Strokes of Life

Happy Tuesday!

I wrote this poem a few weeks ago after being blown away by the beauty of....well, everything. I pictured the Creator as the ultimate artist, actually painting the skies, or composing the sounds the birds make. One day I'll put it to music and sing it, but for now its just a little poem. Nonetheless I wanted to share it. I hope it encourages you like it did me as you reflect on the art that is life!

One stroke of a brush
And there was light-
A canvas of wet,
A canvas of dry.
Strokes of life.

One beat of a drum
And galaxies dance,
And tides twirl in,
And flowers chant
Singing with one voice.

One drop of color,
A page of white.
A skillful design
Brush strokes of life.
The paint soaked deep within my skin,
Now I sing of paintings painted within,

One million sounds bleed into one.
All of the colors speak with one tongue.
All of the hearts beat by one drum.
All of the hurt is healed by one love.

The paint soaked deep into my skin,
Now I sing of paintings painted within.




(ps. Please comment below with thoughts, suggestions, hate mail, random questions.....anything, really. I'd love to hear from anyone who is reading!)

A Little Post

I came across this little poem about the little things and wanted to share a few of my own from my little life that have made it oh so very beautiful lately.   It really is the little things That mean the most of all... The "let me help you with that" things That may seem very small The "I'll be glad to do it" things That make your cares much lighter, The "laugh with me, it's funny" things That make your outlook brighter... The "never mind the trouble" things, The "yes, I understand," The interest and encouragement In everything you've planned It really is the little things, The friendly word or smile, That add such happiness to life And make it more worth while. -Mary Dawson Hughes My Little Things:    Drinking a mug of my mom's homemade Indian chai.  Watching the sunrise over Fort Collins while the rest of the town sleeps.  Texting song ideas with my dad. Singing in the car so loudly it should probably be considered a safety risk.  Loving each of my classes in a brand new semester.  Wearing clear-lensed glasses for no reason at all.  People-watching around campus, wondering what each different life is like.   Laughing at nothing.  Pedicure-ing with my grandma.  Reading children's books out loud in a pile of blankets and old friends.  Window shopping in old-town between classes.  Wearing a t-shirt outside in January.  Smiling at strangers in class.  Remembering how beautiful the stars are.  Trying sushi for the first time. Planning my return to Africa. Snowboarding at last.  Collecting phrases and words and ideas to write about later.  Decorating a new dorm room.  Praying for direction. Eating too much pizza.  Dancing like a fool in Zumba.  Watching Audrey Hepburn movies.  Helping Denver become a little more playful by installing random tire swings.  Dreaming about Europe.  Jumping into the new year, literally.  Sleeping less than usual. Wondering about the future yet knowing I'm exactly where I need to be.  "If the sight of the blue skies fills you with joy, if a blade of grass springing up in the fields has power to move you, if the simple things of nature have a message that you understand, rejoice, for your soul is alive." -- Eleonora Duse

Late Nights + Inspiration - Cold Medicine = Poetry!

Disclaimer: the random, jumbled mess that is this post was either brought about by my inspiration upon reading Psalm 57 or my lack of sleep and Niquil. You decide.


I'd say about 79% of my day is spent wishing I could somehow write down what I'm thinking. I constantly have wordless ideas and silent songs streaming through my head, but rarely find the time or motivation to "enflesh" them by putting pen to paper. I sometimes wonder how many great songs were silenced simply because the writer never made time to listen and write them down. Quite a few, no doubt. 
Tonight, as I read Psalm 57, I was struck by David's poetry, so beautiful yet so straight-forward. He apparently wrote this particular psalm while in a cave, hiding for his life. Talk about writing under pressure. David's heart was so full of "silent songs" that he couldn't help but give them life. And tonight, his words inspired me. So I listened and I wrote.
I wrote this poem- though rough and sing-songy- in response to David's. Much of the poem was taken directly from the Psalm, but I also wanted to include elements of my own, so I took it in a new direction. I'd elaborate more, but I'm sick, its 2:30 am, and I think my creativity has nearly run it's course. So, goodnight to all and without further ado, my poem:

Come, my heart
Have you no voice?
Through shadows and broken sounds
I will cry out

Remember, my heart
Have you forgotten?
Through incarnate grace you were formed
Beautiful

Awake, my heart-
How long will you slumber?
-To a purpose enfleshed
By Humble Birth

Sing, my heart
Though words come slowly
Sing, for what greater love is there on earth?

Awake, my heart
Awake, my glory
Awake and sing of steadfast love.
Awake my heart
Awake my glory
Awake the dawn with living songs.

Too Much Late Night Thinking...

I decided that I think far too much. I need to fill my time with other things. But all my musing has led to a lot of "self-discovery" and some beautiful revelations about who my Saviour is and what He wants from me. I've wrote more songs since I've been here than I did all of last year, although it's been stretching me having to write without my piano or guitar.

I wanted to share some of the lyrics I scribbled down in my journal a few nights ago. It really shows where I'm at right now- with all the distraction and newness surrounding me, I want to be filled by the only One who can satisfy: 

Awake me from my sleep and I will run

Raise me up out of the deep and I will run

Give my soul the life it seeks

You are the only source to breathe

Awake me from this sleep and I will run

I will run to you- my soul is thirsty

For the life only you can bring.

If I seek it on my own

I will run forever on.

I will run to you, fill my soul. 

Call me out of my own dreams and I will run. 

Let me be your hands and feet and I will run.

Speak life into these bones, 

Search my heart, it's not my own.

Awake me from this sleep and I will run.

Its very simple and rough....but I thought I'd share. 

I had this vision in my head of me dropping everything behind me- my pride, my insecurities, my identity (all of which have been stumbling blocks)- dropping them, as if they were literal, physical things, and running to Jesus.