faithful, all the same

I do not know your story,
I barely know your name,
yet I can say with certainty
you were faithful all the same.

you loved someone who left you
only a penny to your name,
yet you found hope through darkness,
you were faithful all the same.

you fought the blows of strangers,
they called you out by name,
yet you spoke words of tenderness,
you were faithful all the same.

you held your children near,
huddled prayers “in Jesus’ name”,
yet when you cried neath skies of gray
you were faithful all the same.

you loved someone who found you,
with you they shared their name,
yet through tears the sun did shine,
you were faithful all the same.

you do not know my story,
you barely know my name,
yet all the while you’ve taught me
He is faithful, all the same.


new beginnings

I have contemplated a lot about blogging again.

Our world, well it feels so very divided, so very desperate, and so very depressed. There is a lot of noise going on outside: shouts of anger, tears of painful sadness, voices of confusion, and screaming thoughts of anxiety. These sounds, they ring loud and clear, and yet people still seem to be one hundred percent lost and looking for something else. Something better. Something that is truly good.

I do not merely want to add to that noise, and so I hope instead that this place might be a little different.

I am but one person, who has lived one life, and who serves one God. I am no expert, no influencer, no professional, no everything or everyone, I am just one.

And I hope that when you come to this place, you too can feel like it is a place for just one. For you, and for me, and for those you love.

A place where everything feels a little quieter. Where the noisiness can be drowned out by the peace of a river that flows so near to you. Where troubles seem a little less scary, and hope feels a little more tangible.

A place to heal from deep wounds. A place to remember what it’s like to watch the raindrops race down the window in the backseat of the car at nighttime, illuminated by the lamp-posts and traffic lights. A place to laugh about the silliness of the human experience. A place to reflect and reminisce. A place that might even feel like home at times, in its own way.

I don’t really have rules or an agenda, no point to push, but just a desire to write and see where it takes me, and where it might also take you.

Here I hope you will find words that boast the fragrance of thoughtfulness and creativity, with a hint of nostalgia, longing, and reflection.

Here I hope you begin to understand yourself and understand others a little more with each line, each phrase, each idea. That you might begin to see how we are all very much connected and affected by each other, and very much able to change the path we are headed down by the most glorious gift of grace.

And lastly, it is here that I hope you might meet someone, someone who sees you, knows you, and loves you. Who holds every tear in a bottle made just for you. Who knows every strand of hair that flutters in the breeze upon your head. Who I can only imagine has the absolute kindest eyes in the entirety of the world’s history of eyes. Maybe you have already met this person, this lover of our souls, and maybe it is your first time, but no matter, I hope you see him more clearly than ever.

May my writing be an echo of love and a humble beacon of light, from him to you.

Love, Courtney.


superman’s not coming

To my dear darling future daughter(s),

I’m desperately sorry that it has come down to this. It pains me to deliver a message that begins with nothing but death. The death of what may seem like life. But unless I share this with you sooner, it will only haunt you later, because you will have believed a lie and I will have failed you as a loving parent.

The truth of the matter is this …

Superman’s not coming.

I don’t mean not today. Or tomorrow. Or maybe next week. He’s not too busy for you, or caught up in greater importances around the world. But he’s just not ever coming.

For all those times that you will fall and scrape your knees on the harsh gravel of our world, he won’t dash around the corner to dust you off and patch you up. He can’t airlift you to a hospital emergency room by his graceful un-human-like strength or prevent you from derailing your train as you hurtle down the tracks of life. Superman’s not coming.

When you fail once again, miserably (because you will, but it’s okay, I still love you) and the walls around you begin to crumble and disintegrate before your eyes and you can’t seem to shake the thought it will never end … he won’t arrive unannounced to rebuild the ruins of despair and destruction; hopelessness will certainly prevail. He doesn’t have the blueprint for success tucked away in his back-pocket. Superman’s not coming.

When a boy, and I pray sincerely there will be few, or maybe even none to whisk you astray for even a moment… But when or if a boy breaks your heart, when a guy aimlessly and immaturely convinces you that he could be like superman, fight your battles and save the day – even though he is incapable of having the wisdom to understand that he cannot afford your worth, let alone be grand beyond belief – the embrace of solid steel will not surround you. The so-called superhero can’t send the guy off flying into the depths of the universe, nor repair the tattered stitches you so sweetly and innocently tried to sew to mend the heartache because you simply believed that boy would be different. He can’t even buy you ice-cream or hold your hand and cry with you, as if his magic would somehow subside the pain. Superman’s not coming.

And darling, I’m not lying when I say that I am honestly crying right now in this moment, writing this to you. Because I’m hurt too. Right now, there is an awful pain in my chest, a heavy weight of utter sadness, laced with the chemicals of opportunities missed and messed up. Things I hoped I’d have that may never be anymore. Things I poured my heart into – how fickle and naive of a heart I have – that are not to be mine. There is a set of books I wish could go up in flames that hold a key to my misfortunes – as though the warmth of those flames might produce a light to sustain my soul. But alas, Superman’s not coming.

But don’t lose hope.

For I know the one who is.

Don’t lose hope when you’re swimming in a sea of joylessness or washed away by the trials of unprecedented circumstances. When you feel like you might drown, continue to tread the unknown waters. Whatever you do, don’t lose hope. For He is coming.

Don’t give in when sin comes knocking on the door of your mind and you feel the strength seeping out of you through every inch of your fragile skin and you don’t think you can fight the good fight anymore. Whatever you do, don’t give in. For He is coming.

Don’t let go when you look down at your hands and see the dirty uprooted mess you thought was your heart, and wonder how anyone could ever desire to repair it, care for it, nurture it and replant it so that it might thrive again. Whatever you do, don’t let go. For He is coming.

“… To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood and made us a kingdom, priests to his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. Behold, he is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see him, even those who pierced him, and all tribes of the earth will wail on account of him. Even so. Amen.

“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, “who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.”” [revelation 1:5-8]

My sweet girl, Superman isn’t coming.

But Jesus Christ has been and will come again. It is in Him we can hope, all the days of our lives. He will never leave us or forsake us. He will never desert us in our weakness. But in and through our weaknesses, He will make us strong. He bears the weight of our piercing transgressions and comforts our weary souls. He paid the price for our sins with the bright red and blameless blood that pumped through His veins on earth. It is by grace that we are saved, through faith and repentance, and called sons and daughters of our Heavenly Father.

I am glad that Superman isn’t coming for you or for me. For I do not wish to be saved only in this life. Temporarily. Lacking everlasting purpose.

But the Lord our God will hold us fast for eternity, and we must cling to Christ till He returns. He is our joy, our strength, our peace, our song. And I will fight hand-in-hand with you to bring Him glory, feeble efforts and all.

In Christ alone,

Your future mother who hopes to wait on the Lord every day and in every way.

Courtney Alicia