A Storyteller's Tales

I met a storyteller last night
she told me her stories come from
the worst part of her memory
from a childhood she is trying
to re-imagine and replace
she tells stories of how
she imagines her past could have been

she tells me other's childhood memories
sound like fairy tales
compared to the horror story
she grew through

...Jesus is kinda smelly if you really imagine Him accurately...

When I read these words my soul smiled with the beauty and honesty of them. What are your thoughts?

"A certain sense of satisfaction froths up inside of me. Why are people so willing to cast their fishing nets on the same side of the boat, over and over again, the side where a man points and days, "Hey, fish over here!" Meanwhile, Jesus's fish bubble in writhing profusion on the other side, but, well, Jesus is kinda smelly if you really imagine Him accurately, and He's poor, a failure in our definition of the word, and He's just not enough anymore. It doesn't make sense to really follow Him in this day and age. We couldn't feed our children and give them the latest sneakers so they wouldn't be made fun of at school.We'd let people walk all over us if all we did was turn the other cheek. So instead of taking Him seriously we fight for the Ten Commandments even if we can't recite them ourselves. They're our good luck charm even though we are adulterers, liars, and have thick calluses on our hearts; our way to fool God, to show Him we haven't become the people of Malachi or Amos."

         -Lisa Samson (excerpt from Embrace Me)

Inkwell Eyes

I remember the exact moment I met her
her small hand held tight by her uptight mother
her dark eyes looked like inkwells
filled with the sorrow that will write her story
her short wavy hair hugging her face close
doing what her mother wouldn't

I don't remember what her mother looked like
all I remember is in those eyes
she held a sadness no 5 year old should know

we were both at the grocery store
she was being dragged around by her mother
she seemed to be more of an accessory than a joy
and it showed in the way her mother ignored her
jabbering away on her cell phone, like a jittery bird

her loose clothes draped on her hanger shoulders
covering the fragile skin pulled tight across her ribs
and the bruises that paint her porcelain skin

her posture screamed to me
"look at me. save me"

I dream of her often
wishing I could have taken her under my wings
the fragile child she was...

Follow the Leader

Sometimes I like to imagine that I am playing follow the leader with God. I imagine that I am young again, willing to follow and imitate whatever He is doing.

I remember the laughter and frustrations that came along with following the leader. I never knew what was going to happen next and if I would look foolish or not. I remember how equally awkward being the leader was for me. I was a painfully shy kid, that didn't want to be anywhere near the center of attention. I always felt that I was going to do something that would make me look stupid. I also hit an early grown spurt that made me at least 3 inches taller and more clumsy than the rest of the kids. I tried in vain to not stand out, I just wanted to blend in.

I still have frustrations when it comes to following God now. I like to know what is going to happen in my future, but as much as I would love that I know that only God knows what is happening for sure in the future, in my future. Following the leader is still full of frustration and laughter, but I feel less awkward because I know that I won't ever have to be the leader and looking silly is no problem when God is looking after me.

Spinning Away Love

the mat on your porch says welcome
your face tells me do not enter

I don't know why I feel
like I should be the one to apologize
when neither one of us is really to blame

people drift apart, change, morph
they also lie to each other
afraid to say whats really on their minds

we each felt the other
couldn't handle the truth
of the different ways our worlds were spinning

our axes started tilting opposite directions months ago
and now I finally have to courage to spin away from you...

Bleeding Out

we breathed each other in
like the first soft breeze of spring
and expelled each other
like the waves crashing on an ocean shore
neither of us aware or caring for
the tiny fissures developing in our hearts
leaking our lives out with every beat
so here we are
with blood pooling in our chests
trying desperately to push each other
from our thoughts and memories
but I fear we will bleed out
before we are ever purged