The Value of Weeds

Ready or not, here marriage comes!

Mon, 28 Jan 2013 14:15:00 -0500

It’s Monday and I feel like this weekend I got pretty emotionally wasted and now I’m hungover. I was going to write on Saturday on our way home from Chicago but it was too dark and bumpy. I wish I could have though, because now my emotions aren’t nearly as raw as they were in those moments.

On Saturday God just decided to teach me A LOT. More than I thought I needed to learn, which probably made it even more difficult to do so. Jamey and I went antique shopping and in the first store/gallery we went in, we found a super cool peacock wall hanging on a giant canvas scroll. It was regular $450 clearanced out for $180. It fit my style, it was a good price, it was a one-of-a-kind piece of art. I absolutely did not want to pass it up! But I did. Jamey thought it was expensive and understandably wasn’t as in love with it as I was. He said I could get it if I wanted to but that seemed more like permission and not an agreement, and I just didn’t feel right making a bigger purchase like that if he wasn’t all on board with me.

So it haunted me the rest of the day. I kept going back to it in my mind, wishing he would make the decision himself to go back and buy it just because he knew I loved it. He never did. He asked again if I wanted to go back and buy it, but my response was the same— I only feel comfortable getting things for our house that he really likes, too, especially since so much of our money comes from him and his hard work.

…Oh. There it was! After several hours of pitying myself and harboring a deep sadness about not getting what I wanted, I started to realize— no, FEEL— God working in my heart about issues deeper than a wall hanging. First of all I was feeling guilty that I couldn’t walk away from a materialistic want without internally struggling over it. Secondly, I kept thinking a weird thought: that back when I was single, I used to jump on things I wanted like a ninja, and walking away from something I wanted because someone else didn’t want it shocked me a little. You see, when I’m not careful, I am a spoiled brat. That’s where all the sadness was coming from and where all the guilt was coming from. The sadness was there because I am my mother’s daughter. I am spoiled because she spoiled me, I am used to having too much because having too much was her normal. The guilt I was feeling had more to do with a fear of becoming her, an addict to stuff and self. Finances were a huge part of my parent’s broken marriage. Her unwillingness to submit to her husband was a huge part of my parent’s broken marriage. Put them together and you have a recipe for disaster, and that’s exactly what we all got.

On one hand, I wanted what I wanted and I wanted it now. Just like mom. On the other hand Jamey works and contributes much more financially to our bank account than I do, out of purely strong work ethic and dedication. Just like my dad. But if I were to take advantage of him by purchasing things with the money he has earned for us without him feeling 100% valued in his differing opinion, I will take a step toward the very disaster I came from. I will be just like mom. I will push my husband away. I will end up alone.

At least that’s what I’m afraid of. I really like the way God let me cry on the way home that night because after letting Him chisel away at my heart all day, I felt Him hug me. I told Him I hope I can be the wife He wants me to be. A virtuous wife. A selfish wife. A submissive wife, in the areas that are important to submit. I’m concerned about being deserving enough, knowledgeable enough, wise enough, resourced enough, to do this wife thing. I’m probably not, but I’m dedicated to trying for the rest of my life.

Lord… refine me.

Entanglement

Mon, 12 Nov 2012 00:55:00 -0500

I wish the tip of my head was tucked into the recess

above your collarbone,

and the tips of your fingers in my hair,

disentangling each tress—

your soft breath on my cheekbone

would be my blush,

and the word in my throat would digress.

I wish the tip of your eyelash was tickling the space

below my brow,

and the tips of my toes in touch with yours, after

disentangling each lace—

your soft lips on my forehead

would ignite my thoughts,

and Heaven on Earth would take place.

I wish the tip of my pen knew the perfect diction

to narrate my heart,

and the tip of your wing to draw me close,

in willful restriction—

your scent would entangle me

in base notes of citrus and spice,

now come home, and we will label this poem Non-fiction.

Last Night's Dream

Thu, 23 Aug 2012 07:22:00 -0400

There was a ton of us locked up in a building, being held hostage. I had a friend or two there, like one of my friends growing up, Liv, was next to me the whole time. I don’t think I knew anyone else. The person that was holding us hostage (oddly enough, for part of the time this person was a man and for the latter part of the time it was a woman) threatened us that he was going to kill us all. Then he said we each only had one chance to change his mind. We had to write down some things about us on a sheet of paper, specifically including a description of who we are, what our sense of humor is like, and why we wanted to live. He would read over each one and decide if he wanted to save us individually or not. There wasn’t anything specific we could say that would change his mind; he was pretty much just going to base it off of whether or not he liked what we wrote about ourselves. We were split into 3 groups. I was in the second group, and I watched the first group have their “revisions”. The man in charge chose to only save a few. I saw the looks on the faces of the people who went into the room where they would wait for the rest of us, ultimately waiting for their early death. My group and I went into another room, the room where we would be judged. Everyone handed the man papers with their personal facts about themselves and why he should save them, and I realized I was supposed to have done this task already whereas I thought we would be writing it out when we got there. I panicked, thinking I had blown my chance. I asked him if I could have a few minutes to finish up. He allowed it. I sat down next to Liv and put pen to paper, though I didn’t know what to write. I was too scared to think straight. I had walked into that room thinking my death was so near, and that was the only thing I had on my mind. Everything else went blank. I was petrified, much more scared than I ever knew our bodies were capable of handling. As I sat there trying to think about what I could write to save my life, Liv started playing a YouTube video from her phone that everyone in the room could hear. It started off as a debate or some sort of political speech. It went on like that for a couple minutes and I whispered to her to shut it off, because it would only make the man in charge angry. She didn’t listen. Instead, she got up, went to the desk where he was sitting, and the political speech stopped at the injection of that old record-scratching sound. Then the Fresh Prince theme song blasted through the room. Liv started dancing in front of the man’s desk and motioned with her hands for anyone else to join in. I was the first one up. I danced with her in a silly way to a silly song in front of a man I thought might kill me shortly thereafter. I don’t know why, but it seemed like the right thing to do. He had asked us to tell him about our sense of humor, and this was the perfect way to do so. Liv was onto something with this idea. The man in charge didn’t stop anything from happening, so about half of us had a dance party around the room while the other half sat in stunned silence, still scared of the near future I’m sure. I had a blast and nearly forgot why I was there. But when the music was over and I sat back down, I realized I still hadn’t turned in my personal facts sheet. I quickly wrote what was on my heart. I wish I could remember what I wrote, but it’s just out of reach of my memory. One thing I do know is that I was too scared to boldly claim my faith in Jesus, worried that it would seal my death if this person wasn’t a Christian, and I assumed they were not. So I referred vaguely to God and my desire to please Him with my life, just to be on the safe side. I was ambiguous and cowardly, and in writing about myself, I did so without including the most important thing. I turned it into the man who held my fate and he thanked me by name. I saw him reading it as he walked downstairs where we would all meet shortly, where I was sure my death was just minutes away. I was still more scared than I could ever imagine being. [When we all arrived in the room and it was time to judge, the male captor was now a woman.] The woman called my group together and as I sat there trembling, trying to think of every possible way to run away and escape all of this, she miraculously told us we were all saved. A rush of unexplainable relief and joy swept through me. Our dance party worked. She got to see our sense of humor, like she wanted to, right? For a moment I wondered if what I wrote to her influenced her decision to save me. To save us. So what she told us next was not something I expected to hear. She told us that we had a responsibility to serve the Lord, and we were taking it lightly. She told us that many of us had beat around the bush when we wrote about ourselves, glossing over the topic of God. (That was precisely what I did! Dumb idea, Bridget.) I was shocked, and as she spoke and reprimanded us, I wished I would have known she was a Christian so I would have been more at ease writing about how much He means to me. What I didn’t realize yet at that moment was how lukewarm my heart for God was. She continued with a challenge: “Isn’t He worthy of every opportunity we get to speak His name? Isn’t He worthy of risking your life to declare Him as Lord? Isn’t He worthy of so much more credit than you are giving Him in your life? Why is the man who died for you not important enough to be claimed as Lord in your last hour? Furthermore, why not in every hour?” I finally realized how right she was, and I wanted to hug her. She had spared us all our lives for one more shot to give Him glory when it’s easy and when it’s hard, when it’s safe and when it’s risky. And the cool irony of it was that the tables were in some ways turned now, because probably less than half of the people she was preaching to were not even Christians. Even my friend Liv sitting next to me was not. But as I looked around, everyone looked different than they did before. I could see through everyone’s tears that each one of them looked like they had been reborn, this new look of purpose and valor in their eyes. I hoped my eyes looked like that, too. Then they opened.

What is Family?

Sat, 21 Jul 2012 21:08:19 -0400

I was asked this question when going through a book with my boyfriend called “101 Questions to Ask Before You Get Engaged”, and I thought the question was insightful. I wanted to share it with all of you and maybe you could answer the question yourself if you think it might be beneficial to take a deeper look inside your past and what it has done to your heart and your plans for the future. I am going to share my answer with you all, only because I really feel like I’m not alone in what I’ve gone through and when we step out of a victim role to connect with others who may feel burdened by the same burden we know, the world becomes a smaller place and healing can happen. That’s my hope.

Q: What is your idea of “family”? What would you change about your family and how you were raised? What steps would you take to make these changes?

A: My idea of family is people that have come together in love and commitment to each other. People that live life together because God Himself said aloneness is not good. Family is shown in God’s Word to be important because He chose familial relationships to reveal Himself to us; He gave up His one and only Son to bear the weight of our sins; He told us we are adopted into his family through Jesus Christ; Jesus in flesh calls his followers “brothers and sisters”; and of course there is the metaphor of the Bride of Christ that is the perfect example of marriage. A family unit should strive to represent all of these elements of God’s Love that He’s taught us about.

If I could change something about my family and how I was raised, I would change 80% of it. I would change what was most valued and prioritized. I would change the way roles were defined and the way respect was demanded and given. I would change the tone of voices used regularly. I would change the mood of the home and atmosphere we lived in. I would change attitudes. I would make us eat meals together and talk about our days and build relationships with each other structured around an understanding of unconditional, not conditional, love. I would get rid of the vast amount of clutter and “stuff” that we were buried among and replace it with a modest amount of homemade crafts, family pictures, and tangible memories. I would change why we went to church and I would talk about God outside of church and pray prayers together that came from our hearts and not from our catechism books. If I could go back and change one thing, I would give it all to Jesus.

Heaven and Earth

Tue, 17 Jul 2012 15:17:08 -0400

Long lost dreams are coming back to me

after I sweat out a nightmare of a year.

The whispers that used to fully form

are foaming on my lips like a violent storm.

Who are you? So sober-

yet laughing.

For the first time since that rocky day,

where the stars hung in the sky like a sea of pity,

My arm brushes yours like strangers in a city.

Before I knew I did it,

it was too late to enjoy.

Too soon to wave goodbye again,

too much to reobtain.

Late May brings us showers from clouds

that block the sun from performing,

and I’m raging mad, feeling deprived,

desperate to hear birds chirping outside.

I just want to lie there and listen and feel alone.

I’ll think about the stranger-touch,

how to you it goes unknown.

I’ll cry one more cry as I reminisce,

But after this last time, I’ll forget we ever kissed.

We have an anniversary.

It’s today, and it won’t be good.

I wish you would change parts about you

that I know you could.

Only I settle for long lost dreams that pull at my brain,

when I could dream of a thicker love coursing my veins

in a very different way;

a way you don’t know in the least anymore,

I, too, no longer know you.

There is a chance that you are somewhat the same,

though changed in the ways I wished you to change-

In spite of that, I am to Heaven

as you are to earth

And we are strangers living worlds apart in one city.

Fairy

Fri, 25 May 2012 10:09:17 -0400

If I were born with the wings of a fairy

skeletal in bone-

spiritual in marrow-

I would not feel guilty for spending time

back impressed to the crest of the moon

fantastical curves tracing this trail of stardust

aglitter in slow motion

And I would grow my hair wild as nature

skin like potter’s clay-

tears like ceramic glaze-

let them fall to the forest floor

penetrating thick mists of pristine Jade

no element can compare

to this mystical orb

listen to it gossip with the light of the moon

watch as it explodes in time, in tune

with the song of the hummingbird

who would be my dearest friend

I would soar with her-

I would hope in her-

If I were born with the heart of a fairy

would I trust sorcery to satisfy my hunger

to be kissed by a man who I’ve only seen in water?

maybe the kiss would consist of magic

maybe life is far from tragic

If I’ve learned one thing from this fairytale land

reflections never lie

to our precious stone eyes

The Apple of My Eye

Wed, 02 May 2012 12:20:00 -0400

If you bravely speak aloud my name

I will come into your life aflame

I will make new words roll from your tongue

I will make new breath invade your lung

I will rescue you from this unsightly debris

to grant you all the worth in me

- but child, it will cost you one thing-

Hand me your global concern

Hand me the life that you didn’t earn

Die

And die again,

Die to gain

one man’s disdain

Listen, wayward child

Live

Live within my command to give

Each earthly possession you hold and hoard

with it’s transient beauty that corrupts my reward

Neglect it all for the sake of your soul

When you feel lack, I’ll vacate the hole

You will profit it all

If you do this one thing

If you die, my child,

the apple of my eye,

You will profit it all

You will be an heir to the King!

Summer Love

Wed, 21 Mar 2012 17:31:00 -0400

The birds are soaring on unruffled water right in front of our very eyes,

while the sun is baking our skin as if this whole day is July’s.

But in fact it is still winter, and in winter months heat dies,

until you raise from the dead Summer Love’s hot blooded highs.

I could not devise

even a decent idea alone.

I surely do not deserve to stand in the presence of a throne.

This body is worthless; I am just a woman of ailing flesh and bone

and you are just a man in love with a woman whose life is not her own.

I cannot atone

for last Summer Love’s mistake.

Light cannot traverse the time elapsed, moments passed become opaque.

So while we wait, we have time to kill and access to a lake.

My bristles are begging to mimic the ripples only sunflare can rightfully make.

Am I alive?

If I am, I’m in a pipe dream

floating on clouds born from cans of whipped cream,

across skies draped in a full palette color scheme,

inching closer and closer to the light beam…

I’m alive, Summer Love. I’ll meet you upstream.

The Bride of Christ

Tue, 21 Feb 2012 22:52:00 -0500

I want to wake up and get dressed,

showered the night before so my morning hair is a mess.

I want to know that He thinks I always look my best,

as I walk out the door with only Him to impress.

I want to vividly remember how we met for the first time.

I want back what I gave the others before He came into my life.

I want His blood to run and pump through every vein of mine,

and I want to cherish the fact that He chose me to be His bride.

An Apology Letter

Tue, 21 Feb 2012 22:51:23 -0500

Dear Jesus,

I feel like I need to apologize on paper,
because I’ve tried it vocally and I feel like a faker.
My flesh is so thick— God, I want out.
My flesh is so sick— God, I have doubts.
How can you love me? How can you trust me?
I lie to your face and my sins are disgusting.
…And still, I forget; on my pedestal I will sit,
thinking I deserve the gift you died to give.
Yet I can’t be enough to deserve it.
I can’t do enough to earn it.
I’ve decided.
I’m going to get up off my high horse and let you ride in on yours.

Homeless

Tue, 21 Feb 2012 22:50:00 -0500

I feel homeless,

as if your anger was the ground I walked on,

your control my stiff blanket at night.

Life has become a simpler existence made up of

quieter moments than before, yet

this peace tastes no less bitter than your tone.

How often will I think of you and everything we had?

How often will I think of us and everything you took?

Your complaints paint pictures that I don’t care to see;

dark as black,

black as shadows.

I long for truth to be in more than one place at one time.

After all, truth brings light to our shadows

if only we allow it.

Crazy as it seems I long equally to communicate (if only you knew how).

Time cannot be held responsible for fixing you

and I will not be held responsible for needing fixed.

Every time I let my regrets take the lead

you remind me that I’m breakable by almost breaking me.

You’ve stretched me thin,

transparent and light like fearless clouds on a foggy day.

But I still have substance, for it will thicken in your absence,

while you, old friend, will remain stagnant.

Abstract

Tue, 21 Feb 2012 22:45:00 -0500

I’ve discovered the ability to control whether I miss you a little or a lot,

the memory of your love, an abstract thought

to banish you from my sensibility, to replace

us with me; freedom, like sunlight warming my face.

Spring has come, birds have sung

a song of more truth than your words ever said-

No offense.

But did you not say too much?

and when I asked you to say a lot did you not say enough?

Was I the first girl to ever call your bluff? Am I too strong,

was I supposed to agree when you’re wrong?

How intense the passion, how hot the heat!

One question left unanswered,

“how did I ever feel complete?”

with a lover whose approach to love was to defeat.

Clearly I’m sold.

Sold on what, I don’t know

maybe on the idea that your absence has a glow

or maybe that I’ll fall in love with the most handsome John Doe

who will think I’m more exquisite than who you thought you let go

So.

If what we had was good, I’ll end up with what is better

a real do-gooder and a true go-getter

Sweet as sugarcane; skin like vanilla rain,

eyes that kill my instinct to miss you.

Rivaling Tears

Tue, 21 Feb 2012 22:44:00 -0500

I have rivaled against my tears for weeks,

pretending I mastered a whole list of techniques

to keep their poison from my cheeks

until today.

I let them drop like a deflated balloon

whose air supply was let go too soon,

and now I will be witnessing the next phase of the moon

without you.

Your venomous words resembled my desire

but once I taste venom, I can usually taste liar,

so strongly and quickly that we began to transpire

into nothing.

Our chemistry was like magic

that disappeared in thick smoke

along with my feelings inside, only you could evoke

the one word in my airway so big I could choke,

it’s “goodbye.”

So cheers is what I choose, my dear;

You flew me to foreign places and then crashed into your fear,

hoping I would ignore the signs, but they were crystal clear.

It’s goodbye.

Harp

Mon, 16 Jan 2012 12:29:00 -0500

for the first time words are failing me and I cannot seem to write

a poem, or even a line, to describe my soul’s advancing height.

but you, in near-perfection, make spoken word sound lyrical,

a man whose presence fills a room with the aura of a miracle.

with every love of my past, reluctance held it captive.

tell me, love of my future, that my mind is more attractive

than any curve of my physical body, that I make you feel free,

that in tangible units of measure, I am your only guarantee.

lock your fingers into mine, lest the beasts come at both sides.

speak your lyrics into praise before the pain even subsides.

play for Him and only Him; I will add my frail voice.

strum your harpstrings, tug my heartstrings, so as one we may rejoice.

Baby Girl

Fri, 09 Dec 2011 00:35:00 -0500

When I have a daughter I will look at her and say

baby girl, you belong

no one else is quite as strong

take this brush and make a goal

paint until you’ve fed your soul

When I have a daughter I will look at her and say

baby girl, laugh hard

whenever it’s safe, take down your guard

rest your weary heart in my care

no one can lift you higher in prayer

When I have a daughter I will look at her and say

baby girl, my life’s prize

imagine every mirror has God’s eyes

live out the details of your favorite dream

provide yourself with high esteem

When I have a daughter I will look at her and say

baby girl, you shine

I became me as soon as you became mine

Trust Only the City

Tue, 29 Nov 2011 07:57:00 -0500

today a sheet of snow has adorned my warm haven, fully opaque

shoveled against my bones in an attempt to shake me awake

from a nightmare where the real looked identical to the fake

where sex was worth the love that you risked for its sinful sake

I wouldn’t dare call my pessimistic self brave

but at least when you kissed her she knew not to cave

she knew not to let you dig her freed soul a grave

in fact, she knew all along you were not a martyr or a slave

dear God, I need to stop calling her “she” when she’s me

the foolish one willingly trapped under the debris

although I can only take blame to a fraction of a degree

the rest is on you… whoever “you” may be

Sound of Skin

Thu, 13 Oct 2011 10:53:00 -0400

i want to be sure your fingers can move and touch and play

the organ of my skin

compose me a song, draw your breath across me

like the bow of a violin

i know you feel the treble in my hands and the pulse of my wrist,

the backbeat

oh ecstasy, your musical love for me, skips from scratches

and is bound to repeat

My Sex

Fri, 09 Sep 2011 10:29:00 -0400

As a woman am I everything you think I should be,

tell me if I seem deficient in the definition

of my sex

Or tell me while I beg your pardon

if my thoughts are too complex

too human-natured, love-oriented,

self-actualized, free…

Maybe I should say “I” until “I” look like a threat

for questing my potential

to perform outside the bedroom

or the kitchen

or the calming of the storm

“I” will not be made less, or dress to impress

any male with intentions to reduce me to breasts

“I” will not be my chest, my legs, my ass

“I” will show you woman;

learn fast.

Dear Willow

Tue, 23 Aug 2011 01:03:00 -0400

Ironic, that I would be Protector of a shade tree,

never would I allow a brittle bone to break thee,

for she, in return, keeps watch as I sleep.

Dear Willow, I know why you weep.

Cradle me with ever-green,

Take root in any place serene

enough for faith to take a leap.

Dear Willow, I know why you weep.

Oh surely must I rescue she

who is haunted by this Willow Tree,

whose sap turned sour and begs to seep.

Dearest Mother, I won’t let you weep.

Hello Hubby

Thu, 07 Jul 2011 19:24:00 -0400

Well, this is my first and probably only blog post that isn’t a poem since this blog was intended for me to share my poetry, but I figured this is also an important thing to share with people, I think? It is a list of character qualities I want to find in a husband. First of all I decided it would be useful to write it down, and it totally has proved useful… so I am sharing it because I want to suggest all single women and men make their own list too, and as a suggestion, think more along the lines of what you NEED in a spouse, not just what you want.

1. Confidence AND Humility

a) He does not constantly look to other people for approval; he does not beg for attention, but is happy to give and recieve it; he has a solid understanding of who he is, who he strives to be, and what it will take to get there; he feels a sense of worth in Christ as his personal Savior

b) He views himself no higher than another human; he seeks out experiences and people that will challenge him to new growth; he is aware and repentant of his sins; he gives the Bible dominance over his life

2.) Loves Me AND Others

a) He has a servant’s heart as Jesus did; he strives to love me in sincere motivation to uphold me as Christ did the Church

b) He loves and serves others out of pure generosity and compassion; he speaks kindly of everyone; he is a peacemaker

3.) Bears the Fruits of the Spirit

a) Joy: he has a positive outlook on life that brings light to his surroundings

b) Peace: he never attempts to provoke bad emotions from others

c) Patience: he will wait on me; he will wait on the Lord; when he asks for something, he will be respectful of any answer he is given

d) Kindness: he blesses strangers

e) Goodness: his every word is honest; he puts his trust in me

f) Faithfulness: he knows how to prioritize responsibly and what deserves his dedication the most; he is faithful to God in his prayer life

g) Gentleness: he is not quick-tempered; he has a mild spirit that calms me

h) Self-Control: he can restrain his emotions and desires for the sake of acting on God’s will rather than his own

Oh, and if he’s artsy, musical, stylish, not too tall, quirky, and health-conscious, I wouldn’t mind. Not at all!

The End. <3