I am a sponge

I am a sponge...
I soak it all up.
I internalize everything; your hurt, your tears, your pain, your feelings, your "could be's"... I swear I feel it.

As your soundboard, I do as I am supposed to. I let you vent and expel. With every hit- I feel it. Your release is my weight. You often don't let me provide solutions, in fact you may even be insulted by them.

I take it on; soak it up. I swear I feel it. Not demeaning your situation; not taking away from what you feel or the uniqueness. But my Lord, recognize I feel it with you. My little babies; all 60 of them... I HATE what you endure. I soak it up. My friends, I cannot accept the loneliness or brokenness you bare. I soak it up. You tell me a story in passing. I soak it up. I read about the children and innocent women- people- dying in Haiti. I soak it up. I see the pain in the lady's eyes at the grocery. I soak it up. The young girl unable to look anyone in the eye. I soak it up. Every single time you critique me. I soak it up. The cyclical thoughts of my own mind... I soak them up.

And suddenly- I find myself overflowing. Excess flowing- streaming- everywhere. Unable to identify what exactly it is I'm feeling. Emotions overlap with no definitive lines. Lost in what's yours and what's mine; unable to identify or recognize the difference. Drawing conclusions without conclusiveness because I have inhabited your "weight." As I'm sure you are unaware...
So now what?
This isn't a pat on the back. This isn't a "job well done Mary"...... This is a true fault. This is thinking I'm supposed to solve all the problems, and quite frankly that's quite self-absorbed.
Also, a horrible attribute to carry around as a social worker; not conducive to clients.
So, uh yeah, now what??

So Little With Should-Be Innocent Eyes

As I watch their should-be innocent eyes dart and focus with brows intently narrowed and flexed; anger flows from them. Unspoken. But known.
Sometimes tears.
Sometimes tantrums.
Sometimes silence.

When mixed with the other kids, "church kids," we stand out. Either you pick on us or don't pick us. We don't have guitars for guitar lessons. We don't always have new clothes or shoes. We don't always do our homework.
We don't always come with sound minds. We don't always bring healed or whole hearts.
We are kids. Just like they are. We have stories too. Ours- may break your heart. Our eyes- reach into your soul and question your very presence on this earth. Our eyes convey our story, but don't let you into it. Our eyes tell you we are on guard; we are watching you.
You tell us Jesus loves us. But don't tell me where or how to find Him. You tell us He's always there. But I don't always feel Him... when I watch my mom cry and she's unable to get herself off the couch. I don't feel Him when I need my dad and he's not there. I don't feel Him when I'm always getting in trouble at school or blamed for things I didn't do.
I'm reaching out to you, even though you can't see it. I need you to show me.



Babies, my kidos, my loves,
You hold so much of my heart that I'm not even sure I can applicably find words to explain it. Your deep eyes are so hurt, yet eager. I want to hold you, love you until you don't feel an ounce of pain anymore. But I can't do that. You need a healing greater than me. When your beautiful, indescribable eyes are troubled and fill with tears, a torment renders itself in my heart. I want you to share your story. I want to take that story and extract all the good out of it; conveying your positive future and provide hope by explaining all your potential. I want to crumble all the aching pain and sorrow and confusion and unspeakable hurt and anger and discontent and unfulfillment. I want to crumble it. Shred it. Burn it. I want to adequately show you "the big picture" and for you to understand.
I want you to feel my love without questioning it. I want positive relationships for you now and forever.
I want to protect you.
I could stare at you for hours. Big eyes. Small hands. Infectious laugh. You are so special. Unique. Have so much to offer those around you- even now. Even as a kid.



General population... : Do you understand what this is? What this feels like. What they feel like? What I feel like? Can you grasp it? Can you claim it? Is it tangible to you? DO YOU WANT IT TO BE?

When I talk about it. When I write about it. When my thoughts merely touch on it. When I'm there. When I'm not there. When I picture their faces.... I feel an overwhelming amount of emotions and reactions. Pain, hope, love, hurt, anger, peace, serenity, discontent, awfulness, joy, laughter, eagerness, excitement, confusion, questioning, reflection of self, reflection of the world, reflection in general, prayer, seeking, crying- lots of crying and smiling. Questioning what "should be" and what "could be"... Questioning the mere definition of words, ...what is "pain" really? Questioning.... the mere definition of my life.
The list goes on....
There isn't enough tangibleness to adequately explain this as tangible.

Can I borrow your eyes?

After a long early morning/middle of the night convo with one of my best friends, my brother, a protector... One who has been there for it all.... A lot is on my mind.


I have started so many blogs in the last few months. So many positive ones. Wanting to write about being engaged. Having a ring around the right finger. About finally being loved the right way. About how my life is about to drastically change...
I now sit here... Lay here uncomfortably in my bed at 3:16am (Hmm interesting. Coincidence?...)


I am dwindling on thoughts of perspective. No matter how much we try. No matter how much I claim to constantly see from "the others" eyes... I am left reminded that as close to home as possible- literally in my home- I am failing to see outside my perspective. I am failing to be this "open minded" individual I claim to be. 


Brandon Heath says it, "Give me Your eyes for just one second. Give me Your eyes so I can see Everything that I've been missin. Give me Your love for humanity...."


Easier somehow when it applies to children in broken homes growing up in "the hood." 


But when it applies closer to home. I fail. In another pending "blog"... One in which I will likely never post, I am talking about "Letting it all go"... So, perhaps I should begin here.


You were there 
To see my eyes first
"Father hunger" 
Became father's thirst


Your instinct
Became your drive
Our hearts linked
The unspoken vow


Unintended
Became reality
Pretending
Not allowed to cope


Unprepared
Broken home again
Feeling scared
Crucified again


Rehashing
All those mistakes
Anger lashing
Spinning uncontrollably


Your daughter
How'd we get here?
Fought for her
But she's in the middle


Destruction
The fight whirled so fast
Corruption 
Now tears us apart


More trying
Seems to blame you more
Heart dying
Truth's fight getting lost


Our story
We know it well
The glory?
It comes here


I see me
Your eyes are clear
You I see
Through all the friction


Hearts intent
I should know it well
It became bent
Through life's walking hell


Hurtful tones
We know each other
Vision hones 
Into what we chose to see


Boundaries
Who knows what's right
Heart empties
It's overwhelming


For granted 
I haven't used your eyes
Implanted
Remained in mine


Know your love
I promise I feel it
Tried to shove
It's been so delicate


Here am I
Craving to visualize
Ready to comply
To what I know I see


Similar
Our eyes are so alike
Bitter for
What we can't control


You I know
More than I ever admit
Letting go
Of what we couldn't grasp


Goodbye past
Hello to what I know
Love so fast
Always ready and here


Never left
You have never let me go
Like a theft
We are trapped in our eyes


I know you
I know all the good
I know you
I know all your love