Just some things about today.

I like to believe that for the most part I try not to judge others, but I do. I try to give unconditional, shameless love and acceptance, but I often fail. I work to let my expectations of how people and things are supposed to be, go, but I still have a death grip on them. I hate my need for control and how it sometimes leads my down a path of familiar doom, rather then the uncontrollable path of faith and leaping into the unknown. I truly hate that struggle. The moment I let myself worry, is the same moment I begin to grapple for control. Its so hard to be alive with all your feelings and weird emotions. I’m thankful for them. It can just be hard if you don’t want to live a numbed out life of predictability and comfort. Its hard to do the right thing. Its even harder to fail at doing the right thing and having to try again. But thank God for second chances and new days. Today it all feels really hard. But bizarrely hopeful all at the same time. Hopeful because I know today is a new day. and its never to late to make a better choice. I am so grateful for life with all its ups and downs. Grateful that even though I try to be perfect, I never will be. And that’s ok. Thankful that Jesus loves me. Like he really really loves me. No matter how many times I try to convince him to leave me, he wont. Jesus wont leave me be. Thank God. Here are some poems. I like them. Maybe you will like them. Maybe you hate poems. and me. That’s ok too. But I hope you don’t, I hope you love me. and poems.


Shelby Kayann

The Journey by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice–

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

“Mend my life!”

each voice cried.

But you didn’t stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do–

determined to save

the only life you could save.




Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting 

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.