Vernon

I didn't write this, but I came across the lyrics to this song the other day when I was cleaning out a box in my closet. When I was in 5th grade, my teacher, Mr. Snook, wrote this song about a man named Vernon, who was in the war at Normandy. He wrote it, and then added the last stanza after it became a class tradition to go outside after school and take the flag down from the pole in the afternoons. When we were that age, taking down the flag was a huge thing for us; we treated the event with much respect, carefully folding and handling the flag with child-like delicacy. We knew what that flag represented. And we were proud, even that young.
So Mr. Snook wrote this song, and brought out his guitar every day at lunch to teach it to us bit by bit, so that we could sing it with him. We'd sit in a circle in the center of the classroom, the tables and chairs pushed aside, and marveled at his voice, his guitar, and learning the words to this song. I still catch myself singing it sometimes. :)
_______________________
"Vernon"

Talking as if the sky had ears,
Walking his block and sifting through the years,
In 44' they were wild and young,
When Vernon and those sonny boys enlisted one by one,
Seemed like a good idea at the time,
A ticket out, gonna see the world a new,
Soon a point on a map became a line in the sand,
Shoulder to shoulder, man to man to man,

They stormed the beach at Normandy,
Giving it up for God, freedom, and country,
From smoke and thunder, to fear and bone,
To a hero's welcome
When Vernon came home,

But home was somehow different now,
A little less crazy, a few less friends to call,
But life finds a rhythm sooner or later,
He moved out west and fell in love forever,

And the days drift by,
Vernon has his hobbies, grandkids, and a wife,
And far away, the tide
Is taking that beach yet one more time,
In his way, he tries
Keeping his faith in you and me alive,

Helping the school kids in the afternoon,
Bringing in the flag and just,
Doing what children do,
A little bit tattered, a little bit worn,
Little hands together,
Keeping it from the storm.

Maybe This Time

maybe I can give a little
just enough to break through this
day that rolls by like pulling tides
coming and going underneath forbidden skies
maybe it won’t be so hard
this time around and if I try
I won’t remember what it felt like to
give up when I wasn’t strong
but its been so long
and the more I think about doing
what I came to do and never did
I fall and break to endless sin
begging for mercy make me whole again
maybe I can give a little
just enough to say that I tried
and tried with fault but without giving up
I’m not perfect I know
but still you’re strong enough
and I’ll hold on a little tighter when
you come without knowing
and take me as I am again.

Much More of You

I haven’t words worth anything
to say how much I love
you who came and gave yourself away
entirely ... and took the shame
that I might live and
even still, want so much more of you

I haven’t words worth anything
to adore you with and even though
I try, I cannot seem to reach
my greatest desire ... that is to only
give you everything you deserve and
even still, see so much more of you

I haven’t words worth anything
to ask for only what I seek
that is to find you meeting here with
me ... so undeserving that I am
pleading for the fulfillment of one, and
even still, need so much more of you

I haven’t words worth anything
to express my deepest of devotion to
you ... who breathed life into me
who placed me where I stand, and I
worship you, while living this life, and
even still, want so much more of you.

I praise you for TJ - because he’s taught me to live joyously. Please help him to grow.

I praise you for Hannah - because she’s taught me to confide. Please help her to accomplish great things.

I praise you for Brie - because she’s taught me to let go of myself. Please help her to dream big.

I praise you for Andie - because she’s taught me take risks. Please help her to enjoy life.

I praise you for Hunter - because he’s taught me to serve. Please help him to stay strong.

I praise you for Grayson - because he’s taught me innocence. Please help him to enjoy being a kid.

I praise you for Cale - because he’s taught me to always laugh. Please help him to not grow up too fast.

I praise you for Kati - because she’s taught me to forgive. Please help her to shine.

I praise you for Kelli - because she’s taught me to have fun. Please help her to make the most of life.

I praise you for Nate - because he’s taught me to live fully. Please help him to trust your ways.

I praise you for Elizabeth - because she’s taught me to care. Please help her to want you.

I praise you for Austin - because he’s taught me to enjoy learning. Please help him to invite you in.

I praise you for Lauren - because she’s taught me to love. Please help her to not ever loose hope.

I praise you for Chris - because he’s taught me happiness. Please help him to persevere.

I praise you for Taylor - because he’s taught me to be glad. Please help him to burn for you.

I praise you for Leslie- because she’s taught me gentleness. Please help her to overcome fear.

I praise you for Donna - because she’s taught me persistence. Please help her to remain in you.

I praise you for Alex - because he’s taught me humility. Please help him to serve you always.

I praise you for Brett - because he’s taught me selflessness. Please help him to reach goals.

I praise you for Sarah - because she’s taught me kindness. Please help her to seek you.

I praise you for Meghan - because she’s taught me to accept. Please help her to touch lives.

I praise you for Grace - because she’s taught me to sacrifice. Please help her to live life joyfully.

I praise you for you - because you’ve taught me everything I need to know. Please reign in me.

“ To all in Rome who are loved by God and called to be saints:
First, I thank my God through Jesus Christ for all of you, because your faith is being reported all over the world. God, whom I serve with my whole heart in preaching the gospel of his Son, is my witness how constantly I remember you in my prayers at all times; and I pray that now at last by God’s will the way may be opened for me to come.
I long to see you so that I may impart to you some spiritual gift to make you strong - that is, that you and I may be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith. I do not want you to be unaware, brothers, that I planned many times to come to you (but have been prevented from doing so until now) in order that I might have a harvest among you...” -Romans 1:7-13

~*~

Dear Italy,
Thousands of years ago, this letter was written to you. By calloused and weary hands, were these words composed and scattered about wrinkled pages, written with black ink by the dancing light of a candle’s flame. And there he sat alone, the man that wrote them, his rugged features beaming with anticipation, while the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile of expectancy, as blameless tears fell from his tired eyes. Tears for you, Italy. Because he loved you. Because you were lost. And as he wrote with the eloquence of a humbled and broken man, he prayed for mercy to be showered down upon you. He prayed for grace in abundance, to be richly lavished on your people, that you might live. Do you know he pleaded for your salvation? Do you understand now, the torment that dwelt in his own heart? For so long were you estranged.
And so he continued to write, and remembered you always in his prayers, prayers of which came from all places. From his home. From empty streets. From prison cells. From the darkest of forests. From the shifting crowds along village roads. He prayed, and he did not forget you. He came to you, and gave himself entirely, for his heart was overcome with love for you. He served you, and by doing so, he served the Lord. May you not forget, Italy, the blessing of this brother.

Without Answers

She laughs when the summer sun breaks through,
As the clouds tumble away from the endless sky,
And holds her mama’s hand as they run barefoot along the spacious fields,
The green grass playing at their ankles, the air warm and sweet,
She wears a crown of daisies and her sun-kissed cheeks beam,
And she asks ...
Mama, why is the sky so blue?
Baby, I don’t know, but God made a wonderful thing.

She spreads her wings and learns how to fly,
Into the world, so cold, yet new and alive to her,
She discovers beauty in what she couldn’t see,
And finds fear in what she was never afraid of before,
But the world is more than enough for her spirit, begging for freedom,
And she asks ...
Mama, will you miss me when I’m gone?
Baby, you know I will, but God’s doing a wonderful thing.

She takes a leap of faith and dreams the unimaginable,
Follows the heart so wild and lonesome, burning within her,
And she falls in love, living for the feeling of losing herself,
Wondering if she’s feeling how she’s supposed to,
Never knowing love was enough to tame her, love stronger than fire,
And she asks ...
Mama, could he really be the one this time?
Baby, I don’t know, but God’s given you a wonderful thing.

She settles down a stranger to her home,
But with eagerness, seeks to build a brand new life,
New dreams and new inspiration, love having brought here there,
And she prays and cries for answers that left her mind,
Back when she never needed to think on them before,
And she asks ...
Mama, am I trying to do the impossible?
Baby, I know you’re not, but God’s showing you a wonderful thing.

She holds in her arms a child of her own,
Cradling her with tenderness so careful, so gentle,
And whispering promises once in her ear so long ago,
Singing sweetly the lullabies she knew by heart,
Softly holding the tiny fingers of her little baby, her own flesh,
And she asks ...
Mama, do I deserve this precious gift?
Baby, you don’t, but God made you a wonderful thing.

I wear a summer dress of white,
And dance undignified alongside my little girl in the backyard,
As she sings of the days to come, and what was of old,
She is so alive, so full of spirit I once knew in myself,
She smiles up at me, and holds my hand in her own,
And she asks ...
Mama, why is the sky so blue?
Baby, I don’t know, but God made a wonderful thing.

I Welcome You

why do you turn from Me in shame?
I see your sin, and I see your blackened hearts,
of stone, cold as ice against Me,
do you not understand, that it was for these hearts,
that I gave My son,
My own son,
that you might be unbound from such sin?
I had to give, so that you would let go,
I had to die, so that you would live,
so come to Me in humility, and confess,
let go
you are free now, and I welcome you into My presence.

why do you turn from Me in pain?
I am so entirely able to take it from you,
to calm, and ease your aching hearts that cries out,
night and day for someone to save,
I am here,
and My grace is sufficient for your weakness,
rich in mercy to amaze you even more,
can you not see that this too shall pass?
and through the storm I have come to be your light,
I can lead,
you are free now, and I welcome you into My presence.

why do you turn from Me in fear?
I see the path before you, winding, but not endless,
do you not trust Me with this life?
I could not bear to forsake you, for you are precious to Me,
and I long to be your refuge, so hide,
hide in Me,
and know that I am stronger than evil, greater than sin,
more powerful than wickedness your eyes have yet to see,
have faith while I hold you,
do not fear,
you are free now, and I welcome you into My presence.

why do you turn from Me in joy?
You are so human, and you forget where that joy
first came from,
when I made it alive and well in you,
Gladly did I deliver you from pain, and bring you,
forth into rejoicing, that you might see more of Me,
so why do you forget to give thanks?
why do you acclaim your happiness to the world,
instead of to Me, I who showered it down upon you,
because I loved you,
and because I rejoice when you rejoice,
it is from me,
you are free now, and I welcome you into My presence.

Worship is surrender, and letting go of what you once held so tightly.
Worship is lifting your hands without even noticing it.
Worship is confession, and asking for forgiveness.
Worship is crying tears of every emotion.
Worship is sacrifice, and willingness of the heart.
Worship is being silent.
Worship is humility, and knowing you are nothing compared.
Worship is raising your voice without shame.
Worship is reverence, and being left in awe and fear.
Worship is rejoicing in trials.
Worship is faith, and trusting in the unseen.
Worship is falling more in love.
Worship is music, and words of sweet adoration.
Worship is keeping hope.
Worship is dancing, and moving feet to silent rhythms.
Worship is praying unceasingly.
Worship is serving, and giving time for needs.
Worship is joy in affliction.
Worship is remembering, and thinking upon the sacrifice.
Worship is praise with few words.
Worship is persevering, and standing firm.
Worship is complete obedience.
Worship is living to glorify.

Never Loved More

unceasingly does His river
run with outpouring grace and boundless mercy
sweet waters of forgiveness and ever flowing love, which streams
down from heaven and covers me as though rain
endless and great, lavishly extending over
me, undeserving yet in dire need ... I cannot live without
may it be revival, Jesus, and the great renewal
of what I am not, and never was before

with the greatest of power does He
limitlessly extend His almighty plan over my life
even I, to lead a life of sin and far
from worthy of His control so incomprehensible
so entirely fulfilling ... and yet, with avidity
does He choose to guard my drifting steps
back to where righteousness is founded upon
holiness I thought never imaginable in this life
may it be surrender, Jesus, and the heart of humility
of which I have not, and never had before

worthy is He to receive
the glory I am far too human to place before His throne
so He calls me by name to serve with
hands that were made for solely that purpose
that I might be embraced with the blessing of sacrifice
be it hard, be it laborious, for such is the work of man
of whom He has called heavenward
may it be service, Jesus, and the life of willingness,
of which I knew not, and never knew before

I have never wanted anything more than
this, to acclaim His name so far above me
that I could not even, with utmost strength, stand to reach it
how beautiful His face, that it might shine forth from
my own, so plain ... and ordinary,
He longs for them to see His face, ignited like fire,
in mine, that they might seek what they do not have
may it be reflection, Jesus, and the light of you
of which I love, and have never loved more.

A Poem For Class..

gentle earth
wrapped in an atmosphere of
iniquity, intent on destruction
gentle earth
clinging to wickedness brought forth
from human nature
gentle earth
wounded, afflicted by
sinful souls to stain your beauty
gentle earth
enveloped in the greatly despised
those who scorn their own
gentle earth
reveling in promised redemption after
the final breath of vile air drawn
...released
gentle earth
outlive what comes and takes without
giving back anything
gentle earth
stay constant, changeless, and
fall not for the evil which lies within you
for you, gentle earth
are separate from the world.

The Grass Withers...

The tiny blade of grass woke from his shallow slumber, and shivered upon feeling the unwanted layer of summer dew, so cold and unpleasant, enveloping his tiny form and dripping slowly, like honey, from his pointed tip which hung under the weight of it. He rose to meet the height of the nearby grassy shoots, much older than he, and straightened himself proudly in attempt to be just as they were, finely standing, and in unison, swaying to the unnoticeable rhythm of the wind. How lofty they were, he thought, how grand. And yet how plain he was, nothing more than a small blade who eagerly sought to be greater than what he was at present. He admired the prominent shade of their verdant skin, as though individually painted with the deepest and purest of green, lush and rich. And he, still young and small, had not yet obtained that fine coloring, not yet shaded with the glossy coat of forest, not yet grown to his full stature, and remained insignificant to the many others that surrounded him, those whom he lived in submission to.
The air was sweet, stronger in warmth as the sun made its ritual ascent into the boundless sky, so abundantly showering down golden rays of light and gentle heat, and soaked from the field the dew and what remained of the pools left behind from summer rain. The day slowly warmed. And as the sun drew in closer to the vibrant earth, the little blade of grass could feel the field embracing every ray, every soft beam of light which gave life and energy to all of creation. With gratitude, the blade welcomed the summery air.
But soon, upon the highest rising of the sun, when it hovered like a glowing orb of radiance above the hushed field, he no longer yearned for its ever providing warmth. He grew weary of the powerful heat, as it beat down upon his slim and narrowed body, and knew that shelter was altogether absent from where he stood, and could not move. In enfeeblement, his slender back arched and his tiny peak drooped to nearly touch the sun-scorched earth beneath him, lacking water, lacking life.
All around he could see the other shoots of grass, curving over as though bowing in reverence, to the sun that so relentlessly, forcefully beat down without mercy and without care. His sight became clouded and marred, as the rippling heat pounded upon his fragile body, and his green color slowly left him. And so it became far too great to bear, the heat of the summer sun which was endless.
He withered until he was only a shred of brown grass, mingling with the dry, crumbling earth, and became nothing but dust to be blown away by the wind.

"All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the filed. The grass withers and the flowers fall, because the breath of the Lord blows on them. Surely the people are like grass. The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever." -Isaiah 40:7&8

The Villa

the aging walls of stucco gradually break away,
crumbling with time,
and weary from little hands being brushed along their sandy surfaces,
and so the tiny pieces fall the great distance to the wooden floor beneath,
the floor that so many years ago, endured the trampling of innocent feet,
scurrying about in a game of chase,
which led like traveling wind into the kitchen, now empty and insignificant,
lacking the savory smells of rich, Italian spices it was once warmed with,
the aromas of pepper and sweet onion, rosemary and strong oregano,
and the strings of sun-roasted garlic which used to hang in the windowsill,
no longer were,
instead it was abandoned, and left for the sun to trickle in,
through the cracks in the walls created by the hands of history,
and upon beholding the empty kitchen, the sun would search for somewhere else,
in the humble villa so quiet and alone, standing solitary now,
and it would spread like silent wildfire into another room,
where stories were once told just below a whisper near the hearth,
where the tempered footsteps of a passerby could be heard outside the window,
along the winding, endless cobblestone pathways,
and where a voice once filled its walls with strains so achingly beautiful,
it lulled the little ones to sleep upstairs,
melodies that used to ascend with gradual crescendoes up the twirled stairway,
to where they found the musty loft, hidden, though not at all a secret,
now gathering a thin layer of dust as it hides alone,
as the slanted ceiling crumbles a little more each day,
stained by the sun,
and to only gaze from its height out the hazy window,
and look upon the rural extent of endless, tumbling hills,
laden in warm, summer rain,
would be enough to hold one there, and never let go.

December 26th, 2004

could there have been another way, God?
for you to prove your incomprehensible power,
another path you could have taken to display your strength,
why did you, capable of anything, choose such calamity?
such destruction and devastation,
to sovereignly reveal to the breaking world, more of yourself,

could there be a greater reason, God?
why people were swept away in an instant,
from their feet, unaware and taken,
by water so mysteriously strong, and so angry,
with rage, robbing lives without giving back,
and from heaven you watched as part of your creation crumbled,

could it have been any worse, God?
when as the broken earth suffered and wept,
those who outlasted searched desperately for who they lost,
and children crawled on their hands and knees,
in weakness, starvation,
so afraid and so alone, trembling not merely from cold,

could there be healing, God?
for the souls left alone, empty in body and spirit,
for the aching hearts broken by water,
and the land left ravaged and painfully forsaken,
the families who put everything into their own,
now left with nothing but the concealed, lingering bit of hope,

could faithfulness be seen, God?
by the weary eyes so oppressed and defeated,
or will their lives never again be restored?
may they see you, among the destruction,
and your perfect plan in the midst of their devastation,
for there is a reason, you promised, for all that comes to pass,
be glorified through this, Jesus,

glorified.

Because He Loved Him

Breathe this air. It’s better for you.

The heavy, cruel stench of abused smoke drifted through the air in a nearly tangible cloud. Unbearable, at times, for the baby boy drifting uncomfortably in and out of his troubled slumber. Crying for sleep, just once more at night. And as the foggy, silver moonlight poured down on his pale cheeks, he muffled his own soft whimpers in the down of his pillow. Rest was absent even still, when the cloud of vile air had passed.

Shh. Morning will come. I promise.

A new day. Another chance. Another fight. Another stretch of endless hours, lasting longer than the constraints of time. More of hearing what his precious ears were never meant to hear. More of seeing what his deep, innocent eyes were never meant to see. And never knowing when the end of it would finally come, when at last he would be liberated from the ropes of neglect, the bindings of disregard, the ties of disownment.

How loved you are.

He stretched his tiny hand to the ceiling, as though reaching for what he could not grasp. Begging for someone to hold that hand. To stroke his rose petal skin. To brush a gentle kiss across his fevered brow. To dry his falling tears and sing him to sleep, with lullabies of soft, ascending notes. Aching for the assuaging voice of a mother, speaking softly against his ear, and with tenderness, smiling down on him in love. Longing for the strong arms of a father, wrapped securely around his tiny body. Holding him close, promising never to let go.

They’re coming soon. Have faith.

The voice of the two that came for him spoke assurance, and promises of love. They were not unlike what he had hoped for, the image of father and mother, smiling and holding hands. They were happy, though incomplete without him. Joyous, though praying for answers. Certain, though leaping with faith beyond what they thought imaginable, deep into their future. The father smiled warmly, unexpected tears at the brims of his eyes. The mother letting hers fall freely down her face, so vibrantly bright with the rejoicing within her heart. How they loved him. And brought him home to where a sister waited impatiently at the door, dreaming of all she would teach him, to read and to write, to clean up his toys and say please and thank you. And a brother not far behind her, eagerly anticipating the day he would teach him to run and play, to throw a football and make music. How blessed and how happy they would be. And altogether whole.

They are yours, and you are Mine.

The river doesn't stop flowing just because there's a rock in the way.

Heaven Isn't Far

Jesus, sometimes it feels you're gone...

Child, I'm already holding on,
Never letting go of you,

Make me pure, certain, and true,
Why are you slipping away again?

Child, you just don't feel my hand,
My arms are graciously, widely spread,

Your blood is the wine, your body the bread,
You were the sacrifice that I might live,

So go, child, love mercy, forgive,
Show the world a little more of me,

Take this heart, Jesus, set me free,
When will I be home with you?

Patience, child, I'm coming soon,
Promise me you'll just hold on now,

Help me, Jesus, show me how,
I'm praying, I'm living, I'm dying for you,

Child, if you somehow knew,
You're pleasing your Father seated above,

Shower down grace, redemption, your love,
Teach me just how good you are,

Call on me always, child, heaven isn't far...

Not His Own

He tries so hard to listen,
To the voice that calls and begs him to come,
The voice always there, always speaking,
Never being heard enough,
Never being answered with assurance,
Son, where are you?...
He’s uncertain, unconvinced,
And he’s trying to find his way around the world,
Through the winding roads broken and incomplete,
Deceiving, misleading,
This way, my child...
Against the stronghold of temptation and wickedness,
And his hands, they too are clothed,
In the vile soil which is of the world, of sin,
I’ll forgive you again...
And he runs to hide from his greatest fear,
Of never finding himself,
Of never seeing what’s there, waiting for him, expecting him,
And though he’s prayed, and begged his God for guidance,
Pleaded, broken, for the light to be shed on his path,
As he walks, and tries not to fall,
Son, let me hold you...
But darkness surrounds him like air, takes hold,
And doesn’t let go as he wanders farther to find the end,
He covers his face with his trembling hands,
Humbled, and falls to his knees,
Child, I’m listening...
When there is no other place to go, he returns here,
And breaks,
And wonders if God above can answer this time,
Show him where he’s going,
Guide him along the pathways he’s feared before,
And he tries to surrender,
Son, let me take this from you...
While his soul melts and breaks from its chains,
He lifts his burdens, but he’s scared to let go,
Scared that his control will be lost,
But it’s the only way to open his eyes again,
And the need for surrender overwhelms him,
As he sees the choice, and the weight he carries,
Heavy on his heart, his mind,
His life,
You are not your own...
Dying to let go,
And be brought from the darkness, into the light,
To be given answers, and hope, rest,
You never were...
And the peace he once knew so well,
Please, Jesus, show him Your way.

when I close my eyes I can almost see,
the faces looking up to what they do not know,
but there is faith,
and they close their eyes and think of shame,
of loss, and hunger overwhelming them,
spirits empty and in need,
dying to live, breaking,
how they need you, Jesus,
let me go,
please, oh Master, I ask only this,
send me there,
to that place I only know in vision,
locked away in unfulfilled dreams,
longing to become real, and nearly there,
lead me to the world I do not know,
for I am here in body,
though my heart is very much with them,
and their crumbling hearts, their falling words,
trembling prayers,
and they need to hear of you again,
their minds to be filled with what they once knew so well,
and lived for, breathed for,
the hope so restless and hidden, uncertain again,
and unfamiliar,
they need to hear the reason you went to the cross,
the reason they have tomorrow to see,
and yesterday to speak of,
the reason they suffer under persecution, break under trial,
the reason they are dead in their sin,
restored, and alive in you, by perfect grace,
sweet Jesus, let me tell them,
let me look deep into their searching, empty eyes,
let me touch their olive colored faces,
their black hair of silk and gray,
and remind them, convince them of something more than they see,
something far greater waiting for them,
let me speak in words they do not know,
let me tell them of your scars,
hands pierced for their sake,
a body broken for even them, sinners, just like I am,
send me, Jesus,
there, away, to that place so far from home,
perhaps it is my home,
that I might do what you've called me to do,
nothing less, it is sin not to,
and let me go with gladness and humility,
peace, and joy, faith in the greater of these,
God, please,
they need you.

Never Letting Go

I see your heart is trying,
to change and set itself free,
but can’t go alone; you need me,
let me live inside your life,
I’ll change you, make you so much more,
open up and see,
I’m never letting go,

you weren’t alone that quiet night,
whispering prayers under chilled moonlight,
did you feel my arms wrap around your cold?
My hands drying the unashamed tears that fell,
talk to me again,
I’m never letting go,

trust the things I tell you,
all I’ve promised through the years,
against the pain and hunger and fears,
put your child-like faith in me,
hold fast, don’t let it slip away,
trust me this time,
I’m never letting go,

tomorrow’s going to be new,
it’s something I can promise you,
isn’t going to be just another try,
to get through somehow; it’ll be more because of me,
hang on tight,
I’m never letting go,

you’ve seen so much already,
so much of this world and lifetime,
to where you go and you will shine,
live me out loud, that they might see,
me and my glory burning like fire in you,
just live for me,
I’m never letting go,

hold onto me this time around,
you weren’t meant to be on the ground,
child, when you broke, and fell to your knees,
I was there, holding you closer than ever before,
fall deeper into me,
I’m never letting go.

Esther's Prayer

Oh, Abba Father,
Is this way truly meant for me? Am I, a common young woman, capable to accomplish this, all that you have called me to? I am so afraid, afraid that I will fail you, that I will fall short, that my mouth would not utter the words that burn like fire in my heart, and that I would run in fear for escape. I do not want this, Lord; I want only to honor and please you, to fulfill all that you have promised through me. This heart of mine, so awaken from rest, is suffering and aching over a fear I have never known before, a fear so strange. Promise me, Oh Lord, that you will stay by my side and carry me through. Give me strength, and give me words. Let me go before this place, and think of you, and speak the only truth I know and desire to know. May my words be filled with you, and may my very presence, Father, be so brightly shining and evident of the Holy Spirit, that they might know my undying love for you, that they might desire that same love. Come what may, for by your grace do I go.

"When this is done, I will go to the King, even though it is against the law. And if I perish, I perish"
-Esther 4:16