a prayer in doubt

I woke this morning, and there was rain funneling down the metal hall. Half awake, I remember the medicine I took to make me sleep. Long talking story after children entered fantastic dream – a boat, a necklace found at the bottom of a lake, a talking Alligator on a hill – I made friends with a young girl who has same past as me, a rare one who knows the the identity battle between righteousness and whore.

Coffee cures the scratchy throat, the half-here, and I am a mother now in an apartment. My man left too early in a suit. I remember now that his tie brushed my face after a kiss in bed. An invisible part of me reached up and grabbed his shoulders, the spirit arms and fingers longer and stronger than the flesh, but eventually I let him go to work.

I don’t want to be a missionary today. I want my son to have a dog. I want to be normal, want to root down, want to hold together without dichotomy.

Jesus Christ, some days doubt strips me down harsh. I’m down to the bone here – risky, bare, addicted, always to something, always pouring a little sugar so I can taste.

We’re always leaking out of brokenness, not meant to be sealed, rather poured out. I see it everywhere – not many staying filled any better than I am.

Let today be the day you turn my little faith – miracle seeker at the party.

Water to Wine, Jesus. Let it be water to wine.

About me


When the Truth of Your Shadow Side Sets You Free: A Wild in the Hollow Guest Post by Michelle DeRusha
October 05, 2015
When Your Writing Doesn’t Fit: Kingdom Come
February 27, 2013
I don’t know how to pray
September 05, 2012
On the Quiet
March 26, 2012
pray, I mean dance
October 18, 2011
The Hidden Part, On Intimacy
February 21, 2011
The Cure for ADD of the Soul
April 05, 2010
An Intimacy Experiment
February 14, 2010
just this day, a Rock Home Companion
November 09, 2009


Reply October 19, 2010

you may not know this, but your site is the one i come to for creative rest. the way your words form together to make this gut-wrenching & beautiful juxtaposition of doubt & authenticity...resonates with this artist's heart in so many ways. so thankful for you. so thankful for your words....today? this left me gasping and fighting back tears...because i know...i am:

"Jesus Christ, some days doubt strips me down harsh. I’m down to the bone here – risky, bare, addicted, always to something, always pouring a little sugar so I can taste."

Reply October 19, 2010

amber, these words make me hurt a little, b/cs i feel them right inside my chest and it squeezes, this empathy. i breathe this prayer with you today.

Tammy@If Meadows speak...
Reply October 19, 2010

I ache too with you, for you, and know the water's need to be wine, and Him giving the new wineskin. My fullness isn't meant for keeping the brim high, but for pouring out more. And when the bottom reaches low, we need His loving, miracle refilling. (((hugs!!))) My weekend has been yo-yo-ing between full 'n' empty. May His grace bless our needs today.

Reply October 19, 2010

I'll be sharing a testimony at my new church in two weeks. I've been thinking about what to say....What is on my heart is the fullness of God. The word fullness occurs three times in Ephesians. When I was recovering from anorexia I abhorred being full. I fought it. I cried about it. Now....when I allow God's fullness, I have peace. Period. When I allow it. Here's the pivotal prayer:

...I pray for you ....to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. (Ephesians 3:19 ish)

Reply October 19, 2010

Me too..

Reply October 19, 2010

Yes. I'm here feeling, wishing and praying the same. Beautiful.

Reply October 19, 2010

everyone else already said it

'cept - even when you write prose - it's poetry

(stops typing)


Reply October 19, 2010


Is this poetry?

Halo slightly tilting
Alterations done by God
No extra charge
for the Vogue pattern with the princess seams

The name of the poem is - well - you. I'm creative like that.

Did you inspire me to write poetry with no peanuts?

(Eagerly awaits the professional review)

Reply October 19, 2010

Yes, Craig, it is poetry without peanuts, and I like it. Thank you!

Reply October 19, 2010

I'm sorry I don't have poetry for you, A. You're still the best and I love you for this post.

Reply October 19, 2010

I think there might be dogs in Africa.
And that's the thing I am learning. I want to do big things, to go big, and sometimes I feel trapped here. Sometimes I am jealous of you, and your freedom and your sent-ness.
I am learning that what God requires of us is not that much after all. He asks for everything, and the more I travel along with Him, the more I realize how little that really is.

I'll be praying for you, because I am always addicted to something too. I think we are both crying for freedom, for the finish done well.

You guys are someone I look up to, you guys illustrate real, radical, water to wine living...especially when you are writing from your brokenness...the little cracks in the earthen vessel that lets the light in.

You are beautiful.

Reply October 19, 2010

I'm back because I fear my comment sounded preachy, which was NOT what it was supposed to do. I hate it when words run away with themselves.

I was just WISHING for a dog for your son. Obviously YOU know there are dogs in Africa. I know that you know that. I was just, you know, praying out loud.

Adventures In Babywearing
Reply October 19, 2010

amen and amen

laura@life overseas
Reply October 19, 2010

beautiful, amber, soul-wrenching. i love this prayer, this confession. i loved the line about "today i don't want to be a missionary"-- i want normal and roots.

i connect with that. have been struggling of late with wanting my kids to just be in soccer and be able to go to a park and be able to talk to other kids and make friends. have been struggling with the realities of no drive-throughs when we are late getting home and the reality that if i run out of water in the big bottles i have to wait till sat. to get some more. just the grit, the reality of the ideal, is so hard to swallow.

and yet, and yet.

perhaps the greatest test of my spirituality is when the water runs out and the kids cry because they don't have friends and my attitude is challenged by the sweatin-heat. maybe my small choices then, matter the most.

thanks for calling me to that truth this morning . . . (night for you, but i just woke up here , making this post just about perfect for my day)

Elizabeth @claritychaos
Reply October 20, 2010

I am so drawn to your heart and your writing. I must have said this a hundred times by now, but I really, truly wish we could talk over coffee.

Kelly Langner Sauer
Reply October 23, 2010

A poem in prose... You are so brave. I watch you, and I learn, and I wonder.

Reply October 24, 2010

Beautiful and true. You write in a way that surpasses my mind and dives into the itchy places in my heart. And I am soothed.

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