The Land Of In-Between

Do you really heal the broken hearts,
bind wounds, and comfort pain,

though I don't feel you near my
shattered soul or deepest strain?

When I can't see in front of me,
are you still making plans for me?

Or is my every effort just in vain?


Remember when I once believed
you had a better plan,

and though I lived in darkness,
I knew you'd come sweeping in?

Although I wept, I still believed
that you'd rush in to rescue me,

but here I wait in silence once again.


I hope to see, on down the road,
some good come from this wrong,

if not here, then maybe when
I weep at Jesus' throne.


Surely, somehow, won't some joy
flow from my misery?

My finite sight can't see beyond
this Land Of In-Between.

Dying Dreams And Resurrection

Resurrect my hopes and dreams
that died so deep within.
Stir my heart, stilled be grief,
to beat with joy again.

Like you arose, please raise in me
the hope life stripped away.
Call to life those dormant dreams
in my soul's silent grave.

In each dark corner of my soul,
lifeless, empty, worn,
Breath new life, revive my heart,
where hope seemed lost and gone.

The Soothing Stillness Of Snowfall

Just a couple of days before the Thanksgiving holiday, I was driving to my afternoon job when the heavy clouds in the sky began releasing soft white snowflakes, dancing through the air and falling to the ground so far below. Most people wish for a white Christmas, but snow wasn't even on my mind that Monday before Thanksgiving.

I am usually not a fan of snow, mostly because slick, icy roads have placed me in frightening, dangerous driving conditions in the past. I hate being cold and having to bundle in layers just to walk outside. When snow begins melting, with patches of the dead, dry earth making the ground look like a shoddy, poorly stitched patchwork quilt, I dislike the messy appearance it leaves behind.

Our Fish And Loaves

When the steps I take
are meek and slow,
please multiply
my fish and loaves.

And when my courage
feels like dread,
please multiply
the fish and bread.

When I yearn to give,
yet little own,
please multiply
my fish and loaves.

When I fail the words
I wish I'd said,
please multiply
the fish and bread.

And when my confidence
plummets low,
please multiply
my fish and loaves.

When I long to help,
but doubt my best,
please multiply
the fish and bread.

When I feel too lacking
to lift one soul,
Help me still to give
my fish and loaves.

Luke 9: 12 Late in the afternoon the Twelve came to him and said, “Send the crowd away so they can go to the surrounding villages and countryside and find food and lodging, because we are in a remote place here.”

13 He replied, “You give them something to eat.”

They answered, “We have only five loaves of bread and two fish—unless we go and buy food for all this crowd.” 14 (About five thousand men were there.)

But he said to his disciples, “Have them sit down in groups of about fifty each.” 15 The disciples did so, and everyone sat down. 16 Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke them. Then he gave them to the disciples to distribute to the people. 17 They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over.

~What are your "fish and loaves"? 

What can you offer that you fear is too meager and insignificant to make a difference?~

Autumn's Welcome

The peak of breathless
summer heat
has melted to a crisp, cool breeze
that dances through
the autumn trees
and layers earth with brilliant leaves.


Nighttime steals
a part of day,
ushering the light away.
In early hours,
sunset fades
and welcomes in the Milky Way.


Fallen leaves
crunch on the ground,
the earth turns shades
of golden brown,
before our eyes, with little sound--
nature softly winding down.


With coolness in
the atmosphere,
colored leaves,
and harvest cheer,
the earth slows from
another year.
Again,
we welcome Autumn here.

Is He With Me?

"Is He with me?"
I sometimes plea,
when I don't feel Him
near to me.

He's with me when
my heart rings praise
of joy that can not
be contained.

He's with me when
the tears won't cease,
when my soul groans
and wails for peace.

When disappointment clouds my view,
still then, I know, He's with me too.

He's with me when my anger burns,
when stinging, bitter pain returns.

And when my shattered heart won't mend,
He picks the pieces up again.

I look back, and then I see,
Always, always, He's with me.

The Wordless Prayer

No whisper on my lips,
no murmur on my tongue,
can you hear my prayer
when my heart has no words?

No answers for my mind,
no explanation why,
can you hear me pleading
from so deep within?

No direction clear,
no peace, only fear,
can you set my eyes
on what you plainly see?

Bits Of Heaven

You made the sun to shine
and light the earth
throughout the day.
You cast the moon
and stars in space
and hung the Milky Way.

You poured the sea
and caused the waves
to break upon the sand.
You set the creeks
to flow through woods
and run o'er rolling land.

You shaped the tallest mountain,
filled the lakes, and formed the hills,
planted flowers in the meadows,
colored green the summer fields.

You carved the deepest canyon,
painted rainbows far above,
touched earth with bits of heaven
just to share with us your love.

Written April 9, 1999

21 years old

A Prayer For The Weary: "Lord, Lead Me Out"

Will you be here for me now,

John 10:3 "He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out."

when all is falling down?
When my eyes see only darkness
all around?

I long to believe
that your hand is helping me,
but your voice is still,
and I don't hear a sound.

I've waited for so long,
with my heart
no longer strong,
won't you call
your sheep by name
and lead me out?

Dear Life

Have you ever wanted to tell Life exactly what you think when it seems to turn against you?

Dear Life,

I'm not gonna lie:
You have been 'something else' lately.
It isn't like knowing you has ever been perfect.
Our relationship has had its ups and downs,
as they all do,
and you have never been easy.
You're the most high-maintenance friend
I've ever known.
But I used to think
you had some good qualities too,
that you weren't all bad.
You would surprise me with
sweet moments to remind me of your goodness---
glasses of lemonade on a summer picnic table,
running carefree on my grandparents' farm,
the stillness of a darkened night
dotted with stars.
I used to believe in first kisses
and dreams coming true.

The Shepherd

My eyes rest on pictures of him
in flowing garments,
tenderly cradling a sheep in his arms,
and I feel as if I comprehend---
even though I have
never known a shepherd.

I see the care in his eyes
the gentleness in his hands,
hear the patience in his voice---
even though I have
never known a shepherd.

I feel his compassion
for my stumbling
his mending of my brokenness,
his guidance for my wandering---
even though I have never known a shepherd.

I see him feed my emptiness,
guard me through darkness,
and then I understand---

I know a shepherd.

He Spoke Her Name

She would not flee
his deserted grave,
where she wept
in the garden alone that day.
In deepest anguish,
she bore her pain,
not expecting to see his face.

He spoke; she failed
to recognize
who stood before
her tear-filled eyes.
"Where is he?!"
in despair she cried,
and then he spoke her name.

He spoke her name;
at once, she heard
such tenderness in that sweet word.
Her heart, in recognition, stirred.
She ran to him in haste.

Speak my name, I long to hear
that voice familiar in my ear,
the tone, inflections, so sincere,
his offer of generous grace.

Like her, I want my heart to be
yearning for him to speak to me,
hear my name and, like Mary, see
my Savior face to face.

(Based on John 20:10-18)

Unseen

So many people in this generation willingly extend grace and compassion to others, no matter what they have done. Sometimes I wonder if we extend that same grace and compassion to others, no matter what they look like? "Unseen" is written from the view-point of a middle school girl. Think back to your own adolescent years as you read it.


Deliberately, you look at me
and don't like what you see.
You analyze and criticize
and judge how I should be.

You patronize my shape, my size,
I'm not the look you idolize.
You guess aloud my shy cup size,
Your words turn crude, obscene.

I hide in clothes too loose, too large,
I grip my books across my heart.
You rate my every body part;
I pray to be unseen.

I pray to be unseen,
I ask God why he made me.
You point, you leer, berate, demean,
I pray to be unseen.

I see the girls who gain your smiles,
with grown-up figures and trendy styles,
tight-fitting shirts and legs for miles,
and know that will never be me.

I pretend I'm made of brick and stone,
that your words are heard by you alone.
though I feel worth nothing and on my own,
and wish I wasn't me.

I'll escape into my room tonight,
slam the door, lock myself inside,
stare at a full-length mirror and cry,
and pray to be unseen.

I pray to be unseen.
I ask God why he made me.
I'll never be pretty and loved, like I dream
so I pray to be unseen.

I pray to be unseen.
I ask God why he made me.
Someone please tell me I matter indeed,
or I pray to be unseen.

Start Again

Release the old, release the pain,

Release the hurts of yesterday.

Keep the peace and lessons learned,

the joy that springs when hope returns.

Rest old heartaches in Him to find

He makes all things beautiful in His time.

His heart has this plan for the heart of you:

make peace with the old, take hope in the new.

A new day is born as another day ends,

creation is coaxing…’now start again.’

Accept this gift the Father gives,

a chance to start fresh, a new chance to live.

What Is Your Frankincense?

What is your frankincense, gold, or myrrh?
What can you offer a king?
What precious jewel compares to his worth,
what priceless offering?

What could you lay at such holy feet?
How do you measure the price?
What gift reciprocates all that he gives,
what equal sacrifice?

What could you place at his manger bed?
cross, or vacant grave?
What could redeem the anguish he bore,
the sins and mistakes he forgave?

What is your frankincense, gold, or myrrh?
What can you offer a king?
Nothing your hands could buy nor sell.
Only your life can you bring.

My Thanksgiving Prayer

Dear God,

For at least one day each year,
we recite our blessings.
We recall the abundance
you pour into our lives;
we dedicate our thankfulness to you.

If I thanked you for each gift
as it appeared,
my dialogue with you
would have no end.

Life With No Fear

If you had mastered the art of eradicating fear from your life,
what would be different? What would change?
What would you start doing that you aren't doing now?
What are you currently doing that you would
no longer expend your time on?

If you you were free from the fear of failure,
what other people might think of you,
or whether or not you belong...