This is not a post about how I secretly write songs all the time.  Or about how I’m not a confident singer and don’t have the musical ability to really do anything with them.  Both are true.

Also, the song at the end isn’t really about plumbing.  Sorry, that part’s only half true.

When my husband was my boyfriend, he wanted me to sing for him.  It was not an outrageous request, but I refused for a long, long time to even sing along to the radio with him in the car.  I was very guarded with my voice, and for a long time I didn’t know why.  I’m not sure I’ve landed on the full answer, but I know part of the reason is because it would hurt so terribly much to be told “you’re not that good.”  So singing and songwriting became something I did only for myself.  Because my self was safe and I really liked that.

Loving someone is never a safe thing to do.  Because I love my husband so much, he is the one human with the potential to hurt me more than anyone else.  Yet, real love, and I don’t just mean romantic love, but real, honest-to-goodness selfless, serving, grace and mercy filled love, brings out the best in people.

Ben Ashworth, your love has certainly brought out the best in me.  Every time I hum in the kitchen, sing to our daughter, or leave my song lyrics laying out openly in the house, you have the proof.  True love casts out fear, and I have never been so fearless about being myself than when I’m with you.

This is not a full song, or poem, or really anything that great to be honest.  It’s just my scribblings from the past few days that I’m sharing because I’m not afraid to.  And I would like to.  And it’s Valentine’s Day for crying out loud.  ;)

————–

trash bag liners

that never seem to fit,

we’ve called up the plumber

and the leak won’t quit.

little mundane things, drive me insane things.

Would i trade you in for another one?

no.

Would i cry every day if God forbid you would go?

yes.

i know

it can sound cliche.

These are the good old days.

wherever you are, wherever i am

you’ve got my heart and i’ll hold your hand.

thank you

thank you

thank God for you.

we dream of changing some

and throwing some away,

but these are the good old days.

we’re living in the good old days.

smile at my wrinkles

laugh at bad jokes.

tell me ‘bout Cali

growing up with your folks.

two plumbers and our sink still drips

two wedding bands mean we’re not calling it quits

mugs on the counter

toys on the floor,

God knows I love clean

but I love you more.

Let’s talk

Let’s walk around our house

and say

thank you

thank you

house, we thank God for you.

spouse, I thank God for you.

tear drops on pillows,

prayers while we’re breaking.

confession and frowning,

deeper love in the making.

Water still dripping from the damned kitchen sink

But Water can wash us more than we think.

so we dance on the egg shells

while walking on stilts.

accusing is killing,

laughter rebuilds.

Our years tell our stories,

the stories amaze,

And these are the good old days.

Thank God for you

in these good, good days.

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It doesn't always make sense-the way we live. We decide that's ok. People don't have to get it. Welcome to Foolish for Light, a place for exploring the counter-intuitive life of a light-chaser.

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