.
I think that’s why you broke my heart;
I stayed in the light, but you succumbed to the dark.
Are you calling me too?

When the bulb flickers, when my mood turns blue?
Help is an overused word, but I think you need it;
Faith is a moment, and you can seize it.
Do not make my words a waste;
Faded, like a forgotten taste.
Come out of the shadows, you won’t be alone.
Nothing is enough, when what you have is Home


meeee


Essie-Marie Weigt is an 18-year-old Canadian who loves the Lord, writing, and spending time with her friends. She is a freshman at Liberty University and is pursuing a degree in psychology. Her ultimate goal is to show others the love of Christ in in every aspect of life, including writing.


To Know You

You are a mystery,
And your face seems to study me,
Study everything, as you thirst to see clearly.
You look about. . . listen,
And are just quiet,
And just ponder.
And I wonder what you’re wondering.
Searching thoughts.
Rare giggles.
And a thousand memories.

How once we wrote together;
Time filled our hands,
And we wanted to lay it out flat.
The world couldn’t wait.
There was adventure,
But you were always listening.
Your eyes would glisten.
In the quiet, I wonder what you heard.
I ask you if you remember those things,
But usually your memory is different from mine.
Do you remember philosophy?
Or history?
Your memory is the mystery you hold.

You still seek out adventure with those eyes,
But sometimes I wonder if it’ll be yourself you’ll find.
And if I search hard enough,
Crack the code,
Could I know a deeper you,
With stories untold?
A you I didn’t even recognize before?

If you scale the mountains,
Try to capture them in flash;
If you write words into stories;
If you give a look I don’t yet understand;
There is something new there, created.
You make a mark.
There is something different, changed.
And the world feels less strange and dark.
There is healing.

You know.
You know with your wrinkled eyes.
When you grow old,
You will still know.
You’ll be the same you,
So subtly changed
And yet so different.
I want to know you at fifty.
Or sixty.

I want to know you even when you’re dying and shriveled,
With the same light hair you’ve always had.
With the same kind eyes. . .
And the wisdom that has grown with time.
I want to know you.

I wish I could be there every moment,
To never lose you, brother,
Because I know that you can show me things I could never see without you,
And yet time seldom gives us what we ask for.

I am blessed to have you in this season.
In this now.
And I’ll take you in my heart whether we grow old together or apart.

Self-Worth, Romance, and God’s Word

Today we have a guest post from Anna Peters over at Anna Leigh!!!

God recently affirmed His love for me, and I saw Him with fresh eyes. For a short time, I found myself in a relationship. A guy liked me, I liked him, and we became “a thing.” It was the first time a guy expressed actual interest in me and wanted me to be “his girl.” I felt over-the-moon giddy with excitement and flattered that someone thought me beautiful and worthy enough to like.

Our relationship ultimately ended out of respect for my parents’ desire for me not to date or be “a thing” with a guy yet. Through this experience, God opened my eyes to His love and adoration for me. If I feel so loved and adored by this guy, how much more does my heavenly Father love and adore me? I know the fickle human infatuation I experienced holds no candle to God’s enormous, fierce love.

Yet, this world deceives us with many lies, and I often fall prey to their destructive traps. I believed my worth came from a guy, my friends, and my ability to look and act a certain way. I counted on things in this world to make me feel loved and adored, but nothing is farther from the truth. God gently reminded me how He feels about me:

The Lord your God is in your midst, A victorious warrior. He will exult over you with joy, He will be quiet in His love, He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy (Zep 3:17, NASB).

But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (Eph 2:4-5, NASB).

God’s ultimate display of love arrived in the form of a tiny babe. My mind cannot fully grasp that an all-powerful, holy God loved me enough to step down from His high position, become human, and die for me. Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends (Jn 15:13).

The world says we need a guy or a girl or other earthly things to experience happiness, and I believed it myself. God placed a longing for love and attention within each of us to draw us to Himself. This world leaves us empty and its attractions never last. God alone ultimately satisfies our longings. I struggle against my sinful human nature and emotions that overtake my heart and mind, but God’s love remains unconditional, no matter how many times I slip.

As the whirlwind Christmas season approaches with all of its business, I pray we remember God’s wild, reckless love for us this season and always.


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Anna Peters loves all things Christmas, coffee, mint chocolate, and Jesus. She strives to encourage others through the lessons God teaches her in everyday life, in hopes that it will uplift those around her. You can find her on her blog, Anna Leigh, or on Instagram at annaleighblog.

By a Show of Hands

Gasping, rasping, grasping for a shred of life.
Your hands are calloused and broken,
Our nails are chipped from scraping at the ground.
We want to find a reason, we want to change ourselves.
But we’ve already done too much to change.
There is no hiding our filthy, black hands.

One, two, three, four, five-
Each finger is covered in an intricate web of experience.
Five reasons why your life is the way it is.
One finger to point the blame, but watch out for the three pointing back at you.
A thumb that can be turned up or down,
Depending on what your opinion is.
One finger that represents commitment when you put a golden band on it.
More often than not, it is left empty because of bitterness.

Palms that feel pain, but are also where you feel known.
Often it hides away in the form of a fist.
Anger builds as the veins bulge in our wrists.
We use our hands to create and destroy.
We have the power to change hearts through your art,
Or to end lives with your dirty black hands.

Will you lend a hand or will you return a stare?
Will you make your fingers into a gun, or will you try to care?
These hands were created for more,
But often they are left in my pockets.
I want to build my story through my palms,
Like how David picked up a pen to write the Psalms.
Or put down the sword to pick up his harp,
To give it all to God, his talents, his art.

There was once a carpenter with holes in His palms.
All the sandy material loves, they sifted right through His grip.
Never did He hold onto what made Him happy at the moment.
He mixed mud and fixed forsaken eyes.
He held the children to tell them their value and silence their cries.
He let them feel his calloused working hands.
The ones that reached through the waves to help Peter stand.
They are the ones that beckon us home.
Hold onto His hands and don’t let go.

Infinitesimal

I am just a speck,
A droplet in Your ocean.
I am but the child whose hand You hold.
I partake in your emotions.
I am only the tree trembling in Your breeze,
Moved by Your motion.
I am only the love of Your life.
I am the dead bones resurrected;
See the empty grave.
I am but a sinner
Whom You chose to save.

Why have you condescended to me?
How can I have the audacity to believe
You are inside my heart,
Though You formed me out of dust
And if not for You,
All falls apart?

And yet I do.
I have the audacity to believe
You are in me,
But You are not me.
I am holy,
For You are holy.
You struck me with Your love to make me like You.

I deserve nothing.
You, everything.
I am the slave.
You are the master.
I am the sheep.
You are my pastor.
I am the son.
You are the Father.
Jesus, my friend, my elder brother.

I pay allegiance to Your glory,
And You live to make it known.
I, but a character in the story that you wrote
Before I knew to breathe.
Falling on my knees,
I rejoice in Your loving of me.
How can I accept this?
How can I not?
You have defied all of my reason at the cross.

Place Matters

We used to trace a triangle with your fingers,
Like that’s where I live
And you climb it all the way up till you get to that turn in the road;
You know that one, the one with the sign
Where you turn to see all that you’ve left behind,
But I just drive
Because the road goes on forever.
The name only changes;
But this is still our lives.
We go in circles or straight to the ocean,
Like arteries and veins.
I don’t want it to be explained away.
But I wish we had turned and not driven all the way. . .
To school.
Cuz I’m alone,
And I look over my shoulder at what we’ve done.
Sink into the texts I’ve written–
Like an ocean,
Like they’re scrolling past my eyes,
Both sides.
Because place matters.

I never thought about it much.
I got lost and lost things on a hunch.
You picked up the pieces for me.
I was assigned papers;
Had to write about rooms,
But what are rooms without people?
Roommates.
Couches and tables, but I just burned them in my head.
And wrote about souls instead.
When I write now, every description feels taxing, draining;
The sky is grey again and it’s raining.
Not paying it forward, but looking ahead.
I’m already saying goodbye to you in my head.
I wish everyone I’ve ever loved just lived two blocks away.
I could see them every day,
Then they could go away.
I’ve wished it a thousand times, laughed, and wondered
Why does place have to matter?

Just finished reading a book
Where things never felt or saw or moved.
Just thought towards each other and knew each other’s hearts.
It didn’t matter if they were far apart;
It wasn’t where but how.
I prayed, you said,
“It’s never why but what.”
How are you now?
Lord, what are you doing?
I read it and thought I was glad
That humans had bodies.
And could place a hand of comfort on each other’s backs,
But now I wonder
Why does place have to matter?
Without bodies it wouldn’t.
But everyone has a body, not why but what,
And the what is that place matters.

Starlight

Today we have a guest post from Madeleine Owens over at The Introverted Raconteur!!!

One moment,
Normalcy,
A typicality,
Then panic strikes.
From nowhere,
Darkness slowly creeps along the back wall of my mind.

“How could this happen?”
I scream violently at no one.
I’m searching for
Someone to
Blame.
But all I find is this:
I’m alone.

Nothing but black.
Black skies and a black heart.
Sudden sobs attack.
Shoulders shake.
Two words.
“Why, God?”

Tears pouring down my face.
I grasp at anything that
I pray will hold my weight.
The weight of
Pain,
Sadness,
Anxiety.

How could a good and lovely being,
Let me suffer?
He sees me,
But nothing happens.
God,
Oh, God.
Where is my rescue?

I face the darkness.
Staring up into the night,
Silently I beg.
“If you’re up there,
please save me.”
Nothing.

I let my head fall.
“He let me down,” I whisper.
I feel a gentle breeze sweep across my tear stained cheek.
No, I didn’t.
Out of the corner of my eye.
A sparkle.

I look up.

A star.

Light has pierced through the darkness.
Barely believing my eyes, I turn.
Has he come through?
A resounding ‘yes’ beats in my heart.

There is Starlight.


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Madeleine Owens is a 15-year-old from all over the US. Living everywhere from bustling Southern California to Pennsylvania and Tennessee, Madeleine is a homeschooler who adores writing fantasy novels and playing her many instruments. She strives to spread the good news of Jesus in everything she does. You can find her blogging weekly at theintrovertedraconteur.com.

Fighting the Wind

Intense shivers work their way up my spine.
The clouds start to banish away the sunshine.
I stare into space as I’m overcome with dread,
Can I withstand the maelstrom ahead?

The winds of change are coming,
They’re stealthy, viscous, and terribly cunning.
I’m wearing a breaker and might be prepared…
Nevermind, I’m incredibly scared.
What if I come out a changed man?
What if the damage outlasts my dwindling lifespan?

The winds of change tear everything apart.
No more leisurely rides in shopping carts.
Say goodbye to the days of chalk on sidewalks.
No more fearing the jump off the boat dock.
Give me plastic lightsabers instead of a degree.
Instead of haughty jokes, give me pure childish glee.

The winds of change are not stopping soon.
I can stand some challenges, but no one’s immune.
I whimper slowly at the overwhelming misery.
The world’s so cold I can’t stop the shivering.
Will I meet new people, hear new things?
Will I be hung up to dry, have unwanted attached strings?

The icy winds of change make you numb for a time.
You are stuck in an imaginary box just like a mime,
But you’re not insane or a bloodthirsty psychopath.
Just wait out the storm and live through the aftermath.
There is hope at the eye of the storm, but don’t live for those moments.
Live in the storm and break through the walls that are frozen.

Don’t feel like the winds of change are staying forever.
There are only so many new paths and endeavors.
They will get tired of making your life crazy and leave.
They will get bored with everything new and cease.
Be ready to take on the storm, but do not be afraid.
Change is good for you in the end, you’ll be glad you stayed.

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