Thursday, May 27, 2010

Lindsey is patient

Lindsey is patient.
Lindsey is patient.
Lindsey is patient.
Lindsey is patient.
Lindsey is patient.
Lindsey is patient.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Round Rimmed Glasses

In they marched, wearing and carrying everything they owned in plastic bags and pockets. With longing in their eyes, burdens weighing heavily on their hearts, and hunger in their bellies they came to us and swarmed our heated bowls of pasta and trays of pastries. Drinks couldn't come fast enough as many said "thank you" numerous times while others' appreciation only shown in their eyes and tear-stained faces. One man in particular with round rimmed glasses and unshaven face just got one plate of food, picking up his belongings - everything he owned - in his free hand and fled through the door.

I wanted to go into the back and cry. I wanted to lie down and mourn for these people. How embarrassed they feel, and you can see it in their eyes.

But still, I pressed on, because my Jesus was one of these. I was waiting for Him to walk through the door and hold me and tell me it was all going to be alright because He was here now. It wasn't until after that I realized He was there. He was in each and every one of the peoples' eyes, begging for love, for compassion, from me. My Jesus, their Jesus, was inside of them.

But most importantly, he was with the man in the round rimmed glasses.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

A Poem For You

He sings with the voice of an angel and his smile is enough to light up my world. His laugh reverberates off the walls and his eyes shine and put even the brightest stars to shame. "Beautiful," he calls me. But I call him more beautiful; a man who lost everything and came to God. He was troubled, lonely, broken, and scared, but his newfound faith in the Lord led him down the right path just as my faith led me to him, my friend and brother.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

I Wasn't Ready

I wrote this a few months ago and while cleaning out my computer tonight I found it. I remember the day I wrote this, and the friend I made in the process. He's kind of terrific, but not in the I-want-to-date-him kind of way, in the He-will-be-my-friend-until-the-day-I-die kind of way.

I didn’t know you. I’d met you once, but we didn’t talk.

We exchanged glances and smiles but never words…

And then, when all of the people faded into the background

You appeared.

You opened your mouth and sang to me; the sweetest words.

All I could do was stare at your imperfect face, your crooked smile.

And then, I spoke. I laughed. I opened up.

I’ve never done that before. You easily undo my senses.

You make me feel exposed but hidden, uncomfortable but relaxed,

Broken but whole, happy but heartrending…

You change the way I feel.

And I like it.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

I'm wide awake and so alive..

This one line has been repeating in my head all day. Matt Nathanson's voice filling my ears and I can't stop singing it out loud.

I'm wide awake and so alive.
I'm wide awake and so alive.
I'm wide awake and so alive.
I'm wide awake and so alive.
I'm wide awake and so alive.
I'm wide awake and so alive.
I'm wide awake and so alive.

My room smells like sunscreen.
I love the smell of sunscreen.

I'm sorry for such a random post, but I feel like writing (and singing, but you can't hear my voice) and I just wrote what I was thinking at the moment.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

And So It Begins... Again.

Home sweet home, with a fresh new start.

Today I cleaned (well, depends on your definition of clean) my room and rearranged my furniture. The way my furniture was arranged was how we put it when we moved into this house four years ago. I'm sorry, but I needed a change. I figured my first summer back from my first year of college should be a good one, with a fresh new start and a nice clean (sort of) room.

I got a new bookshelf, a thing I've been needing for years. And even though I got this new one, I don't want to part with the old one. It was originally a movie cabinet, but my books fit inside so perfectly. I don't necessarily need it in my room, nor does it exactly fit but I don't want to get rid of it. My dad made it.

While I ponder where I could keep it until I move out of my house into my own apartment I will be on (thank you Philip) and watch Gilmore Girls.