
You are a warrior.

Hey, skinny jeans.
I know that you have
felt my absence.
It’s nothing personal…
I still like you.
I also like breathing.
Things have changed
in the last 10 months
and what was once
‘fit like a glove’
is now painful contortion.
It’s not you.
It’s me.
You can’t encompass
the results of
my coping mechanisms.
Netflix,
ice cream,
sitting in a chair and writing,
watching movies with the kids,
and lots of snacks, and not an
equal amount of walks,
have been my regulars.
It would be unfair
to us both
to ask you to
hold all of me.
I should tell you,
I don’t feel badly
when I pass you over
each day.
I don’t feel guilt or shame
that my curves no longer fit
within your seams.
You require that I be less,
but I am more.
I’ve changed.
I am stronger than I’ve ever been before.
I’ve seen more and felt more.
I’ve hurt more.
I am softer.
I am more reliant.
I need more than I thought.
I need less than I thought.
A paradox like the rest of life.
Skinny jeans –
It’s not you,
it’s me.
You ask me to be less,
but I am more.
#PermissionGranted
The pieces don’t fit.
I want to finish
this puzzle so that
it makes sense.
It’s a mess and there are
pieces missing
so I am not sure
why I keep going.
I am losing hope
that I will ever see
the complete picture.
I am missing pieces.
I am not where I
thought I would be
or maybe who
I thought I would be.
Nothing feels complete and
I don’t have hope that
this puzzle, this life
can be redeemed.
I sift through pieces,
I look for hope,
I get out a magnifying glass
to aid my search.
Tears of frustration
make it difficult to see as
I try to match things up.
I sense someone beside me.
He shifts the magnifying glass
so that I can see
the strong
thread holding the
pieces together
where there’s a piece missing.
Hope fills in the gap.
He shows me
that beauty exists
where I see only chaos.
He sees what I cannot.
He shows me that hope
touches each piece
of the puzzle –
even though I can’t
see a picture coming
together at all.
He asks me to trust
that my story
will have
beauty and glory –
hope has made a way.
#PermissionGranted
You are
worried
overwhelmed
anxious.
Me too.
I am
really trying
to be there
for you –
to be what you need
even though it’s
not my role to fill.
Still.
When there are
tears –
I want to fix it
as if it’s blood,
not salt.
When you have a
hard question,
I want an answer
like I want breath.
When you feel
like you are
coming undone
I want to
stitch it all up
and make
your world
cozy again.
The thing is
I don’t have
the fix,
the answers,
and I can’t mend myself
or you.
Let’s lean in together.
Let’s lead
each other to peace.
Let’s rely on the
strength that’s
the same
yesterday,
today,
forever.
This is the
best thing
I can do for you,
for me.
#PermissionGranted
Fog.
Thick, real.
Joy and hope
play a game
of hide and seek
I did not ask
to participate in.
The future holds
question marks –
so many unknowns…
The fog
clouds vision,
tangles emotion,
and I just want to
hibernate.
The swath
of clouds hangs
over every area of life
and I wonder
if this veil will
lift and what life
will look like
when it does.
Where is the sun?
Has the fog
smothered hope?
I look down
to see there’s
a rope in my hand.
I am tethered.
I am not lost
to the fog.
I will cling
to what is
holding me.
#PermissionGranted
My world has been
sifted.
It’s been a
painful shaking,
an imposed surrender.
All that I once
held with a tight grip
is no longer
something I can
cling to.
Some of what I held
dear has fallen
through my hands.
What remains
is precious,
their importance –
elevated.
I open my hands
to examine
what is left.
There’s not much there.
And yet
it is all that I need.
My heart is full
and my hands
have room to
to serve,
to give,
to explore,
to give grace.
What’s
fallen
away
was
never
mine.
#PermissionGranted