Tuesday, December 11, 2012


You catch my face between your palms like a whirlwind of forceful spray. There is no javelin sharper than the way you see through me.
I am not bruised or cut.

I heard you whispering my name, while I played in the weeds and blew dandelion dust. Your hands spilled over with decadent blooms of Grace. I could have buried my face in those blooms. 

So sweet.

I made choices and wondered if my questions merited favor; if I should have asked at all.
Are they too big,
or petty,
or pretend?

While I played in the dandelions, was I still your little girl?

 The pulse of the One holding my face proclaims,

"But the Lord God helps me; therefore I have not been disgraced; therefore I have set my face like a flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame." Isaiah 50:7

Until next time,
The Carpenter's Daughter

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Steadfast Love

Steadfast love and faithfulness meet; 

righteousness and peace kiss each other.

Faithfulness springs up from the ground,

and righteousness looks down from the sky.

Yes, the Lord will give what is good,

and our land will yield its increase.

Righteousness will go before him

and make his footsteps a way.

Psalm 85:10-13

Until next time,
The Carpenter's Daughter

Friday, March 9, 2012

Finding the Hallowed in the Hollow

There is a hollowness in chronic illness.
 This place where I have fallen. There are seemingly no ladders to the top.

On occasion, unknowing eyes dare to peek in, often mistaking this girl for a stowaway...

one who runs from life.
From friends.

It's entirely possible that I am solely tormented by my own guilt of neglect towards friends and family. Maybe they truly feel it. Maybe I imagine they do.
 Either way, it haunts, and it hurts.
I love them so.

Do they truly know it?

This is not the shivery hideout of uncaring solitude.
 It's where ones, like myself, feebly gather their wits about them, sitting hard on the cold cavern floor...
toes curled; back against the wall.

Just breathing...

...face bowed to knees sodden with prayers.

It's hard to get up. There are moments when lying down is my strongest point. Stretched out thin, worn, and weak.

When dreams come, they beckon light, warmth, and strength to fill the cavern's mouth. A yawn of dawning freedom. One pledge of youthful swaying upon the grass tops...

...flowers entwined in ringlets. Freckles on a sun kissed nose.

I wake to find my finger tracing the damp veins of the cavern floor.
So many valleys and turns.

I don't know how to get out of this place.
I just know that when I unclench my fists, palms open...


He holds my hands in the shadows, 
hallowing the hollow places...

and that is enough.

 "Thou art my hiding place; thou shalt preserve me from trouble; thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance. Selah."
(Psalm 32:7) 

This post is in honor of my friend, Craig, who reminded me that I am not alone.