My Jesus in Leu

By Rachel Wrathall

 

My life is a blur

And to be honest I’m sure

I’m a real big mess,

I stress.

 

At the same time I’m comforted,

there’s someone watching over me.

In Heaven I’m not shorted,

If I just would bend a knee.

 

Before, in the past

When I wasn’t having a blast,

I’d cry in the night

Over my plight.

 

The angels overhead,

Have slowly strengthened me.

And my husband sleeping in bed

Surely for or me, did pray a plea.

 

Angels, thank you,

My Jesus suffering in leu.

My yet children from above

You are, to me, a dove.

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We’re all going Crazy

I’m starving for words

to make my head seem straight,

for my bedtime thrill,

my daily drill.

 

I need my head tightened (tighter!)

I’m going crazy (fighter!)

Can’t focus, can’t relay

-words said to me.

There’s a delay.

 

I’m not alone.

All others stare off too

into the computer screen

-of death

at you.

 

At a pretty smile,

a flawless life,

while all the while

planning a brand new wife.

 

He has your number,

you posted it last night.

He knows where you’re eating;

it’s on Google Maps.

 

“Please RSVP, here’s my address!”

He knows what time your kids play at recess.

He knows because you told him,

Even your husband’s work hours.

 

We’re all going crazy,

staring into soulless screens.

Some think everything’s real,

but to others it’s no big deal.

 

 

FYI (if you’re a teenage girl)

CloudsandSky:

This is divine! :)

Originally posted on Given Breath:

*Readers, two days ago I wrote this post for my normal audience, which is usually very small. That said, I included recent pictures of my kids at the beach, and many new readers found that to be a lack of discernment, considering the topic.  I agree, and have replaced them with different photos than the original post. Thank you for your counsel.

Dear girls,

I have some information that might interest you. Last night, as we sometimes do, our family sat around the dining-room table and looked through the summer’s social media photos.

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We have teenage sons, and so naturally there are quite a few pictures of you lovely ladies to wade through. Wow – you sure took a bunch of selfies in your skimpy pj’s this summer!  Your bedrooms are so cute! Our eight-year-old daughter brought this to our attention, because with three older brothers who have rooms that smell…

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Forever, for Good

I love him (I love him),

but for reasons unclear.

I try to grasp them, but they whisp past my ear..

 

I feel goodness around him,

But there is uncertainty in my heart.

Could I be (could I be),

Mistaken?

 

Quick, think of the ways,

His oh so loving ways,

And list them so I don’t forget.

 

He’s nice.

He’s kind.

He’s one of a kind.

He’s picky.

He’s rude,

and has a rotten mood.

 

He’ll care for me always,

I love that he will.

But why does he love me?

His reasons aren’t real.

 

There’s no ring in his voice,

as a lying riddler would answer.

He just states the truth,

plain and simple.

 

So what if he’s hard headed,

He’s my dear heart-thump, Jared.

I don’t know how, but he is.

 

There’s no explanation,

And he may not deserve it,

But I love him forever,

For good.

Let your heart be unscathed

I had a bad teenage life because I made horrid decisions. I met a boy I thought I loved, and began disobeying my parents. I was stupid, and far too spent on my own self than thinking  about how I was making my parents feel, or worse, my future spouse.

When you’re young you think that you understand life more than your parents. You think that you know love better. I mean look at your parents! They fight all the time. Where’s the love between them? That’ll never happen to me…

So you find a guy that’s charming. And as my roommate puts it, he knows all the pretty words to say to you, and not all of them are true (Of course you don’t realize that part for about three years after the breakup). He writes you poems, whispers in your ears, words that you never knew existed. He says he loves you, so he must mean it.

Your morals are pretty strong, but his aren’t so much. And really, how strong are you? When you’re seventeen you aren’t exactly old and wise. You know that he says he will treat your body respectfully, so you believe him! But, remember, you love him, and you make mistakes when your guard is down.

You realize that he’s smudging the line too much and you say, “Hey, I don’t actually like that. It’s not something I’m ready for.” Does he storm off? No, he “loves” you remember? Of course he’ll say sorry. Then he’ll make up for it by saying new magnified pretty words.

He owns you.

His pathetic little life is just full of disappointment and sorrow that of course you have to be his savior, the only one that will be there for him.

So you stick around.

 

And around.

 

Spiraling out of control.

I believe that God lets me decide what to do with my life. He watches over me of course, but it was my decision to end it. Near the end, though, I was praying for help. Because I needed help. This bad feeling inside me had grown into a monster, and I felt like I was possessed with this big black sin. A lie. He never loved me. He used me vicariously. His sting is so deep within me that I still feel its jerk, even now when I’m engaged and in love with the best man I have ever met.

If this message meets anyone’s eyes, I hope it touches a young person’s. Because falling in love is not a game you play in high school. Just face it, when you’re that young, it’s harder to see what love really is. Love isn’t something you fall into, but rather something you work for. Pure love is loving someone else more than yourself. Wait until you are old enough before you let anybody say pretty words to you, because if you don’t, your heart may hold onto an ache that will never go away.

Men are Heroes who don’t Understand.

When I am in limbo-land he saves me;

He breaches the water and pulls me out of the sand that I’m drowning in.

And then I am conscious again.

I can see his face with rushing clarity.

I suddenly feel ashamed.

I suddenly feel again,

And he is my hero.

 

Now we are here,

I am normal and he is tired.

We both sit there and talk about things that don’t matter.

When I can talk, I am too afraid to say things.

But when I do, he doesn’t understand me.

Mars and Venus? I think we could have some sort of sports match.

It’s Funny,

Love is.

It’s funny how it finds you.

So here I am wondering how he found me.

Undetected, he emerged from the pop-up story book of my life.. I knew someday this page would unfold, but I had no idea the beauty and uniqueness that would come with it. And with every pop-up book that I’ve read, I sure am impressed with the elaborate way the paper is folded, how the colors are arranged, and just the simple way it unfolds at the right time. And that’s me, I guess. And my God has each page waiting for me to open them. But with any good book, it is always read in good time.