real life

local night life

sandwiched between
a starry-eyed dreamer and a level-headed realist,
I cut careful forkfuls of steaming pizza,
biting back snarky comments
in a conversation that doesn’t interest
my narcissistic self.

eventually, our talk weaves its way onto
more common ground.
even so, I’m only half involved;
distracted by the steady stream of young,
oven-browned women,
walking confidently out of this specialty bakery
(get a tan while your pizza bakes! careful, new bulbs!)
into a mid-April evening
and cars with personalized plates.

i imagine that immediately upon arriving home
they each close their respective doors,
stripping off outer clothing,
and admire – or critique –

wish for a little more.

i finish eating,
steer our words into more personal territory-
two of us bypassing the lighter talk
of families (who
have now moved on to
hand-dipped ice cream)

just as in every group conversation:
wishing for a little more.



there are moments when I look at you
and feel

entire days go by
when I share every aspect of life with you,
interact as usual…
but no emotions come into play.
passion, desire- even anger and frustration
have left me: I am passive.

but two decades of being with you
have convinced me that
emotions are as fickle as the phases of the moon
and almost as predictable.

every feeling is temporary.

but always, underneath all of the everyday,
in the space where our hearts are bound together,
there is an unbroken current
that ricochets between the two of us,
constant and growing stronger over time,
leaving in its wake
every shade of satisfaction.
and a deeper, stronger

this permanence-
this is the essence of us.


This still feels like wrapping paper being held together by tape that won’t stick. It doesn’t feel finished. There’s still a piece of a thought that isn’t showing up to clarify this thing. But… it’s only an hour until the end of this 6th day of National Poetry Month and I need sleep more than I need a good poem. Here we go- shoving down the pride and throwing the words out into cyberspace. 

free indeed

head of household
turned by the neck
in a fight for control
in the body of Christ
leader follower passive aggressive fighter for
God’s perfect design
as Christ loved the church lost in
submission rebellion confusion resentment
authority helpmeet stalemate

But isn’t it beautiful how, when my strengths
support your strengths,
and we fill in the cracks left by each other’s weaknesses
we change the world?


I’d like to believe
that you find me fascinating
her most vulnerable moment
enough that you want
to spend time with me
that I’ve ever been a part of.

She wants to be loved,
to be the one who draws people in,
gathers and holds them
with magnetic charm.

The problem is:
charm is deceptive
and rarely dips beneath the surface
to the place where souls collide
– or at the very least –
touch fingers
and look each other in the eye.

Recognition happens
in the shadowed places of the heart
away from the sunny-safe sidewalks of facts and figures,
a darkening flight down from light conversation
to something deeper-

She’s fascinating-
the way she defies logic,
flies in the face of time-honored tradition,
offers the ungraspable:
a deep and meaningful friendship
from an arm’s length away.

or maybe:
she’s just another little wounded girl
who hasn’t found the words to ask for help.










In honor of National Poetry Month, I’ve let myself be roped into writing a poem a day. Not that my friend had to try very hard to get me to commit. All it took was one link and a little bit of flattery. I’ve been in a dry spell and was needing some inspiration.

I’m posting these here instead of on my normal blog because, well… because too many people read that blog. First drafts of poetry feel too personal to share with hundreds of people who know me. (And who aren’t necessarily into poetry.) But sharing with the general poetry-loving public? Sure, why not. 

In the spirit of the title of this blog… let me be honest. It’s been a very bad day. The kind where I want to run away from 90% of my life. Not a great poetry-writing day. I had most of this written already and I found enough creative energy to finish it up and rename it. Enjoy! 


Being the object of your desire
is like being mowed down
by the double beams
of a loaded coal truck
in the middle of a dark road
on a night with no moon.

But it’s more like
being swooped up
from the jumble of the forest floor,
lighter than dandelion fluff,
to be cradled in your hands
and carried carefully out of chaos.

Mostly, though, it’s like
coming home at the end of the longest day
weary all the way down to my soul,
lonely for comfort, and finding
everything I’ve ever wanted
wanting me.

.midnight confessional.

sometimes late at night,
lying close to you and comfortable,
an unseen hand applies graphite
to the aging lock
that guards my airtight heart.
something about the darkness
and your consistent acceptance of me in my every shade of gray
opens my mouth
and I tell you the most important things about me
speak words I never meant to say out loud,
try to explain my beliefs
and unbeliefs,

for a moment believing
that another human being cares about my soul.

you listen quietly
and as I finish, I wait for your response.
your words in this moment
could make or break me
(though you are the master of building me up.)

but, more often than not,
as we lie there in the aftermath of my explosive soul-baring,
I feel your body twitch
and realize you’re asleep.

for just a second, I’m offended – hurt
but then,
ah, well… those words didn’t need to be made real.
and your sleeping body is as effective as the priest
hidden away behind his own set of closed eyes

you, both of you, are cleverly formed decoys,
drawing me in and giving substance
to the God I can’t see
and can no longer feel.

all of the words intended for your ears
washed over you,
but unwasted.


“You could write about your real thoughts on marriage.”

One simple sentence caused an explosion of my inner monologue.

There couldn’t be a worse topic for me to write about.
How is that even helpful?
People don’t want to hear my cynical thoughts on marriage.
I have absolutely nothing helpful or positive to say. 

So I didn’t say or write anything.

After a few days it started to eat at me.  It started to creep up in my day, invading my mind while making dinner for one.  It filled the empty space in my bed that I attempt to fill with a cozy cocoon of pillows.  As subtle as those reminders are, nothing makes the ache more evident than the season of Christmas cards. The glittery notes with hastily written addresses that unintentionally scream look what you’re missing out on.  Those cheerful red and green envelopes that land in my mailbox with updates from college friends, pictures of their beautiful families, and wishes for a happy 2015.

Why don’t you write about your real thoughts on marriage?

What are my real thoughts on marriage? 

It’s not a safe answer.  It’s not a pretty answer.

As a single 26 year old, life is more of a balancing act than anything else.  Balancing between two completely different worlds and attitudes:

  1. The bitter and single female who refuses to start a life without a husband. AKA: The girl who complains about being single so often, everyone is constantly irritated by her.


  1. The overly cheerful cat lady who swears that being alone is an incredible gift from God and makes sure everyone knows how happy and content she is.

Like a pendulum, I’m constantly trying to find equilibrium.  I want to be confident in an adventurous life without a spouse while at the same time being real about how miserable it can be.   And then someone has the nerve to ask about my real thoughts on marriage. And it begins again.  Back and forth.

The deepest part of my being believes in marriage.  I believe in what marriage represents – love, commitment, and a promise between two people who want to do this whole life thing with an adventure buddy.  I believe marriage is one of the most creative ways the Lord describe His relationship with us.  I believe there is a good way to do marriage and a bad way to do marriage. I’ve witnessed both.

My real thoughts about marriage?

Marriage hasn’t been very nice to me.

Marriage dressed up in a fancy tuxedo and a beautiful dress and made life really complicated.

See, when two people get married, they start something new.  They have a first dance, celebrate with friends, go on an expensive vacation, eventually come home and decorate their first home, spend quality time together (let’s be real… quality time and sex), and life as they know it is forever different.  It’s hard. It’s a transition. It’s an adjustment.  But it involves two people dedicated to making it work.

So what happens to everyone else in that couple’s life?

I think it’s easy to forget that everything changes for them too. 

I understand that newlyweds need to focus on their marriage and be intentional on where they spend their time, money, and energy.  They’re adjusting to a new life that looks, sounds, smells, feels, and works differently than it always did before.  It SHOULD be a priority. It SHOULD be different.

But I also think it’s easy for married people to forget what it’s like to be on the other side.

They forget what it’s like to go home to an empty apartment after a wedding.  They forget what it’s like to be single in a group of happy, hand-holding couples.  They forget what it’s like to invest in someone that eventually chooses to love somebody else more.  They forget what it’s like to continuously receive gorgeous wedding invitations for their dearest friends yet dread showing up alone.  They forget how hard it is to fight off the presence of jealousy. They forget how unbelievably INSULTING it is to hear “just give it to God,” implying that single people obviously don’t have the ability to trust Him enough.  They forget how much it hurts to be demoted from “best friend” to “just a friend”.  More than anything else, they forget what it’s like to not have a number one person.  The one human  being that gains the closest access to the deepest parts of a heart.  The person that would, without fail, tackle anything in the world to make all the bad things disappear.

A really good friend of mine wrote a blog post once about how much it sucks to be left behind.   She wrote about how she was happy for those people and their life changes, but while celebrating with them, it was (and is) still painful to be left. She mentioned how sometimes it’d even be nice to do the leaving.

It’s similar to how I feel about marriage.  It steals my friends.  It makes me feel like a third wheel and causes nights that involve me crying myself to sleep.  Marriage makes me feel unworthy, misunderstood, unknown, and damaged.  Marriage makes me feel forgotten by the people who promised to never change.  Marriage reminds me of a guy from the past who promised me the world but eventually decided he wanted something different for his life.  Marriage looks at me and gloats about the friendships I was forced to give up and surrender in the name of their eternal love and happiness.  Marriage infuriates me when I think of the people who wanted it so badly and never got it… yet divorces and broken families happen all the time.  Marriage exhausts me through the messiness of transition and working through new boundaries of “appropriate” relationships. The word marriage makes me feel more alone than the word single.  That doesn’t seem okay to me.

What do you really think about marriage?

After reading all of that, it might be hard to believe that I think marriage is incredible.  You might think I’m lying when I say I am constantly amazed at what the Lord can do through people who have dedicated their lives to each other and to Him.  Marriage is a powerful gift and I hope that one day I’ll get to say “I do” to some crazy cool guy.

Unfortunately, I know part of my heart will be breaking that day.

There’s a good chance someone I love will be feeling sad, lonely, and completely left behind.