H U R R I C A N E S .

Sometimes I feel like I’m whitewater rafting. The sun is shining and the wind's on my skin; nothing but smooth sailing. Boundless and infinite. And suddenly, the waves crash into me and I feel myself going under. I can't write. Or breathe. Or think. I am completely surrounded by turbulence and fear. But then, i hear His voice.

“I'm here.”

I’m violently fighting the waters, searching for His presence. I see His face at the surface of the waters and grab hold of Him. Immediately, the tides cease and there is peace again. Once again, my focus has shifted and I lose sight of Him.

Once again, He has saved me.

It’s funny how some days can seem like complete chaos. How one event can serve as a catalyst or a spark and suddenly everything spins out of control. But then i think about how I’m surrounded by His love and grace and mercy and things begin to fall back into place and perspective. And no matter how big my problems may seem, they are miniscule in His presence.

I guess another principle I’ve focused on lately is balance. I’ve learned that without bad days, it's hard to appreciate the little things that help alleviate a bad day. Coffee breaks, hikes on the river walk, talks with my big brother.

So live for the good days and learn from the bad; keep riding the waves and stay afloat.

“Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed. – Isaiah 54:10.”

someday.

the streetlights flicker

and I ease
down
the
cool
cinder
block
wall.

"when did it all begin?" I ask,
rubbing my temples;

you run your fingers through your
thinning brown hair
and the ashes from your cigarette
dance like fireflies
in the dying midsummer sky.

you take a seat beside me
and when you
open your mouth
to tell a story,
a chain of words
fall from your mouth and hit he ground
with a thud.

you tell me of your hopes
and dreams and biggest fears.
and of drunken nights gone wrong.

and then you tell me the story of
how you wanted it all to end.

you bury your head into your chest.

"it doesn't have to be like this." I say,
as I help you to your feet,

"we can get through this."

you place your hand firmly
on my shoulder, "someday." you say
with a weak smile.

someday.