inhimthereisnoshadowofturning

Joel 2:13-14

Yet even now, says the Lord,
return to me with all your heart,
with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning;
rend your hearts and not your clothing.
Return to the Lord, your God,
for he is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love,
and relents from punishing.
Who knows whether he will not turn and relent,
and leave a blessing behind him,
a grain offering and a drink offering
for the Lord, your God?

inhimthereisnoshadowofturning
Betraying someone who has been so good to us–who has loved us–is the most inexplicable sin, and yet it is one of the most common. How horrible it is. How low. And the way we turn against God in the other sins that we commit–God, who has given us so many gifts, so many blessings, starting with our very existence–surely is monstrous and surely makes us deserve to be in that frozen lake and worse. We all betray Christ, and for far less than 30 pieces of silver.

And yet, Jesus died for the disciples who denied and abandoned Him–then and now. Judas despaired and embraced death. But Peter was restored. And so are we. “This is my body given for you.” “This is my blood poured out for the remission of sins.”
exchang-ingfoam

he says,
“this is a suicide poem,”
makes a joke about it,
doesn’t hear the echo
of my rope harnesses
and leftover blood stains
that don’t wash out
of my family’s brainstems

he says, “don’t try this at home,
kids,” says robert frost is chronically
depressed, laughs because the bird that
lives inside him is still singing

but me, my canary is long dead
because each hollow cave between my ribs
has long been filled with poison

love, do not joke about depression:
we are all pretending we are
diamond mines where there is only
coal, we are pretending not to hear
our emptiness howl -
love, if you are a teacher,
be tender, be sweet

you never know how close to death
are the creatures in these seats.

"I dont feel like the amazing, compassionate person people say I am." /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)
yeahwriters
guardian:

Gabriel García Márquez, Nobel laureate writer, dies aged 87
The Colombian Nobel laureate Gabriel García Márquez, who unleashed the worldwide boom in Spanish literature with his novel 100 Years of Solitude, has died at the age of 87, a person close to the family has said. García Márquez had been admitted to hospital in Mexico City on 3 April with pneumonia. Full story
Pictured: Gabriel García Márquez at his house in Mexico City, 2010. Photograph: Miguel Tovar/AP

guardian:

Gabriel García Márquez, Nobel laureate writer, dies aged 87

The Colombian Nobel laureate Gabriel García Márquez, who unleashed the worldwide boom in Spanish literature with his novel 100 Years of Solitude, has died at the age of 87, a person close to the family has said. García Márquez had been admitted to hospital in Mexico City on 3 April with pneumonia. Full story

Pictured: Gabriel García Márquez at his house in Mexico City, 2010. Photograph: Miguel Tovar/AP

Re-admiring my tattoo. I do like it quite a lot.
So I’m posting another pic. Because my collarbone is super swollen in the other one I have up here. And also. Because it’s been just over a year since I got it done, and I still love it. Favorite line of my favorite hymn, and still an accurate statement of where I am and where I’m going and who I’ll always be.

Re-admiring my tattoo. I do like it quite a lot.

So I’m posting another pic. Because my collarbone is super swollen in the other one I have up here. And also. Because it’s been just over a year since I got it done, and I still love it. Favorite line of my favorite hymn, and still an accurate statement of where I am and where I’m going and who I’ll always be.