i eavesdrop

sometimes i try to analyze love. God's love for us, Chad's love for me, my parents' love, and more. right now, sitting in starbucks, there is a woman speaking to a man about her love. she doesn't know it, but i'm analyzing her. she's fretting over the romantic love she has fallen into at this moment in time and whether or not the man returns her love and the timing of his choice, if at all, to marry her. to be honest, it is quite humorous. part of me feels guilty for eavesdropping and then part of me wonders why she would talk so openly about it in starbucks. she keeps telling the man in front of her that if this opportunity with her current beau falls to pieces, she does not know what she will do. the poor woman. i used to be her. 

i used to rest all of my happiness, security, faith and hope in things of this world: men, money, alcohol, success, my ego, really sickening things when looking back on them. then, when all would fall apart, as things of this world are guaranteed to do, i fell apart. now that i know true happiness, security, faith, and hope, i wonder how i could have ever been so lost. i guess that is what light does; it reveals what we are truly afraid of while masked in darkness. the truth, when known, sets us free of our fears. should i tell her that true love exists and if she allows it to penetrate her heart, she is already someone's bride? 

solace in certainty

chad travels often for music, his job. music has opened so many doors for him to do awesome things, see awesome places, meet awesome people. to be honest, i am a bit jealous. but more than anything, when he is gone i miss him. i miss him so much. yes, i function fine on my own and don't need his presence to ensure my own personal well being, but i miss his company. i miss how he makes me laugh, although most times we are mutually laughing at my own clumsiness or ditzy comment. i miss burning the food i attempt to cook for him. i miss watching him play guitar; i love watching him have do what he loves. i am proud of him. i miss his insight, maturity and persistence to pursue a righteous way of life in a world that makes it seem out of the norm. i miss enjoying our friends together. i miss him yelling at me for interrupting movies with my line of questioning that always includes a "did you see that?"

my office mate, pam, also misses someone she loves. but her aches of absence are different. her son is in afghanistan doing something many of us would tremble at the simple thought. i know when chad will come home but when pam said goodbye to her son, she was offered no guarantee of his homecoming. her son has no bed to sleep on, no phone or internet access through which to tell his mom that he loves her. there are men, in close proximity of pam's son, who want him dead. knowing all of that, somehow makes missing chad not hurt so much. 

number 73

we have all viewed one at one time or another, some more than others. today i am sharing with you a bit of starbuck's coffee cup decor. this is "The Way I See It # 73" :

"The irony of commitment is that it's deeply liberating-in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life.

-Anne Morriss, Starbucks customer from New York City. She describes herself as an 'organization builder, restless American citizen, optimist.' "

just some words for thought. enjoy your day . . . 

freckles

do you think foreshadowing exists in real life? one of the last memories i have of my brother is taking him to the golf driving range. he wasn't old enough to drive so he begged me to take him. as he nailed balls into the distance of nowhere, i laid in the grass on this tiny hill, attempting to tan....yes, so vain, so selfish. i remember that even farther in the distance were these abandoned soccer goals. kees and i plotted a night sneak attack where we would come back with our backpacks and steal the nets so that we can make our own soccer goal in our backyard. as we planned our scheme, kees would look back at me every so often, laughing, with that big goofy smile of his. the sun was in his face and his freckles were larger than ever. he held his own golf club (he was so proud) and adorned his staple blue tarheels baseball cap. we never got the chance to return for the goal nets.

ten percent

i think sometimes i hold back. i think i don't reveal all of me because i am afraid of what you (yes, you) will think of me. 

at kinetic small group last night we were encouraged to share that extra 10% of us that we hold back. i didn't do it. yes, i submitted a generic prayer request regarding my stressful life but i should be honest here, who isn't stressed at one time or another on one level or another? of course i am stressed, but that was still somewhat of a facade covering parts of me i'm afraid for the world to see, to judge, to reject. 

so, next time you see me....IF you see me, ask me a question. prompt me to tell you something about me that you don't know. i want you to have my 10%. 

your blog prescription has been filled

i love that my profile randomly tells you that i was born during the zodiac year of the rat. what does that mean? that i like to creep around near dirt, garbage and sewers? mmm...lovely.

anyways, i would like to let this entry serve as clarification. i think people, myself included, are affected more so by negative experiences and struggles than positive. not that we aren't affected by positive things, or that they don't occur, but when they do, we feel as though they were deserved or to be expected. newsflash (kim, pay particularly close attention): we don't deserve ANYTHING. it is all by the grace of God that we have positives in our life at all. okay, so the clarification was not intended in that but, rather, the fact that i have let those dumb negative things show their not so nice face more often in my writing than the positives. my sincere apologies, dear readers, and it is now time to change that. 

i have awesome friends. i love that they love me. they are so creative and thoughtful and genuine and real and God fearing people that sometimes i'm waiting for them to discover the extent of my nerd factor and run for the mountains. the reality is i am enormously blessed and i all too often forget that. so if you are a friend of mine and are reading this through forceful coercion  by me, thank you for being you and having love for me. you are appreciated more than blog entries could ever convey. 

:)

playing catch up

So...for inexplicable reasons, my previously existing blog, your-words-my-voice, has vanished. I am, as the title details, playing catch up for those of you who did not have the opportunity to view my other blog. I am reposting my previous meanderings for your reading pleasure. Many times, I believe, the words on the screen are those laid upon my heart by my Lord Jesus Christ. Other times they may be a verbal testament to my wandering journey through this life onto the one I am promised through the gracious redemption of my sinful soul. Perhaps God can use my words to speak to you. Nevertheless, I hope you take the time to read through these postings and the others that I promise will come.

sunglasses

sometimes i feel like i am in a marathon

on a treadmill

i keep running and running

toward the light

away from the dark

but as soon as i take a breath

to look behind me

it is all still there.

note to self:

buy sunglasses

because i will only look ahead

directly into the light. 

coffee

i love coffee. anyone who has spent any measurable amount of time with me has probably witnessed the consumption of coffee by non other than my self. just yesterday, Chad was making fun of my methods of consumption. when i first meet the mug of choice, i grab it, instinctively, with two hands. i then pull the mug close to my chest, just under my chin; savoring every pleasant aroma, warmth, and the prospect that this cup might bring life to my sluggish body. coffee is more than a beverage, it is momentary comfort. yes, perhaps, an addiction. My resolution for 2009: make God my addiction, more than my coffee. i want to have instinctive qualities in my relationship with Him. i want to reach for Him at all times, without even knowing. i want to pull Him close because in His arms i'm already as close as it gets. i want to savor Him, to find life in Him. really....i want to know Him more. complacency, idleness, being spiritually stagnant is not okay. 

you spoke

the air is thick,

heavy with your presence

thank you

i sing with all i have

from the bottom of my depths

in efforts

simply for you to hear me

but you've already heard

next to me

your arms are wrapped, tight

heart open,

i long for you to see it

to hold

but you already do

you've held me from the start

don't let go

you're so good, so great

don't let go

my tub

I just emerged from the bathtub. I take baths when I am emotionally burdened and need some time to organize my thoughts. I usually feel some level of refreshed upon exiting the tub. Oh, my reason for entrance on this occasion, you ask? I felt emotionally alone.

I have recently picked up a new book in which to dive into during my moments of solitude. My current book, The Shack, was recommended to me by my father. Under the pretenses that my father described the book to me, and some feedback from close friends who have heard the author speak, I was under the self formed idea that The Shack was a piece of nonfiction. In fact, the writing is crafted so precisely that I only had one minute question to the validity of the piece of nonfiction as far in as page 56. 

What initially drew me so far into the book was the raw emotion. Without spoiling the book for you, the story details the incidences surrounding a father following the disappearance of his youngest daughter, Missy. Having lost a younger brother and seeing the pain and challenges a loss of that magnitude has on a family, I identified very closely with the father, Mack, as William Paul Young so vividly depicts each thought and emotion that he experiences directly following Missy’s disappearance. There is one scene on the morning of the disappearance where Mack burns two fingers while trying to prepare a lavish campground breakfast for his three youngest children. The morning that my brother died, before I became aware of the accident, I was working in a restaurant and while carrying a bowl of soup out to a table, I tripped and spilled the soup, burning my finger in the process. I couldn’t believe that I was learning of someone’s story who experienced the same emotions, dealt with the same loss, even suffered from the same odd nuances of the day that I did. I envisioned myself, following the completion of the book, writing this man and sitting down over coffee pouring out and finding comfort in the similarities of each other’s triumphs over past struggles.

It was at that moment, overwhelmed by the companionship I had already established via readership and unacquainted stranger, I paused in my rash journey through the first 56 pages. I laid the book to rest on my leg, page kept while the cover of the book faced up. I was glancing over the reviews incorporated on the back cover and was a bit amused that country singing sensation, Wynonna Judd left a review.  Then I jumped to the top comment on the back cover which was written by Michael W. Smith. The comment read something I’m sure featured nothing but praise and adoration over Young’s amazing ability at his craft, but I do not remember exactly what it said. All my eyes allowed me to focus on was the word “fiction”. I was startled to imagine I was so naïve to simply believe, without actually knowing, that this was a piece of nonfiction. I frantically flipped to the front hoping to find something to falsify Smith’s statement. Then I saw the words plain and clear: “A Novel ...” 

I couldn’t believe what I read. Was I so foolish enough to believe that someone else in this world actually experienced the loss that I felt? I felt entirely alone. Yes, I cried. Yes, I drew a bath and spent an inordinately unneeded amount of time lying there wondering how I could have actually believed someone, somewhere felt what I felt.

Then I felt even more foolish as my mind went to my creator. I was lying in the bath tub, sobbing over a novel, sulking over the fact that I felt no one had ever felt the loss I felt, and my mind went to Jesus and my salvation. My heavenly father did not lose a bother in a tragic accident, He did not have a daughter unknowingly abducted, He knowingly sent his ONLY, PERFECT son to die for MY sins, my glaring, blatant imperfections. His selfless loss is by far greater than any I will ever know. I am not alone. 

today

there is beauty in morning peace

the kind where the sun has recently conquered the horizon

coffee has its usual appeal

a toasted bagel adorned 

with just a smidgen of cream cheese

invites you to a lone table

sure there are the handful of retired gentlemen

partaking in their own cup of joe

and ink ridden newspaper

that seems to hold such importance today

but will become alarmingly irrelevant with 

the arrival of tomorrow

but i am here

at this table

there is nothing in front of me

but time

as i gaze out the window 

and sit in awe

of the beauty in this morning peace

Thank you, Lord, for today.

i smiled

eyes closed

so it was only me and God

hands raised

out of reverence

thankfulness

desperation to draw myself closer

to Him

i sang

slightly off key

loudly

from my heart

the words

" . . . a child in awe . . . "

resonated

the voices of those

more on key than myself

built exponentially in volume

as the song played on

for a moment 

as i looked up to my hands 

stretched as close

to my God

as i could let them be

i envisioned the angels

singing with me

i smiled.

sometimes

sometimes i . . .

am easily disappointed

forgetful

a slacker without coffee

frustrated

too loving

not loving enough

. . . at a loss for words

today's instructions

dear heart,

don't lose focus. 

love and don't stop.

be humble.

be thankful.

forgive.

misdirection

i am falling

like the swatches 

on a tree

that just heard news

it is autumn

in admittance of fears

comes vulnerability

certainty,

your validation

of my open heart,

is scarce

will you see my fears

as items to be:

' ' fragile, handle with care ' ' 

it is all a web

of misdirection

my hope for happiness

does not rest with you

nor does yours with me

nor either of ours in anything of this world,

which will wilt like autumn swatches

my hope for happiness

rests in God.

e.n.o.u.g.h.

a person that i consider wise

once told me,

in the moments when you 

are not sure if you'd make it

you're overwhelmed

or discouraged

say to yourself

:: in this moment, God is enough ::

i need nothing more.

when . . .

do you ever feel entirely 

disconnected

from the world around you?

then you feel guilty for 

the glimpse of self pity you

allowed yourself?

when is it okay?

when is it okay to say:

over here!

look at me!

see me!

notice me!

care for me!

love me!

shiver no more

i'm cold

it reminds me of home

i miss it

but not so much

i left home

and left part of me

the part that held me down

kept me from love,

from life eternal

i don't want to be reminded of

who i left in new york

i am now

the 'kimberly'

i was meant to be

i was looking for her for a long time

blinded by the dark

it was there when His arms

reached around me

held me tight

and i heard His whisper

. . . "I love you" . . .

i am not cold anymore.

i will sing . . .

I've been thinking a lot about friendships lately. The friendships I have, the friendships I wish I had, if I am a 'good' enough friend. Then I got caught up in thinking, "what exactly is a 'good' friend?" Oddly enough I went to dictionary.com to define the term 'friendship' for me. No, I do not resort to an internet word search engine for life guidance. Anyway, there were several things that popped up for 'friendship'. What caught my eye was a synonym at the bottom: harmony. 

So, of course, I looked up the term 'harmony'. One of the offered definitions stated the following:

A consistent, orderly, or pleasing arrangement of parts; congruity

There is a verse in James that I love, James 5:13. The verse says, "Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray. Is anyone cheerful? Let him sing psalms." There is a footnote in the MacArthur study Bible for this verse that states, "The natural response of a joyful heart is to sing praise to God."

I'm always captivated by the concept of love. I'm always shocked to see the torment of this world, and I sit back and wonder: why can't all people experience and display love? Perhaps I am so taken aback by God's amazing love for me, in spite of all my sin, that I am so shocked when others find love so absent in their lives. I'm often times consumed with the wonder of whether or not I love enough, in every situation. 

Looking back at friendships, I wonder if I approach them in a way where I am showing them love in every possible aspect that love is, as God showed it to be? Could friendships that truly model love, that strive to make each other better ambassadors for the kingdom of God, that rejoice in the forgiveness and grace of God create a harmonious melody to the ears of our Lord? By the definitions provided, and God's Holy Word, is it possible that friendships can be another way to bring praise to our God? 

Just a thought . . .