I’m learning how to bring all of me to the feet of Jesus.

For years I kept everything under wraps, hidden, thinking it was safer there. Thinking that if no one knew, no one would leave, no one would give up on me, no one would run away. I learned to keep it all inside. I learned that my tears were not worth hearing, and my cries for help entered a void instead of loving arms.

One thing I love about Jesus is He is the Light. He is the one who shines on everything that is hidden, shameful, dark, and broken. He doesn’t just shine His light He also brings his healing hand. When I began my journey of healing there were things I could not touch. I could feel the physical pain manifest in my body, it was a wound. A deep wound that I refused to receive healing for because I was afraid of how much it would hurt. I was afraid of the pain. Little by little God led me. He led me in His word to learn more about His character, He led me in my quiet times with words of love, and encouragement. He led me with whispers and reminders that He is a good God who takes His time.

During my healing journey, I have pleaded with God to rip off the bandaid, tell me the answer, or take all the pain away. When I ask Him this He consoles me, He reminds me where He was in those moments, He speaks over the broken words that have been spoken over me, and then with His hand, He begins to press gently on the wound nudging me to bring it fully to Him.

And slowly but surely I do. I bring Him the fullness of my tears, my grief, and my broken hope. I allow Him to speak into it, and slowly but surely I get back up. I regain the strength that I need for the day or the hour and I come to know Him as my Rapha, My healer, My loving Father, my faithful friend, and my redeemer.

Jeremiah 31:3-6

31 “At that time,” declares the Lord, “I will be the God of all the families of Israel, and they will be my people.”

2 This is what the Lord says:

“The people who survive the sword
    will find favor in the wilderness;
    I will come to give rest to Israel.”

3 The Lord appeared to us in the past,[a] saying:

“I have loved you with an everlasting love;
    I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.
4 I will build you up again,
    and you, Virgin Israel, will be rebuilt.
Again you will take up your timbrels
    and go out to dance with the joyful.
5 Again you will plant vineyards
    on the hills of Samaria;
the farmers will plant them
    and enjoy their fruit.
6 There will be a day when watchmen cry out
    on the hills of Ephraim,
‘Come, let us go up to Zion,
    to the Lord our God.’

-NIV translation

Words written 4/08/24

Photos taken 09/24

The Idol Of A Title

Throughout my entire life, I have allowed myself to be defined by a “title”

Over the past year, I worked at Cru Inner City and Chick-fil-A. Both of these jobs challenged me in different ways. They exposed pride, hidden motivations, and my idol of a title. I remember when I was offered Chick-fil-A. It was in September of 2023 and I remember telling God. The one thing I will not return to is fast food. As I’ve grown in my faith I’ve come to truly understand I will never understand God's ways and what a blessing that is.

I got the job on the spot and I remember looking at my uniform and an overwhelm of shame washed over me. I remember the months I cried out to God in my apartment, yelling “I am worth more than this” I remember His kindness in those moments. I remember Him saying “Your job is not your identity” and in that moment he broke another chain.

Deliverance of one's soul and life is a process, while the word was spoken over me, the walking out took time. Even after that, I would come to tear-soaked pillows and balled-up fists. Asking God, when will this season end instead of saying “Thank you for a paycheck.” My time at cru exposed my entitlement to authority, and my desire to be in charge no matter what. My time in Chick-fil-A has shown me my lack of servant's heart.

It has now been seven months since I started at Chick-fil-A, and the prayer has changed. Instead of God when will this end, I have started to say how can I love my co-worker today? How can I love the person at the register today?

Do I always do it well? No.

Do I mess up, do I still struggle with this job, yes. But I have learned to say thank you because this is what the glory of God looks like right now. It looks like long hours, a job I don’t like so I can work towards the things that bring me and Him life.

Let the redeemed of The Lord tell their story

Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story.

I have written this story before. Many times actually. I have named everything someone has done to me, with very little account for who I used to be. It’s true, horrible things have taken place in my life, but I will not neglect to tell the story of who I was before Jesus.

As one who never knew who she was or whose she was. I struggled to fit in, striving for belonging at every table, even the ones that didn’t fit me. I was manipulative, dishonest and a very much one for all kind of person. I had dreams that never lined up with the kingdom of God. I struggled through identity issues well into my twenties which created an array of choices that almost killed me. But by Gods grace I am still here.

He spoke to me in those rooms, the darkest places of my soul, and He said you don’t belong here, you belong to me. Throughout my journey with Jesus I have learned how patient He is. And when we say God is on time, usually we are talking about the miracle He will do for us, the dream He has for us, but what I’m referring to now, is His rescue. He was on time.

In the middle of my one bedroom apartment I called out to God. I told Him I can’t do this anymore, I need you, I am broken, I am lost, and I need a savior to heal me. I remember recalling His death on the cross. Rather than that resonating with me, it was this idea that this man loved me enough to heal me.

I had run around searching for healing in men, career accolades, friendship groups, and within my own understanding and strength. It was not until the fall of 2020 that I admitted I was wrong about how I wanted to live my life and not until I realized I would not survive if I kept on the way I was living that God came down to rescue me.

Now four years later, I am free to heal, free to forgive, free to dream, free to re-imagine, rebuild and rediscover this beautiful life that is truly a gift regifted to me by the creator of it. I share this with you today to let you know God is a rescuer. He is a healer, and He longs to love you, love you back to life.

I have a hope and a future, I am healing and growing into the woman I was meant to be. Leaving behind little by little fear of the future and running everyday into my Fathers arms.

I don’t have my dream career or job yet, I’m not married yet, I don’t have all the money in the world, but I have never felt more whole and free than I do now.

Pslam 91: 14-16

The Lord says, “I will rescue those who love me.
    I will protect those who trust in my name.
15 When they call on me, I will answer;
    I will be with them in trouble.
    I will rescue and honor them.
16 I will reward them with a long life
    and give them my salvation.”

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.

"Though I walk through the shadow of the valley of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me. You hold me by my right hand."

Death. 

An uncomfortable topic. A topic that often brings mourning, anger, and even avoidance. There are different forms of death that we walk through in this life whether we know God or not. 

When I came to Christ I was dead in sin, dead in deceit, dead in self-righteousness, dead in this world and all that it placed upon me, and that I placed upon myself. For the last three years, I have walked through what I call my valley. A journey of unlearning, undoing, and unbecoming. The Bible talks about this, it talks about how once you receive Christ, you receive new life.

What must come before a new life? Death. Death to who you used to be. Death to who you thought you’d be. Death to who you wanted to be. With this, there is pain. There is a searing form of grief for those of us who have less than perfect stories mixed with “God where were you, God, how could they, and God what have I done” I would know, as those have been prayers echoed from one bedroom apartments to circles of close friends.  

This morning I stood in my apartment avoiding the inevitable grief that comes from me thinking about where I am. Acknowledging the middle of my wilderness and the distance of a promise. As I allowed the tears to pour and the silence fill the room, I became full. Full of release, full of courage, full of belief. The belief is that this is not the end of my story. This is not the end of the story God is writing, this is the middle. And in the middle it’s messy. It’s painful, it’s honest, but it’s also for a purpose. I share this with you today to say that if you yourself are walking through your valley, your death of a dream, loss of a relationship, grief of your past, whatever it may be. Let me remind you as I remind myself who God is. He’s the redeemer, A good father, a rescuer, a sovereign Lord, a healer, restorer, and He is the God of redemption stories. 

My healing is not dependent on me, and as I take a sigh of relief mixed with tears, I remember. I remember who He is, and remind myself. I am free.

Psalm 23:4

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

(NIV)

2nd Corinthians 5:17

17 Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come:[a] The old has gone, the new is here!

(NIV).

Written 2/23/24

Photo taken in the summer of 2021

Dear Dreamer,

Dear dreamer,

Let me remind you of your courage. Your courage to step out, and take God at His word. That He has good plans for you, that He will give you the desires of your heart, that the harvest is ripe but the workers are few.

Let me remind you of how needed you are despite what this world may tell you, despite what your parents, friends, or others may tell you. Let me remind that you that the Author of Heaven is cheering you on. Let me remind you that faith without works is dead.

I get it,
Dreaming is terrifying, it involves risk, a million what ifs and you are bound to make mistakes along the way.

But why is your fear stopping you? Why is the opinions of others and the desire to please others holding you back? Why are you pacing every morning before God asking Him to help you without the courage of the first step?

Have you been wounded, are you tired?

Are you losing hope or faith? The Father says come to me, rest in my arms beloved one as I restore every part of your being, every desire of your precious heart, every longing of yours. Come to me and dream with me, let me fuel you, and pour into you. Let me remind you how I was with Moses, Joshua, Rahab, Mary, and Esther.

Let me remind you what my word says. Take courage dear one!

Be strong and do not fear. But if you do, that is okay. I am here, waiting, leading, and cheering you on. Cling to me, and I will lead you.

Dear dreamer,

Have you forgotten the truth laced within Ephesians 3:20?

Have you forgotten that I am the abundance. Have you forgotten that I exceed expectations? Dear dreamer, you are seen, loved, held, and heard. Let’s try again.
Let’s dust off our feet, let’s ask God for help, and then let’s step out.

One day at a time, one choice at a time, and one moment at a time.



Joshua 1:9

9 Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” (NIV)

Matthew 11:28:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. (NIV)

Take God out of the box

God is expansive.

My goodness, if only you knew how much God longs for us to see Him outside of the box we have tenderly, and sometimes for our own comfort placed Him in.

I have recognized my desire to place God in a box. In a person, community, even a job. It feels good and safe. To know where God is. To know what He’s doing all the time, To know what’s around the corner. I realize what a disservice that is to the God of the universe, The King of Kings, and The Lord of Lords.

God will allow you to put Him in a box, while gently asking and nudging you to open it.

What a Good God.

To invite you into opening your door, your box, and your perspective to show you so much more.

I have longed for certainty for the illusion of safety. God in His kindness shatters that, He breaks the glass ceiling. He will take everything you know about Him and say “My darling, there is so much more.”

It's been one month into 2024, and I am walking confidently into February while continuing to ask the question;

What does it look like to take God out of the box?

To take Him beyond what my comfort zone is?

This Sunday, I’m gathering with a couple of friends to create a vision board. I’ve never this done before out of this fear, that what if my dreams, the core of my heart are not from God?

What if I’m dreaming too big?

What if I’m wrong?

This act of faith in a vision board opens a door, inviting God into this sacred act of worship, and dreaming with Him. Inviting Him to lead the pieces I cut out, and the words I paste boldly on a blank slate.

Believing Him, not just for what He has done, or what He will do. But for who He is.

Even if none of this, or all of it happens, I’m taking a chance on God by inviting Him to create with me on this blank slate.

So friends,

As we walk forward in this new year with joy, sorrow, forgotten, or new dreams.

Let us do so with Hope.

Hope in The God of dreams, hope in the Father of lights, Hope in the one who already knows it all.

Let us try asking God; “Take yourself out of the box I have put you in.”

Isaiah 55: 8-9

8 “For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
    neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord.
9 “As the heavens are higher than the earth,
    so are my ways higher than your ways
    and my thoughts than your thoughts. (NIV)

Photo taken in New York City, October 2021

Can it be different?

Can it be different?

That question echoed in my spirit, when I found myself dragging my feet to the altar to surrender a dream I was holding onto. "Can it be different God?" “Can you redeem this?”

I often find God answering in small whispers, nudges, and new conversations. I want signs in the sky or blinking green lights. My love language is words of affirmation, deep knowing, and absolute certainty. God has a sense of humor, He loves to challenge our familiar through an invitation to the unknown. Holding on tightly to anything erases the beauty of what can be. It often imprisons me to only what I want, what I desire, canceling out what God wants, what He desires, and what He hopes for.

For the first three years of my walk with Jesus, my prayers were dressed heavily in petitions, complaints, and wants. Throughout my journey with God, I have learned the pure innocence of a need over a want.

Does God care about what we want?

Absolutely, but can we trust that He also knows what we need?

I find myself knocking at the door of my wants more than recognizing my needs. It is often after knocking on a closed door, or pleading for the same thing, that I choose to surrender. I fall to my knees, and I whisper "God, give me what I need. "

He delights in our wants but desires to give us what we need. The tension here is, will it always be what we want? No, and that can also be the beauty, the wrestle. That is the walk of faith.

There is a story in the Bible of a man named Jacob wrestling with God. He pleaded with The Lord, and in his own way said "I will not let go until you bless me!" The Lord blessed Jacob, but He was never the same because He saw the face of God. How often do we tend to run away and let go before the blessing?

How often do we sink into the despair of what we don’t have over what we do?

I’m guilty of this. I’m the one who will knock on the door that will not open till my knuckles bleed, but He’s merciful. He’s patient, and He's always there to tend to my wounds.

I’m learning how to be like Jacob, the one who will not let go until I receive the reward of God's presence. Even if I walk away differently.

Story referenced

Jacob Wrestles With God

Genesis 32: 22-32

22 That night Jacob got up and took his two wives, his two female servants and his eleven sons and crossed the ford of the Jabbok.23 After he had sent them across the stream, he sent over all his possessions. 24 So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak. 25 When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man. 26 Then the man said, “Let me go, for it is daybreak.”

But Jacob replied, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”

27 The man asked him, “What is your name?”

“Jacob,” he answered.

28 Then the man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel,[a] because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.”

29 Jacob said, “Please tell me your name.”

But he replied, “Why do you ask my name?” Then he blessed him there.

30 So Jacob called the place Peniel,[b] saying, “It is because I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared.”

31 The sun rose above him as he passed Peniel,[c] and he was limping because of his hip. 32 Therefore to this day the Israelites do not eat the tendon attached to the socket of the hip, because the socket of Jacob’s hip was touched near the tendon.

NIV

Photos taken in 2020.

In this moment I want to scream at the sky.

I ache for my voice to be heard in a way where it doesn’t feel so small. 

I have found myself cursing the ground and burying my face in the realities of what I cannot change. 

My God, 

I have found my heart at the bottom of the well and in the hands of The Father.

I have found myself beating down doors, and ripping out the seeds of the gardens that are taking too long to grow. 

I have found the Light while I throw up my hands and scream silently into the night. 

I have found my faith on my knees and the answers to my prayers in tear soaked confessions. 

I curse God more than I praise him. 

I run from God more than I run to him. 

But in those moments. 

The ones that break my knees and steal my voice I find peace.

I experience the eternal. 

I dance in the idea of forever and trust that it’s mine.

I am forced to believe in a greater Love than what I can see right now. Feel right now, Trust right now. 

So I hold on. 

I wait. 

I release. 

I let go. 

I choose to keep planting flowers in the gardens that are taking their time to grow. 

Believing that I will see the light in my eyes the way I believe in the light for others. 

Believing that I too will dance a long the tops of hillsides. 

Believing that the waiting,

While it breaks me, will build me. 

For I am a piece of clay in the potters hands. 

A piece of clay that understands this world is not mine, and my life is not one to hold onto, but to let go of. 

LPM

Poem written in 2020

Heal

I remember the first prayer I ever really prayed. I said “God I heard you can heal people, will you heal me?”

The word "heal" and "healing" means to make solid or whole. In the Bible it means the restoration of health, the making whole or well whether physically, mentally or spiritually.

“I heard you can heal people, will you heal me?” it has been three years since that prayer. What has happened since then? I have started to fully love myself, I have surrendered my life to something better that I could ever imagine here on earth. I have found deep joy in sorrow and trial.

I have learned how to say I’m sorry, admit I’m a sinner and receive the grace that is boundless each day. I have found hope in each day, because my hope is not of this world, but rather in the One who created it. I have learned to let go.

Yes, there are days when my hands cling to the story that is still being written, but each day little by little I let go.

I have never found more freedom than when I learned to unclench my fists and release my grip. I have discovered peace beyond the capacity of this world, I have seen heaven come to earth and been invited to join in on building it. I have wept, I have asked for forgiveness and I have learned the power in forgiving your enemies and those who have hurt you.

I have started to build and be part of real relationships that go past the surface, but rather invite all of someone else in and extend all of me to them. Not just the parts I like.

There is a story in the Bible about a man who was paralyzed. He had been for years. I relate to this man. I too was paralyzed and trapped in someone I was never called to be. When I asked Jesus to heal me, he said something along the lines of get up. Pick up your mat and walk. He said that to the paralyzed man, and what did he do? he Believed. He got up, and he began to walk. Many were amazed and some criticized him, and his only response was “The man who healed me told me, pick up your mat and walk.”

If you’ve never come to know the God of the universe and His heart for you I want to invite you now to ask Jesus to heal you. Ask him with a shaky voice or in total confidence. Ask him on your knees or under your breath. He will hear you, and He wants to heal you. I’m still in a journey. A journey of unlearning, undoing, and becoming. I will never arrive, and it has freed me even more to know that I will not arrive, but I will always grow. I will always progress, and one day I will see the harvest of my seed when I stand in front of my Father. Blameless because His son Jesus died for me and for you.

The Choice To Get Up

At the age of 19 I began the adventure of discovering who I really am. I took many different turns, twists, faced obstacles, and overcame them all. I allowed myself to try every box, every job, and every thrill in this life. I embedded myself in different stories, experiences and people. I allowed myself to fail, admit when I was deeply disappointed, wrong, and continued to choose to get back up.
I did everything I could to fit the expectations of a world that would never love me the way I wanted it to. I sacrificed the deepest parts of myself for love, affection, and belonging. I allowed my voice to conform to the echo of culture, and everyone around me. I said yes when I wanted to say no, I allowed myself to be pushed into silent submission. Until one day I told myself. There is a reason I am here. There is a purpose to my pain. There is a reason to continue and I need to find it.
I began to seek God, turns out He was always seeking me. I began to ask questions about myself, my identity. I began to question everything I knew and I allowed the foundation I had built to crumble. Every piece. Every dream, every expectation. I allowed it all to shatter. Then I sat. I sat with the grief. I sat with the disappointment, I sat with the self betrayal. I allowed myself to be angry. Really angry, I poured our heartfelt and prayers full of words I would never say on a regular day. I allowed myself to grieve. Deeply grieve. Then I told myself. It was time to let go. It was time to begin again, it was time to set out on the next grand adventure which was allowing myself to become the woman God has always destined and called me to be. I chose to get up. Get up from the floor, the broken relationships, the searing disappointments, the horrific choices I made, the hurt I caused and the hurt that i was dealt. I chose to forgive.

I chose to forgive my parents as they had forgiven me. I chose to forgive all of my ex partners and abusers. I chose to say I’m sorry, will you forgive me? I chose to say “God help me” I chose to be free. I chose to begin the process of forgiving myself, I chose to partner with God in the breaking of the chains that bound me and begin to release the voice instilled within me. I chose to let go of my pain, because God said so clearly. “I have a better plan for you, I have good things for you, I have a family for you, I have a calling for you, will you trust me?”
It took a lot to get to the surrender of yes. It took a lot to get to begin to let go of the idea of what I wanted and embrace Gods knowing and believing He knows best. But I’m here. I’m here in a different way. I’m here in a way where I have healed from some of the things I thought I could never let go of. I’m here in a way where the identities of this world will never claim me again. I’m here in the now, trusting in the promises of God, I’m here in the continuous letting go of my life and the acceptance of the new life that is in front of me.

I share this part of my story to say. Don't be afraid to let go, while it is painful it is freedom. It is liberation. It is the realization of your dreams, who you are and what you are called to do in this very short yet beautiful life.

Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you says The Lord, plans to prosper you, to bring you hope and future.”
Romans 12:2 “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—His good, pleasing and perfect will.”

John 5:8 “Then Jesus said to him, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.”

John 8: 10-11  Jesus straightened up and asked her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”

11 “No one, sir,” she said.

“Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.”

In my cry of unbelief, He answered me.

I have often wondered why people don’t believe in God. Even when I was far from Him I knew in my heart He existed. As I’ve grown older, hear stories of heartache and terror. I come to realize my deeper need for Him. Need and belief can be different.

When I sat with God for the first time in my one-bedroom apartment three years ago,  surrounded by the ruins of my own choices and the choices I could not control. I did not believe in Him but I needed Him. I needed the silent comfort that came from his presence. I needed His voice to calm mine down, and I needed His embrace to break open mine. I needed all of these things but I did not always believe in them. I don’t blame you if you don’t believe in God. This world is hard, painful, merciless at times, and broken.

I remember the first time I really prayed. I said to God, I don’t care about what you’ve done, but I heard you can heal people, will you heal me? Little did I know that prayer that was prayed between heavy sobs, and at times inconsolable grief was a prayer of great faith. There is a verse in the Bible that talks about having the faith of a mustard seed. That day I had a sliver of that mustard seed, and I chose to utter the words that would begin to change my life forever. In my own words, I began to pray, “I believe, and help my unbelief. ”

I tend to stray from the idea of unbelief. It seems cruel to tell God I don’t believe in you, but often I find His welcoming presence in the cry of unbelief.

In my attempt to be perfect, I forget God.

I’m someone who longs to be invincible, and as I grow, change, and let go. I’ve come to realize I am human.

Flawed, broken, whole, and fragile.

It’s much easier for me to cry out to God when I desperately need Him, rather than every hour of every day. It takes death to my pride to realize over and over how much I need Him. We are not made to do life alone, and for years I tried too. The happy faces I would share on social media, while behind the scenes I was lost. I was alone, and I was hurting. Now three years later, it’s better. Is it perfect? No, but it is good. It’s beautiful, it’s learning how to live a day at a time, and it’s grieving the past while looking expectantly to the future. There is a passage in scripture that invites me in a little more each time I read it.  Luke 5:31-32 - “Jesus answered them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.  I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” That verse can sting, it invited me to look at myself and say I’m not all that great, but I’m also not that bad. I need a savior, and to be in need of the King of the Universe is not a bad thing, it’s a beautiful, just, and holy thing. I’ll never get it 100% right, and I’ll always mess up, but I am invited and reminded that to be human in the face of a Holy God is a good thing.

Come

Come boldly before the face of God

Come hungry

Come tired

Come as you are

Undone

Broken

Seeking

Searching

Hoping

Come

For He is waiting.

-LPM

Poem written 11/14/22

Post written April 2023

Photos taken March 2023

Discontentment

I want to talk about Discontentment. 

I am learning how to honor and celebrate people well. This was never something I was particularly good at. I struggled a lot with bitterness, jealousy, anger, and Fomo ( we all know it as fear of missing out.) I would look at the lives of others and say to God. “I want this, I want this now, I want that family, I want that job, I want that house.” Why God can’t I have what they have? God is kind in the sense that He always listens, He listens while I yell, scream, or sometimes just cry. What I love about God is that while I may say one thing, He hears the only thing that matters; my heart. I have had many moments in my life where I have glanced at the family of another, the partner of another, the job of another, and I have allowed myself to fall into the worlds first temptation. Discontentment. 

Discontent with where God had me then, and where He has me now. I’ve never been a Bible guru and I’m still not, but what I have learned about Adam and Eve is that Eve thought that God was holding out on her. She thought that she knew better than God. I can be the first to say I lived my life as someone who thought she knew better than God. That always ended me up in the same relationships, same problems, and same cycles. God is gracious, He’s a gentleman and I have learned that He does not push, shove, or intrude. He will wait until you are ready to give to him what you are clinging to, or holding on to. The power of surrender to contentment is not just acceptance but Joy. 

Joy in the present, joy in your circumstances, joy in your daily life. The ability to celebrate others and mean it. I have spent much of my life in either an intentional or unintentional waiting, and it is not like God to show you the promise then walk you through the desert, the storm, or the wilderness. Part of that is learning to celebrate others, honor others, cheer for others. Regardless if you get your promise or not, because what He has taught me and is continuing to teach me is He is the promise, He is the call, He is the gift and so often do I miss that. He is the giver of every good thing, and while it may be painful, while it may be hard. I am learning to say God, if you aren’t in it. I don’t want it. 

Pslam 23 says “The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.” 

Matthew 6:33 “ But seek first His kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”

Friendship

The meaning of friendship has been on my heart recently. 

When I was growing up, I never had a best friend, but I always wanted one. Most of my time was spent trying to be accepted, unsure of who I was. No one ever got to know the real me, because I was too busy trying to be like everyone else. High school and middle school were messy years. They were full of confusion, questions, and a lot of heartbreak. There was also a time in my life when I was afraid to be friends with women.  I struggled to relate to them healthily, I remember telling myself that it was easier to be friends with men, because deep down I was looking for protection, and I was looking for safety.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve seen the beauty and truth laced within the phrase "quality over quantity."

God has a way of bringing you the people you need to learn and grow when you least expect it. Nicole and I met three years ago at church. I told her everything about me, and she listened. She told me about her life, and from then on we were inseparable. Her selfless example pointed me to the idea that I needed to change.

I was used to transactional relationships. I didn't know what it meant to be a true friend for a long time. My life always looked like I had a lot of people, but the truth is I was lonely. I had no one and at the end of the day, I couldn’t blame anyone but myself. I decided to commit to change, learning, growing, and seeking out women who would help me grow in Christ and myself. 

Almost three years later, The Lord in His kindness has provided me with something deeper than friendship: a rich sisterhood. I used to think that I needed to be just like my friends, but there is beauty in our differences and reasons for our strengths and weaknesses. I needed the kind of friendship that could be patient with me as I decided to continue to heal, I needed women in my life who understood my fear of deep relationships. They are women who push me to grow and carry me when I cannot do it alone. They provide wisdom, but they also provide joy. I needed women who could listen and God provided.

I’m still growing into who God has created me to be, but His mercies are new every morning and I am grateful for the people He has given me in this life. Special shout out to my dear sister Nicole, I am forever grateful to her. She was the friend that walked me through the darkest moments of this journey, she listened to me, she never judged me, and she showed me the heart of Jesus.

Proverbs 27:17 states “Iron sharpens iron, and Proverbs 18:24 states “There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.”

I am a Storyteller

I am not just a photographer, or a writer. I’m a storyteller. 

For years I wrestled with words and photos, always wanting to choose one but ultimately coming to the conclusion that I want the best of both worlds. I remember the first time that I was introduced to photography.  I didn’t know what I wanted or why I was drawn to it but it felt like a lightbulb went on. I was able to see the world with fresh eyes for the first time. No longer bound by the ideals of the world rather sinking into the depths of the human experience, and the human heart. It was like seeing the light for the first time, and once again believing in something beautiful. I remember being able to channel my emotions into something without having to say a word. It was freeing and it was healing. When I could not find the words, I found a photo, when I could not find a photo I wrote a word. Almost seven years later I have made the decision to marry the two. Do I know how yet? Not quite, but that won’t keep me from trying. There is a rush that occurs when someone opens up to me and shares part of their heart. 

I love people, and I love stories. This love comes from the deep-seated desire to experience someone’s heart. We live in a culture that defines us by what we do, how we dress, who we love, and what we say. I have found the freedom in letting all that go and allowing God to define me. While I struggle deeply at times, I find rest and freedom in knowing that He is for me, and not against me. The gift that photography is to me is the ability to see people the way God created them, whole, beautiful, and His creation. Someone’s eyes can tell you a lot about them, stories, tragedy, love, and loss.  It’s true what they say, a photo is worth a thousand words. I value the moments that people open up to me when I get to take their photos and even when they don’t, I cherish the time I get to spend behind the lens.

 Photography to me is an act of intimacy. It’s not just a job, a way to earn money or collect a few likes on Instagram it’s more than that. I believe that when we find the things that we love in this life, we are to give them back to God and simply ask Him. What do you want me to do with this? How can I serve others with this? 

Laying it down three years ago was incredibly hard, it took humility, admitting that I was afraid, and admitting that maybe I was wrong about the way I wanted to live my life. Three years later the desire came back in a new way. To capture a story regardless if it becomes a career or not. To do the thing that I love and listen to people while I’m at it. I don’t know what this next season of photography looks like, but I am allowing myself to be open and fall in love with it again. Stories make this world go round, they take us out of ourselves and into something deeper. 

What’s yours?

A Voice For The One Who Wants To Try Something New

Writing my first book changed my life. 

But not in the way you’d think. 

I learned the value of hardwork. 

I discovered the courage that comes from using your voice for the first time in a world that has tried desperately to erase it. I realized the need to believe in your own dreams even if no one else does. I discovered the power in deciding not to quit when it got hard, when people decided to leave, and when I had nothing left. I learned about the beauty in making mistakes, in failing over and over again just to get it right once.I realized I didn’t need to be perfect. I found out what it’s like to ask for help. Real help, not the passive help that asks carefully but the kind that is bold. The kind that calls out and says Father, I have nothing left, please help me. I learned about the art of surrender. The surrender to the words waiting to be written before me to someone else, no matter how much it hurt, or how badly I wanted to quit, I kept going. I learned how to live on just enough to just get by and be content with that. I let go of the hopes for more and held onto the promise of enough. I learned about integrity not only within my own word, but the way I chose to show up each day, the days I wanted to work two jobs and work on this book, and the days I could barely get myself out of bed. I learned about rest, to tell myself when it was okay to stop, to take a break, and to just breathe. I learned about how loved I was and how much God cared first about me, rather than what I did. I learned about the strength in choosing to be alone for a season. I saw the need to no longer settle for what it is not, but could not be for me in every aspect of my life. I finally accepted that I cannot save anyone. I discovered the power of leaning on only God for a season or two. I learned how to stand on my own two feet, even when the waves of this world or the storms of tomorrow crashed through my window. 

I learned how to be proud of myself, to look at my work and say “well done.” I realized that confidence was okay, and that I could acknowledge how hard I worked to become who I am today. I saw the need to let go of my past, so I could write myself into the future. I discovered the desire to care deeply for others in a way that I hadn’t before. I saw the beauty of choosing others before myself in a new way. A way that heard a call and decided to answer it, a way that saw the grief of others, and the call to serve. 

I learned how to seek joy in hardship, and find the little things on my worst days. I realized how small I was and decided that, that was okay. I learned how to let go of control, release my plans, and walk into the ones that had been written for me before the beginning of my life. I learned about God, and His heart not only for me but for others. 

And finally, 

I learned how to start something new even when you’re afraid, even if you doubt yourself. I learned how to have faith in what I was promised even if I couldn’t see it yet. 

Here is a letter for the ones trying new things.

Birthing new projects and writing new things. Here is a word for the ones diving into the deep, recklessly. Here’s to the ones who are learning how to breathe in this process so many of us call waiting. Thank you, you inspire me.

Thank you to the ones who kept going when they wanted to quit. Thank you to the ones believing in something greater, something beautiful, something good. We need you, I need you. I’ve needed your words, your stories and your hope. The light you carry, the dreams you have. They are needed. As we move into the next season of life together or apart. Thank you. Thank you for your words, your art, and your passion. It inspires me on the days I’ve wanted to quit. The hours I thrown my hands up and have asked is this worth it. Those are the days I dive deep into stories. Deep into narratives outside of mine. So, keep writing. Keep dreaming, keep going. Your stories and who you are is needed.

Love, 

Lily

To The Artist

 I’ve always been an artist. At a young age before I fell in love with anything else, I fell in love with color. I met God in the art I created. 

I discovered the power of creativity within the confined walls of my 1 bedroom apartments. As a small child I never knew what I wanted, I couldn’t understand how to ask for my needs so my parents never knew that I wanted and desired to be an artist. They never knew that I dreamed of coloring the sky, and to write love stories about this life. I don’t blame them, I’ve been learning to thank them for allowing me to discover who I was not, so I could begin to become who I am. I spent a lot of my nights in my twenties asking God to reveal himself to me before I knew who He actually was. At that stage of my life I was used to numbing myself out, and the only time I felt truly alive was when I was creating something. Life became clearer, I found my voice, and I began to believe that this world was still meant for beautiful things. This poem is for the artists, the dying, the searching, and the ones who have yet to realize who they are. I’ve been you, I’ve seen you, and I’ve fallen in love with you. I’ve come to know the power of the spoken word, and the emotion that can pour out from a simple photograph. It’s a language that I’ve attached myself too. One from heavens that I constantly return to. I find God there, and he finds me. He meets me at open and closed doors, He gives me words to speak, and colors to create. He teaches me about who he is every time I write a word or take a photo. It’s how I learn, It’s how I began to see, began to speak, and began to dream. When God revealed himself to me, He did it through art. He showed me the light in dark spaces, the hidden color within the black and the whites, and the voices that need to be heard. When I wrote this poem, the artist within me was dying. That’s the thing about death though, it always provides a re-birth even if you can’t see it at the time. What was dying was the artist I thought I wanted to be, what was being born was the artist I was meant to be. 

Love, 

Lily

God bring back the artist. 

Bring back the Light in her eyes. 

Help her bloom. 

Give her a heart that always seeks you. 

A spirit that longs for you. 

Give her hands to plant gardens, and eyes to see this world the way you do. 

Breathe life back into her. 

Help her breathe.

Help her stand tall, 

Help her trust that she will be held when she falls. 

Show her the colors of your sky. 

Show her the beauty of your people. 

Show her the stories waiting to be told, and the voices longing to be heard. 

Show her how to dance with this part of herself again. 

LPM

Learning To Love Yourself For The First Time

I have found myself peering through the windows of the past. 

Thinking about what I could have done differently, thinking about what would have happened if I would have said, no, or said yes. I’m still living in Chicago, and to be honest sometimes I’m still not thrilled about it. It’s hard to live in a city where you lost so much but also started a whole new journey. Part of me still just wants out, but I have learned the hard way that I cannot move away from my problems. This time last year I was ending a relationship with someone who I thought was going to be in my life for the long haul. Sometimes people we think will be, more than often will not be. You see, people grow, people change, and people move on.

My whole life I struggled with the idea of Self Love, the idea of putting myself first because I thought it was selfish. Growing up I was taught that it was selfish, I didn’t know any different. I was also taught that I needed to earn love, like nothing could ever be enough. This led to many of my relationship choices too. I was always dating people that I felt like I had to perform for, or be anyone but myself. This was also because I had no idea who I was or whose I was. It’s true what they say about how difficult it is to love another if you don’t fully love yourself. Self love is not this magical fantasy of bubble baths and shopping sprees. No, it’s going to therapy, it’s joining a support group, it’s acknowledging your bad habits and then making the painful decision to stop them. It’s sitting in your one bedroom apartment calling out to a God that doesn’t seem to be listening even though He always is. It’s cursing your past and praying for help to rebuild your future. It’s leaving behind everyone you want to take with you and accepting the ones who are ready to join you. 

It’s looking at yourself and saying “hey you’re not that bad, But you’re also not that great.” It’s learning how to live on a budget, it’s learning how to eat right, it’s learning how to be comfortable with rejection and the idea that this world is not built to serve or like you. It’s sitting in the grief, the pain, the mistakes, the horror of your past and learning how to walk away from it all. It’s letting go of letters and photos from exes and old friends. Choosing to no longer ask yourself what could you have done differently, it’s accepting the end and saying hello everyday to a brand new beginning. Learning how to say no to the ones who are used to your yes. Going to bed early, waking up to go on a pitiful run, but high-fiving yourself because at least you did it. It’s the hard stuff, it’s the rough stuff, but it’s also the beautiful stuff. It brings life to you, it’s the hope that life will get better and you will too. It’s this idea that you have so much more ahead of you, and as you sit in front of your therapist with a tissue box in hand or say too much in your support group, it’s this idea that you’re finally healing. In the moments where I’m too vulnerable I think to myself, at least I’m being honest, at least I’m healing, at least I’m here. 

I think far too often I look at healing as this large checklist, kinda like how I used to look at life. Once I get this, I’ll be happy, once I get this relationship I’ll be good, once people notice me I’ll feel worthy. I’ve had all of those things and at the end of the day they could never fill the God shaped hole of healing, love, and redemption that I needed. My journey of self love has come with the hard work of admitting I needed help, and that I still do. It’s letting go of the labels, the expectations, and the dreams that can no longer be. It’s been accepting where I am and believing in what will be. There is so much freedom in knowing that I don’t have to figure it all out, I don’t have to try, because my future is held in the hands of the one who wrote it before I even began to pick up this new dream or type something out with these battered and worn hands. My Self Love journey has been anything but lovely, but that’s okay because I’m also learning that beautiful things can come from broken ones. 

Written in August 2021. 

Love, 

Lily