Closed Communications

Gratitude

Seven: Thankful

I'm thankful for Rebekah Smith, who mirrors God in her love and creativity and led me to encounter God through art. She also loves paper cranes.
I'm thankful for my mom. Lately everyday brings me to the realization that she cares for me even more than I thought was possible the day before.
I'm thankful for my sister, who keeps me on my creative toes and still loves me when I lapse into nerdiness.
I'm thankful for Karen, who asks the hard questions and holds me when I cry.
I'm thankful for Janie, who is willing to hug me and lift me up in my cracked brokenness.

I'm thankful for the God of Wonders, who sits with me in laughter and tears, never olds a grudge in response to my belligerence, and leads me on to greater things each and every day.

On the heels of anger

Six: Hatred

Close on the heels of anger rides regret. It is self-hatred disguised as a conscience.

Five: Stones

I've become acquainted with unpleasant feelings this week. Loss. Grief. Hurt. They sit in my stomach like stones and roll around like disappointment and bad grades. It's the sinking feeling you get when you know you forgot something but you don't know what. This time though, it's something I remember the moment I wake up and each second I'm alone in my head.
Now, I've reached anger. And it's not like the rest. It burns in my jaw and between my eyebrows. It doesn't settle in my stomach but instead slides off my tongue. I can taste a hint of hatred on my lips and poor judgment slides down my throat.

Red on pages and foreheads