Fresh is the morning birds song, and I might just sing along. Chirping, and swaying to the beat of my feet
Fresh is the suns yawn spreading its rays, getting ready to say, “hey it’s going to be a beautiful sunshiny day” It is a new day, a new dawn. Oh yes I can’t wait to get outside to play
Fresh is the coffee brewing in my pot, don’t stop. I believe in you, every sip I do I do. Creamy, sweet, and you give that little bit of pep in my step. You bet, I am ready for my first sip. I do not have a doughnut to dip, but oh that first sip
Fresh is the Lord’s word ready to absorb. This is not just knowledge for my head, it is a matter of the heart. Etched art, that molds my day. He is the potter, and I the clay. Every moment given to Him, for He always has my best. In this I rest
Fresh is my warm morning shower spilling over my skin. Waking me up, as well that coffee in my cup. It’s a brand new day, I am now to get ready
Fresh is the day, yesterday gone. Tomorrow not yet here. Living in the moment, closer to where I started chasing after you. One day at a time. One breath, and better yet just for today! I begin with YOU!
Been going through a lot, my heart still bares threads. Torn some pieces, edges nudged. Just slightly smudged. Didn’t realize the emotional toll my double mastectomy would take on me
This is my plea, my voice rings out to thee God above. Over mountain peaks, and roof tops I shout this for my heart needs your ear. I need willingness to accept, been very down on myself
I am not poor
I am not shabby
Jesus is my caddy
I am not inferior, or low quality
Jesus is superior
I can’t change the status of my life
I have to grieve
I am not less of a woman
I need to be willing to give myself some grace
I am not subpar
I am not second rate
Jesus is written on my hearts slate
I have to get to a place of acceptance of my new body parts. Art in the making is what it seems. Still trying to wrap my mind around these new things. I guess they call them breasts at best. Jesus hear my plea
So when I look in the mirror things are most definitely different, but I am alive. They are doing there best to make me look great. I try with gratitude to not shake my head with disgrace at the odd shape. Wave my old breasts goodbye. Jesus hear my plea
I will rise above yet another test that God has given me, my prayer is that I swim. Not sink. Pain inflicts, but will not be my fall. I call to thee instead with my plea. Disfigured reflections, I fear rejection. No sensation in either one, numb. Bumping into things, and no feeling. Jesus hear my plea
Hey I know I am not too shabby, just another journey to walk. Not just talk. Probably sounds like I have not made up my mind, on how I feel about myself. Trying to convince myself, yes a little. My emotions are a little of track from this new rack I wear. Jesus hear my plea
A new road now unfolds, imperfect yep. God makes up the difference, substandard not with Jesus as my right hand man. For with Him I will stand facing the mirror with acceptance of what stares back at me. Jesus hear my plea
Time to swim, catch my breath. Tread the water I used to sink. Give myself a break, shake this feeling of indifference away from me. Look at my body with a new perception of acceptance. They may be little strange to look at, and sometimes I gasp. Jesus hear my plea
Watch me take flight, as Eagles soar for Jesus I adore through all the tribulations. This will not get under my skin. Sink or Swim. Jesus hear my plea
I choose swim until the very end…He hears my plea
but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. Isaiah 40:31
Me being a little goofy, trying to catch my breath in the realization of my breasts with absolutely no feeling of sensation, and pain and nerves that strike like lightening. These are things I am trying to accept yet!
Weirds Are Word 