he smelt like a thrift store.
buildings whizzed by as his head leaned against the window.
music played through his coca cola headphones, dug up from a cereal box promising a surprise,
only later realizing nothing is as good as promised.

(except for Jesus) i whispered.

his eyelashes were fluttering-open and close-and i wondered what he was dreaming about.
(are we dreaming about the same things?) i asked.

his face was young, yet his eyes held years only made possible through pain and suffering.
our eyes were so similar.
(you're not alone) cried my heart.

we watched the same world pass all around us as we drove by, and i found myself wondering if our lives were all that different.
after all, Christ died for us both, didn't he?
(tell him!) i screamed.
but i didn't

instead, i watched as he got off the bus, left only to guess who he might be.
left only to hope that someday there might be someone braver than i.
(or that you may become brave) i thought.

Lord, make me brave.

headlights

driving home from work
and i'm tired
so so tired
my heart is heavy and i feel like i've been crying for hours.
it was only five minutes.

but the headlights,
hundreds of them blinding me,
are each holding a person with feelings,
stories,
lives,
i knowing nothing about.

how small am i?
who am i to think i am so important?
when my life is only a grain of sand in this vast sea
of headlights
shining back at me.

(sometimes it overwhelms me just how many people i pass and all the stories i will never know. but guys, to JESUS, i am so much more than a headlight. and so are you. )

what are we doing?

it's a beautiful thing, how we've been blessed with lungs allowing us to breath in the fresh air, and legs that climb mountains, and a voice that can fill an entire canyon with its echo.

and it's a beautiful thing that when we hear the crying echoes of the lost, when we see those who can no longer climb any higher, when we watch someone struggle for breath, that we don't have to sit idly by.

because God gave us those lungs
God gave us our legs
God gave us a voice.

what are we doing about that?

stolen tears

"you don't have to feel guilty, it's just a natural part of life, what you did."
but i did feel guilty,
i do feel guilty.
because everywhere you read about the heartbroken girls, spirits crushed by cruel boys.
but then, what does that make me?
i am not heartbroken. i am not cruel. i'm just a little lost.
is that okay?

"no" a voice whispers.
because you saw his face as tears poured down your cheeks.
shedding tears as if he should understand. as if he should pity you.
but he walked away from the scene of the crime, tears stollen from him.
those tears should've been his.

and the guilt comes flooding back.
because maybe i am cruel.
after all, stealing tears and making them my own,
using them against the wronged,
is there a worser crime?

(a poem for all the girls who've been there too. because sometimes it's not the boys who are the heartbreakers. sometimes people don't mean to be cruel. sometimes those tears are genuine.)

what now

what happens
when there's nothing
left
of myself to give

but they're alone

so alone

i can hear them calling

calling out

what if i can't 

answer their call

because no one 

ever answered it for me

but their arms

they're reaching out

trying to hold on

just hold on

what if i can't

hold on to them

much longer

because i'm so weak

so tired

but they're falling

falling

i can hear their cries

their sobs

what if i'm falling 

right along side them

what if i too

am choking on my tears

but

what now

we ask

what now

(bc. you're not responsible for others, all you can do is love them with the love Christ Jesus has given you. and other's aren't responsible for you, sometimes you have to learn to fall and get back up)

voices

voices
they're everywhere
telling you what to do
how to act
where to go
no one asks
no one cares?
it's not up to you
it's up to them
but no
stop
you see
that's wrong
believe it or not
he is wiser than them
and wiser than you
so don't listen to the voices
and quiet your heart
lean into him
and listen
because he's got you
he always has
he always will

drowning

i sink
deeper
deeper
deeper
until the sun
no longer reaches me

i struggle
harder
harder
harder
but i fall
with no control

so my hand reaches
up
up
up
and i'm pulled
out of the darkness

because of his
love
love
love
i am no longer
drowning

rescue us

it's easy
to want to be rescued
and to think
people
can do just that
we throw our burdens
on them
we lay out our hearts
and we give them
our deepest darkest secrets

rescue me
we whisper
make me feel whole
make me feel special
make me feel forgiven
rescue me

but these people
they're just like you and i
with heavy burdens
hurting hearts
painful secrets
they too are whispering
rescue me

who will save us
now?