Jessica Birmingham

Follow Me

Oh this life of following you..
To my head, it is nothing new
of how You said, “come follow Me,
it is through this life
that I want to set you free!”
I have known the “yes’s” and the “no’s”
through the very highs and the very lows
but in order to really follow you
did You really say “deny” and did You really say “go”
I fought and debated
I argued and related
but to die to me?
what is this?
will it really set me free?
Oh how I have said, ” I like this seat, this view from the pew
it is comfy and really is quite a retreat
a break from the hassle of being a mom
the running, the racing, the hustles and the yawns
I like the comfort from this point of view
I have even served more than my due”
But You said “Take my hand
pick up this cross, it is time to stand,
no more “I’s”, “me’s”, “myself” and “my’s”
No more wasting life on these lies
No more time in this barren land
It’s time my child that you understand
It is not only for you that you share
I need You to tell them of how much I do care
you have been entrusted with my story
my death, my redemption, and grace
In this you have been privileged to represent My face
So remember My love and My cross I did bare
I suffered and died just to see you there
So you would be healed, redeemed and set free
So don’t keep quiet, or afraid…don’t you see….
So please tell them how very much they mean to me
Oh My Savior, what can I say?
What else is there to do,
How can I not speak love and truth
May all my days however few
be solely pointing others to you

Galatians 2:20-21 I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives
in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and
gave himself for me. I do not set aside the grace of God, for if righteousness could be
gained through the law, Christ died for nothing!

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Bellows

I drove along, I rode

down a road with highest hopes,

and I saw along this highway

the broken chains and shedded clothes.

I thought about my name,

and named a purpose that it held,

and looked up to the sky

upon the starlit wishing well.

“If my name holds more than title,

if it serves to direct my way,

then I hope that there’s a gift

just for my purpose and my aid.

But oh, would that it be inhuman!

Perhaps I could have super abilites!

Surely that would make me better!

Then, I could be this best me.”

Later…

I tiptoed through the entrance,

and sought out a familiar face,

and found in those unfamiliar

a familiarity-traced.

“I wonder what gifts you have!”

: the words that left a foreign mouth.

I walked away, thought of my toughts

and wondered, pondered. How?

And again familiarity came

as one stood before the room,

but this time I was much more sure

that I had either met glory or doom:

“This here is a gift, a tool,

and oh the most valid truth,

and while it literally came from man,

in it of more there’s proof.

For no man would live and die,

and kill and save and form,

a book by a few mere men

unless within it a God was born.”

Sentient Sentiment

Dear you,

Dear yours,

 

No sound will peal until you speak the truth.

No sight will appear until you look for light.

No touch will meet until you hold your own.

No taste will feed until your soul is sated.

No smell will scent until your spirit breathes free.

 

No longer.

Not anymore.

Until then,

You and yours,

Good Sense.

 

 

In Mute

When I tell you why I left

you can believe my words are true.

 

I’ll tell you what I saw

in painted, colored hues.

When I tell you why I went

please understand I had to grow.

I’ll say who called my name

and drew me from my woe.

 

I beg you understand

the callings of my heart.

I beg you understand

why we sometimes must do part.

I long to remind you

of all that is and has been.

And I beg you reconsider:

in each moment, anew can begin.

 

Jessica Birmingham

Let Me

When my fears of life surround me
You say, “Let Me”
When my cares so easily confound me
You say, “Let Me”
When my ways seem so much better
You say, “Let Me”
When I have so many storms to weather
You say, “Let Me”

My daughter I have a plan
Trust me and just take my hand,
I know you can not see
But I am crying out
“Let Me”
I have a plan that is greater
One that will set you free
if you would only trust
I am right here, I am all you need
So please,
“Let Me”

You See, I will not make you,
No, I will not force My way
If you My beloved, truly knew
I love you and I do hear you pray
I will sustain you, I will make you new
So Just let go
and
“Let Me”

No Cook

When throwing together my meals, I always like to start with some hopeful thinking, and top it off with a pinch of carelessness. Doesn’t always taste great, but it does the job. I learn what works.

Easy (One Step at a Time)

I feed horses at a barn just down the road from my house. Normally, I jumble the tasks of moving and feeding the horses and feeding and playing with the cats. I’ve taken notice, however, of a few things. One, that if I feed the cats last, the are all around my feet while I’m in the tack room, as well as in the pans, eating the horse feed. Two, that if I let the two older horses, who will be chased away from their food if not separated from the others, out while the barn door is open, they tend to head into the barn, despite having just watched me put their pans in the corral. Three, that when I stack a particular set of pans together without some sort of separation, I then have to spend twenty minutes bending my nails, trying to pry them apart whilst swatting away impatient noses.

So, on a particular day, when I had much nothingness to be doing at home, I decided that I was going to make some… methodical changes. In my head, I had planned the trip out as follows: Pick up the pans on the way into the barn, drop them inside the barn door, close the door, let the old guys into the corral (re-open the barn door), feed the cats, make the horse feed, feed the horses, and skip grooming for the day so I could go home and be lazy.

It did not work out that way.

Despite the door being closed, the old guys went directly there, standing as if it was going to open for them, then walking aimlessly outside the corral while I tried to coerce them in. The cats were a blessing, satisfied at having been fed first. Then, stacking the odd-sized one between the two that stick together, I carried five full pans out of the barn. I set and slid two into the corral before heading over to the  pasture, where the remaining horses [and mini donkey] were waiting. I adjusted the pans on my hip and unlocked the gate. Success. I thought, too soon. With the gate open, their mild impatience shot high, and no sooner than I moved my attention from my hip to the horses did all three pans go crashing to the ground. The gate flew wide. Noses went diving to food and my feet, right there in the opening. I flailed one hand as the other tried to save as much as possible. After a few minutes, I gave up. I delt the horses what was left, closed the gate and returned to look at the mess I had made. My hands grabbed and picked at the feed, trying to remove all of the chunks and little pieces of dirt.

While, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t really much of a disaster, I felt like a failure. I saw in that little handful of dirt and feed every easy way out I had ever tried to make, and every bruise it had ever brought me, especially the ones that had yet to go away. A deep-rooted defeat overwhelmed me as tears came to my eyes. I looked up to keep the them from welling, and found my gaze upon the horses. They were my favorite animal by far, and the entire reason I was at the barn every day, doing such mundane tasks as this. They munched with lazy eyes and ears and a rhythmic tail-swat to the flies. They were happy. Without the handfuls that I had clumsily taken from their portions, that I had thrown into the dirt in an effort to get home quickly, that they would later come and pick piece by piece from the dirt, they were happy. One big tear dropped from my eye, and it, too, was happy.

Make Mint

Do you remember in high school, when that one kid in class would pull out a pack of gum? Oh yeah, that kid. Suddenly everyone in class ‘knew you like that’ and perked up to ask for a piece. It sucked to be that person because, well, you didn’t want to get rid of that whole pack of gum, and you knew that the second you gave one piece away, you’d end up feeling obligated to give another..and another…and another. And even if it was easy for you to say no, you then had to deal with glares from all different angles of the classroom.

Well, I want to let you guys in on a little secret: I loved being that person. Yes, it was kind of nerve-wracking to be poked  or tapped on the shoulder every thirty-seven seconds after the gum’s appearance, but there was something so enticing, so fulfilling, about having something that everyone wanted. Even the people throwing the “stank face” at you were only proof of how valuable that piece of gum was to them. Plus, luck was on your side if you, like I was, didn’t have a large social group – I always envisioned my image for them brightening a little, going from “Yeah, that girl, the one that asks all the questions” to “Oh yeah! That girl – she gave me some gum the other week, she’s chill.” Having gum was as good as fame.

Unfortunately for me, though, I was never much of a chewer. From time to time I had sour punch straws, cheez its, or chocolate chip cookies, but rare was the day I felt like the sage that was the holder of gum. I ponder: what made gum so very special? What made gum the epitomy of desires in the classroom? Was it just that somebody had a sloppy sauer-kraut hot dog, and needed to get rid of the bad taste in their mouth? Or that someone wanted their breath to be extra fresh for the possible make-out session after class? Maybe it was the coke-stained teeth that needed a little brightening (although, honey, you need an appointment at the dentist). Perhaps, too, it could have been that somebody needed a vent for their hyperactive tendencies. Or simply that someone saw a piece and wanted one. Damn near everyone else did.

I thought about this position, today, as I pondered the things I wanted. I thought about money, of course, for the means of doing the things that money could buy: free time namely, but also travelling, having a horse and a place of my own, upgrading my car, etc. Money pretty much covers all of the tangible things. Love is a want, too… I’m a sucker for it, as any of you who may have read my writings before well know. Most of all, though – more than anything …in fact, above and beyond anything…

I want to be that gum holder.

No, not an actual holder of gum. I mean it symbolically. I want to be a holder of answers, of ways, a true sage to people. I want for people to come to me with their bad memories and their future plans. I want people to come with their stained lives and their need to refocus, and I want people to come because they’ve seen other people doing so, beause they’ve seen people leaving, happily smacking away and blowing bubbles.

I want to show people the way that I’ve found; I want to show them my ultimate, self-refilling, pack of gum, and where they can get their very own, just like it. The best part: there’s one for each of us, all you have to do is show up.

 

On the side, though.. I think I’m gonna call myself Gum Gal.

Or maybe Mint Mama.

Ehh..

Gum Gal sounds more like a superhero – I like it.