The King’s Lifeblood

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A lost girl walked among the brooding trees. Her eyes watched the ground beneath her bare feet with care. But a strange feeling surrounded her, and she lifted her eyes. There stood before her, a tall and twisted tree, covered in daggers of wood that, if touched, would pierce deep. She marveled at these aeonian thorns. They called her name alluringly, pleading for her attentions, and preying on her curiosities. But still yet, as nature would have, they pricked her delicate finger as she drew too close. As red trickled from the fair skin of her hand, she wondered. “What precious treasure could these daggers be protecting? What light could their shadows be hiding? What diamond could be found underneath the coal surface?”

A mystery never needed to be solved, a danger never destined to be faced. But it was the mystery that called to her, many before her, and many to come. It was a hidden beauty. A promise, an unknown. Without this mystery, the tree would lose is novelty, it’s hallow, and would become one with the forest floor. Lost would be the attention upon it, and the mysteries of the world would be unlocked and fade from existence.

 

As she continued her walk beneath the canopy, her eyes lifted towards the heavens and her hand raised above her head as if to cling to the komorebi light. The patterns of leaves, the varying shades, the breeze that made them sway in an effortless and predesigned dance. She knew the white clouds swam in the sea of blue behind the penumbra, out of reach and out of sight. But she took comfort and security in knowing that they would always remain.

As seasons past and as leaves fell, as snow lay and creatures slept, there would always be a Junoesque azure hanging above, and the simple white with the softness of a pillow would always drift in her midst. Even in the navy hue of night, with stars sprinkling the atmosphere and a sleepy moon smiling from the sky, there was a beauty that would never fade, and a security never to be lost. Even in the seemingly hopeless abyss, there remained a light. A hope.

Far above the canopy.

 

She proceeded to walk among the free roaming greenery, her fingers drifting over the waist high flowers, the weeds tangling around her ankles underneath her long skirts. Her bare feet sank in the soft tilled earth, toes digging through the soil, searching for the cool underground relief from the hot sun. As bugs crawled and buzzed, around her, she closed her eyes and listened the flourishment of the wood. She listened to the birds sing to her, and added lyrics to their song and lifted her sweet melody to join theirs, high above in the trees. As acorns and leaves fell around her, she was reminded that not all things last forever. But all things left something behind in the wake of their death. All things were significant. All things were alive. Even when not.

Even death could bring forth life.

The ground beneath her feet seemed to rise and fall with her breath, as if tied to her very lifeblood… or perhaps it was her, tied to the lifeblood of the wood.

In the heavens above her, a King walked among His trees, under His canopy, among His greenery. His crown of thorns lay on the ground by His feet, fallen from His brow.

This be the Creator of the mystery. The Creator of the blue azure, the navy hue, the sun and stars that brought forth life abundantly. The Creator of every bug, every acorn, every leaf, every tree.

This was the King.

The Creator of the very ground beneath her feet.

She was His heartbeat.

His breath.

His princess- no. His queen.

His reason to be.

The King’s Lifeblood.

He lived in her, and her, in He.

These Beautiful Scars

D9AB4DB1-19C3-49FD-8021-FF6E4FBB37EDI’ve got scars on my shins, fingers and knees.

These scars are simple. Scars from childhood memories.

Scars from surgeries all over my chest and back.

These scars show my courage, where strength never lacked.

I’ve got scars that are hidden, where no eye can see.

Scars under the skin, scars holding harder memories.

I’ve got scars in places you wouldn’t think they’d ever be.

I’ve got scars in places where scars should never be.

Scars in my stomach, where many pills have dissolved.

Scars on my heart, from when I risked it all.

I’ve got scars on my mind, from the voices inside.

I’ve got scars in my eyes, the things I’ve seen, but hide.

I’ve got scars from people who have come, and left me broken.

I’ve got scars, proof of who I was, and who I will never be wholly again.

I’ve got scars I wear with shame, I’ve got scars I wear with pride.

I’ve got scars all over me. All over my wrists, knuckles, and thighs.

I’ve got scars from wars that no one would ever believe I fought in.

I’ve got scars from wars that I fought, knowing I could never win.

These scars do not define who I am, nor who I will be.

But these scars have helped me learn to be a stronger me.

These scars are thick, wide, and promise to stay.

But these scars are beautiful in their own way.

These scars prove that being fragile does not mean being broken.

These scars prove this this story is unfinished, a book barely opened.

These scars tell the story of unique beauty and power of will.

These scars tell a story of a lost and found little girl.

These scars tell the story of a broken hero, and all her battles and pain.

These scars tell the story of the many stitches that put her back together again.

The Odds Do Not Define Me

10D55C40-46AA-4499-9A34-56C37D892E85If I said I have never wanted to quit, I’d be lying.

I’ve wanted to throw the book. Rip the pages. Delete every document. Erase every drawing. I’ve wanted to give up more times than I can count.

When I lay awake at night with all the thoughts and voices circling my brain until I feel dizzy and disoriented? I don’t want to think anymore.

When I stare at a page and can see the characters in front of me, characters of my own making, kids that are MINE, and I see them slowly fade? I sit and I cry and I don’t want to write the story anymore.

When I see my book not living up to my expectations, and it’s not reaching far enough, and I’m not where I want to be in this life? I get discouraged and I just want to quit altogether.

Sometimes I feel like it’s not worth it.

But then I meet little girls that were like me.

Little girls that aren’t interested in dolls and dress up. Little girls that are interested in adventures. Little girls that would rather paint a picture than their nails. Little girls that see a challenge and say “You think I can’t overcome it? Watch me.” instead of caving to the odds that are not in their favor.

Odds are a funny thing.

They go up, they go down, and they change every second of every day.

And despite all that changing, they have never been in my favor.

And that’s discouraging. It’s upsetting. To realize that my book may never make it, that I may never be recognized as a real author, and that I will probably never get to release all my stories, that’s… sickening. Disheartening.

And boy, does it ever make me want to quit.

But on those bad days, I think about one little girl specifically.

A little girl who HATES sitting down. Who HATES slowing down. And who REALLY HATES writing for school. One day she ran up to to me and grabs my hand and looks into my eyes and says “I want to be like you someday.” When those big eyes light up as she grins and tells me “I want to tell my stories. I’ve already started writing them. Wanna see?”

I think about when her mother walked over to me with tears in her eyes, hugged me tightly, and thanked me for being a role model and an inspiration for her young daughter. She thanked me for being a hero.

In my eyes, I am none of those things.

I’m not even a small percentage of the odds!

But then I remember.

Neither is she.

Her odds are even smaller than mine. She is seven years old. She tells stories, and writes little stories.

But there is a possibility she may never publish that story. She might never even FINISH that story.

The odds are not in her favor.

But she is not a matter of the odds.

I am not a matter of the odds.

Giving up has always been in the back of my mind. Just forgetting it, and moving on to something new that I can actually succeed in. Something that could help sustain me. Something that could help people.

But that is already what I do.

If my writing has changed the life of ONE person, it’s worth it.

If my writing has raised awareness for mental health and true American history, it’s worth it.

If my writing has inspired a child to shoot for the stars, it’s worth it.

If my writing has ever even crossed the path of a single person… It. Was. Worth. It.

I am already helping people.

My voice is a drop in an ocean. A small star in a galaxy of billions, all burning brighter than I.

But my voice is NOT insignificant.

It is NOT impossible to be heard and seen.

A small voice is NOT an excuse to go silent.

The odds for giving up are huge. The odds for making it are tiny. But I choose to defy the odds, and not be defined by them.

Giving up has never been an option.

I write, I stand, and I fight. I continue. My story is not over. My words will be shared. My voice will be heard. My small star will burn brightly for all the boys and girls, men and women, children and adults. My small star will burn to encourage those who, like me, never have had the odds in their favor.

Because we can make it.

We can defy the odds.

Sailing off on another adventure 😉

-Lorryn Holt

Adventure In Your Very Hands

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A book is an adventure in your very hands.

Stories of love, of valor, and of tears.

A new friend through a window,

Courage in a world not her even own.

A young hero dives into the depths,

Fulfilling a promise she swore to keep.

Tears drip slowly down a broken one’s cheek,

As she finds her friend as helpless as she.

These stories live on, for years past our fate.

Planted in hearts, passed down from age to age.

Some will be untouched, the tale stands too tall.

Some will live it, believe, and become strong.

Books are our escape from this broken world.

It saves the pure dreams in black precious ink.

A drug of our own, in endless supply.

A temptation of the unread pages.

The idea of a brand new journey

Read beside a crackling fireplace.

An adventure takes place every time,

But to join the story is up to you.

The swing of a sword, the dash between words-

This, a decision only you can make.

***

Hey guys! Sorry it’s been awhile, but I have begun a new job, and we have been working on something BIG that I will hopefully be announcing soon.

In this blank verse poem, I have placed clues to what this announcement may be.

Any ideas?

Allegory is not usually my thing, but lately I’ve been feeling a little extra… mysterious 😉

Off on an adventure!

Lorryn Holt

My Journey to Hope

FullSizeRenderHelp me up

Taking pictures, laughing, joy filling me up,

As the music rushes over me in the form of a rap.

But it’s getting late
I need to get ready for bed.
Then- the world fades to black
As I lift up my head.

The pain in my shoulder blades feels like blades of its own.
The hot fiery burn makes me wish I was instead going to drown.

I’m stuck in bed, I can’t get help.
Tried to roll but was stuck in a vice.
I’ve tried to yell but to no avail.
Tears of anguish are filling my eyes.

This hell lives inside of me
Preying on the best days.
Turning the time of my life
Into but a dark misty haze.

There are times they laugh about
That I don’t even remember.
Too busy staring through the spots,
Uttering a pleading prayer.

God why would you give me something like this?
Something I can’t even understand, much less fix?

Over time I’ve become twisted, curved, and pleading.
The bones of my body begging for mercy, my muscles grieving.

They can fix my bones, fuse my spine with metal sheathing.
But what about my soul that is still aching and screaming?

God, I can’t even begin to explain.
All the frustration, anger, and pain.
It’s become so much a part of me,
That it may as well be my name.

Why would You give me an unsolvable puzzle like this?
Why would You show me something that makes no sense?

You show me things that make my world so much brighter,
Then I have days that make all else crumble and shatter.

Why would You give me this?
Why am I here?
I don’t understand it.
Absent is Your voice I still strain to hear.

Now I’m on the floor.
I tried to move but fell to my knees.
My tears are on the wood,
And the walls echo my screams.

But You still can’t hear me?
I’m begging, I’m pleading.
I’m stuck in this position,
Frozen in place, my heart weeping.

My father walks past my door, deaf to my pleading.
My mom doesn’t hear her phone, already sleeping.

My brother sees my texts, but his girl is on the phone…
So I’m still on the floor. Stuck, crying, and alone.

Out of all the people that have left me behind,
I knew God would never leave me in the darkness of my mind.

But with these demons, shadows,
And anxiety surrounding me…
I feel abandoned and helpless.
All alone, I have stopped believing.
***
This was written on October 7th. 15 short days before my surgery. At this point, I had three curves in my spine. The worst was mid 70 degrees. The damage and pain it was doing to my muscles is indescribable. I had already had my preoperative appointment a few days back, and the x-rays were horrifying to say the least. Surgery had been scheduled for a couple months. I was excited, and terrified. I had no idea what was going to happen. My life was about to be turned upside down. But this night is what sealed the deal for me to be ready for whatever was thrown my way.

It had been a good day, not a lot of pain (one of very few days like this), and that night I was laying on my back on my bed texting my friend. We were having fun, but it was getting late. As I tried to get up, my vision blacked out because of pain between my shoulder blades. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe, it just covered me. I called my mom for help getting up, like I had done before. I heard her phone ringing in the living room. But she was already in bed and already asleep. I texted my brother, knowing he was awake, but he was on the phone with his girlfriend and never saw or read the message until later. I tried to roll out of bed, but fell to my hands and knees instead. I screamed when I landed. I knew I was in trouble. I couldn’t get up. I was stuck on the floor. My phone was on my bed, and I was just barely able to reach it. I called my mom 6 times, hoping to either get my brother’: attention or hers. My dad actually got up, but my door was closed and he couldn’t hear me scream for help. I was still texting my friend, freaking out and asking what to do. He almost called 911. But I was lucky, and my dad had woken my mom up when he got up. I called my mom one more time, and she went to go get it. I screamed “mom!” As loud as I could when she was passing my door. She came in my room, and yelled for my dad to come help. They helped get me up, and I was safe and I was okay, but I continued to cry for over an hour.

I felt so lost, abandoned, and I had made myself sick from screaming so much. And that night, at 12:30 in the morning, is when I wrote this poem. The only person who I ever let read it was the friend I had been texting that night. But last Thursday, I was reading my mom some of the other poems I wrote. I read her this one. Her jaw was dropped, and I thought she was upset because of how depressing and gut wrenching it was. My poems are pure raw emotions and thoughts I have, and most of them are very dark, since I turn to poetry usually when I’m in a dark place. But she wasn’t upset at all. She told me that I needed to share this poem, because of the thousands of kids and scoliosis patients like me who felt like this and couldn’t describe it. Who never had a voice. She told me that my poem could be their voice.

Scoliosis is everywhere. Their are infants, kids, and adults with this problem. I was lucky, and I had spinal fusion (I got titanium in me now!), but the three years I had to deal with this before surgery was horrible. The days leading up to surgery was the worst. And there are people in this world, silent, but have these feelings and this pain. It’s real.

I am real.

I am a voice.

I am a hope.

 

***

 

I got up.

I can walk, I can run,
I can dance, I can sing.
But only a few months ago,
I couldn’t do any of these things.

A few months ago,
I was stuck on the floor.
Pleading and screaming,
Hiding behind a closed door.

The worst nights of my life were spent.
My muscles tensed and seizing.
Choking and crying tears of pain,
And that pain wasn’t leaving.

My spine was twisted,
This pain became my life.
But I put in a smile for them,
And my tears, I would hide.

Then my help arrived,
My knights in shining blue scrubs.
My therapists, nurses, and doctors,
My angels sent from God above.

They helped me through my hardest of hard days.
They understood the words I couldn’t bear to say.

The most scared I’d ever been.
The most terrifying day.
But the nurses held my hand,
And I knew it’d be okay.

One nurse sang me to sleep,
Another asked about my year.
One doctor made me laugh.
Talking about memories I hold dear.

Drifting down into a deep sleep,
Then I was with Him and kind boy I once knew.
They held me in my dreams,
They were the ones who carried me through.

When I saw my parents again,
I felt so happy and safe.
I texted my friend that I was awake,
And in all caps he texted back “HEY!”

It couldn’t have gone better.
The first day wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t bad either.
Because of the people by my side, Things were a thousand times easier.

I was texting and drawing,
Calling my people immediately.
I talked to my best friend,
Who burst into tears when she heard me.

Playing four-in-a-row,
They all made sure to keep me occupied.
Keeping my mind off the pain,
Until I drifted asleep before even saying goodbye.

In the night, every two hours they woke me up.
But it wasn’t a bad thing.
I got to spend time with my favorite night nurse,
So I didn’t mind not sleeping.

The second day I got to put on pajamas,
And even walk out to see my excited family.
Sitting in a wheelchair with my guitar in hand,
I made a waiting brother a bit more encouraged and happy.

That was the day I made my decision.
This was home, the place to which I was called.
To make this long journey a little easier
For the families upon which hard times had fallen.

I was the luckiest kid on my floor
My nurses’ “miracle child”.
But for that I will give credit to God
And best people ever by my side.

That night I got to shoot pool
And walk around with my mom.
Being chased by nurses,
Laughter ringing through the halls.

Day three and I was leaving
With a happy and heavy heart.
We actually had a good time,
And I didn’t like having to part.

But I had a warm welcome coming home.
My brothers stood by my side.
The people who I missed the most,
I was so happy I almost cried.

Two weeks later,
Beginning to dance again!
Smiling comes more easily,
And I have far less pain.

My scar is silent and small.
My fear of being marred is gone.
My mark is to show my strength,
My prize of war to show I’ve overcome.

I begin to push the limits.
A month later and I’ve got the all clear.
Now I remember the life I had before.
No more restrictions, and no more fear.

A few months ago I couldn’t get up.
Stuck on the floor in fear, tears, and pain.
But now I rise, despite the odds,
And above this weakness and fear, I will remain.

 

***

 

At this point, about three years after being diagnosed with scoliosis, I felt hopeless. I never had a day without pain. And I thought it would always be this way. That was a very depressing and harmful thought to be reminded of every day.

But then I was sent to Shriners Hospital for Children in Greensville, South Carolina. And that was the best decision we could have ever made. They are absolutely incredible people, outstanding doctors and fantastic nurses. They helped me every step of the way, and for the first time in a very long time, I had hope. After surgery, they made it so easy to take those steps. And since then, I am now dancing, playing the violin and guitar, singing, working out, and moving, without pain, and that is something I couldn’t do before. It sounds really dramatic, but its true. The difference it has made in my life is indescribable. The difference they have made in my life is indescribable. I’m happy. And before this surgery, that is something that I couldn’t say from day to day. It was effecting my emotional health as well, and I was sunk in a deep depressed, helpless, abandoned, and hopeless cocktail of feelings that wasn’t being taken away. It couldn’t be taken away. Not while I was still living in that pain. 

But now I am happy. I’m changed. I’m inspired, creativity spurred into hyper drive, and I have hope.

Sometimes… It isn’t a physical pain that can effect us like that. Life is hard, and anyone who tells you otherwise is lying. We all go through things that are painful. Things that we don’t understand. We can feel lost, abandoned, and hopeless. And these feelings are invalidated far too much. But just know that you aren’t alone, you are not abandoned, and whatever situation you are in is never hopeless. There are many poems and drawings I have, that were my way of coping with the pain until I found healing in Christ, the people around me, and in my art and writing. But before that, I was stuck facing things I didn’t know how to overcome. The anxiety monster that no one wants to talk about. The dark feelings and thoughts we just shove farther back into our mind. But to heal, to grow, to have hope… We have to face these things. If we had let the scoliosis sit, it would worsen and create more pain. But once I got help, and we were able to find a solution to the problem, I began to heal. I began to grow. And hope and happiness began to bloom. Its not an easy road. I won’t lie to you and tell you it is. It takes strength. Sometimes it takes strength you didn’t even know you had. Sometimes it takes weakness, and vulnerability, and a willingness to allow people to stand by you, even when you don’t want to, so they can support you on your search for what will help you heal.

Know that you aren’t alone. You’re never alone. You are not abandoned. And whatever situation you are in, it is never hopeless.

My journey is not over. Its not gonna get easier. I’m going to continue to struggle. I’m going to have things thrown in my way. Things I won’t understand. Things I’m going to hate facing. But through all of that, I know I’m not alone. I know that with the bad, there is also good. With the pain, small blessings and wisdom will follow.

I will grow in blood, sweat, and tears.

I will grow in pain, sadness, and loss.

I will grow in laughter, joy, and victories.

I will grow.

My journey is just beginning.

And that, my readers, is my hope.

Off on an adventure,

Lorryn Holt

 

Praying for Courage

4ra3iurycuHow can something so terrifying, so gut-wrenching, so sickening… be turned into such a beautiful blessing?

My last blog, which was a huge testament of my faith, was absolutely terrifying to share. I’ve always found it kind of hard to stand confidently in sharing my faith, because I’m just not very confident of a person (despite being a very outgoing person). But for some reason, on Monday, July 29th, 2019, God gave me just enough courage to post share my faith with not only my followers but with the world. It felt amazing. Freeing. And then terrifying.

After I posted A Tired Girl’s Prayer, that courage kinda evaporated and I called some of my best friends (and my youth pastor, God bless him for being so patient and understanding) and I was freaking out saying “Oh my gosh! What did I just do?!”

I had no idea what possessed me to share it. But like I said in the previous post, God works in amazing ways. Sometimes we just have to take a leap of faith, hand it over to Him, and stand boldly and bravely in who we are and who we belong to. Not saying I’m brave, because I’m clearly a scaredy-cat, but now I can trust that God is my security and my strength even when I’m terrified. And when I give myself up to Him, and He fills me… well, I can stand brave. I can inspire others. And I can praise Him the way I was made to. On the bad days, the hard days, and the good days.

When you pray for patience, God will give you opportunities to be patient.

When you pray for strength, God will give you opportunities to be strong.

My prayer was for courage.

And here we are.

Thursday was a really good day. Waking up early didn’t feel so good, but it was a good day. My dad was off work, my mom was in a pretty good mood, fiddle lessons went incredible (for those of you who don’t know, I’m also a musician…) and it was just an overall good day. 

 

Thursday morning, I start to text with my friend, and we talked about what had happened the night before. We go to the same youth group, and had been there the previous night. The best part was, we had decided to start using our music (he also is a musician) and voices for worshipping together at youth. So we got to our youth pastors’ house early on Wednesday night, pulled out our guitars, and started singing and playing music to prepare for worship before the devotional.

We talked, we laughed, we sang, and had a great time. And right then, I just started praying internally and thanking God for all He’s given me. After we finished worship, I began writing the next prayer. The last prayer was a pleading for peace and hope. But this one… this was a prayer of praise. A prayer of thankfulness, of grace, and of blessing.

The biggest blessing on Wednesday and Thursday was that my tired prayer that hurt so much to post that came out of absolutely nowhere, had reached a hundred people across the world, was being shared repeatedly, and was inspiring and bringing people closer to God. And that number has almost doubled since then.

That was my blessing.

God took my fear and turned it into something beautiful that could touch others all around me and all around the world. He used my voice, as small as it may be. He gave me courage.

I always tell people to “take courage”. If you have a book signed by me, I promise you’ll see that inscribed inside in some messy teenage girl handwriting. Taking courage isn’t easy. In fact, it’s almost impossible.

But nothing is impossible with God. And when He gives you courage, whether it is to walk through a bad day or even a good one, or to make that bold step, or just the courage to tackle whatever is being thrown in front of you… it’s a gift. Accept that gift. And use it as an opportunity to praise, to worship, and to use it for his glory.

***

August 1, 2019

Psalms 119:114

“You are my hiding place and my shield; I hope in Your word.”

God, with every waking moment, I praise you. You are beautiful, glorious, the name above all names. You show me your glory in the small moments, those little “I love you”s throughout my day, and also in the things that are life changing and it’s overwhelming. You are the peace in the chaos, my shield in the battle, the light that guides my way through the darkness. When I’m scared, hopeless, alone, unloved, and insecure… You stand as my courage. My hope. Because of You, I know I’m never alone. I am never unloved or unlovable, because despite my broken parts, my scars, and my mistakes, You still love me and You will never stop loving me. You are my security. You stand at my side always. Whom shall I fear?

Lord, give me the strength, wisdom, and courage to continue showing Your glory. Help me lead others closer to you with my voice; whether I use my voice to sing, to speak, or even to write, help me use it for Your glory and not my own. Give me wisdom to follow what you ask and command of me, the strength to break the mold society has made for me, and the courage to stand boldly in Your name and show others the real me. The one who has been made new in Your love. Thank you, God. For Your love, Your healing power, and Your grace. For who You are.

-LH

***

Take courage.

-Lorryn Holt