Return to Sender

Before we met
I had already seen you in far too many dreams.

You can't send letters without words
but that's what I did
sleeping on a mattress of pictures and postage stamps
I never had my fighting chance.

Our love notes read like grocery lists
or prescription refills--
take 3 pomegranate seeds
and call me in the morning--
but I could never bring myself to throw them away.

Instead I practiced the careful handwriting of the girl
who would someday meet me in the mirror
who would've traded her whole flock of delicate black words
for my clear blank page.

Because before I knew you I knew that we would fit
like a letter tucked in an envelope
or a needle in the crease of my arm.
For 22 years you dripped life into my veins.

And when you tapped me on the shoulder
and asked to cut in
I gave you the scissors
and told you to do your worst.

I didn't know how much happiness would hurt.
I didn't know it could be possible to miss someone
when he's laying right beside you
keeping you warm and you're running your fingers
through his hair thinking this is the last time
on the 16th of March at 11:37 at night
that I will run my fingers through his hair and
I didn't know that happy endings go so fast.

But I know that we are blessed
because a thing would have to be pretty damn beautiful
for me to be this afraid of losing it.

Serve God, Love Me and Mend

Madison, Wisconsin--
where snowfall after snowfall leaves us cold and defiant
like the heart that refuses to stop beating even after it's gone through the ice.

I can't be the only one feeling the lack of Vitamin D.

Still, exciting things have been happening. Praise God! It's beautiful to see what He will do when I'm humble enough to soften my heart and surrender it to him.  He can only accomplish so much if we hand him a rock and tell him "mold this." But if we give him clay . . .

This past month, God has been molding me. He has made me aware of exactly where I'm imperfect. Where I'm selfish. Where I've been weak. It doesn't mean I have to patch up those tears myself--it's more that I'm recognizing them, giving them to God.
 
I tend to love people deeply, almost recklessly. But when certain difficult topics come up, I feel torn between honesty and kindness. I don't want to become complicit in something that my heart says is harmful. But I don't want to hurt someone, or alienate them, either. This leads me to sin--in other words, yucky things:

• Telling little white lies to safely navigate a difficult topic. Even if it causes me to express something different than what's in my heart.
• In private, feeling frustrated and even annoyed at the person, to the point where I start to lose the love I once had for them.
• Ranting like a crazy person. Even if it's just to my husband, I think this counts as gossip.

I want to love and I want to speak truth. So where is the balance? I have no idea. But I'm slowly learning the precarious skill of gentle truth. Or at least, of being a friend and showing kindness without supporting something that I don't agree with. And it's not about the big things, either--I don't tend to judge others on their lifestyles, their belief systems. It's the little things, like repeated acts of pride or selfishness. Like people taking advantage of others in small ways.

Truth hurts, especially when hearts are too hard to listen. Blunt honesty can even destroy friendships and burn bridges, when maybe I want to keep those bridges around for a while. But keeping the feelings bottled up and acting like a people-pleaser makes me loathe myself, makes me end up being sinful and negative in my own head and behind closed doors. And it tarnishes the love I'm supposed to be giving. So what do I do?

"He said to me, My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." 2 Corinthians 12:9

God is the ultimate mender. Where I could just sew on a messy patch and try to ignore all the loose threads, he can renew and make me whole. And by letting him work through me, rather than trying to be strong on my own--or worse, pretending that the weaknesses don't exist--I am able to bring glory to him. I can admit that I don't have the delicate balance of honesty and compassion figured out yet. That for now, all I can do is try to follow God and let him make amends where I fall short.