Sweet.

To close my eyes.

To sleep so deep.

To dream in colors red and gray.

To wake up.

Hope has been my sidekick.

To feel joy and sing.

To offer You my presence, my utmost.

To give to You that which is dear and to be cared for.

To read stories, One story, with many verses.

To revisit promises and wait.

I love You for who You are, not for what You have done or what You will do.

To be hungry.

To be desperate.

To be secure in my desperation.

Everyone is working.

But for what?

To lay down my business.

To acknowledge insecurity.

I understand that You love me in my weaknesses, not for my strengths.

To hear You, stunning in the quiet.

To be rested.

To pour myself out for who You are.

To find new heights of emptiness.

To feel fulfilled.

Only to slip back into sleep at the thought of Your sweetness towards me.

{heart}
Kel

--This week I took care of my own patients! Nobody died... looks like this nursing career thing is off to a decent start!--

Fall.

{Trip to Boston with my Grandpa love}

Fragile.

Fragrant color.

Season of maturing, reaching its finest height.

The vibrant color speaks of the light that's been shown, the darkness that's been overcome.

From buds of green to branches full, all has been grace.

From a season of lush and plenty, You are fashioning me to fall.

Calling forth my barren.

Reconciling beauty to my bare.

This flaming orange is vibrant because of Your red.

The maturing process leads to my end.

New beginnings can only come with the letting down, the letting go.

And I sit below You.

And I dream of walking with You at dusk.

And I feel Your presence like the morning dew.

And I am full.

Full and ready.

Ready to fall, ready to be bare before You.

Ready to for the crescendo of this season to reach its final peak.

Ready to be exposed and trusting.

Prepared to wait.

Your promise stands.

You are worthy to be trusted.

Your goodness evokes a joyful response.

Spring will come.

You are good, my soul knows this full well.

{heart}
Kel


{Fresh Lobster... before the boiling pot of doom. Dinner in Maine!}

{Town of Salem -- Salem Witch Project in the 1600's -- crazy around Halloween!}

{Clam chowder at every possible stop. ummyesplease}

{Hammock on the front porch of a bungalow on Bryant Pond... my heart paused inside of my chest}

{New Hampshire -- spent the night at His Mansion}

{Hello Bucket List, I am here to cross off visit New England in the fall #thankyouverymuch}

{Favorite picture of the trip.}

Put Yourself Out There.

The sky is dark.

The moon is high.

It is dangerous outside.

Exposed.

The theatrical theme in my recent dreams.

I know this is where the scene is leading.

I was inside.

Safe, behind locked doors.

Safety is an illusion.

I am outside now.

The crisp air leaves my senses sharp and skin tingling.

I must go fast.

I cannot slow down.

I am afraid.

Exposed.

It is not who I like to be.

It is an accurate reflection of who I long to be, of who You are.

I am riding by several empty ones.

Their smileless faces only allude to the hollowness they feel inside.

They are dirty, they are dark.

I am uncomfortable.

Tension.

I want to be hidden, yet I long to be generous.

I ride by them, offering my smile as I pass.

I know full well that I am capable of giving more.

Giving hope.

But doing so would cost me something.

Comfort.

Safety.

And I make the decision to slow down.

To stop.

And I am raw on the inside.

And he is empty.

And I seek to pour, realizing that fullness is not of me, on my own.

My many, hollow words are not the solution.

I learn that the hard way.

Trail and evident error.

Callous, I climb back on and continue, I must go fast.

I tell myself that I tried, that must be sufficient.

Something inside of me whispers "slow down".

My stubbornness leads me home.

Fumbling with the keys, I find the fit to my lock.

Turning it with regret, I just want to find comfort again.

I hurry inside.

The door closes behind.

The many numb faces are fast approaching.

I think I am safe.

And the whisper comes again "but you are missing it".

Weight leaning against the door, against thought security, I remember

The keys bound with ribbon, ribbon red, were left in the lock.

My security is disrupted by reality.

They have access to me.

I wake up with silence heavy on my chest.

And I respond.

You have not hidden Yourself from me.

You have made a way for me to enter the Holy Place.

You did not live for Your comfort, for safety, for acceptance.

You lived for me, for the many hollow souls and expressionless faces.

You have not retreated to Your Holy Place, door sealed shut.

You have left the keys in the door, the curtain torn, all by the red.

You put Yourself out there and You saw me as worth the risk.

I want You to mold me and make me more like You.

{heart}
Kel


{Welcome to my -quiet- week}

{I like to spend time with this one.}