January 4 – Why Didn't It Happen to Me?

Make it come out, it's too much, too much to bear

Need it out now

Desperate

Tear, rip, pain, sweet relief, grief, embarrassed, angry, pain

Never ending cycle

Needle pricks, razor dance, drug embraces, scars and scabs

Why this? I ask, looking at tangles of hair and bald patches,

Why this and not those?


January 5 – Shreds of Doubt

Trust, something precious, meant for those close to your heart and soul, something to be treasured

Something so easily broken, shattered like glass, hurting the giver like a twisted knife

Something not easily fixed, years of cautious glances and shallow relationships

Never again, you say, never again

For who can heal a broken heart, beaten and brusied?


January 6 – Can't Be

Babies don't die

Grandmas and Grandpas do, the old people at church

They die, not babies

Babies don't wear wires

Wires belong in toys or robots

They're not alive, not babies

Babies don't live at hospitals

At first, yes, but not years after

Newborns, not babies

So why are you there, people crying all around?

All the machines not making sounds?

And you are there, so still?

You can't be gone, right?

You're just a baby…


January 7 – Where Will It Be Found?

In a mother's eyes

A father's pride

The compassion of children

The embrace of lovers

The slow dance of the old

The giddy laughter of the young

The scarred hands of the Savior

Love…where is it found?


January 8 – Three Reasons

1. To safe myself from heartbreak

2. To show him that he was worth the wait

3. Because my Father wants the best for me


January 9 – Chance

Leave it up to chance, people say. Fate. Destiny. Chance. Call it what you will, but it's getting me nowhere fast. Lady Luck's never been a friend of mine. Good thing I've got a better friend, huh? Thing is though, it's had to let it all go to Him. I know He's got my heart in His hand, and loves me beyond belief, but it's hard to give up 'control'. It feels like I'm leaving up to chance…


January 10 – Essence of Living

To be living, but am I alive? Wake up, go to work, serve others, come home, eat, sleep, repeat. Where's the thrill, the purpose? When did life become routine? Like something I drift through, a random witness in an endless ocean. Am I alive, or just living?