Archive for March, 2011

safe & sound.

Sarah Marie Jensen is a delightful woman.  If you don’t yet know her… well, quite frankly, you should probably get on that.  She has become a dear soul to me these last few years, loving me very persistently and very well.  On my last birthday, Sarah wrote this song for me and about me.  It pretty aptly describes both the inward and outward journey I have been walking… and, I just felt led to share it.  I had it stuck on repeat yesterday as I sat curled up in a big chair, chilling with my Poppa on my weekly Sabbath rest day.

Listen to “safe & sound.”


once there was a little girl

thought she had to make it on her own

then one day that stranger with infinite kindness in

His eyes looked at her

as though He’d always known her

He said, “Come. Come follow Me.”

chorus- you’ll never be alone

never be on your own

i’m with you

always with you

you are safe and sound now

you can rest your heart now

if you strive, strive to just lean on Me

she didn’t fully know what she was signing up for

but with all her heart she said “yes”

and every day that Man sticks around

that Man who wears the calm joy in His eyes

and all-knowing grin


to this day, He fights off her bullies and distractions

she’s starting to believe He ain’t going anywhere

He’s here to stay, here to stay

teaching her how to love, teaching us how to love




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*The Lord brought me such an overwhelming amount of revelation through this common Psalm back in September.  I’ve read Psalm 23 a hundred times in my life, but its just been in these last few months that it has finally becoming really meaningful to me.  The past few days I’ve been remembering how the Lord truly is our perfect leader in all manners of relating to each other, relating to Him, and relating to the world.  This is righteousness… did you know?  (For all my years in a church pew,  I never knew that righteousness meant right-relating until a few months ago!)

You are my Shepherd. You feed me, You guide me, You shield me. I will not lack what I need.

You bring me to fresh, tender green pastures.  Which means You don’t lead me to dried up crusty barren fields.

You lead me beside still and restful waters.  Which means You don’t lead me to murky stale mud puddles.

You have my best in mind.  You refresh and restore my self.

You lead me in way of right relating.  You point out to me how to relate rightly to You, to others, to myself, and to creation.  You do this because that is who You are, not because I have to attain a certain level of uprightness to be okay with You.

Yes, I will and do walk through deep and sunless valley, full of shadows of death, full of threats to my well-being, but I will not walk with fear.  I will not walk with a sense of dread over the evil around me, because You are with me in this sunless, low place.  Your protection is my comfort, Your guidance is my reassurance.  My enemies are all around, but You do not abandon me to their taunts.  Rather, in the midst of them You spread out a feast for me.  I do not walk with my head down in shame and fear, but You lift my head, You dignify me, and You anoint me as royalty before them all.

I am brimming with hope, so full of courage that it spills out of me.  Absolutely only goodness, only mercy, only unfailing love fill the path around me all the days of this journey.

Your presence is my one constant.  Your home is my home, for all my days.  Now home is always with me.

[Inspired from Psalm 23 (Amplified Bible)

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It started as a Facebook status:

I wish that running away would make the messiness in my brain go away… or that eating chocolate chips solved some issue somewhere… preferably here.

And sort of tumbled out from there:

I wish that hot showers could wash away more than just dirt…

or that being known was as easy as clicking on the Facebook tab at the top of this screen.

I wish that pillows comforted more than my face…

or that my insides didn’t know the difference between the middle of the party and the empty room at the end.


I wish my mind had an “off” button.

Or at least a “switch categories” button.

Or at the very least, a dial-down knob.  Like the range of settings on my space heater.



I wish I hadn’t just found myself in the middle of a week full of days where I’m grasping at the closest, most available, most touchable person or thing.  I mean a month – no, a lifetime of those kind of days.  Sheesh.


I know the undying ache is an arrow pointing to The Greater Reality.  I just wish it wasn’t quite so… achy.


I know He has set eternity in our hearts. *

I know I am to fix my eyes on what is unseen, for what is seen in temporary.**  I get that.

I know I am to set my mind on things above. ***


Mostly though I just wish…

that the unseen wasn’t so damn invisible,

that the eternal wasn’t so flipping elusive,

that the things above weren’t quite so far up there.

Mostly I wish that God was as easy to grab as my favorite cream-colored blanket.


But then, I suppose He wouldn’t be God.  And that would be no good at all.

{Ecclesiastes 3:11, 2 Corinthians 4:18, Colossians 3:2}

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