Sweetest Moments

I'm looking back on the weekend. It wasn't a typical Friday through Sunday regular business.

No.
It was spent by traveling in cars for hours on end to our youth groups destination in Plymouth, MA., to then spend hours worshiping Jesus and listening to men teach about Him.

It was a weekend full of expectations to see the people grow. To see the church grow.
And it did.

But Friday evening during the first session, when my tired I've been traveling for 8 hours body stood there with exhaustion blinding my eyes and heart, I couldn't have told you that I would experience His Spirit and be renewed by Him again by the time I left for home.

But it happened.
He came through.

Saturday night after worshiping and listening, we all went down, every one of us to the front.

It was time.

Time to say, "Holy Spirit, come and find me. Guide me, for I am blind and cannot hear. I am lost and overwhelmed by my sin and shame... I need You."

It was, by far, one of the sweetest moments. Being in a crowd of people my age, shouting and singing to a God who reigns.
And He was there. Oh, how I knew He was there.

And as I stood there praising Him, only 20 feet over to my right, through the crowd of people, my dear friend gave her life to Jesus.
This was, such a good night.

But that, to me, was still not the sweetest moment yet.

It was an hour later after the conference ended, when we were on our way back to our Massachusetts weekend "home", that a worship CD was played at a deafening volume. But it was perfect.

All five of us teenage girls were shouting, screaming, and singing along to God --
We all loved Jesus. And we all loved loving Jesus together.

And that was the sweetest moment. When I was overwhelmed with joy because of where I was, singing with friends to Jesus, and overflowing with excitement because it was then that I realized, Heaven will be even better than all of my sweetest moments put together.

I cried as I read.

I was struck with joy and happiness.

He is coming. Heaven is coming.

I had forgotten how beautiful it will be when He comes again; when His glory comes upon us.

Why was I reading Revelation? Matt Redman references it many times in his book Facedown. After finishing one of the chapters of Facedown I pulled my Bible out and turned to Revelation, starting in chapter seven (where he referenced at one point) and continuing through the whole book.

I had intended to read just that one chapter, but I couldn't stop.

My soul was hungry and in need once again to hear that He is indeed coming.

And once again I was told...
He is coming.

Is there anything better?

[Location: Williamsburg, Virginia]


(Warning: This won't be much of a post. My bones are so tired and frankly, that's the only excuse I have. Sorry 'bout it.)

The guest bedroom I'm staying in for the first few nights is perfect. Want to know the first thing I noticed when I walked in?... The little desk/shelving unit on the wall near the king sized bed (note: king sized bed and I still saw the desk first).
When we arrived I quickly pulled my computer out and set it on the desk along with my journal, a book, my iPod, and of course, my chapstick (you can't forget that!).
There -- even though I'm just a guest for a few nights, the desk looks ready for me to come and sit. I love it.

I turn the little yellow lamp on and take a seat. It's perfect. I've got time, silence, and stillness.
Time to write, silence to think, and stillness to breathe... It's a real vacation, and it's just what I need.


My silly face (because I always make one):




My journal that needs to be filled:



The book I'm reading:



Loving my turtle necks and the time to rest my eyes:

I'm sitting at our kitchen table. There's only one light on, which is faded down to a lower level of light -- I'm not one for having every single light on -- and there are candles softly glowing from the center of the table... They're reflecting orange everywhere.





I made strong coffee. People say it's in the morning that you need the strong coffee so you can get your day rolling, but I like it in the evening as well. It somehow helps me remember that "*phew*, someday I'll be in heaven" because most days end with me thinking "I can't take much more of living on earth -- I just want heaven".

I'll confess, I'm bad about my desserts. I have a major sweet tooth. I love my sweets. Tonight is once again simple though... ice cream -- but let me tell ya, it's a delicious combo with the coffee.





I'm listening to Diana Krall's Live In Paris album. I absolutely love listening to it. Besides thinking about how amazing she is, it also makes me think about how I much prefer listening to someone perform than performing myself. I'm the person in the audience grinning ear to ear because I'm so happy just to be listening and watching someone perform. Weird? Maybe. But I guess it means I'll be a good soccer mom?... c'mon, where's my Swagger Wagon, yo?

Sometimes it's the little children in your life that are your best friends.

They give you the best smiles, hugs, smirks, and laughter that you've ever seen, felt, or heard.







They're precious. I love them to pieces. And sometimes, they're the best medicine you could ever receive.



(listening to--)

I'm a planner.

I like to know what's happening -- what, where, when, why, who.

I'm the person that plans times to relax.

It doesn't work.

If I could, I would have my whole life planned. Every year, month, and day. Ridiculous? Perhaps. But I'm not the only person in the world who's like this.

There are even movies about people who are planners. In the movies this "plan-happy" person tries to live life by their own schedule, but it doesn't work.

It's when they figure out how to live life not by a constant calendar in their head, enjoying life moment by moment that they find "happiness" -- whatever that is.

But that's how Hollywood likes to end their stories... When everyone is happy and finally "normal".

I know people who can just, do something that wasn't a part of their original plans, and I seriously don't understand those people.

I can't just jump off of a train trestle because "Oh! That sounds fun, scary, and exciting -- let's go!"

And if I'm spending the night somewhere I like to know in advance so that I can be ready. I'm definitely not the type that can go somewhere and then decide to stay the night. I need my pajamas, my own toothbrush, and my familiar sweatshirt.

I like having things set in stone, and I like having a backup plan.

I'm not that "The moment's here so let's run!" type of person. I like planning my "moments". But yesterday -- I think it hit me. I will never be able to plan everything... after realizing that, I went into shock mode.

"Wait. I don't have control over everything? I can't plan every little detail?"

All of the sudden, my boat was rocked. And that was when I decided...

I really don't like having my boat rocked.

One thing I'm definitely planning on: going to Heaven

*insert: sigh of relief

I have that one "written down" in my mental calendar for Every.Single.Day. What can I say -- It's a big plan.

(At least that one's taken care of.)

"For the times they are a-changin'." -- Bob Dylan


It's true. Times are changing. Everything is changing.
As people grow older, new life is being brought into this world.

Any day now my eldest sister will give birth to another life. Another person that will change our lives.

Tomorrow my age changes. I'm getting older. And to be honest, even I'm wondering where the time has gone. For some reason I anticipated staying young forever and always telling everyone that I meet that "I know. I look a lot older than I am." But soon my appearance will start matching my age. . .That's weird.

Randomly I will use Google for no specific use. But only to find something new - most of the time "it" being a new photograph that somehow grabs my attention.
A picture that can have just one word, just one person, or just one object. But something about it caught my eye.

I searched "happiness".
I found this photo.
It's simple, and I like it.


Do you know what makes me happy?

...Being able to sing the same two or three worship songs almost every day to Jesus over and over, and not getting tired of it because I'm singing to Him, and that will never be boring.

Most people grow tired of hearing the same songs repeatedly, but He's different. And thank goodness for that.
I'm okay with pouring my heart out through the same songs to Him every day, and He's okay with hearing the same ones every day. This, makes me very happy.

...My nephews and nieces. I love them to pieces and the sight of them makes me happy. I cannot count the times that while I am taking care of them and they are asleep in their beds I have stood over and watched them, and sometimes have teared up because the love I have for them is completely overwhelming. They are so precious, and so dear to me.

...Silence and the peace it brings. Need I say more?

...Knowing that one day, I will be in Heaven. *sigh* Someday. Someday I will be in Heaven, and I will be with Jesus. The End.

Have you ever missed someone so much that your throat starts to close up, your stomach feels sick, and tears start to form in your eyes? I have. This morning in fact.

I got out of the shower and was still in my towel when I checked Facebook. I saw a sister tagged in some photos so of course I looked through them.

You see -- this sister is far away in a different state, in a different city, and in a group of different friends. She's out there playing music, writing music, and meeting new people. And this morning, when I saw her in pictures with people that I don't know, I got sad. Real sad.

My throat started to close. I felt sick. And those tears started coming.
I miss her. Who wouldn't?

money.

a material object.

something that we all have in common, no matter how depleted our amount may be.

When I think of money, I think of people and the many different hands that hold on so tightly to their money. They hold on tightly to a material thing that won't pay their way to eternity.

No. It doesn't matter how much you have. There is no need to be wealthy. It isn't the key to heaven. It is, unfortunately, sometimes a key to a persons heart.

When I think of money....

...I think of being free from debt.

No longer being tied down and having that feeling of relief.

Do you know how many people are in debt for their whole entire lives?

Too many.

It becomes a constant cloud in their life and a weight in their heart.

My debt is paid. It's paid by Him.

My guilt, my shame, and my debt is all paid.

I am free.

...I think of fathers and husbands that have no money to help their wives and children live, and the shame they must feel from having a duty that they cannot fulfill.

There is another way to live. Another way without money.

It's through Him.

He removes that shame.

But so many don't know that and they continue living while calling themselves failures.

...I think of children that maybe have never seen money before in their lives.

They live in dirt.

They pray for a better life.

And they cry because they are so alone.

Money? They have none.

You could have the smallest amount of money and they would still think you're wealthy.

Money links us all together in some way and sadly, it is the common "language" in this world.

Something I want?

That one day every person would be linked together through Christ. That He would be the thing that we all have in common, and that every person in this world would hunger and thirst for Him who has already paid our debt.

I am not one to pour my whole life out. I feel no need to throw a little box of words filled with sunshine or perhaps thunder, depending on where my heart is, into someones small life. I figure that they've already got enough rain pouring on them and have no need for more, or that their life is bursting from all the excitement happening in their own souls that they have no more room for more joy and butterflies to be thrown in. But that's okay.

People need to talk. Most at any rate. It's their way of relieving stress and sharing happiness.
They talk over a cup of coffee, during a dinner, and most of their day is spent talking on a phone.



Some might even talk to walls -- they just need to get it out.

Sometimes the words they speak are calm. Just a friendly chat. Nothing hectic in their voice or emotions. It's a smooth serenade. Something you don't hear in the business world where it's always "argue, fight, and win".



And then there are other times.
The emotions are strong. The words might be bitter. Not bitter towards you, but you just happen to be the best friend that hears all of the ranting.
Tired of it Best Friend? Don't be. You better buck up, because you've got a lot of steaming kettles coming your way in the future.



How do I know? It's just plain nature.
We're humans. We have emotions. We need to cry and sometimes just yell.
No funny faces or comments, Best Friend, because you do it too.


Me? I don't speak a lot. I don't come home from an event excited to tell everyone about what happened, or distressed and needing to spill everything out on a bed with a friend. Perhaps every once and a while I have done such a thing. But to tell you the truth, I don't have any memory of myself doing a thing like that. That's where living with many people comes in handy though. If you can't remember what happened, chances are that they probably do.

Reading the above paragraph probably makes you think that I have no emotions. And if so, let me say that you've been tricked.
I have emotions. Lots of them. Every minute and every hour is different.
"But if you don't talk a lot then how can you get your emotions out?" you're asking?
That's an easy answer...

Tears.



Many many tears I've cried. I'm sensitive, and everything that I feel ends in tears.
Joy, anger, fear, confusion, and every other emotion and feeling makes me cry.
Another thing besides crying that comes out of me is laughter.
Sometimes I laugh for a long time, and then it turns into this weeping-but-still-laughing thing. The first time that happened someone asked me if I was okay. My answer?
"I don't know. I just -- I don't know!"
I really didn't know. And I still don't know.
That same person who asked me if I was okay, later told me something God told her. I can't remember if it was through a dream or maybe just some alone time with Him, but He said to her that she would learn to cry from my crying...or something like that. I can't remember word for word, and when she told me I had no intention of writing it down because I thought she was making a weird joke of some sort.
She wasn't joking.


Through the years I've learned how to be a good listener. That's what my role is right now. It's what I became because I am quiet and the sister closest to me in age does her share of talking and needs someone to listen. So I listen happily.
It's a role that some have a hard time fulfilling. So I am thankful that my duty in being a good sister that listens is not something that is difficult to fulfill.

So I listen, and I do speak. . .

I speak through tears and laughter.

Hold me.

Hold me, rock me, sing to me.
Stare me down, like a bird to its sea.
Stillness and quiet, what a brave loud sound.
Surrounds my soul, it seems I've been found.
The harshness of the cold, has been too long.
And the notes it creates, can never be my song.
Where has the sun gone, is it lost forever?
Did my soul become, too much to endeavor?
I thought my life, was smaller than the sun.
Can it not hold me, and say "well done"?
So hold me, rock me, sing to me.
Stare me down, like a bird to its sea.

It doesn't matter.

Our eyes had met for just one second,
But then they tore me away.
All was happy for that one short moment,
But then despair and hopelessness wore me down.
"A tout a l'heure" you said to me, as they blinded my last gaze.

From that point I only had dreams,
To dream of you and the things we could be.
But as I sat in that dark cold room,
Everything felt dead and I knew you would forget the love we had.
"Il n'a pas d'importance" was all I could whisper.
So I whispered it and continued to dream of different things.

Differences.

I'm dark, You're light.
You're the day, and I'm the night.
You give love to the whole entire world,
But I give love to those I choose.

You show mercy every single day,
While I keep my heart bitter towards the words they say.
I close my eyes so I cannot see the world,
But Yours are wide open keeping watch on Your flock.

I shudder and tremble as the world hurts my heart,
But You cover my life and stand so strong.
I am weak, and my life seemed so bleak.
You're here now, the color in my life, that will not leave.

The Girl.

I lay on the floor, sprawled out, desperate.
I cry, leaving the floor with puddles of distress.
I see nothing, nothing but the stars and moon.

O moon you see me too well,
How you show my every breath.
The stars see my heart,
Pouring out to darkness.

The arms that hold me are but my own.
The sound in my ear is just my soul.
The emptiness soon surrounds me, and everything.

Sophisticated business they say this is,
Yet how I still seem a child.
See the mirror?
It holds a girl.
A girl with a broken heart.
See how the moon shines upon her?
The pale skin now shining,
But showing her dark and limping heart.

No bird could make her sing.
No sun could be her light.

But keep limping little girl,
Build up your heart.
I wish you light as well little girl,
For the heart that drags and disconnects you
From the One who holds you dear.

Martin Roberts

Many a memory happy and sad.
Some to remember forever,
Others no regret to forget --
Must I live through this misery?
Where my children have passed me by and some to stay beside me?
Where day by day I am reminded of my losses and not of my gains?
But at the end of my time,
May I see all the blessings I have collected,
And not the ones I have lost.
Indeed, do not let me pass in misery,
But of a grateful heart that has been able to see much.

Malorian Rich

Somehow we were content,
We were happy with our lives.
My mother and father always kept strong,
And I did my best to keep strong.

When my father was young he fought in war.
We would ask for stories about it,
But he would just tell us that you have to be,
A very brave man to be in battle.

My father was always by my mothers side.
He was with her when she had children,
And most of all when a son or daughter would die.
They loved each other very much and helped each other
Get through anything.

Soon enough I grew up,
And soon my family passed away.
Sibling after sibling did they leave this world.

Mother passed,
And a while later father followed.

I was the last to leave,
The last to die.

Tell Me.

Tell me love,
Are the trees still green? And the sky a faint blue?
Do you hear the whisper of the wind that slowly controls you?
Are the woods still dark, and is there still that crack,
That when you step on a stick it snaps right in half?

Tell me dear one,
Does the piano still play,
As beautifully as I remember it playing that day?
Do the sliding doors still screech when you pull them,
And the floor still creek even as you glide once more?
Do all of these things happen,
Or are they left abandoned where none makes a sound?

Tell me again,
That you love me forever.
For with no sight at all,
I cannot tell,
If what you say,
Is not just a fairytale.

Tell me once more,
That you love me forever.
But do it in some way that I can understand,
For I cannot hear as I once did.
So take my hand and tell me through that,
You'll love me forever,
And that,
You won't regret.

One Word.

A question fills my heart and my mind.
Though short, polite, and quite refined.
Just one word, to share what I really think.
But I say it quite slowly, not intending a blink.
For it sounds like a whisper, it is no harsh sound.
And it leaves your breath hanging, on to the very echo it leaves behind.

As my heart saddens and my throat closes up,
I squeeze that one word out into the open air.
Wondering, not in amazement, but confusion.
These things that just happen, that suddenly appear,
Deserve this one word that only you and I hear.
One word, one breath, is all it needs.

So tell me life's happenings,
You are here, seeming to stay.
No thought of surrendering,
What must happen today.
I ask one little thing,
One word, in one breath.

As I say it, you hear me sigh.
Out of exhaustion, confusion, and everything more.
I say it, and it echos through the walls and floors.

Why?

Feelings.

Flying through the air, catching my breathe. My eyes swell with tears from the wind as it crashes against me. My throat closes so no words are of use. My heart sinks plunging into the sea, and my hands shake with fear. My pale skin returns with no good news. Everything seems a blur, no, nothing in focus. The tears my eyes bring drip down across my lips. I sit and forget what joy is, being thrown into this dark place. The wind howls in my ears and the soft whispers of the tormented are all I hear.

Relieve me of this thought, of this pain, of this oppressing way. Let me go, and let there be no more torture. Save me of this misery and let me hear sweet tunes. Let my limbs no longer feel numb so that I may dance in joy and love. But sadness wraps my heart, and no hope is to be found. Not yet.

You are here now. My stomach flutters with the joy that consumes my body. A smile is no longer brief, but seemingly everlasting. A soft pink covers me now, and a sweat comes from being overwhelmed. I jump and dance, yes, a happiness now is within me. For You have come and saved my soul. The darkness no longer wins and no longer do I scream in pain and misery. Your light overcomes everything and the love You pour into my soul is unexplainable.

Walking across the valley I feel You beside me, yes, You are here now.
Don't leave. Please don't.
You are what I need.
You are all I need.