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Let’s Talk About Text, Baby

If you caught the title reference to this Salt N Pepa song, you were born in my generation. If not, just never mind.

Tonight I wanna talk about texting.

My love-hate relationship with texting began in the early 2000s. I was in the middle of my divorce and lonely. So I did what lonely people do – I found someone to talk to. It was the age of chatrooms where everyone was chatting, meeting, and out of their everlasting minds.

I chatted with people from Texas to Australia. I chatted at all hours. I had friends the world over.

We wrote poetry together. Shared recipes together. Got together. Broke up together. Fought internet crime together. All without ever meeting face-to-face. I still have friends in California I’ve chatted with … one since 2003 and one since 2005. Its 2019. We still talk regularly, but we have never met.

This past year I’ve come to hate texting. Here’s why:

When I text back and forth daily with someone I have either never met or have met on a handful of occasions, my mind fills in the blanks with what I think they mean or how I think they feel. Especially with the opposite sex. I start to think I know them. And in some ways I do, but you can only really know someone when you interact with them face-to-face at least once a month.

Text doesn’t convey tone or inflection. It doesn’t show tears or anger.

It implies things for sure, but it implies what I want it to.

I’m tired of living in a false reality with friends who don’t wanna meet because they’d rather hide at home. That’s what happens these days. We don’t talk about it, but it’s easier to text than get up, get dressed, spend $5 on a Skinny Vanilla Latte, and actually talk.

No, I don’t always have time to do this. So in those cases I try for once a month, or once every other month. I have a really good friend I’ve been trying to see but our schedules always miss. I get it. We’re busy. But we need to get less busy or just tell our friends the truth…I don’t have time for you.

This is also why church is so good for me. I have friends I only see at church on Sundays, but that’s more often than I see the ones who don’t attend church with me. These are some of the best friends I have.

Also, texting allows people to lie and betray, even if they don’t mean to. Once I was betrayed by someone who decided she’d like to “help” me get over someone, all the while trying to nuzzle her way into his heart. The means of doing so? She was texting us both! This is why I keep my personal life mostly to myself. Because people can copy and paste and photoshop and create something that looks like I said something. Or seem like they care when they’re really just trying to get info from me so they can use it against me in some way. Betrayal hurts. Especially betrayal by a so-called friend via text.

So I’ve decided that if you really wanna be my friend, come to church, invite me to have coffee or lunch, call me so I can hear your voice, come to the house for a movie or to work on planners, but for the love…no more incessant texting. I mean…I’ll take every 6 months if we’re busy and we’ve known each other year in and year out and are at that point where we know and trust each other.

And when it comes to the opposite sex, please just call me or let’s have coffee. Even if we’re friends. Because when we text, my mind will believe you aren’t saying those sweet words to anyone else and that you’re interested in only me. That’s because I’m worthy of a man who is interested in only me and because I don’t say sweet things to men unless I’m really interested and have prayed about him. I am a one-man woman. When I get married, I don’t want to be tied to this one and that one that I got even remotely involved with via text. I want to live my life in such a way that my future husband (whoever that may be) will understand that I’m solely his. The more my heart gets entangled, the harder it is to untangle it and heal. I don’t love often, but when I do, every last piece of my beautiful, fragile heart is all-in. So I have to be careful with my heart. Just trying to be real here.

When I’m talking about texting less and talking more, I’m talking to myself most of all.

So that’s my text talk for today.

It’s day 35 of my 40-day journey. I have stayed off social media 85% of the time, texted about 85% less, and upped my call-time to some of y’all by 99.9% given the amount of time we used to spend actually talking.

Next journey? I’ll tell you all about it in 5 days.

Love y’all

Posted in healing, Life Lessons, Love, Truth, waiting, Word, Writing

Girl, Lift Your Face

My mind wandered this morning to John 4 and the woman Jesus spoke with at the well. I’m often reminded of her when I look in the mirror in the mornings. Why had she come to this well to draw water alone? That was an activity the women usually did together. For safety. For social interaction.

I’ll guess why she was there alone. She felt shame. She was hiding.

Hiding from other women. From society. From her soiled reputation.

Guilt will always point out what I’ve done (which is healthy), but shame sneaks in and replaces my own name.

Hello, my name is (fill-in-the-blank).

  • Adulteress
  • Fat girl
  • Single Mom
  • Divorced
  • Lonely
  • Heart-broken
  • Insecure
  • Flawed
  • Unwanted
  • Ugly
  • Annoying
  • Unworthy
  • Useless
  • Stupid
  • Unlovable

Has shame ever replaced your name with something else?

It has replaced every one of the above names for my name at times throughout my life.

So there she was – sneaking away to get water, and that’s when she met Jesus – the man who would change the course of her life.
Jesus was sitting there alone, waiting on his disciples to get back from town with food. He asked her to draw him some water and you can almost hear her audible gasp.

“Who, me? I’m (fill-in-the-blank).” (Paraphrasing here.)

She actually said:
“You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” (For Jews do not associate with Samaritans.)
Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.”
Sir,” the woman said, “you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water?”
Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.
The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water.”

He told her, “Go, call your husband and come back.”

Let’s stop a sec.

How many times over the past 16 years have I been asked to go get my husband? By a salesman? By a snarky married woman who knows I don’t have one? By a mean girl? I know what this feels like.
And the answer stammers it’s way out of my trembling mouth. My eyes glance down, or away.
I, I… have no husband. He left me for someone else he got pregnant.

Then Jesus spoke a truth that walked right through the solid, heretofore impenetrable walls around her heart:
“You are right when you say you have no husband. The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband.”

Ouch. Yep. There it is.
But let’s be real. I’ve often wondered if there was a more shameful truth exposed here.

Can I just be honest? Every time I read this story I put myself in her place, but I imagine Jesus’ answer to me would be more like, “You’re right – since your husband left you’ve had 2 other women’s husbands and 2 boyfriends you let act like a husband.”

The fact that Jesus knows everything and chooses to forgive anyway and offer a second chance at life always astounds me. He did this same thing for me when I was in a similar place as that woman.

Forgiveness heals.

I want to address something else shame has done to me over the years. Because I was sexually assaulted, shame has said I’m damaged – permanently.

I hope you’ve never endured a sexual assault of any kind, but something tells me someone reading right now either has or knows someone who has.

It was not your fault. It wasn’t.

Shame likes to whisper that it was. Shame likes to whisper that if I just wouldn’t have opened the door it wouldn’t have happened.

That’s a lie.

Girl, lift your face.

Enter Jesus who replaced my name with who he says I am.

My name is:

  • Chosen
  • Redeemed
  • Righteousness
  • Beautiful
  • Daughter
  • Lovely
  • Loved
  • Lovable
  • Pure

The Samaritan woman in this story had looked for love all her life, but was handed counterfeited love. I’m not sure what happened. Like me, did her husband leave unexpectedly and take her hope and strength and dignity with him?
Jesus gave me back my hope and strength and dignity. And he wants to do the same for you.

I had to stop going back to the places I thought would give me the love I want so badly. It just made me thirsty for more so I just kept going back.

But I was never satisfied, because that was not love.

My Jesus met me where I was – even though I was trying to hide my shame from everyone. He gave me all the love I’ll ever want.

Trust me. I know what you might be saying. “But I want a husband’s arms to hold me and love me.”

I’ve cried myself to sleep more nights than I care to admit because I want that kind of love, have it to give, yet have no one to share it with.
Oh darling, I know.
But each morning I choose to meet Jesus and allow His love to restore my hope, strength, and dignity. THAT is why I walk in joy and peace.
Do I want a husband?
Yes, I absolutely do.
Oh, but not if it costs me even one precious drop of the love Jesus gives. I’m not giving that up. No way.

Drink up, sister. Drink deeply of His love. Nothing else will ever satisfy.

Hello, my name is: Melissa, Loved, Beautiful, Hand-crafted, Adored, Poetess, Daughter of God.

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How I Finally Turned the Page

I was lying on my couch tonight when my phone buzzed. It was a text. My heart raced as I saw the horribly abusive words on the screen that were designed to wound my heart. It was from an emotionally abusive ex-boyfriend who decided after a long while of not talking – that he would lash out at me verbally. I shook my head and hit block on his number (all my numbers unblocked when my phone reset itself last month). The last time we talked I saved him from hurting himself. Though I was furious with this guy’s words, I knew God was in this moment – turning a page. Our chapter is over.

My phone quickly buzzed again. This time it was a phone call – from another ex. This was the man who was my boyfriend on and off through high school and then for awhile post-divorce. I’d gotten into so much trouble over the years with and for him. He always made me laugh – always. He loves me – always. But he is just not the man for me. He left me when he went to prison when I was in high school, which shattered my heart, and then many years later we ended up trying to date again for a bit after my divorce.

I answered the phone and caught up on life with him a bit and I apologized for always being on the fringe as a friend. He stopped me short in my apology and told me that I had nothing to apologize for – but that he actually needed to apologize to me. He told me he regrets just one thing in his life – he regrets not having been the man I truly deserve. He apologized for all the troubles he caused me. For breaking my heart. For causing me pain. I sat on the other end of the phone and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

He spoke words only God knew I needed to hear. He is not a man of faith – but God used him tonight to help heal my heart. As he spoke for several minutes he spoke truth to the lies I’d believed all these years. His words were nourishment to the raw, oozing, open wounds in my heart. He said he isn’t a man of prayer but he has been praying lately that I find a man worthy of me. A family man. A praying man. An educated man. A great father. A caring, devoted husband. He said if anyone in the world deserves love – that it is me. He said I deserve to have the kind of love that I give others.

All the things I pray to find in a man – he spoke those things as if reading from the pages of my open heart.

The more he spoke, the more I knew that this was God speaking healing to my heart from the most unlikely of places. He spoke things only God knows I struggle with. Since this guy knew me from the time I was 12 – he watched me struggle with things – he spoke truth into some long-standing lies and broke their power over me. When God decides to speak – he speaks, using whatever mouth he wants to speak from.

When he was done speaking, I told him I accept his apology and told him I forgive him. Then we said goodbye for the last time.

Another page turned.

These God moments actually came after another surprise phone call I received last night. This, too, was from someone God used to speak healing to my heart. This one, though a page turned, actually marks the beginning of a new chapter in that particular friendship.

Why am I posting this?

Sometimes God speaks to me this way – through the most unlikely people. And I’m being vulnerable because maybe you’re struggling like me and these words can help breathe life back into you too.

Interestingly, I’ve been mostly off my phone for almost a month – which is exactly how God chose to bring healing – through the phone. AND – I’ve decided that I’m going to rely less on text and more on actual voice calls because text is often misinterpreted.

Interesting then, isn’t it – how tonight’s ugly text brought me pain, while the voice calls from tonight and last night brought me healing.

God cares about even the smallest details.

It goes to show me that I can trust that He will work in me if I’ll trust Him, follow Him, and let Him work HIS way. I control nothing. Not even my own healing.

And it shows me that He knows every detail of my heart and wants to heal me in ALL of my broken places.

And that, my friends, is how I finally turned the page.

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My Final Goodbye

Dear Insecurity,

I never thought I’d be sitting here writing you this letter. In fact, I didn’t realize you’d taken up residence in my life at all until someone showed me a picture. And there you were – right in close behind me – photo bombing my life. You were in every frame. I just didn’t know it until I slowed down long enough to look through my life’s photo gallery.

And there you were, in

Every. Single. Frame.

I addressed you by your formal name, Insecurity, but you have many an alias: Self-Doubt, Hesitancy, Apprehension, Fear, Anxiety, Panic, Timidity. And you come in unannounced with your usual gang of thugs – Pride, Vanity, Stubbornness, Control, Jealousy, Codependency, Unforgiveness, Relationship-Addiction, Lust, and Gossip.

What a motley crew.

The sad thing is – I opened the door and let you all in, and you just stayed, satisfied with using me as a host until I looked in the mirror someone was kind enough to hold up for me and found my heart dehydrated, malnourished, lethargic, barely beating.

You thrived while I slowly began to die.

But something happened recently. Remember those proverbial photo albums I just mentioned? I found some older ones in my memory. I found the ones from when my heart was pure and healthy and strong. Before you. Before I became this sick version of myself.

With you and your cheering squad (all those I allowed in my life that fed you and made you stronger) I became a weaker version of myself. I allowed people you also inhabited into my life who promised to make me happy, yet bled me dry.

You’ve lied and lied and I’ve believed and believed, but it’s time for me to stand up to you and replace your lies with Truth.

I am not who you say – I am who I AM says I am.

I am not insecure – I am secure in the finished work of Jesus’ blood on the cross.

I am not better off dead – I am alive in Christ. It’s the OLD me who is dead. Get it straight.

I am not anxious or depressed – I am equipped with a sound mind.

I am not illegitimate – I am adopted.

I am not unforgiveable – I am forgiven.

I am not unworthy – I am bought with a high price.

I am not broken – I am fearfully and wonderfully made (present tense).

I am not a lost cause – I am redeemed.

I am not ugly in any way – I am beautiful.

I am not controlling – I AM is in control.

I am not your friend – I am a friend of God, which means you are my enemy.

I am not unlovable – I am loved.

You are not welcome in my life any longer. You and your entire aforementioned crew are henceforth banished from me. Forever. As a permanent statute. This document is legal and binding.

Get off my property in the Almighty name of the Everlasting God, Lord of my life.

Run away and never return.

As I begin to grow and get nourishment and live again there’s no doubt my life will get better. Your effects on my life are not permanent.

No doubt, though – our paths WILL cross again – because I know you need a host in which to live, and when I see you thriving off of someone else, I will show them the old crippled way in which I used to live when I allowed you trespass, and when they see the new me, they will know Christ and they will evict you. So don’t get comfortable.

No, we’re not parting on good terms. No, we’re not ever going to be friends again. I’m blocking you upon hitting send.

One final thought, Insecurity and Crew,

Go back to hell where you belong.

This is my final goodbye.

-Melissa

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There’s No Anesthetic For A Broken Heart

There is no anesthetic for a broken heart.
No stick to bite
No hand to hold
At least not the one you wish you could hold.
There’s no remedy for a heart break
Especially one that’s finally healed stronger that before
And now it’s broken again
In the same place
And you know this process because
You’ve endured it before.

When I had my hysterectomy
The surgery lasted over 3 hours,
All because
Where they were cutting
Had been cut 3x before via c-section
And thick, hardened scar tissue had formed.
In fact, my uterus had become entangled in all that scar tissue
So they couldn’t separate it easily.
It had to be cut and cleaned up –
Scar tissue and all.

This time the healing hurt worse than before.
Good thing I didn’t need that organ anymore.
It had done it’s job well.

But that’s exactly how my “heart” feels right now:
Entangled in scar tissue.
Every beat restricted by
Tissue that I’ve built up to
Help me heal before.
But unlike my uterus,
I need my heart.
It is central to life.
And unlike my hysterectomy,
There’s no anesthetic for this.

Some days I don’t feel it at all.
But the worst part about healing isn’t the initial cut.
It’s when the nerve endings
Grow and reconnect and do their job of allowing you to feel again.
But as it heals, it’s so excruciating that I don’t want to feel.

I wrote these words recently.
They accurately describe
How I feel tonight.

But…
A friend of mine had a vision this morning.
She said she saw a band-aid over a wound,
Then the Lord showed her that
He was on the inside, beneath the skin,
Stitching the wound closed.
As she talked I began to cry.
This vision
Is exactly what’s happening
With me right now.
Oh, the pain is agony…
I won’t lie or sugar-coat this:
This is the worst heartache yet
Because of having to
Cut through all the previous
“Scar tissue” from
Past heartaches so I
Heal thoroughly this time.
But at least now I know
That this time
The healing is being orchestrated
By the best Healer.

I am trying to still my
Aching heart,
To quiet my spirit,
And let Him work.

Perhaps it’s time to just rip off the band-aid,
It’s not doing me any good anyway.
Everyone can see the
Gaping wound in my heart that I’m trying so hard to hide.
It’s no secret.
I feel like I’ve had more heartache
Than most people do
In a lifetime and I’ve
Officially had enough.

So…
I need to rip it off and trust
That this time the healing is happening
From the inside out.
One precious stitch at a time.

Healing has no timeline.
I am learning.

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My Heart Begs for Table Scraps

My dog is precious. Her name is Princess. She is a Cocker Spaniel with soft, silky black fur, sweet brown eyes, and when she curls up beside me on the couch and falls asleep with her head in my lap, it melts my heart.

But when I’m cooking dinner and she’s underfoot begging for scraps…ugh. And when my son put his burger too close to the edge of the table and walked into the kitchen for a drink only to find his burger gone and Princess licking her lips… super ugh.

“Dog!” I say with a raised voice…”didn’t I already feed you?!”

Yes. I fed her. She’s just waiting to see if something better gets dropped before resorting to her bowl of dry Beneful.

She’s just doing what doggies do. But I think sometimes that I have been just like the dog when it comes to relationships.

Waiting at the door for attention. Underfoot in the kitchen begging for scraps. Waiting. Pacing. Hoping someone will knock something off the counter. A kind word. A coffee meeting that I can pretend is a date. A text that is probably sent to multiple people as a copy, paste, repeat moment people never admit they do, but it won’t matter…it will FEEL special to me. I will feel singled out. Important. Oh, I know it’s not real love, it’s friendship, or conquest, or boredom, but who cares? It’s a scrap – quickly consumed, yet something that satisfies – for the moment.

I’m worthy of being taken out for a nice, quiet dinner and conversation. I’m way too precious to be begging for the leftovers of someone’s time and attention.

I’ll stop overgeneralizing. You get the analogy.

I am finally realizing that I don’t have to beg for love. I am worthy of love. And if someone doesn’t freely give it, it’s not real and it’s no good for me.

And I’m learning that when someone says let’s just be friends, they mean they’re not interested in more than that with me. Period.

I’ve looked back and counted the number of guy-good-friends I have had and it’s a lot and they all have the pattern of one casual coffee date quickly becoming “good” friends. Still praying through why I’m never seen as more than that. I still have a ways to go on understanding this one. Perhaps God is protecting me. That, and I’m a fantastic friend.

I am learning so many things lately.

I am learning to be quiet. To be content with what I have. To understand the difference between friendship-love and forever-love. To enjoy my life all by myself so much that I am not begging any longer for love and attention.

I am learning who I am and what my life-assignment is.

The last two days of this 40-day-journey (I’m on day 25 right now) I plan to take a short, unplugged, solo two-night trip – just God and me. To journal. To read. To pray. To breathe. To cry. To celebrate a successful journey.

Have I done this journey perfectly? No.

Have I made progress? Definitely.

If you’re praying, I appreciate you, more than you know.

Pray my heart heals. I realized tonight that although I’ve come really far, my heart still has open wounds that are still too painful to touch. They are painful because my feelings are 100% real. I learned that tonight too, when that place was touched for a moment and I winced, internally. Insta-tears. That’s how you know…

I’m just being real here. Because you who read me really pray and really love the real me.

Thank you.

Love you too.

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Clever Title Here

Each day is a little easier.

21 days.

3 weeks today.

And my heart is beginning

To understand

What it really needs,

What it really feels,

What it really longs for.

This 40-day journey will continue

Well past its Sept 24th end-date.

Healing has no timeline.

But I’m finding this time has been

Necessary to regroup,

To let the air and the light in,

To heal.

And the healing hasn’t just been

From the last year or so of

What-ifs…

It’s been from a lifetime of

Why?

And Why-me?

And What’s wrong with me?

I’m learning to embrace me.

This sounds strange to me because

My heart was made to love others deeply.

I wasn’t made like you.

My heart beats in stanzas and

Is filled with enjambments.

My favorite color is every

Hue and changing glimmer

Of sunset.

I live to help and love

And encourage.

A good hug is pure comfort.

So to live unloved in a way

I had hoped to be loved

For years and years

Has been torture to a heart that

Lives to love and be loved.

But I haven’t been unloved.

Not really.

I have kids and family and friends

Who are amazing.

I’m a communicator.

But I’ve realized lately I’ve taken

Scraps of communication in the

Form of texts and “likes” and emojis.

Mere scraps.

Let’s have coffee and conversation.

Let me drink in your story

And share mine over crispy bacon

And creamy-sweet coffee and

A side of hugs and laughter.

Let’s take in a movie, then sunset.

Let’s do life.

Putting down my phone these past weeks has helped me to

Sleep better,

Communicate better,

Think, breathe, work, play,

Live better.

So my journey continues.

As does my healing.

I’m in a battle for a settled,

Well-balanced heart.

As I said in a blog a couple of days ago,

“They lied to us.”

Love is NOT a fairytale.

Love is the day-to-day choice

To be kind and love well

And abide – together –

No matter what.

I’m facing reality squarely.

I lean on your prayers

And I am always praying for you.

When I’m done,

Let’s do life – and friendship –

Better.

I love you.

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Words Matter

I’m a writer. Usually my poetic mutterings here reach the 6 of you who regularly (kindly) read me.

But IRL I am on a team of writers for a major company who made a major announcement today.

Within minutes the media picked up and ran with a memo we got 40 minutes prior. My job? To help give talking points to a few thousand call center agents who were unknowingly about to handle hundreds of calls about this extremely politically charged issue.

Calm was the order of the day. Tone was everything.

All at once time was the enemy and words our best … ammo (pun intended). If you’ve not switched on the news today, you should.

But that aside, it got me thinking…

When time is short and anxieties are high, the words we use really do matter. All too often with my kids, these kinds of moments are ones for which I have to apologize later. This is where what’s truly in my heart comes out.

Words can encite a mob or calm an anxious crowd.

Maybe your job isn’t to find the words that will calm the masses. Maybe your job is just to quiet your own household.

Either way, words matter.

Choose wisely.

Posted in healing, Life Lessons, Love

They lied to us.

It’s taken 2 and a half long, excruciating weeks to unfilter you.

There wasn’t just one, but two:

The filter you wanted me to see you through –

And the filter I chose to look at you through.

Or maybe four – because did I ever show you the real me?

I did.

And so did you.

There were moments I caught a glimpse of reality when I looked in your direction.

We really saw each other.

A beautiful exposure.

Candid.

Unfiltered.

Me.

You.

And it kept my gaze in your direction like a lost first-mate scanning the horizon for a shoreline.

But it quickly vanished.

It’s never real.

Because we protect our hearts with smoke and mirrors.

We’ve all been too-powerfully hurt: those of us who have loved and lost.

Someone said it’s better to have…

They lied to us.

It’s horrible to have loved and lost.

But I’ve decided love is a mirage.

We’re all parched –

Heavy, sand-filled feet habitually strike the ground –

One-after-one until we presumably

Get somewhere.

But I’m tired. And I’m thirsty.

And I refuse to follow my own heart any longer.

And I refuse to follow advice-columns, talk-show trends, suggestive cinematic smatterings of hope.

This is why my heart is sick.

So I’ve decided to settle in where I belong instead of searching the horizon for what I “deserve,” what is “meant to be,” for what must be my “destiny.”

Destiny is here.

Truth lives in my heart.

It takes a true warrior to fight what tries to strangle her within.

I belong in my skin.

In this generation.

For the purpose of smiling, laughing, living, expressing joy.

It’s not what I don’t have that gives me purpose and hope.

Nor what I do.

It is who I am and, more to the point, it is exactly who I exist for:

I AM.

I won’t perfectly live out this truth, unfiltered.

I won’t promise I’ll never wish for this hole inside of me to go away or be filled.

But it’s truth that sets me free.

So I’ll stay on this path to truth, TV on mute, recycling bin close by, earplugs at the ready because the truth is:

We don’t have to search for love.

We already have it.

Love was crocheted into our DNA.

They lied to us.

Posted in Poetry, Word, Word, Truth, Life, Love, Writing

Word Before the Day

As I stumble upon morning, yet again, My throat parched,
My eyes cluttered with matter,
My heart half-awake –
I reach for your Word.
Well, first coffee; because…coffee
But always your Word.
And not out of habit.
Well, it IS my daily habit, but
That’s not my motivation.
No. My sweet, smiley,
Southern-belle-heart
Doesn’t always drink-in a
“Good” morning
So easily.
Whereas I don’t always
Feel “good” –
It is good.
Which is why your Word
Is necessary.
It brings life.

I’m 2 weeks into this
Quiet journey today,
Yet there are moments I,
Like the Israelites,
Prefer my “Egypt”-
Because
There is comfort in the familiar.

Truth-be-told
I’ve walked through this
Desert for 16 years and I, too
Have grumbled about
Mannah and quail.
But it has been my provision.
We’ve never missed a meal,
Nor had no roof over our heads.

But it’s time to cross over the Jordan.

My “Egypt” looked like
Men comforting me via text with
Hollow words that kept me
Wondering – and wandering.
My “Egypt” looked like
Words on a screen that
At first soothed, then
Scarred my heart.
My “Egypt” looked like
Delicious foods,
Pleasing to my mouth, yet
Horrible on my body.
Like spending too much,
Like being “liked” by strangers,
Like “I got this.”

But I don’t. Not really.
Not without my good, good Father.

When I awake at dawn
And find myself alone –
And find a message meant from
A concerned friend
Saying “you don’t have a husband because you don’t love God enough and you must have hidden sin.”

I want to shriek –
And block their number
And, like Job, finally stand and utter:
“Look, my eyes have seen all this; my ears have heard and understood it. Everything you know, I also know; I am not inferior to you. Yet I prefer to speak to the Almighty and argue my case before God. You use lies like plaster; you are all worthless healers. If only you would shut up and let that be your wisdom!” [Job 13:1‭-‬5 CSB]

This! This is why I reach for your Word.
Before work.
Before my daily wake-up greeting for Mr. Middle School.
Before my work inbox fills with requests.

And, like the Psalmist, I declare:
“If your instruction had not been my delight, I would have died in my affliction. I will never forget your precepts for you have given me life through them.”
[Psalm 119: 92]

More Word.
Less text. Less grumbling.
More Word.
Less “likes.” Less posting.
More Word.
Less judgment. Less hatred.
More Word.
Just more of your life-giving Word.