Winning

The Lord gives me strength in all things,

I sing praises to him!

For he has never let me down,

Who can go against the Lord?

They always lose.

Always choose the living water,

I have no doubt about his.

The wind, waves, and earth move for him.

He is above all, the king!

How shall we overcome?

He already has.

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How precious am I to you O Lord,

You are the master of knowing the desires of my heart,

You listen and you give to those who are good,

How could I have never known you before?

You are everything we need in this life,

The answer to all things.

My Testimony

I’ll place my hope in you, for you know what is best for me before I do. You see me as I am, my redeeming qualities and my faults. Clearly, I am imperfect yet you love me despite. 

We are not meant to be turned away, believing we are doomed. There is only one thing that is true in this world and it is the love of Christ. Love prevails through fights, heartbreak, sickness, betrayal, and even death. Stop and take heed of my words: Love conquers all of that. It is the truth and everything loses in comparison. What proof do I have of this? I, once shadowed by depression found no solace in what was promised to bring happiness. I fooled with men, cursed those who hurt me, and sought my own justice to make right only to discover the pleasure morph into self disgust. “You just can’t keep up with this fast life. You’re weak and you will always be weak,” you might say. When will you see that you are weak too? You consume the false pretense that you have to prove something to yourself to be satisfied. How awful! You cannot live your life believing you are your own. We are sinful creatures that cannot be relied on for peace. Can you see the truth about yourself? Believe and you will see. We are imperfect and this is only made right by the only real perfect love there is. I was never mine and following the truth instead of my own beliefs has healed me. It is not too late for you.

Forgive Yourself

I don’t know what went on from Point A to Point B. I wonder what happened to you for you to be so lonely. You won’t accept any help from people that try to help you, insisting that you are fine when anyone who really knows you knows that things are not fine. Not even close. It’s like you want people to get to know you that don’t know you because it would be nice to have friends. Yet you hide yourself away as soon as things get really enjoyable. You fear the worst and refuse to believe that it will last. You believe that this person will see how insecure you are and will decide for themselves that you are too much to be friends with. 

So you play the disappearing act. You vanish, leaving people wondering where you went. You say you’re busy with other things when really, you’re in the house too busy hating yourself. What a vicious cycle. I’m sorry. I’m sorry it had to be this way. Nobody deserves to feel as alone as you feel no matter what they have done. And yet, our lives are so intertwined that we don’t see who cares about us. Loneliness makes us self absorbed that way. You’re so used to being by yourself your world becomes too small and you forget what how other people work. Oh, I’m not saying it’s your fault. I’m just saying this can be fixed. If you’re so insistent that you are to blame, forgive yourself and carry on. Forgive yourself and others. It gets easier with time.

Confidence

Light spills through jalousies,

warming floorboards with one sweeping wave,

dresser, vanity, tea set, finally bed,

touching her cheeks flushed from first heat.

She tousles brown locks over her face,

huffs, “See me tomorrow!”

tucks her head into the peach blanket ruffles,

breathing in the detergent of the fresh fabric.

Brazen is the sun, determined,

which sweeps through cotton sheets,

prodding her to see the day,

birds singing in the windowpane.

She flounces her blankets off,

betrayed by heat of summer morning,

sprawls her arms to cast out tensions,

sleep energy transferring out her body.

 

The door creaks revealing an angel-haired maiden,

sweet as lilies that float away in the creek,

she whispers, “It’s time,”

then tends to the eggs and cinnamon bread.

Thus, she scurries to the closet for a fresh pick,

observing fabrics, cuts, and colors choicely,

an array of careful consideration,

while changing out of her pajamas.

She turns toward the vanity,

pinches the soft of her belly fat,

winces, eyebrows furrowed,

grimacing toward the reflection.

She focuses back to the array of patterns,

pulls a plain navy suit with gold finishings,

holds both pieces to her frame,

fidgets, poses, unsure.

 

She tips on her toes,

tilts her head to the side,

puffs out her chest for expression,

then reverts.

She studies the smooth and rough surfaces of her face,

tousles her hair in careful, cascading waves,

puckers her lips for rouge,

closes the clasps of her peep toed pumps.

She makes her way out,

pauses, hand on the door,

rushes back, once more,

searching for imperfections.

She flattens her face on the cool mirror,

leaving a nose imprint,

pulls back, revealing a dimpled smile,

then she whisks away without a second glance.