Whisper Scared

I lay there under the blankets, our bodies close in the dark. I whisper my fear as our foreheads touch and my eyes search for an anchor.

I’m watching trees that are tall and deep and shallow and young trying to hold on in the storms, but the raging winds tear at them and break them. The onslaught sometimes too much for even the deepest roots.

And I wonder is our tree strong enough?

This living entity that hope and faith and tending should lead to a strong oak that spans generations with rings too great to count.

I am afraid.

tree roots

I have been picking up branches from other trees, gathering them close hoping that the wounds will heal for their trees and silently praying that mine will stand strong. I look around at roots in an exposed, tangled mess of all the truth that lies beneath the surface.

I have stepped over too many trunks left prostrate on the ground, and I have stopped to sit on stumps left as a reminder of what was and what could have been. Stumps like a graveyard carved with anniversary and death.

tree graveyard

Our tree is no stronger than those around me. I am not immune to the storms that rage. I pray that I tend enough, that I water fully and that our tree moves toward the light — always. I pray that our roots go deep into the heart of the earth and cling with all their might. I pray I do enough because the wreckage around astounds me into scared whispers deep in the night praying, hoping we are clinging and tending and moving toward the Son.

tree in hands


I have someone for you to meet.


Who’s Becky? Well, if I’m being truly real here I have two answers:

1. It’s me. Yes, I use Rebecca for my writing. Why? Well, because I like it better for that. But if I’m being really, real here (not just lowfat ice cream kind of real)…I’m Becky. It’s who I’ve always been and I’m pretty sure it’s not going to change. I’m good with that.

2. I have no idea who I am anymore.

So, there’s the long and short of it. Oh, sure I know things about me, but I’ve lost the heart of who I am as just me without relying on the crutch of who I am in relation to other people. I’m starting to wonder if I stripped all of the people and tasks away, what’s left?

It’s a scary place to be.

I feel lost and lonely and naked in this place. But I know…..

I will forever regret living my life to complete tasks and fill titles. I need to live my life fully, and I’m pretty sure to do that I need to get to know me.

And I need to be able to say, when all of the introductions are done and we start to scratch below the surface,

“Nice to meet you.”