Finding Hope in the Expanse of Alaska – One Little Flower


In the darkness of 5 am I woke with a start to the beeping of my alarm clock. My weary eyes looked about the dim room. Another day had begun. Groaning, I emerged from my blankets and fumbled around my room to reach my suitcase. I sat down as my fingers fumbled for the zipper. I had a long day ahead of me. I stretched my neck and decided to pause and say some morning prayers.

“Lord,” I started out.

I couldn’t find the words; couldn’t find the thankfulness. I sighed heavily. What use was it pretending? I started again, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” I quoted Psalms. “My God, my God! Why have you left me here?” I cried. “I am here where I have longed to be. I am surrounded, oh God, surrounded with people. I tried to leave my emotions back home, but I just can’t escape. I tried, but still I cannot understand it. I am not alone, Oh god. I cannot be! But why do I feel so lonely while I am not alone?”

Trudging through the woods later that day, my heart still bore the weight of that morning. “Why, why am I lonely?” I sighed and continued walking. I hiked and I hiked, fully knowing this could be the last time I’d see such amazing wildlife and still I ignored it. I ran ahead, attempting to escape the crowd of people; escape my interrupted thoughts. As I zoomed past the trees, a small white flash caught my eye. I stopped, back-tracked, and searched for the white flash that captivated me.

Before long, I found myself before the source of my curiosity. In a shining patch of light, amid green trees, bushes, and browning shrubs, stood one single white flower.

I think my heart skipped a beat when I saw that flower.

I stood staring at it until a member of the group called out and woke me from my trance. I shook my head and realized I’d been holding my breath. I took a deep breath and started to walk again. That deep breath was so refreshing. A burst of freshness; a burst of purity.

Just one little flower.

All alone, yet, surrounded still.

I smiled to myself, “I know that flower, I love that flower.” While I cry out, “God, why have you forsaken me?” He whispers to my heart, “I haven’t.” In this I find my security, in this I find my hope. God loves me, He’s chosen me, and He will never let me go, this is the most comforting thing to get me through life. While the waves of life toss me around and I crash against the rocks – I feel lonely. Even while I am surrounded by people, I feel lonely. While I feel lonely, the little flower comes back to me and reminds me of the truth: Even when I’m lonely, He hasn’t forsaken me. Even when I feel lonely, I am never alone.

One Little Flower

In the middle of everything,
In the midst of nothing.
Where life is not fair,
And trust is everything.
Just one little flower.

All alone,
Yet surrounded still.
Through the great unknown,
And winter chill.
Just one little flower.

In the grim reality,
Of this life.
The sense of fatality,
The constant strife.
Just one little flower.

One little flower,
Don’t you cry.
Evil can only devour,
If we don’t try.

One little flower,
Oh, so lonely.
Don’t be so dour,
Remember Him only.

When your spirit is heartless,
And the sky looks dim.
Don’t lose focus,
Lean on Him. 

There is light in this darkness,
Strength in the sorrow.
Hope for the hopeless,
The promise of tomorrow.

The one little flower,
There always is and will be,
One hidden in the clover,
Where no one can see.

Forever loved,
But feels unknown.
May feel lonely
But never truly alone.

Just one little flower.

– Katie Ann Huy

He Loves Me…

photo by mark lorch via PhotoRee


He Loves Me

He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.

Through all of our days,

The same phrase,

The same mantra drips;

Flows forth from our lips.

He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.

And as the petals are plucked,

One by one the blood starts to drip and to flow,

So slow we hardly know.

Until, day by day, tear by tear,

Through the ripping and tearing,

The wound of our hearts become so raw

That we are left with nothing but pain.

Oozing, Festering,  pain.

He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.

With arms stretched out,

Wounded, pleading hearts laid bare,

We claw and we grab for the love that we crave.

A sort of band aid

To patch these holes that we’ve made,

But can our wounded hearts be saved?

He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.

Fingers wrapped like a snake

In the guise of a dove.

Squeezing pressure, sucking the life out of the ones that we love.

Until, we’re found all alone,

True character shown.

And there in the darkness and sin,

The mantra rushes in

He loves me, He loves me not. He loves me. He loves. Me. Not.

Ohhhh, but we are resourceful,

We are fighters,

We carry on

Because we are women –

And we are strong.

We don’t need a man to make us weak.

Hearts locked away,

It’s  freedom that we seek.

Cut off from the touch of a friend,

Freedom rushes in.

Numb hearts laid bare, this is the banner  we share:


love me.

And if we are spiritual, heh.

If we are holy, women of God,

We take that heart made of stone;

We cast it at God’s throne.

Having great passion without great contemplation.

Vomiting strong emotions without deep meditation.

Disillusioned and alone we have been blind.

Tossed by the waves, out of our minds.

We have taken this God become man

And turned him into a man named God.

We get down on our knees,

To show that we love the Jesus that we think that we know,

Because we live our lives in service to him.

Having sermons spoon fed to us at our very whim.

And there, at the foot of the cross, we begin our mantra once again.

He loves me. He loves me not. God loves me. God loves me not.

Women, I ask you.

What have we become?

Are we merely a pile of petals trashed on the floor?

What have our stony hearts been created for?

I read an article the other day,

And I have to say,

It made my eyes roll in my head.

Let me tell you what it said:

“There’s a Growing Passion among women for God’s Word.”

This was the news?

That women are beginning to choose

– to think?

But I have to admit.

The idea brought me hope.

That fires has be lit.

That maybe we had been thrown a rope.

Women beginning to think.

Willing to be led.

Filling the air in their head.

Seeing the truth in the ink.

Truth that we were created for more.

Not to want the place of a man,

Women, able to stand.

Not weak and simple,

But able to control this temple.

And when our flesh grabs hold and our emotions  long.

Let us remember the old wounded hearts now strong

Let our eyes fall upon the cross,

To consider this freedom not lost.

True freedom found in the son,

No longer needing to run.

Broken hearts made whole,

Oozing, festering, pain taken for us.



Holy women of God, with

Deep passion based on deep contemplation;

Strong emotion, born through deep meditation.

To read God’s word.

Share God’s word.

Live God’s word.

Strength, not of ourselves.

Wholly surrendered, healed hearts laid bare.

To go back to that cross; look into the eyes of our savior, prince charming,

Raise our arms in the air and proclaim with confidence:

YOU love me. You love me still. God loves me. God loves me STILL.

Remember the Reason for the Season

Remember the reason for the season
That’s what they tell me
So, I’ve been thinking hard – about the season

This season – It now begins on an October day
Revs up on black Friday
Comes with a flurry every December Day
This holiday – that is somehow supposed to transform into a Holy – day

You see, I’ve been mulling over this baby come down
Why have Jesus come as a baby anyway?
It seems such a simple way
Christmas doesn’t strike me like Resurrection Day
You’re a scrooge you might say

Another thing that makes me wonder about this season – And it’s reason,
Is Life.
Life isn’t a respecter of seasons
I’ve attended birthday parties and spoken at a funeral.
I’ve prayed for hurting, aching people
And cried tears of joy at a wedding
-All – in this season

Is this birth an event?
A reason to have a season?
or is this birth a means to an end?
Why send him to the womb if he fate was a tomb?

My mind can accept that propitiation for our sins before a holy God
Requires Jesus to be fully man
Yes, my mind and my head can nod,
but my heart still wonders, if there’s a deeper plan

The mama in me,
Longs to hold this savior child close
To feel his soft skin
To look into the depths of his glassy eyes
Eyes – that have seen the depths of my sin and yet never despise.
To hold his delicate hand
A hand that will bear scars for me and still care to reach out to me.
To smell tiny feet
Feet that will one day be pierced through for me – And for you.
To put my hand on his side and snuggle him close – A side that holds me close, even when I doubt.

As I think of the first season
Mary and her encounter
Joseph decided not to discount her
Mary all pregnant with the Son of God
Stuck in a barn,
Wallowing in the sod
The pain of the labor,
As heaven comes forth from her.
The wise men coming and throwing them selves down
Bearing gifts, before they all rush out of town

Maybe this season isn’t so hard to understand
It reminds me
That I have a God who understands man
And knows what December is all about
And has a plan
To mend hearts and heal pain
To bring light to this dark world
God’s son,
Grace come down, wrapped plain
Soft and tender, not yet slain

As we humble ourselves before this This tiny baby so frail and small
Let us remember the reason for this season
Jesus – God’s Love, sent in humility to save us all

Merry Christmas

(December 2011)