suitcase, closed.

I stare at my green suitcase that sits in the middle of my room, touching the bed and in the right position for the light that comes through my window to sit on directly. The images my eyes take in are mere articles of clothing while the images produced in my head are clothes I would wear walking to class or grabbing dinner in a little town far from this place. I stare at my green suitcase that holds depression and disabling sadness zipped up inside itself. I am careful to keep it shut.  I am careful to fill the empty parts of myself with your word. Fearful of manifesting anything short of your grace and not capable of lasting another attack. Wavering between the known and the unknown. My clearest answer being taking that suitcase with me to Lynchburg where there, and only there, could I open the suitcase and witness crippling depression crawl out and die before it could live in this heart again.

Instead I only hear you once in a while. I used to see you in everything, the birds, the trees, the people. Now I only see you when I read my Bible. Why is it that you are always constant while I am not. Wasn’t I made in your image? The likeness of you, breathed into me. That can’t be right when I’m here playing by your rules. What freedom do I have being your slave if happiness comes and goes? Joy is the only thing I have that is constant ,like you, but I’m only human, how long until even my dreams of you leave me, until the music I hear no longer sings your name? If I ask you to show me your Glory, am I testing you even though I’m asking out of fear of losing you? This is why I keep my suitcase closed and fight the fear with your word.

It gets bad some days, so aggressive and continuous that my Bible doesn’t leave my right hand. It no longer sleeps in my bag but fights the war in the midst of sunlight. I’m so desperate for peace in my thoughts. But wave after wave of nothingness crashes on me. I get moments of still water though, they are so indescribably sweet. You know I used to get glimpses of heaven and now the furthest thing I can imagine is the promise of change in my life in four years. I’m only supposed to think of heaven in my downfall but I can’t even sleep long enough to have a rested mind. I guess this is the part where Jesus rescues me, he is my king after all. But until then I’ll keep looking for Him on my own time, in my own heart, because God ONLY KNOWS THE CORRECTION NEEDED. Part with my soul the wicked desires that house there, Jesus please, come stand in my door way so that my mind has no other option but to look at your Glory. Please, I’m fucking desperate.






Come to the Gallows

“Even if they put me in the fire, even if they hang me by my neck”

“Still I won’t let my voice go quiet and I will sing of your praise.”

And though I love not my life unto death because only then will I reunite completely with the Father, I think it’s urgent that I rephrase the above words of praise. I mean not to twist the words, devalue, or implement further importance but only to make it more relatable. I do believe the above can in fact happen literally and I hope if it did occur I would live out the trailing praises. But should you read the above statements metaphorically, let them be defined clearly.

These summer days of triumphing joy and parading warmth have left me on the floor many nights where I find myself without a song to sing of my real anguish. I think at times that the words of God that have been left to guide me have left out proof of actually knowing how I feel. Of course, I read further on and am shamefully embarrassed when God reminds me I am not alone. Yes, God really has anticipated every last thought that would ever need addressing even many cultures later as I sit here and listen to a professional string quartet & cello ensemble from Spotify, even in my modernism can God relate to my feelings.

So, my feelings, what are they? Loneliness, heartache, seclusion, detached from old joys, aloof to my old ways. My struggle is not actually being wicked but not having anyone to be righteous with. This is where the heartache joins the fiasco and I begin to miss my dear Liberty friends and then I remember that I have church on Sunday and can be comfortable in the pants I am wearing, just praising Jesus on the floor- all day. But the other six days of the week that aren’t Sunday, I am left to praise Jesus (on the floor) alone.  That’s my pit of fire. Feeling alone in the presence of God, more vulnerable to the lies of the enemy, more prone to falling, more likely to lean on my own understanding.

Daily, I see the comfortable lives of my friends, I do not miss the emptiness of the world but I do miss the liveliness of their smiles. I can think of a handful of people who I would never wish to hangout with because I know the desires of their heart would not align with mine but I do miss them, the person, their soul. I miss laughing with them, driving in the night blasting music, eating, singing loud. Anything that cultivates love, anything that unites a person with another person, gone. All the things that allow Christians to have common ground with unbelievers stripped away, the bridges of content burned down to the soil and given over to the enemy. I stand on the other side of the river watching their enchanted bodies use what God made for degrading purposes. A drunken person laughs of vile things but who created laughter in the first place?

Come to the gallows and watch me be hung every single morning when I start my day because to hang there is to not allow my flesh to fall into temptation and my Jesus craving soul is allowed to walk freely with Him. I am still alone on this earth though because no one can see me walking with His spirit (no unbelievers that is). They just see me walking alone.

Moving Back to LA

I feel stuck and in a corner, left to nothing but Netflix and a tall glass of water. I actually came to this point, feeling alone- more like deserted. At the end of each week I still have that open circle of praising Jesus with powerful people but inside they don’t know that my weeks are filled with uncertainty and pain from my family. Each day I see them dance around my shattered dreams, stomping with elegance as if nothing tragic could happen from their parading. As if my dreams are only pictures hung up on the walls of our house. Still framed moments of hope, those are my dreams, still framed. I can’t go anywhere if my dreams are meant to stay in the house, meanwhile I’ll get yelled at if I don’t leave the house. Do something with your life Kayla. Go somewhere. Get somewhere. All things the family says and then they go burning the bridges that would get me to my promise land. Such big dreams I have for such a big God I serve. But maybe He wants me to be happy just being in the chair that I’m sleeping in tonight knowing that He’s the dream. He’s reality. He’s everything. 

Engaging in Love

Last night before my littles eyes dozed off, I prayed to understand the love of Jesus further, to feel His love in a different light. And I woke up feeling the most significant in God that I have ever felt, I am not even in a position where I want a husband out of indifference for sharing my love with someone else. This love is so raw and so adventurous, I don’t think anyone at this point could match it! I truly understand the concept of a nun, I don’t even want to let anyone attempt to pursue me because I would feel guilty of them wasting their time. God you are so beautiful. Your protection and your sacrifice and your plan is filled with meat. My appetite is for your love only, your secure love that will never do me wrong. When I look at you I see how you came down in the form of a man and married the church and lived a life doing no wrong and that’s what I get being in this relationship with you. I marry my love off to you Jesus!


This past year, this past season of amazing grace…it will never be the same. I will never have my Lala, and my Tasi, and my Baree, and my Kharen, and my Marie all around me. I will never have my unwed sister or live with Lala for a time that isn’t a visit. I will never get to be in a space where we are all their for ourselves and not for the sole purpose of being together. That’s the best way, when we arn’t there just to be in each other’s presence. I want it to stay that way forever, I was supposed to have three more years with them but that’s gone now. Jesus lead me to greener pastures, please take me away from the broken heart I have from the blessings you gave me. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.

Metaphysical Realism

I feel utterly blessed to know God intimately (in a few years I will scoff at how much more intimacy I am unaware of) regardless, I’m honored. I have experienced a transformed life, constantly being replenished by Jesus. This is not always the case, but God’s goodness never fails me. I have crossed paths with new perspective on modernism in the Western World- specifically in America. The past five years of my life I have felt lonely about the wild spirituality I encounter. I felt ashamed to be a witness for the uncontrolled fire of the Holy Spirit because of society and many times because of my own sisters and brothers in Christ. I have just read a book on the culture that existed during the Medieval Ages and feel misplaced. Those people were not insecure about proclaiming a world where God was ever present. There were no boundaries between the spiritual world and their world. This is my reality, yet, so many people are at a disbelief when I share how everything points back to God or I protest about the unseen creatures of the other realm that I witness interacting with us. This was NOT religiously ridiculed but rather, was the reality of their culture. I finally feel at peace about why I have seen the things I’ve seen, it was for today, for that piece of literature I read that explained I am nothing newly spectacular but rather anciently revisited. With this light I will bring the kingdom harder because spiritual fullness in a culture existed before (not to disregard the powerful people I have met in my life because they walk with Jesus!). I want to be right here and right now with you God. You take my mind farther than I can imagine. You captivate me with new wonders and old treasures.

A Proclamation

How far do my dreams go in this life? How many of them will actually come true? Or perhaps my life is so good that my dreams will always be competing with true events? I dream, I do, of walking into those shiny gates and feeling good about myself. A heaven on earth kind of deal except the platform is information, education, and all things academic. To walk around with inner-beauty and talent beyond comprehension is one thing, those are not tangible for most people. But intellectual things, there are handfuls of people who speak this language of academia and are just out here to be plucked. Succulently plucked for my personal entertainment. I wonder many times through out a typical day what it must feel like to manifest all this knowledge. But there are of course two types, earthly and Godly, and both are desirable. Unfortunately there seems to be a stigma that both cannot coexist, but I’ll fight till I perish to hold both in this mind. Both magnificently precocious thought & acquired gentility by faith will house this head of mine. I promise that.