the time I prayed for strength

I found myself
broken on the floor in tears.
I did not know what to do or where to go
who I had become.

So I asked
for strength
for wisdom.

Rarely do I ask for much
I am more content to pursue intimacy
than to ask for things

brokenness makes you ask for things

I started asking
and I waited…

……..

 

……..

 

I listened until
I was frustrated with the silence
Just before I fell asleep, I lay there
with dried up eyes and I heard:

“I am not a genie. I am your God, and I love you. If you want strength, I am not just going to GIVE you strength. It will start to get really difficult now. Will you be strong in those times or not. I am not a genie; I am your God who loves you.”

Throw away story [poem]

he nearly threw away his life
the book about the pacific war
a gift from grandma
but more than a book

the note attached to the back beckoned
not to throw it out

as you read this book
you will see your grandfather throughout
this is not garbage
it is a barrage of you and your story

this poem is this reality

do not throw it out
pay attention to the things around you

your story is being written
this is all your story

you can learn a bit
about yourself

People Aren’t People

Today my friend, Justin Wallace, tweeted:

The thought that there is a unique story behind each set of eyes that I pass blows my mind. #walkingacrosscampus

What incredible potential awaits those who pay attention to people like this!

What could happen if we intentionally remembered each person we pass represents a story? What things would change if people were not just faces, stats, floating torsos but stories you should hear?

Back Story – Part 1

Today you all will play
the roles I give you.
I am the author of your story
today.

You may sit in my created scene,
but you will obey my back story.
Drink up and carry on,
but know I am writing you.

We will begin with you,
Nerd Runner.
You are always here in runner’s gear and a new pile of boring books.
You.are.a…
Self-proclaimed genius. Don’t get me wrong; you are smarter than me, no doubt, but you are not Shoeless Sage.

Shoeless Sage.
You are white-haired…looooooong white hair. No one can know the true length of your white hair because it is always pulled back in a pony tail. Each day you come in, remove your shoes, and sit “Indian-style” on a seat the rest of us have sat at one time.
You.are.a…
Computer gamer who will never be too old for W.O.W. You pull off the sage look, but your bike helmet and posture indicate you are better known as beastslayer69. You would make Doc shake his head in disappointment.

Doc
You seem able to leave the craziness of medicine to enter the scene nearly every day wearing either full scrubs or that “Doctor Casual” look complete with cell phone belt holster.
You.are.a…
Doctor of some alternative medicine that your internet diploma indicates. It is more than “alternative”; it is top-secret. We only know that you always look dapper and yet prepared for spontaneous surgery. You are likely in cahoots with Lois.

Lois
Your name really is Lois. I cannot even make satirical back story for you because your sweetness weakens me. You are always cuddled up in a chair (never a bench or booth) with whatever Michael Crichton novel you’re on to now.
You.are…
FREAKING CUTE!!!

Last Line

Each hour of every day, I am writing my autobiography; though not a drop it on paper or screen. Your autobiography is coming along nicely as well, I see.

Here is where our chapters overlap.

If I thought ahead, the last line of my autobiography would be (without editing):

Hoping has turned to habit; I, with Jesus, have literally loved the hell out of people.

——–

What is the last line of your autobiography (without editing)?