Monthly Archives: January 2016

When Words are Overrated

I find sometimes that I need to create but without using words. Words are practically my life, forging imaginary worlds to communicating for daily needs, but sometimes words are overrated. Each word has a purpose, some way of furthering the message I am trying to get across, but I sometimes don’t know what I want. My mind is whirling too fast to grab the words in the air and transfer them to my fingers.

That’s why I take my time and create using scissors and glue. For Christmas I got “card making stuff” and I knew that I would be good at it, but it wasn’t like I woke up one day and wanted my new hobby to be card making. But I actually really enjoy it! 🙂

I love patterns. I love seeing things go together and creating order. It is something that I have control over and make what I want. I take up my whole kitchen and spend hours folding and cutting and glueing and listening to music. It is something constructive to do while thinking and that often leading to writing.

So on Thursday, I started making cards and then got carried away with this idea. Below is a picture and a poem to follow. Enjoy!





Don’t let the world strip you bare

Don’t let all your leaves fall

Don’t let the pieces that make you you

wither away and die off

Everyone loves the fall colors

because they are different

Not because they are all the same

Even keep the leaves called




Because they make you you also

Don’t let the world strip you bare.

Dear God – Calm Me

Dear God,

Thank you for your calming ways. Thank you for always being there for me. Thank you for when I ask you to calm my thoughts, you do.

When my boat is rocking against the storming sea, you calm the sea for me and hold me in your arms. When my hot air balloon is flying away, I call to you and you ground me once more. When the training wheels on my new bike are off, you are always watching me if I fall.

Over the past few months, I never realized how much you are there for me. You are always there. Yeah, I heard the cheesy sayings that God’s phone is never busy and so such, but I never felt it before. You calmed me when nothing else and no one else could.

Directed prayer just to you and not letting anything else interfere has helped me not only as a Christian, but as a person. It makes me undoubtedly sure that Christians are not just talking to themselves when praying, but you are truly there.

Thank you for tucking me in at night and making sure I am safe in my own mind. Never underestimate the power of prayer! 🙂

Philippines 4:6-7 “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Your calming waves wash over me, thank you God.

With love from your daughter and best friend,


praying dear God


Dancing in My Head

There is music dancing in my head

Jumping from ear to ear

just like my smile

Whole notes are doing tangos with quarter rests

and the treble clef is doing the jive with eighth notes

and the accents are doing the waltz with the time signature

There is music dancing in my head

My brain has been scooped out

like ice cream from the carton

except this time, something has been put in its place

Hans Zimmer, Ludwig Van Beethoven, Zack Hemsey, Pyotr Llyich Tchailkovsky

have been put in its place

There is music dancing in my head

Glorious highs and devious lows

unaffected brass and fragile wisps

soaring frequency and doom-fully slowness

There is music dancing in my head

Back and forth the music froths

like lapping, crashing ocean waves

the tide rolls in on the left ear and falls back on the right

my head begins to sway with the waves of music

and down the tune goes over the waterfall

crashing, spraying, falling, tumbling

to new heights by letting gravity take the lead

None of this makes sense

but then how can differing vibrations on our eardrums

turn into creativity, artistry of imagination – music?

It is humanity’s ability to connect

the back of the mind

to the edge of the soul

to the corner of the heart

There is music dancing in my head

Lines and dashes on paper

turn into sounds from brass and wind and drums and strings

turn into jovial and impending and innovation

turn into thoughts and actions and lives and worlds

turn into humanity

There is humanity dancing in my head




Specialty Water

The clouds fall

The sky brightens

The ground is no longer the ground

it becomes something new

something to explore

something to awe at

something to imagine



it acts like a time machine

it turns back the clock

or at least my inner clock

it makes me a curious, playful child

I bash my face into a pile of new fallen snow

the same as I did when I was two years old.


makes memories of childhood

a current reality.



it acts like a teleporter

a drift of snow become Mount Everest

knee deep snow becomes quicksand

my yard becomes a foreign frozen planet.

A simple soft blanket over the land

transforms the ordinary to a land of possibilities.


makes me travel the world

in my backyard.



is just specialty frozen water

snow is like 75% of the planet

just a little different.


are just a person

you are like everyone else on the planet

just a little different.


are a time machine

for me


are a  teleporter

for me

You are

something new

something to explore

something to awe at

something to imagine

You are my snow


specialty water

Gone Away

I’m sorry but my brain is broken today

My mind is on vacations and didn’t leave a notice of when it will be back

Doctor’s office cotton balls are all that fill the void up there

while my brain is getting a sun tan

Italian spaghetti is my thoughts today

The focus on my sniper is just a little off

The old man with the mustache has gone home sick and the intern is left at the controls

flipping switches and pushing buttons just to start anything

Warning: there is a run-away melon rolling down the sidewalk

The hands on my clock are moving faster than the minutes

and the little bird is getting tired of saying ‘Cuu-coo’

I’m sorry but my brain is broken today




What Are Friends For?

Setting:Blank white room with windows overlooking a park. There are seven folding chairs in a circle, but only six people. On the door to the room is a sign saying ‘Therapy Group for Friends of Superheroes’.



Mary Jane Watson – Spider-man’s on and off again girlfriend

Harry Osborn – Spider-man’s friend and sometimes Green Goblin

Jimmy Olsen – Superman’s friend and Daily Planet photographer

Foggy Nelson – Daredevil’s friend and partner in law

Lois Lane – Superman’s on and off again girlfriend and Daily Planet journalist

Alfred Pennyworth – Batman’s butler

Doc Ock: Spider-man supervillain



I would assume that someone would be leading this group?

Foggy (Says shaking his head):

Yeah, I got a law firm to run and sadly my payment is fish.

Lois (checking her phone):

Come on, we all got lives and appointments, but we are all here for one reason. We are friends of superheroes and it’s hard.

Mary Jane:

I don’t even know how many times Pete has come home all beat up and has refused to go the hospital. It keeps me awake all night not knowing if this will be his last fight.


I don’t really have that problem, Superman can take care of himself. But it is more about how many times I’ve been kidnapped. Good grief, I start to feel at home inside a bag blindfolded by how many times I gotten taken.


I am sure that we have all had that happen to us, but Superman can only get hurt by magic or a rock. If Spider-man gets a rock thrown at him then he bruises.


Even more so, Daredevil is blind. He could not even see the rock coming! But then again he does have sonar and he is not afraid of anything. (To himself) And that’s what scares me.


Have you ever thought that Superman doesn’t even belong to this planet! How hard that must be for him.


Ms. Lane, I do not know if you noticed, but every hero who has a friend here is an orphan. Bruce’s parents were shot, Matt’s father was murdered and his mother is a mystery, you just pointed out Clark and what about Peter’s parents  . . .

Mary Jane:

Are a long story.


So all of our heroes have a sad story that they rise up against and become legends, but what about us. Who is supposed to cover for their three times a week upset stomachs and forgetting their sunglasses?


Is it bad to not want them to go out and save hundreds of lives and only want them to be our heroes? Only to be our boyfriends and husbands? To be there for us?


I don’t know about that last part, but I do wish that Matt would show up to a case when I need him. But it is just human nature. But that is not a reason to stop having a relationship with them all together. (Foggy coughs and looks directly at Mary Jane.)


Have you ever thought that we are the people that gives our hero strength to get up and finish off the Lizard or Doomsday or Joker? We are the people that they are fighting for.


Not exactly sure if that works when you happen to be in the Villain’s place, Harry.


Ohh, burn, man! That was first class!

Mary Jane:

Hey, we all make mistakes.


Like being a druggie when Gwen’s neck snapped and the whole universe just got a little bit darker.


We are here to support one another through difficult times and not point out flaws.


I am sorry, Harry.


Thank you. Not everyone finds out that their Dad is a supervillain and that the superhero killed him and you want revenge to only find out that the hero is your best friend.


Yeah, that doesn’t happen to everybody  . . .

CRASH!!! The windows shattered into the room as Doc Ock walks through.

Doc Ock:

Did anyone ever think about ever think about the villains? We do not have any friends. What makes us keep on going when we are beat? Does anyone love us besides our mother’s?


Umm . . . didn’t you have that weird mind swapping thing going on a while ago? Anna Maria loved you.

Doc Ock:

But I had to be in Peter’s body to do that! And it took decades before I was able to even get a chance! I even died for her. Did anyone here die for their hero? I think not.


Mr. Octavius, I do not believe that I see Miss Gwen Stacy present.


Friends and loved ones give people – our heroes – things worth fighting for. Without them, they only have things worth dying for.



Strength in Vulnerability

Another lovely and needed sermon by Nicole F. Nelson at Tri-Country Christian Church! We all have struggles and hardships in one way or another, but what should we do with them? The world and the culture tells us to hide it, that not to be okay is bad, that to struggle is bad. But is that the way it should be? Is that the best way? We can choose what we want to do with our trials. The sermon is on overcoming struggles and moving forward with Christ’s mission.  The link is below for your enjoyment! 🙂

Strength in Vulnerability

A Daisy: A Rondeau Poem

All I wish for is a daisy

The kind that is in stories of fairies

So soft, so sweet, the petals are perfect white

A gift to a princess from a knight

A flower that represents all goodly


Innocence, hope, symbol of simple beauty

A small token the world hasn’t turned dirty

When all hope is gone, a passion to ignite

I wish for a daisy


I know this simple, small hope seems flimsy

But on the battle field, this is a rally

A reason not to die for, but for fight

Find hope in war-torn meadow, I might

Hold tight to future possibility

I wish for a daisy






This poem is inspired by my second favorite author’s quotes about hope:

“Hope is hugging me, holding me in its arms, wiping away my tears and telling me that today and tomorrow and two days from now I will be just fine and I’m so delirious I actually dare to believe it.”

Tahereh Mafi in Shatter Me



It’s like a drop of honey, a field of tulips blooming in the springtime. It’s a fresh rain, a whispered promise, a cloudless sky, the perfect punctuation mark at the end of a sentence. And it’s the only thing in the world keeping me afloat.”

Taherah Mafi in Unravel Me


“Hope is a pocket of possibility.
I’m holding it in my hand.”

Taherah Mafi in Shatter Me


Life-Size Glad Trash Bags

Max Lucado in his book Just Like Jesus originally describes our troubles as trash. Unwanted garbage comes our way and we are handed a bag of trash. The first thing the world wants us to do is to hide it. Because the world, the culture has taught us that it is bad to not be okay, it is bad to struggle, it is bad to be vulnerable. You put the trash bag under your coat or under your skirt; of course this won’t fool anyone. Nevertheless, we trick ourselves into thinking it will because we aren’t all that different from the little kid that thinks that if he only covers his eyes no one will see him. Soon the hidden trash bag will start to smell; soon family troubles will start to show up at work. However others are too polite to say anything, that it’s ‘none of their business’. Therefore this isn’t just about the ones who hide their trash, but also about the ones who don’t say anything. Someone to talk to, a sympathetic shoulder to cry on, a note of encouragement, a prayer can be the help that someone needs to face their struggles. Caring enough to listen and act can be the stepping stone for a person to start on the road to recovery and stop being resigned to “soul sickness”.

Instead of hiding their trash, others paint the garbage bag green and pretend it is a beautiful tree. They tell their neighbors how gorgeous the tree/garbage is and how blessed they are. They water the ‘tree’ to keep up appearances and to have the luxury of sorrow. They look at the tree everyday and replay over and over the heartache. You look at old pictures of a time that will never be again, you look at the empty crib, you look at the foreclosure papers again and again. You indulge in the sweet self-torture called, What If? Because the garbage hasn’t been resolved only painted. Those memories, those longings, those bills, will catch up with you, and your beautiful tree made of a painted trash bag will start to reek. No matter how good it might feel to paint your garbage or to replay the heartache, there is no closure.

Others don’t hide or paint their trash but openly show it, but don’t want anyone to do anything about it. They go around and complain, but when help is offered, they refuse, still having that strength and ‘do it yourself’ mentality. However to have maturity and well-rounded strength you need to address and realize your problems  and be willing to do something about it.

We may look at our trash bag and ask why God hasn’t lightened our load, why He hasn’t done anything. The answer may be that we don’t want him to. Because the pain of abuse is easier  than the difficulty of forgiving the one who wronged you. Because the broken memories are easier than the difficulty forming new ones. God won’t  fix what we hide, what we paint, what we complain about, or more importantly what we hide from; not because He doesn’t have the power, but because He is respecting our wishes.