I want to be the arms that hold you in the middle of the night.
The ones that you never expected to feel so good but offer you comfort you only could find
When there's a pen in your hand.
Or a bottle
Which ever would make you feel better I want to be the hand that reaches out and passes you a life jackets
but never let's you sink into it alone.
Because I know what it's like to be left in an ocean with out any thing to float you to shore.
Let me be the raft the guides you to land and let you know that not all of us are alike.
Some people need patch work in order to support you.
You've been grabbing pieces that never knew what it means to be a part of a whole.
See I used to be a tree.
An entity of life feeding others the oxygen they needed to thrive.
So it's in my nature to be life support.
The kind that doesn't need to be given credit for being the only ear with in whispering distance.
Applaud me with thousands of kisses.
Shower me in acceptance and I'll photosynthesize it into love.
Deeper than the roots I dug before
I adore you the way the lady bug adores it's wings when they lift her up
I want to lift you out of storm serge.
So the waves of insecurity won't bang against your head
Those levees you built to keep the water out of your heart were only meant to say it for me.
It's ok to tear down those walls
I'll be there to help you pull them down.
And when you start to plant your first tree
I'll dig the hole and nurse it
Into something more than you ever expected.

I've never been a fan of loud churches.
I've never got so full of the spirit that
He's made me jump out my seat or speak ancient languages.
I guess my tongue was too simple for the divinity of it all.
But there's something about the silence that calms me.
Reassures me of He who birth me is with in me
He moves inside me with no sound.
Yelling is the last thing I can think of when my eyes close.
Head bows and eyes close to welcome him to work thru me.
Wanting to never lose sight of all that He has planned for me.
It's hard to His voice among the choirs' voices but I can manage.
When God speaks it's never a yell
But a whisper.
A hand on my shoulder wishing me peace
My knees never tire of kneeling in his presence.
Patience is something you learn first in church.
I use to wait for those quiet moments.
When the congregation was at a standstill and before the priest could collect his words.
It's in that silence that He appears
In His full glory
And who would I be
If I didn't stand back and listen in awe.