And in that moment she realized the greatest thing in life is not love or money or even time. But the greatest thing is hope. And the strength to hope. That we can hope for love. Hope for peace. Hope for rest. Hope for even life itself. That is the fuel of this life.
Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope; because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassion never fail. They are new every morning, great is your faithfulness.
make me feel. everything. all of it. now.: “I am a feminist. As long as women’s natural body hair is called...
“I am a feminist.
As long as women’s natural body hair is called disgusting and inappropriate while men’s isn’t, I am a feminist.
As long as I can’t watch an episode of a popular sitcom without having to sit through multiple sexist comments or “jokes”, I am a feminist.
As long as women have to…
I feel the wonderful warmth of my own breath on my lips. The taste of the melodies. The shape of the sounds.
As I move through the crisp night air I cannot help but sing. And as the wind brushes against my face the words I sing melt into the atmosphere.
William Cowper (1731–1800)
God Moves in Mysterious Ways
God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs,
And works his sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.
William Cowper was a British poet and hymnist. He struggled throughout his life with depression, doubts, and fears.
My eyes are ice set in sockets of fire. Every blink burns, every look stings.
Yet I do not melt, nor does my flesh-fire graciously consume. I am. I continue to be. I ask for one thing only: that my being cease. For quiet. But the quiet does not come.
I want you to love me. But I cannot let myself be loved. I want to be with you. But I fool myself into thinking my “rebellion” had distanced me.
Rebellion. Ha! What a conceited thought. That I could do anything in defiance of you. Even though I run, there is nowhere I can go that you are not there.
If I go up to the heavens you are there. If I make my bed in the depths you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, “surely darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,” even the darkness will not be dark to you, the night will shine like day, for darkness is as light to you.
Let’s pretend that all is well. That nothing’s wrong, the world is swell.
Let’s pretend that we’re ok. That you are fine and I can stay.
Let’s pretend that tomorrow’ll come. That death has died and sorrow’s done.
Let’s pretend that rest is sweet. That dreams are peaceful, warm and neat.
Let’s pretend they’re tears of joy. That hope is coming with graceful noise.
Let’s pretend that I can breathe. That peace is coming and fear will leave.
Let’s pretend that the end is nigh. That we’ll rest our heads and close our eyes.
Grasping at stillness
Why are we running around like a chicken beheaded? Why must this keep spinning? Can’t we sit still? Will you just sit still with me here?
Rest with me here in the void. Curl up with me here as I grasp at still ness, at comfort. I can’t reach it. Will you help me stretch my arms? Maybe we can pull a few strands of time. Shimmering strands that sparkle as you pinch them. I’ll wrap them ‘round my fingers and wrists. I’ll make you a crown from those strands of time.
And you will shine. And I will glimmer. As we grasp at the stillness and rest in the void. And in those few, solitary moments there can be peace. There will be peace.
Words on a Page
by Anna Jefferis
Words on a page
Thoughts in my mind
Sounds in the air
Actions in progress
Make me believe
Tell me the truth
One more time now
Make it matter