A Work in Progress...

Hello lovely readers,

My church is going through a series in Ephesians and we are talking about God taking the badness in our lives and reshaping it to make it good. This week were discussing Ephesians 2:1-10. I am not a poet (though in high school I wrote a few poems mostly about the guys I had crushes on) however I was inspired to write this poem.

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You may call me a hypocrite
Do you think I don't call myself that...
I know my flaws
I see all them stare at me
   when I look in the mirror
I see them before I put on my makeup
   and before I have my first cup of coffee
I try to hide them behind this mask
But I see them before you
I feel them and know them fully
They call me by name
    and regretfully I welcome them in
They surround me when I stumble and fail
They remind me of my worthless,
    junky state of being.
So don't call me a hypocrite
When I call Jesus my Lord,
Because I know all my flaws and sins
    he carried to the cross
I may not know the love it took Him
    to take that on
However, it is the love I struggle to understand
And it is a love I desire to know daily
Don't call me a hypocrite
   when I read my Bible or stand in church
because I know my flaws and sins.
I try to hide them
I try to cover them with a mask of goodness
    but I am broken,
I am shards of glass
and while I cling to these broken pieces
I know I should give them up
yet I strive to love daily
and forgive as I am forgiven.
But I am still trying
I might fail a thousand times
I might shatter into a thousand pieces...
I know my flaws
and I see them,
and they know me by name
so I don't call me a hypocrite,
   I am still trying,
   I am hoping to change,
wanting to be different
and to be more like the Christ I call King.
But I am a thousand pieces of glass
You many call me a hypocrite
Don't you think I call myself that
I know my flaws
but I am still trying, hoping, and changing.


Thank you for reading.

~~~~

I don't want you ending this post thinking I am all sad...because I am not. Actually I love the book of Ephesians (it might help that I have actually been to Ephesus and have seen the ruins) but it has always been a book I have turned too when my soul needs a bit of revival. So many of my favorite passages are in this book, including:

For by grace you have been saved through faith. 

And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God,  not a result of works, so that no one may boast.  For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, 

which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.- Ephesians 2:8-10 (ESV) 

In Ephesus... (Above) Paul spoke in the amphitheater behind me

(Below) Just relaxing a bit in the sun

Yours faithfully... Letter #10, 11

Hello lovely readers,

First, I know last week I posted a snip it of a story idea that came to my mind but I have decided two works in progress was enough for me to handle. I have been loving these letters as a way to retell one of my novels Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell. Second, I am happy and surprised that this story has lasted so long since it really just came out of a free-write in April, but I have been enjoying this project and I hope you have too.

Previous post

Dearest Aunt,
I am at a loss of what to say. I cannot breath. My heart is broken. How can you be gone?

Everyone thought you were on the mend and now you are gone. I wonder if you even hear my last letter and if it in any small brought you comfort. It probably came at the time when you were at your worse and you never heard it, and you will not hear this or read this as you are now gone.

People will think it is odd to write to you now that you are dead but you were my truest comfort and it only feels natural to write you even though you will never read this. 

Oh my dearest Aunt, I am at a loss. You were truer to me than my own late mama. I barely remember her, I was only three, and looking back on it I feel as though one day she was there and then gone the next. Besides the portrait of us taken when I was baby I have no remembrance of  how she looked or what it was like to be held by her. You were my second mother, no matter what my new mama tells me. 

I feel I cannot cry around her, she so hates to see grief. My one comfort at this moment is Cassie who lets me sit and cry on her shoulder. She is always so generous and loving. Her beauty on the outside reflects the pureness of her heart. I do not know how I would get through this moment without her strength.

I am being selfish. I wish I could be with Uncle, Ozzie and Hugh. I do not know how they are baring it. Uncle and Ozzie were quite tense with each other when I left, they did not speak of it but it was felt at every moment. They both depended on you so much. And poor Hugh to lose another mother. How will he feel this deeply? Oh my dearest aunt, I am sorry if we took advantage of your kindness, your love, and strength. If you can see us now, I hope you can see how desperately we need you. You were the cornerstone of our family. I do not know whats going to happen. 

I do wish my new mama would let me come to see them all but she claims that I would be a burden to them.  I hope I was never a burden to you. Mama also claims we have engagements that we are to keep, I do not know how I am to keep up appearances when my heart is so broken.

I will stay faithful to you and keep you updated on the events of my life. In that I feel I keep you with me. 

All my love.    

Dearest Aunt,

We buried you today. That feels odd to write. Unreal almost. The minister talked about your soul being in heaven and I do so hope you are at peace. 

The service was beautiful practically everyone in town attended.And my dear uncle stood as a rock not letting anyone see his heartbreak. You would have been embarrassed by the amount of tears Ozzie had for you, I think he feels your loss more than anyone.He told me you were always his biggest supporter and now he does not know how he will get on from one day to the next. I wanted to remind him of his wife and the support she will provide, but as I promised him and myself to never speak of it I did not feel right to mention it. The service was beautiful and I felt it truly reflected the beauty that is in your life. I hope you got to look down from heaven and see how much we down here love you. Hugh was so good to me and let me sit up front as if I was intimate family. Mama and Cassandra did not attend as Mama was called to The Towers this morning and Cassandra accompanied. I would have appreciated her company and have her meet Hugh, Ozzie and Uncle but I know when Mama puts her mind to something it is hard to dissuade her. 

Not much else to write, but I did want to copy down the poem Hugh read, he said it was your favorite. I think Hugh was the only one who could read a loud at the moment... 

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

I knew you liked Dickinson but I did not know that was your favorite. I will carry it with me from now on. 

All my love.  

 Poem citation 

God's little reminder

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Last May I wrote a post called "Things I am afraid to tell you" in the post I shared this poem...

I hear a voice

I know it well

   it tells me over and over

I am unworthy

I am unable to be loved

and when I look in the mirror

   it tells me 

I am ugly.

This voice is closer to me

   than a friend

and been around me 

   since I was a little girl. 

I hide my face 

   admit defeat

and walk with shame.

I hope no one else 

  can see these failings

I hope today my mask

  of goodness stays in place. 

When I am strong

   I pick myself up

and tell the voice "no"

  I am worthy

  I am loved

  and I will prove it. 

So I do my best

   on my own 

   to fight against it

   but I fail.

I hear the voice

I know it well.

It mocks me for trying

it points out my scars

   and my pain

it points out the wrongs 

   I commit 

   and how I will always keep failing.

Because of these

it tells me over and over 

I am unworthy 

I am unable to be loved 

and when I look in the mirror

    it tells me

I am ugly.

So I continue with my mask 

    of goodness 

always adjusting it 

so people see 

what they want to see. 

They see a smile

   and that's what I want

because who loves a girl 

   who curls up in bed and cries

who loves a girl that is 

   falling apart

   lonely,

   and scared. 

They see a smile

   and that's what I want. 

But I hear a voice 

    and I know it well

a voice that is quick to cut

a voice that is louder than all others 

and a voice I would die to silence.

I hear it

bury my head in shame

admit defeat

and curl up in a dark spot.

There I sit

but there I hear a whisper 

it is very soft

"my child", "my love"

"my beauty", "my creation."

"You must have me wrong"

I tell the whisper.

But it repeats

"my child", "my love"

"my beauty", "my creation."

I open my eyes

see nothing there

so I doubt its existence.

"My child","my love"

"I am here for you

in darkness to be your light,

to be your hope

when you feel hopeless,

and to be your strength 

when you can't pick yourself up.

Remain in me 

and I will remain in you."

When I cling to that whisper 

the voice softens 

when I concentrate on that whisper

the shame of my failings 

    go away

and when I take in that whisper 

I feel blessed and loved.

But the voice is always there

always quick to cut

and some times louder 

   than a battle cry.

But so is the whisper

it remains too.

I have to listen harder

  to hear it 

  but it is there

it calls to me over and over again.

"My child", "my love"

"my beauty", "my creation"

"I am here for you

I am here with you

   and I love you." 

Well today as I was listening to one of my playlist and I heard this song... All the Beauty (Kati's Story) by JJ Heller. 

The song reminded me of my poem and how much I still need to remember the words of God...

You call me lovely

You call me friend

You call me out of death and let me try again

You call me beloved

You call me clean

Then you show me all the beauty that you see in me

 

{lyrics}

I love the way God reminds us of His love for us. 

Things I'm afraid to tell you

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The idea for this post was originally inspired by this blogging trend that went around a few weeks ago. I found it through one of my favorite bloggers Sarah at Well and Cheaply  she found it through another blogger Creature Comforts the idea behind these post are for bloggers to become more vulnerable "in an effort to make the bigger blogging community a better place" to read more click here.  I started writing this post but I felt like all I was doing was whining so I never published it. But now I am more inspired by a series my church is doing called Undone for those messages click here. I have been thinking lately a lot about things that have been holding me back in my life and in my faith. On Monday after my quiet time I wrote this poem... it is still in its infancy phase but I wanted to share it.*

I hear a voice

I know it well

   it tells me over and over

I am unworthy

I am unable to be loved

and when I look in the mirror

   it tells me 

I am ugly.

This voice is closer to me

   than a friend

and been around me 

   since I was a little girl. 

I hide my face 

   admit defeat

and walk with shame.

I hope no one else 

  can see these failings

I hope today my mask

  of goodness stays in place. 

When I am strong

   I pick myself up

and tell the voice "no"

  I am worthy

  I am loved

  and I will prove it. 

So I do my best

   on my own 

   to fight against it

   but I fail.

I hear the voice

I know it well.

It mocks me for trying

it points out my scars

   and my pain

it points out the wrongs 

   I commit 

   and how I will always keep failing.

Because of these

it tells me over and over 

I am unworthy 

I am unable to be loved 

and when I look in the mirror

    it tells me

I am ugly.

So I continue with my mask 

    of goodness 

always adjusting it 

so people see 

what they want to see. 

They see a smile

   and that's what I want

because who loves a girl 

   who curls up in bed and cries

who loves a girl that is 

   falling apart

   lonely,

   and scared. 

They see a smile

   and that's what I want. 

But I hear a voice 

    and I know it well

a voice that is quick to cut

a voice that is louder than all others 

and a voice I would die to silence.

I hear it

bury my head in shame

admit defeat

and curl up in a dark spot.

There I sit

but there I hear a whisper 

it is very soft

"my child", "my love"

"my beauty", "my creation."

"You must have me wrong"

I tell the whisper.

But it repeats

"my child", "my love"

"my beauty", "my creation."

I open my eyes

see nothing there

so I doubt its existence.

"My child","my love"

"I am here for you

in darkness to be your light,

to be your hope

when you feel hopeless,

and to be your strength 

when you can't pick yourself up.

Remain in me 

and I will remain in you."

When I cling to that whisper 

the voice softens 

when I concentrate on that whisper

the shame of my failings 

    go away

and when I take in that whisper 

I feel blessed and loved.

But the voice is always there

always quick to cut

and some times louder 

   than a battle cry.

But so is the whisper

it remains too.

I have to listen harder

  to hear it 

  but it is there

it calls to me over and over again.

"My child", "my love"

"my beauty", "my creation"

"I am here for you

I am here with you

   and I love you." 

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* to my mom I know you read my post sometimes and worry about me please don't worry I am clinging to the whisper.