the corner you avoid

of course i'm judging him. i mean, why wouldn't i? he is grungy, and dirty. i can smell him as he stands next to my car window with a sign that reads "homeless, please help, God bless." immediately, as if he is a convicted criminal, i lock all four doors, roll up my window, and choose to avoid as much eye contact as possible.

then the thoughts go through my head, "who is he? what's his name? does he have children?" how can i be such a curious person, yet automatically judge, and assume, that this man, who smells different, who is obviously hungry, is going to rob me. how selfish can i be? how is it that i am any better than he is? yet, i still sit in my car with the windows rolled up, refusing to make eye contact because i don't want to feel sorry for him, and i don't want to give him that last dollar in my pocket, even though i don't need it. he probably deserves that McDonald's coffee more than i do. Because i'm pretty sure that his man is not judging me. In fact, he probably feels shame, and hurt, and i refuse to help him because once again, i think i am too good for this, when the truth is, i am probably much more of a dirty, filthy person on the inside.

where has all this judgement come from? all he probably wants is some change, or something to eat, and is just trying to get by in life. Yet, here i sit, in my NICE car, in clean clothes, on the way to my JOB, and i have the nerve to sit here and judge this man, when all he wants is to probably be loved, and stopped being judged. all he wants is a sandwich, and to thank some one for their kindness and hospitality. for crying out loud, i mean, this man could be Jesus, on this corner, and i am doing everything in my power to avoid His presence. i should be the one ashamed.

Just as i reach into my pocked to pull out my dollar, i see a woman running across the street with a bag in her hand. she hands him the bag, and a bottle of water. the man hugs her, and she walks away.

the tears in my eyes start to come, the light turns green, and i drive away, hoping that i don't see this man because i feel as if he has read all my thoughts, and i am too much embarrassed to show my face.

my love.

i'm falling more in love with him each day, and each day i learn the i will never stop learning to love him. i feel as if i've been completed, even-though, i have been completed by God, he still makes me feel like i have found what i have been searching for my entire life.

it starts from the way he touches me, to the ways he says my name, the way he calls me beautiful, the way he looks me deep in my eyes and tells me he loves me.

in his eyes i am royalty, in his life i am part of life, in his existence, i am everything to him.

he is the better half, he brings out the best in me, and believes that if i wanted to, i could really fly. he sees Jesus in me, and tell me that he wants to be more like me. but i desire his patience, kindness, and his love for life.

the day he asked me to marry him, i couldn't imagine anyone else i'd rather rather be with than him, i couldn't imagine being next to anyone else but him for the rest of my living life.

i love him, and forever will.

mommy

mommy,

i miss you already. i came by the house today, and in its emptiness, i saw you sitting on the couch knitting your next project; and in the mist of this emptiness, i relived my childhood, my young adult life, and the beginning of my adult life. i felt the tears as they slowly poured down my face, and wished that i could hug you one more time.

i know you aren't gone, you just a little further away, and closer to the Cowboys. But still you aren't here with me, which is way to far.

i can still smell the German Chocolate Cake you are baking, and the vanilla plug ins you have in the wall. i can hear Dad walking down the hall with his house shoes on asking if you're done yet. i can hear the foot ball game on in the back round, but i much prefer your humming as you put icing the cake.

i still wish to hug you when i walk though the door, but i know that's not going to happen for a long time.

i miss you asking me if i am hungry, and tell to go dig through the fridge. i miss you sticking dollar bills in my purse when i'm not looking. its just i really miss you.

if i haven't told you enough, i love you with all my heart. God gave me the greatest mother i could have ever asked for. i thank you for everything you have every done for me, and everything you will continue to do for me. thank you for giving me life, and love me. i hope i get to visit you soon.


Love your only daughter,

me.

if i could.

if i could just up and run away, i'd run away from my debts, failures, and fears. i'd run away from the credit cards, and phone bills that sit to haunt me at the end of every month. i'd run from the fact that i have no money, nor do i need any. i'd run from that fact that i am so poor, but be close to the fact that i could almost feel like Jesus, full of the Fathers presence, no matter what was in my pocket.

if i could just up and run away, i'd run from, hurt, pain and, selfishness. i run from the tears that come every night, or from the sorrow i feel from the homeless man holding a sign that says "God Bless." i'd run from the fact that i can't even spare him a dollar cause sometimes i don't want to.

sometimes i wish i could run as far as the sun could take me, some times i wish i would run out to the middle of no where, and meet Jesus in an open field, telling me He has missed me.

Sometimes, i wish i could win the lottery so i can just up and give everything i had to those who had nothing because i have everything i need.

Other times, i wish i was in heaven, or day dreaming on a beach with no worries, or even just swinging on a swing up on top of a hill.

i would run, run so far where i can't be found. i would run so far to where Jonas did, where he could hear music, and placed Gabriel in his warm arms to hear.

i would run to my paradise, where no anger exists, sadness, or defeat; where i can wake up to a beautiful morning full of happiness. i would wake up to a day waiting for me to claim as my own.

sometimes imagine my self in the middle of the woods listening to the birds sings, as they say, " i have no worries." i can hear the frogs chirping "Today is a free day." I imagine my self waking up to a morning where i can sing "Beautiful Dreamer."

One day i imagine the entire nation holding hands in a circle singing "Amazing Grace," with tears streaming from everyone's eyes, as if they have found what they have been looking for their entire lives; Jesus standing in the middle with tears pouring out if His eyes, saying " I love you."

if i could just up and run away, i would. but not just anywhere. it would have to be up along a beach, where i could meet Jesus, and hug Him, and tell Him that i have been searching for Him for so long. that i have been waiting for that day where i can run up to Him face to face, and just embrace that presence of His beautiful body standing there before me.

the Life.

His hands are wide open & i do not come. constantly, He is calling me, over & over & begs for me to look at Him; for me to at least turn around. but i ignore His beautiful voice. i desire more than anything to draw into His grace, His beauty, His everlasting, unconditional Love. but who am i? & why does He love me so? i've abandon Him, left Him, hurt Him, betrayed Him, still He calls for me.
i have watched myself accomplish everything He hates, & i did it before His eyes, knowing He is watching me. & so i continue for my own selfish need because this is everything i want, everything my disgusting flesh desires.
once i've torn myself apart & unable to stand, He saves me, again. so i surrender into Him, allow Him to comfort me. & once i'm healed, once again, i turn away, walk away, with out ever expressing my thanks.
i don't walk very far before i turn back around & run back into His arms, & He tells me He loves me. tears are streaming from His eyes & pouring out of mine. i begin to tell Him how sorry i am, how worthless i am, how selfish i am. so then He takes His nail scarred hands, wipes my tears, & tells me, i am worth His life.

forever waiting.

how can i ever forget her face its like i just saw her yesterday, and again today 5 years later.

i find her in the grocery store, with her beautiful daughter hanging on her side, and another child one the way, her belly so beautifully protruding, saying, i'm a mommy.

I mean 5 years ago those two perfectly created children could have once been mine, could have had my eyes, her hair, her gorgeous lips, and porcelain skin. but they are not mine, and no longer is she mine, she now belongs to another man; to her i am now just a stranger. she doesn't know i'm looking, admiring, dreaming, and wondering what life would have been like if i would have called her my wife.

I can see her in the fruit area, carefully picking her apples, picking one up, disagreeing w/ it and placing it right back. she was always carefully admiring her fruit, there always perfection in everything she touched. and once upon a time i would walk up kiss her neck and encourage her that any apple she picked was more than perfect.

she picks up another one, places it in the bag, and moves on.

We were both 19 laying naked in her bed, telling each other how this moment couldn't be any more perfect, how nothing else mattered, and that she promised to love me forever. I would swaddle her in my arms, her silky skin touching my body; her legs intertwined with mine, her heart against mine. my world was in her hands.

i loved her, more than i could ever imagine loving anyone else. i would tell her that one day i would buy her the world, that one day we would run away together somewhere far where no one else mattered but us. she would smile at me, and with love in her eyes tell me that i was all she needed, forever and ever... forever didn't last long enough.

i still look at her pictures, go back to my life when it was perfect, go back to when i showed up at her door step and asked her to be mine, to the day where only we existed on the beaches of S.F. I go back to the day when she told me one day we'd get married, back to the day we had our kids names, back to the day she was pregnant. I go back, to far back, back enough to where i start to see her tears, back to where the baby is lost, back to the day she stood at my door step with garbage bags filled with her clothes, telling me goodbye. She was going home.

I knew one day this day would come, i don't know how, or when, but i knew one day, she would stand in front of me with tears filled in her eyes, telling me she was sorry, telling me she loved me with all her heart. She was telling me she was leaving, she was going back to see her sick mother, going back to be with her lost family; i wasn't going to stop her.

I heard from her a couple of times that week. she asked me to take her name off my cell phone, to throw away her pictures, to try and forget that she changed my life. Life would never be the same, she was leaving for good, half way around the world, and that was all she told me. the last thing she ever said to me crying over the phone, " I love you, " and she hung up the phone. my heart shattered, my hands quivered, my life empty. Love lost.

Forgetting her wasn't easy, in fact, it was impossible. i would dream she was next to me, and wake up w/ a pillow soaked w/ my tears. her smell still lingers, her presence still walks, her voice was heard, but slowly fading. I had to learn to walk again.

So here i am, 5 years later, with her in the same building, same isle, still in the same life. I desired more than anything to run up to here and to tell her that i loved her, that i was and still and waiting for her, that i will forever be here for her. but my body didn't move, my eyes stayed frozen on her, she was really here.

i took one step closer, one big breath, and then she turned her head to find a distant friend admiring her gorgeous body. her eyes filled with tears, her heart was visibly beating through her chest, and i could heart it, rhythmically with my own.

we both stood there for what seemed eternity, trying to capture the fact, that once upon a time, we existed. Her eyes never changed, her lips still as perfect from the first time she kissed me, her hands still as fragile. she was so beautiful, breathtaking, a marvel. no longer mine, she took my heart, and kept it.

she still wore my necklace. i smiled, tears in my own eyes. She parted her lips to say something, but then her daughter tugged on her shirt calling for mommy, and as much as a dreamed to hear her voice say my name, as much as i wanted to love her again, i turned around, walked away, hoping to never be seen of again.

Her life was no longer mine, my life no longer in her hands, my heart missing a piece that she will forever hold.

i walked out of that grocery store, got into my car, and drove away back to my empty house. the dog still greets me at the door, and still waits for her to come home.

The hole in my left sock.

I have a hole in my left sock on my middle toe. I don’t know how many times I have put this sock on this exact foot & how I just catch myself smiling every time I see the little toe peeking out. I don’t know why I haven’t patched it. It is my favorite pair of socks & I don’t know what it is that stops me from putting a needle to the gaping hole created by my toe, created by me. Created by being uncaring, free willed, and ignorant; refusing to see that the sock I wear is slowly wearing away & I am too self absorbed to realize that the cloth protecting my foot is slowly dying.

Still day to day I put the sock back on to my foot, always realizing the hole is still there. Maybe I don’t patch it because I’m afraid. Afraid that if I close all holes, I will have no where to go, there won’t be an escape. I will be trapped & forever suffocated in my sock. Suffocated in my life, afraid that if I decide to let the needle touch the broken thread, I will never be freed.

Or maybe I’m too afraid that if I do parch it, the threads will only break again, & once again be broken, like I am. Like the way I believe that the sock will fail me once again. Once again it will break, once again it will expose me to the cold, so why bother, I’d rather just stay there now instead of getting my hopes up. The hopes I once had when I first put the sock on my foot and felt the war comforting, and safe sensation; that feeling that nothing could break this seal, the hard woven, unbreakable thread. The fine pieces so tightly held together, nothing could break it.

Until one day, I magically pulled off my shoe & there was the toe exposed out to the outside world. The sock failed me. It ripped, it tore, and left my defenseless toe in the cold, exposed to the deceitful world.

It broke its promise and my heart.

Still for some unknown reason I still wear the same sock on the same foot

I always think about maybe patching up the gaping hole, but I keep putting the idea to the back of my head, even when it tries to push itself to the front, I always manage to push it back.

I finally gave in. my toe has been cold for far too long, and I thought maybe I could give the left sock on more try. So I patch the hold up with completely mismatching thread

And to this day, when I put the sock on, I smile, the thread hasn’t broken its promise this time.