I write. And I write some more. My fingers fly and I sit waiting for the words to come. I hear the lawn mower outside, and Sam runs to the window, staring at my mom. And I wait.
We're walking down the road, feeling the sun on our faces and the wind in our hair. Laughing and talking some more. I start the conversation, "So, what are you thinking about for school and college?" she pauses.
I am still with thoughts that sit in my mind; wordless when words cease to come. For this moment in my life, I am waiting for the thoughts that are causing a build-up in my mind. The calling that is making itself visible through every word written, each sound sung, every photo taken.
"It's a constant journey -- I just have to keep growing. That's all I can do." I laugh and she smiles at me. "With God's help, I just have to keep growing." She turns and nods, "That's what we have to do -- it never stops."
I am so confused; I try to write but my words tangle and I sigh, frustrated. Why this, not that? Lord, what are you calling me to do? Why is this happening?
She shakes her head and I kick rocks with my shoes as we walk on the sun-drenched roads. "It's crossed my mind -- but right now, I feel like where I am, is right." I know the feeling.
We talk about life and faith as we walk the mile from her house to mine, and in the few minutes between here and there, we speak what's on our heart. We wonder.
"Can you run?" I ask her, glancing at her feet. "Of course I can," she responds, grinning. We run and our feet slap pavement hard, pounding out rhythm; our hair flies and our breath breaks from slow to rushed.
And inwardly, I cry. I see where I fall. I see where I stumble. I see where I fail. Slowly, bit by bit, the Lord is peeling back the skin that I've lived in, a mask to hide my past and my fears. It's painful, emerging from a cocoon. I'm eager to fly, but my wings are all sticky, my body is tired. I can't do this alone. But in my weakness, He is perfect strength.
We sit on the porch, smelling the freshly mowed lawn, verdant with life. My chair squishes and I shift, smiling as I see Sam in the window. He watches us and in his eyes he says, "let me come outside. Let me run." I open the door and bring him out.
I long to run. But it's the process of letting go of the past and becoming who I truly am in Christ that freezes me. The Lord didn't say it wouldn't be hard -- but He said to take heart. For He has overcome the world and all its tribulations -- He is greater. (John 16:33) Too often I let momentary trials distract me from His unchanging grace, steadfast love, and marvelous mercy.
Sam laughs and goes from person to person. I hold him as He reaches for my mom, walking across the lawn. His eyes shine and he pushes me away, slipping onto the ground, running for her.
I am still clutching the fragments of my cocoon; still holding onto remnants of the past that are dead and gone. Lord, I want my feet to hit the pavement hard; I want my days to be spent running towards you, closer and closer, until I'm finally home.
He reaches mom and holds his hands up. His eyes widen and he speaks. "Up, up!" He cries. She leans over and picks him up, her hands green from mowing. He hugs her and grins, content to be in her arms.
I write and the words slowly fall into place. The knots undo and the kinks unwind, and my thoughts unravel slowly and slowly, till the tangled mess turns into something beautiful. My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness. Lord, let this be the cry of my heart.
"Come on Sammy -- we have to go drop Hayley off at her house." I pick Sammy up and his eyes crinkle. "You want to come with?" He nods excitedly and his face breaks with a grin. My heart is happy.
I want to spend all of my days resting in the security of my Savior's arms. I want to leave it all at the cross. His blood washes my sins white as snow. My stains are clean because of His sacrifice; His love. Every tear, He wipes away; every hurt, He heals.
"So you just walked all the way here?" My mom asks us as we drive to Hayley's house. We smile sheepishly again and answer her. "We started and didn't know where we were going, so we just kept walking." She shakes her head and smiles at us. "You goofs. I was just mowing and all of a sudden, I see these two people running towards me."
I want to be running towards my Savior. Hair streaming, eyes wide, heart abandoned and full with the fire of God. Lord, let me be fully alive. O, I'm running to your arms // the riches of your love will always be enough. Jesus, you are more than enough for me. Help me to let go of my masks and give me the strength to climb from this cocoon; help my broken, crumpled, sticky wings to fly.
I hug Hayley and wave goodbye, thanking her for having me over. Thanking her for listening and talking. Thanking her for being there. "We have to get together again soon," I say. "You guys should bike; it's only a few minutes away." Her mom adds.
You created me to live life with breath racing, heart on fire, feet pounding broken earth. Running running running to you. This is what it means to be alive.
"We need to have another coffee date, girl," I vociferate, going through days in my head. She nods. "Okay, what about...?" She pauses and waits for me to give her a time that works. "I can't next week, because we have rehearsal, and the week after that is the performance." She nods again and smiles affirmatively, "Three weeks then. And tell me the date of your performance."
"I'm not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don't get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I'm off and running, and I'm not turning back." - Philippians 3:12
I sit in the car and wave goodbye, leaning back into the seat. "When did you see us?" I ask my mom. She switches her mirror and looks at me laughingly, "Right when you got near the driveway." We laugh and I stare out the window, watching familiar scenes pass by.
I slip and I stumble. But I'm going to run the race that matters; forgetting what lies behind and instead, fixing my eyes on Jesus. I'm going to keep on running, getting back up when I fall and pressing forward, straining towards the goal, racing towards the only thing that matters.
I'm running to Jesus.
Loads of love,
Hannah
We're walking down the road, feeling the sun on our faces and the wind in our hair. Laughing and talking some more. I start the conversation, "So, what are you thinking about for school and college?" she pauses.
I am still with thoughts that sit in my mind; wordless when words cease to come. For this moment in my life, I am waiting for the thoughts that are causing a build-up in my mind. The calling that is making itself visible through every word written, each sound sung, every photo taken.
"It's a constant journey -- I just have to keep growing. That's all I can do." I laugh and she smiles at me. "With God's help, I just have to keep growing." She turns and nods, "That's what we have to do -- it never stops."
I am so confused; I try to write but my words tangle and I sigh, frustrated. Why this, not that? Lord, what are you calling me to do? Why is this happening?
She shakes her head and I kick rocks with my shoes as we walk on the sun-drenched roads. "It's crossed my mind -- but right now, I feel like where I am, is right." I know the feeling.
We talk about life and faith as we walk the mile from her house to mine, and in the few minutes between here and there, we speak what's on our heart. We wonder.
"Can you run?" I ask her, glancing at her feet. "Of course I can," she responds, grinning. We run and our feet slap pavement hard, pounding out rhythm; our hair flies and our breath breaks from slow to rushed.
And inwardly, I cry. I see where I fall. I see where I stumble. I see where I fail. Slowly, bit by bit, the Lord is peeling back the skin that I've lived in, a mask to hide my past and my fears. It's painful, emerging from a cocoon. I'm eager to fly, but my wings are all sticky, my body is tired. I can't do this alone. But in my weakness, He is perfect strength.
We sit on the porch, smelling the freshly mowed lawn, verdant with life. My chair squishes and I shift, smiling as I see Sam in the window. He watches us and in his eyes he says, "let me come outside. Let me run." I open the door and bring him out.
I long to run. But it's the process of letting go of the past and becoming who I truly am in Christ that freezes me. The Lord didn't say it wouldn't be hard -- but He said to take heart. For He has overcome the world and all its tribulations -- He is greater. (John 16:33) Too often I let momentary trials distract me from His unchanging grace, steadfast love, and marvelous mercy.
Sam laughs and goes from person to person. I hold him as He reaches for my mom, walking across the lawn. His eyes shine and he pushes me away, slipping onto the ground, running for her.
I am still clutching the fragments of my cocoon; still holding onto remnants of the past that are dead and gone. Lord, I want my feet to hit the pavement hard; I want my days to be spent running towards you, closer and closer, until I'm finally home.
He reaches mom and holds his hands up. His eyes widen and he speaks. "Up, up!" He cries. She leans over and picks him up, her hands green from mowing. He hugs her and grins, content to be in her arms.
I write and the words slowly fall into place. The knots undo and the kinks unwind, and my thoughts unravel slowly and slowly, till the tangled mess turns into something beautiful. My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness. Lord, let this be the cry of my heart.
"Come on Sammy -- we have to go drop Hayley off at her house." I pick Sammy up and his eyes crinkle. "You want to come with?" He nods excitedly and his face breaks with a grin. My heart is happy.
I want to spend all of my days resting in the security of my Savior's arms. I want to leave it all at the cross. His blood washes my sins white as snow. My stains are clean because of His sacrifice; His love. Every tear, He wipes away; every hurt, He heals.
"So you just walked all the way here?" My mom asks us as we drive to Hayley's house. We smile sheepishly again and answer her. "We started and didn't know where we were going, so we just kept walking." She shakes her head and smiles at us. "You goofs. I was just mowing and all of a sudden, I see these two people running towards me."
I want to be running towards my Savior. Hair streaming, eyes wide, heart abandoned and full with the fire of God. Lord, let me be fully alive. O, I'm running to your arms // the riches of your love will always be enough. Jesus, you are more than enough for me. Help me to let go of my masks and give me the strength to climb from this cocoon; help my broken, crumpled, sticky wings to fly.
I hug Hayley and wave goodbye, thanking her for having me over. Thanking her for listening and talking. Thanking her for being there. "We have to get together again soon," I say. "You guys should bike; it's only a few minutes away." Her mom adds.
You created me to live life with breath racing, heart on fire, feet pounding broken earth. Running running running to you. This is what it means to be alive.
"We need to have another coffee date, girl," I vociferate, going through days in my head. She nods. "Okay, what about...?" She pauses and waits for me to give her a time that works. "I can't next week, because we have rehearsal, and the week after that is the performance." She nods again and smiles affirmatively, "Three weeks then. And tell me the date of your performance."
"I'm not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don't get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I'm off and running, and I'm not turning back." - Philippians 3:12
I sit in the car and wave goodbye, leaning back into the seat. "When did you see us?" I ask my mom. She switches her mirror and looks at me laughingly, "Right when you got near the driveway." We laugh and I stare out the window, watching familiar scenes pass by.
I slip and I stumble. But I'm going to run the race that matters; forgetting what lies behind and instead, fixing my eyes on Jesus. I'm going to keep on running, getting back up when I fall and pressing forward, straining towards the goal, racing towards the only thing that matters.
I'm running to Jesus.
Loads of love,
Hannah
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