I Am Not

I am not strong. 

Not on my own. 

When I am strong, 
it is God in me, 
it is my trust and unseen belief
that lets God be the strength in me. 

I am not strong. 





I am not god. 

I cannot bear the weight of the world. 

I cannot fix all the problems that I want to. 
I'm not god, 
thank God. 

I am not strong. 





I am not impervious. 

I cannot love everyone perfectly 
all the time. 
I cannot respond to jokes at my expense 
or the odd humiliation 
as a simple joke 
all the time. 
I am human, 
prone to pain, 
suceptable to anger, 
and I need to feel loved. 

I am not strong. 



I am not 
strong

Make-Me-Feel-Pretty Make-Up Brand

My make-me-feel-pretty gloss didn't do it's job today. 


I even had on my make-me-feel-pretty mascara, applied as normal 

all 76 coats of it. 




I realized that my 
make-me-feel-pretty gloss doesn't work well 
on cracked lips. 

Prodigals Son

Prodigal's Son

Take me home tonight, I'm done
If home's still open to the prodigals son [x2]

I know I've been here before,
On my knee's, at your feet, on the floor,
I come unworthy, unclean, and dirty,
Unsure if you'll take me back anymore

Take me home tonight, I'm done
If home's still open to the prodigals son [x2]

I've been so empty and so much in need,
Humiliated, and dying to eat
I've come to my senses, can I come home?
I can't imagine that you'd want to see me.

Take me home tonight, I'm done,
If home's still open to the prodigals son [x2]

How many robes, how many rings, can your grace afford, my father, my king?
How many times can I be raised from the dead? How many times can I be lost and found again?

Take me home tonight, I'm done,
If home's still open to the prodigals son [x2]

I'm Done

I know I've been here before...
on my knee's, at your feet -- on the floor

Take me home tonight, I'm done,
If home's still open to the prodigals son 







I've been writing this song for a while, but I cant seem to finish it. 
It's my hurting song. 
When I'm hurting internally, when I seem to be hurting people around, and worst of all, when I hurt God. 
It hurts to not be able to finish it -- but its raw emotion, so maybe its meant to be a raw, unfinished thing itself. 

And when you hurt God, when you hurt other people, when you just hurt this bad, you start to wonder if you can ever be loved and accepted... this song is rhetorical, because I know that you definately can be loved and accepted... 

...but that's not what you know when you feel like this. 

Because sometimes your feelings make you know something very different than the truth of the matter. 











Sometimes, they make you feel only the truth of the feeling itself. 












I know I've been here before...
on my knee's, at your feet -- on the floor

Take me home tonight, I'm done,
If home's still open to the prodigals son 








Sometimes I want to equate love with hurt. 
But I dont think I can equate hurt with God -- at least not in the sense that He causes it. 

Yahweh Yireh, Jehovah Jireh, The Lord Will Provide

It's been one of those times.

You know those times when its not easy to trust God, but you just cant help but trust in His goodness? Hm. Let me try that again.

I know God is good, and although it's not easy, I know that He is good -- I believe that He is good, and most especially, I've seen many accounts of His goodness.

$4000. That's just this semester. That's what I'm lacking. That's life.

And though I know that I want to be here so badly, even more than that, I want to be obediant to God and His call for my life. If that's not at CBC, then it's somewhere else where He deems it right for my life at this season.

I'm not saying that I wont stay at CBC, but if I end up leaving, I'm prepared, I'm ready. It wont be easy, but I'm ready for it.

So please, pray for me. More than money (which cant hurt either, remember Jabez?), please pray for a clear direction in my life. And if you get an answer, share with me, please! I'll do the same if I hear anything on it.



It's been one of those times.
And you know? I'm thankful to have this chance to grow.

How can I stand here with You and not be moved by You?

I'm Homeless

If home is where the heart is
what does that mean for me?
My heart is split in peices,
halfway across a country, how can it possibly be beatin--?
torn between where I've been, and maybe where I'm goin
I dont know, I dont know, where is home... for me?

If home is where the heart is
do I have to choose?
No doubt my choice will always loose...
Is home the place you hang your hat, or kick off your shoes?
Or take a snooze?
Or go when you're cryin, cause you feel like hiding
when you've got a bad case of the blues?

If home is where the heart is, is that where you're loved?
What if thats lots of places?
What if you've never known, you've never known, loving embraces?
Or does it mean with family, even if you're faced
faced with loveless faces?
I dont know, what is home? What does it mean?


Well if, home is where the heart is
I guess it beats inside my chest, I'm home with each and every breath
Home is inside us where every,
hope we've had, every
tear we've shed, and
dream we've dreamt, where every
prayer we've said and
word we've meant -- home's where that comes from,
yeah


I wrote this song the day before I came back from my Christmas break.

For the past couple of weeks, more like the past couple of months, I've been feeling homeless. Not in the sense of, I have no where to live, because God has been good, God is faithful.

Tonight I was thinking about where my home really lies. This song came to my mind, and for the first time I thought, "Maybe home isnt really any of those things." As I was walking home, crying, I kept thinking.

Maybe home is something that I dont have.
Its in you're best friend's conversation, or in the warm arms of loving hug, people that really know you.
These are the people that get you, dont judge you or preach at you.
I dont have anyone like that.
Not that I can walk over to and cry with.

Who needs this mess?
I dont know.
But I need a home, soon.

Rusted

Every now and then I feel like no one knows how I feel.
No one that is.
No one as in person.

But there is a way to describe how I feel -- and not in a textural sense.
Rust.

That's the best way to describe me -- rust.


Okay, so I'm not saying that my skin is very reddish orange and feels like metal sandpaper... no, indeed that would be crazy...

No, what I'm saying is that, I'm like rust.

Rust is something that I find beautiful. It is something that is burned and weathered by the elements around it, creating its harsh, coloured texture. Ultimately it is weak and isn't always appreciated.






The thing is, I feel like rust sometimes.

I can look beautiful... or I can be different colours that some find intriguing, but ultimately, I can be harsh. I can be weak and unappreciated.

My defective character or the fact that I am socially inept, (or something of the like) is the only reason I can explain these jaded, rough edges, carved away by the world around me -- these situations, these trials, these people that I meet.

At first, my rough surface is just that -- the wear and tear has only affected the outmost appearance. But eventually, it digs itself deep into my core, and I become brittle, ready to crack, break and cry -- a shattered pile on the floor.

Eventually, the Good Mechanic repairs me... when I've decided that it's no longer possible to maintain the fragile state that the rust finds itself in

Sometimes, I feel like rust.