I wore my heart on my sleeve, exposed and fully bare. No one to protect the flooded arteries from the scars that travelled fast and hard and way too near. As I speak in lyrics and sing the song that’s on my heart the child asks if I have a song for everything and I pause. I look into her beautiful deep blue eyes that carry a pain of their own, and I say “unsung lyrics are simply a journey yet to be experienced.” And the response was “that’s deep.”
You have no idea how deep though young one, while you are worrying about snap stories and who will be on the bus next year I am thinking long and hard about whether or not I am mothering you the way you need. I keep bleeding love for my children because God shed blood for those of us that are His.
And you think love is to pray
But I’m sorry, I don’t pray that way
I don’t need Queen to sing “We are the Champions” in order to know that our Earthly battle has already been won. I don’t need John Newton’s lyrics to Amazing Grace to know that His grace is more than sufficiently amazing, or Hillsong to tell me that “Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You’ve never failed and You won’t start now.”
And yet the words of Manson singing about drugs and feeling like a nobody and wanting to be a somebody gives me a reason and a need for the music that also represents the good and I have physically experienced a plethora of evil/bad, it is somehow reassuring to hear the lyrics that express that pain and expose my unknown broken in order that I can mend the shattered pieces with a giant tube of super glue and listen to the songs that bandage my heart to stop the sting and leave me resting in the only One who completely understands and has promised to heal.
I drop to my knees and I beg as I kneel “Heaven save me, I am down to one last breath” and as Creed plays in my prayer I already know that my finale belongs to the one who gave me a beginning -God.