What to do?

I pray Father that you would teach me to speak. Teach me to use words, from the English language, from any language that will make sense to people so they be touched by you and your Holy Spirit.
I drove home today from Silverdale, where I just filled my tank with gas, and I could not stop thinking about my earlier years and dreams.
I remember making up songs at my grama's cabin and in my old apartment and just belting them out.
I remember in grade 3 being so scared to try out for the lead of my class play. I sat with my friends in our little desks in a square shape and they kept encouraging me to try out...I did eventually. I remember my 2 teachers looking at me. Encouragement and love flowing from their eyes. I got it.
I remember that same year doing my first solo act with a dress and mike and big 80's hair. I sang a song by Tanya Tucker, a famous country singer, about a tree bending in the wind.
I remember seeing you, God, there. Now I see you. My earthly parents were not, but you were. Thank you.
Thank you for blessing me with friends all the way through. Whether they were mean or nice, I never felt really alone. I usually had someone at school. Thank you for this special blessing.
I remember in high school going through every c.d. I knew to find what country song I could sing the best. I remember making dance moves to the songs like the performers I had seen on T.V. I remember the shouts I received after each opportunity on stage. I wanted to be an entertainer.
I remember having sleep-overs with my great friend Jen and we sang into my kereoke machine for hours together. I had sang with my friend Ashley and even sometimes, my brother and I would do duets together.
I remember crying in bed cause I wanted to be somewhat like Reba or Faith or Shania or Terri. I wanted it so bad.
Here I am again, crying.
I am going to Nashville. I am going to see a dear friend graduate from Mercy Ministries. I am going to Nashville, the country capital of the world.
On the ride home to Maple Ridge, I am hit with memories and dreams. Thoughts and wishes.
Why do I have these dreams deep within?
I don't want to be famous. I want God to have all the fame in heaven and on earth. He is the only one worthy.
The first year I came to a Christmas banquet at Generations-my church-4 years ago, I remember Barb Bradbury singing a song by Amy Grant, a Christian artist who is married to Vince Gill, a country artist. Why do I remember these things?
Jesus, here I am surrendering these things to you again. I do not know why I am crying but I do know that I trust in you. People say that 'God gives us desires in our hearts' but where is that in the scriptures and what is the context? I do not desire to be selfish and reap fame but to do what pleases you. I long to obey your every word. I long to be used by you to make your name known and loved more and more. I thank you that the tears are gone now and I pray that I would receive peace of mind that surpasses my understanding. I pray, my lover, that I would sleep in your arms tonight. I love you most of all, above all else. Be blessed, my beloved, and I will see you in the morning and in my dreams.
Thank you all for seeing a glimpse of this heart in these immeasurable words.

iron

I hate that it hurts this bad.

To give something up,

to lay something down.

No matter how much I want to hold on
or want to spit or swear or con,
I am not meant to be that person anymore
so I hide my thoughts in drawers
and yet some how they get thrown on the floor.

You say it is ok, trust in me.
I come and that is what you ask of me
but I come and think I'm not becoming free.
Do these chains have no key
or have I been holding them but not able to see?
Is the fight always constant?
Is the fight always frustrating?
When I'm fighting that fight is it with them, Him or me?

Yet still I search to find hope,
to find freedom and healing,
to know myself as someone worth saving.
I am tired of learning just to cope,
I want to be more awake
and about how to learn from mistakes.
I will walk in this grace
I need to look things right in the face,
not to run away and hide
but to embrace and die.
Die to myself, die to my wants,
die to all the things that haunt.

Just as surely as the autumn rains come,
the leaves fall and the winds blow,
I have to believe that this will not be my home.

When flying through the air, free to roam,

I will find where I belong and hopefully land low.

Then peace and pureness comes in a new snow,
and again this will be another beginning this I know.

I hate that it hurts this bad.
To give something up,
to lay something down.
When an ox unyokes I wonder if it struggles,
with anger or apathy or maybe it just giggles.
To give something up or to lay something down,
how do you act, do you smile or frown?
What other feelings to get, sassy or sad
I guess it depends on what choices you had.
To be free or to continue to juggle
all the things inside your bubble.
To give something up or lay something down
is to change into a bag or a gown.

Bags don't fit us properly
and gowns are just to fancy really.
It might hurt this bad because we settle for a bag.
It might hurt this bad because we feel so unworthy of a gown.
We beat ourselves up with a punch and a kick.
Every little scab we reopen by continuing to pick
hoping to perfect ourselves like a cats single lick.

Maybe the gown is not that hard to achieve

maybe if we treat the scab it will eventually leave.

Is the gown free and can we please just receive?

To add to all of these, with the gown comes a crown.

To add to all of these, usually a paper bag is brown.

I want color, I want class,

I want to holler I will not pass.

This might hurt more than I know

but I will give something up

and lay something down.

Mold me like I am some dough
so I can wear a gown and a crown.

excuse?

I want to write at least once a week. I sit here and think of so many things. Yet...no excuse. Not even time. Not even laziness. Not even that I am tired. I am sorry...or am I? I wish I am if I am not. I love 'Joshua' and He loves me. Good night and ta ta for now. Until...whenever.