to the moon and back
Tonight, I ran into the sunset and found my soul.
Smack dab in the middle of swirling oranges and suttle pinks and infused purples.
Maybe sunsets are God's way of kissing us goodnight.
Yet, we hardly ever take time to notice.
Hardly ever do we take time to thank Him for the day He just gave us.
I am grateful for friends who will let you rant and rave about what you're passionate about.
I am grateful for professors who will let you take a creative license to relive your past, even though you don't want to -- even though you need to. Here's to the memory and the futile attempt to reconstruct it in an unbiased, objective, realistic way. Maybe this is healing.
Tonight, I saw the moon clearly for the first time, even though it's been shining my entire existance.
It wasn't full but it was bright enough to make me stop wandering in the darkness.
It demanded my attention, like a little child, homeless on the street corner,whose eyes gleam not because of its full stomach, but because of the hope it has found at the bottom of its brokenness.
The way the moon gleams --- it inspires those smaller moons, the stars, around it to shine brighter, to gleam louder and glitter longer. To twinkle, even when people stop looking for light. To illuminate, even when we make our own artificial light to live by.
Because tonight,
The stars, this moon, the Christmas lights that outline the Lohrenz, this slow tempo of Andrew Belle's guitar and his smooth skating voice, this landscape I'm watching as a childish girl sitting indian-style and slowly breathing in this staggering cold but still November evening . . .
has given me the courage to step beyond the reaching arm of the headlights and has given me permission to believe that God is beyond what I can see, beyond what false light illuminates --- tonight, I believe He is beyond the curves and beyond the darkness and beyond the questions . . . waiting for me to trust Him.
Smack dab in the middle of swirling oranges and suttle pinks and infused purples.
Maybe sunsets are God's way of kissing us goodnight.
Yet, we hardly ever take time to notice.
Hardly ever do we take time to thank Him for the day He just gave us.
I am grateful for friends who will let you rant and rave about what you're passionate about.
I am grateful for professors who will let you take a creative license to relive your past, even though you don't want to -- even though you need to. Here's to the memory and the futile attempt to reconstruct it in an unbiased, objective, realistic way. Maybe this is healing.
Tonight, I saw the moon clearly for the first time, even though it's been shining my entire existance.
It wasn't full but it was bright enough to make me stop wandering in the darkness.
It demanded my attention, like a little child, homeless on the street corner,whose eyes gleam not because of its full stomach, but because of the hope it has found at the bottom of its brokenness.
The way the moon gleams --- it inspires those smaller moons, the stars, around it to shine brighter, to gleam louder and glitter longer. To twinkle, even when people stop looking for light. To illuminate, even when we make our own artificial light to live by.
Because tonight,
The stars, this moon, the Christmas lights that outline the Lohrenz, this slow tempo of Andrew Belle's guitar and his smooth skating voice, this landscape I'm watching as a childish girl sitting indian-style and slowly breathing in this staggering cold but still November evening . . .
has given me the courage to step beyond the reaching arm of the headlights and has given me permission to believe that God is beyond what I can see, beyond what false light illuminates --- tonight, I believe He is beyond the curves and beyond the darkness and beyond the questions . . . waiting for me to trust Him.
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