A poem about, well, people

Once a person helped me, and I tried to help them too

Once a person hurt me, and I knew not what to do

Once a person loved me, and I tried to love them too 

Once a person left me, and cry all I could do 

People have a heartbeat

People can breathe deep 

People inhale softly 

People don’t think when they speak 

Person sitting in the corner

Person in the crowd

Person leaning on my shoulder

Person in the shroud

Laughing woman at the party

Crying children in the dark 

Smiling man on a rollercoaster 

Hurting human in her sleep

Every person made by Jesus 

All made to be loved 

Even those who tore our souls

And those who slit our throats  

Happy people

Yelling people 

Bleeding people 

Caring people 

Let us learn to love the people 

And maybe love us too 

For God so died to save the people 

Counting me and you 

Living / Dying

Inspired by the words of Jesus in Mark 8:31-38

Therein the act of living,

A choice we face each day

Will we choose to die to self 

Or self do we obey? 

The answer seems foreboding 

I know what I must choose.

Our Master points the way so clear

We’ve everything to lose. 

Inside our hearts beat vying 

To own our weary souls

Guiding to the darkest lusts

And making spirits dull.

Self worship’s lips stand lying

With words of sin and pride.  

Infected claims of tainted hope 

Now slaughter us inside. 

There’s wholeness in our dying 

When self is thrown away  

When everything we thought we lost

Is gained another way.

The paradox of suff’ring

Where trials have their place

To shape our aching heartbeats

And to point us to His grace. 

Let dying be our living; 

Let Him open up our eyes 

To a world with hope unending

Where His kingdom is our prize. 


Emergency: Part Three

They told me

I needed to be organized

     So I tried to be organized – except!

Nothing changed. 

            I was helped 

And I think I learned how 

     To adapt 

         So I made myself a motto 

   “It’s ok, I’ll figure it out” 

      So, I went to the med room 

To let just three tears slip 

           As I tried to focus – but 

My patient yelled

               And one paced  

     In the hallway, screaming out


        And my preceptor asked me 

   “Will you be able to be organized?” 


My lungs worked rhythmically 

     Enough to take a breath – and then! 

My heart broke 

             As I realized 

   My sweet patient’s daughter 

         Had died 

            So, I tried to refocus and pray

       “Lord, at least help me to love” 

              It’s hard to love 

 While trying to be organized 

       For one moment I was fine – until! 

  A patient couldn’t cope 

              One couldn’t walk 

    And while I went to get a blood draw 

           One seized 

        And still, in the meantime, another asked 

    “Why can’t you help me?”

            Then, because I 

 Admitted to my preceptor 

           I needed help focusing – suddenly! 

I was being watched 

               And being timed

Carefully, I counted the minutes 

      Ten minutes 

   To place an IV and assess, so I said  

 “This will be possible” 

            Then somehow 

It was end of the shift 

        And in a span of – 12 hours!

God had taught me 


Being reminded of His strength 

      Is beautiful  

   And in my weakness 

“[His] grace is sufficient” 

            I truly love 

The emergency room 

           Because in its halls – full of despair!

     God always shows up 

         And crucified 

Become my abilities 

     As I learn to concentrate 

    On the reality of what He told me 

  “Just trust Me in the tension” 


And Emergency: Part Two

We walk quickly

Down the hallways 

In the absence of


Is it possible, still 

To hear you?

We walk into

curtained rooms

In the presence of…


So hard, it seems,

To see you

We kneel on the

Blood-stained floors 

As you call out – 


Your pain, we try

To feel you

We sit at our

Small, wheeled desks 

And still we smell the

Dying – 

Of dreams, so quick 

To flee you

Yet as I walk

These hallways 

In the absence of 

Silence – 

Your heartbeat, still

I hear you

And Christ will walk

Besides me

And we will taste His


My patient, friend 

He’s with you 

Photo credit: https://www.statnews.com/2020/01/24/patients-restrained-in-the-er/


2 Corinthians 5:17-19
And for the amazing woman who called me several months ago to share this verse, I believe you know who you are. Thank you ❤

We are vessels 

Of broken glass 

Conduits of grace

How He uses,

Solely chooses 

Moments – not a waste 

Fragile vessels

Prone to breaking 

Shattering at will 

Stronger Healer 

Still He chooses 

Vessels to be filled 

Grace and mercy 

Love and justice 

Speaking to the poor 

He’s still moving 

Love providing

Still an open door

God please use 

Our blood-stained vessels 

Prone to breaking glass

And draw us closer

Backs towards sinning 

Love to shine outlast 

Photo credit: Franklin Institute. As shown on https://www.firstpost.com/tech/news-analysis/new-smartphone-app-can-help-detect-anaemia-without-the-need-of-a-blood-test-5685521.html

“My City”

Inspired by Brandon Heath’s song, “Give Me Your Eyes,” Andrew Peterson’s “Everybody’s Got a Song,” and the recent mass shooting in my hometown.

I never loved you enough,

My city. 

I spent too long, 


I was somewhere else. 

Until I got to know you. 

My people. 

I started to learn, 


In my home.

You were always here 

My childhood.

You raised me,


As a friend.

And then I left you. 

My goodbye. 

My college travels, 


I thought away. 

And then I realized 

My mistake,

My loving city


Me back home. 

I woke up, city

My horror. 

What happened to you?


Blood on your streets. 

I’ll cry too. 

My city. 

I spent too long, 


I was somewhere else.

Forgive me, 

My people. 

Who raised me, 


Is what I must do. 

Emergency (I Will Awake)

Thoughts before a shift in the emergency room / Emergency: P

It’s a funny thing going to sleep to wake up for a shift at 4am. Maybe it’s because my responsibility hasn’t quite sunken in yet. Maybe it’s because I don’t remember that when I will awake, I will walk into an emergency. It’s a funny thing going to sleep to wake up for a shift at 4am. Maybe it’s because my responsibility hasn’t quite sunken in yet. Maybe it’s because I don’t remember that when I will awake, I will walk into an emergency.

Maybe it’s because emergency is a relative term; while one’s is a subdural hematoma, another’s is a stuffy nose. While one confesses to me that tonight they planned to die, another holds on to life so close that the very sliver away from normal drives them to seek out a place that will protect them. I suppose everything has the potential to become normal in a world of 8 billion plus different people. But still, I will awake to an emergency.

I don’t know who I will see when I walk into the emergency room doors at 4am. I could see you – I hope I don’t see you. I might see your mother, or your friend. But whomever I will see, I will keep my secrets. For the world can never know of the secrets confessed behind closed curtains and the shame that may be exposed. Yes, tomorrow I will enter your emergency.

I pray that you will see beyond me, because I am selfish. I think that is my emergency.

“Help My Unbelief”

A poem about life from the words of a father penned in Mark 9:24

Dear Lord,

Do you remember when 

You showed me how to trust You

In the midst of a nightmare? 

Do you remember how 

You taught me to find

joy in the spinning…

Hell. Objectively good and yet somehow

A trauma inside my mind



Enough of that!

Dear Lord,

Help my unbelief. You showed me how

To live beyond circumstances

And to find joy in pain. 

And now, 


Somehow, here I am. 

And there is no joy to find. 

Because joy is all around!

Joy is everywhere now. 

No conjuring and no striving just


Dear Lord,

Why is it good? I learned over the years

 – not from You – 

To believe I don’t deserve 

Happiness –

Or at least the kind 

that comes from external gifts

And yet, here they are.


Everywhere! How can I… 

Lord! Forgive me. 

I believe, but

Help my unbelief.

Dear Lord,

But why?

You did say that everything 

Works together for those

Who love You  

But I don’t deserve this good. 

No, not the conversations

At the café.

Not the church, not the friendships, 

Not the youth group, not the preceptor, 

Not the job, not the absence of…


Lord! Who am I to tell You what I need?

Lord, I believe but

Help my unbelief.

Dear Lord,

Help my unbelief!

You are good and I see that now,

I confess what I did not allow

Myself to believe was real – 

Love, joy, peace, patience, 

Kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 

Gentleness, self-control… 

They are 


Yes, You in your beautiful

And divine providence

Used my fear but the fear itself

Not you! 

Oh Lord, I believe 

But please, help my unbelief!

Dear Lord,

You. Are. Lord.

Sovereign beauty

In the good and the bad

Perfect Savior

In the clouds and in the clear

My precious Savior, forgive me. 

And please, 

Help my unbelief.

Reflections: On “Time” and Sustenance

I don’t know where to start. Although a writer, there are times when the flowing of my heart and the translation of my brain don’t quite communicate with my hands, and perhaps this is one of those times. Maybe it’s just the God-inspired task at hand. Or maybe it’s that it’s almost midnight. I digress!

Today I want to reflect on the song I posted on Sunday – “Time,” by John Lucas.

Although if I had the time I would love to duly focus on its entirety [cue: go listen to the song now if you haven’t!], I love the lyrics Lucas uses to pull us in to a different focus midway through the song:

“There is a time for everything / Until we crown the risen King.”

How true is this? Having, like the author of Ecclesiastes, assessed the nature of living and the essence of humanity, here Lucas draws the most crucial conclusion of the entire song. And I believe these simple lyrics are profound – not solely because of their poetic meter, artistic imagery, or of any stylistic feature -but simply because they point to what I believe is a truth often forgotten in the world.

Credit: https://everlastingjesus.tumblr.com

“Crown Him when you bury / And crown Him when you marry / And crown Him when your faith finds a spark.”

When life is about crowning the Risen King, circumstances don’t matter. Emotions can fluctuate, seasons can change, and even worldly death can pervade, but He doesn’t change (Malachi 3:6). Yet how easy is it to forget that He is our purpose in life.

“Crown Him for He’s faithful / And crown Him for He’s worthy / And crown Him for He is good.”

This is His nature! The Bible describes our King as life and light (John 1:4-5). He is faithful, even when we struggle to have faith (2 Timothy 2:13). Nothing can separate us from His love (Romans 8:31-39)! He tore the veil (Hebrews 10:20). He made us pure (Hebrews 10:21-23). He made us His (John 1:12).

“Crown Him for His promises / Cut through the blindness / Of children that have barely understood.”

Despite all of our individual and humanity’s collective brokenness, and despite our finite minds, God spoke of His Son through the mouths of and words penned by human authors.

And the entire Bible points to Him (Luke 24:44).

So, I chose this Sunday song because of its poetic truth. And I will close with the closing lines of our song. They remind me of all that He is; that He is our sustenance, and He is our King, and He is our Joy. And they can remind us that, in every situation, God is constantly painting beauty in pointing us back to His Son.

“And that death produces life / And that we are made alive / By the King who paints beauty with time. / By the King who paints beauty with time. / By the King who paints beauty with time.

And I don’t know the end, or tomorrow’s story / But I have found the one who gives me rest. / And I will make my bed in His promises / For He holds true when nothing’s left…

When nothing’s left.”

Lucas, J. (2015). Time. On Promised land [Spotify] Boone, NC: Everett Hardin.

Reflections from My Window Seat

On My Time at New City Cafe

In this café, here I sit 

Strangers once were we

People wave and people stay

And people talk to me

I say “my name is Kayla 

It’s just my first time here 

I want to know your story” – 

They tell me with no fear!

In my dreams this place exist’d

A place where people grow 

Where coffee brews and people sit 

And souls do overflow 

Christ is in the background here

And Christ is in the walls 

I can feel Christ’s presence here 

And I can hear his call 

In my life now this exists

Sole purpose not for me 

But for the people all around 

And for to set them free