Change in Gravity.

Last night I dreamed that I was getting married and nothing felt right. I was wearing the wrong dress and the wrong shoes–I did not recognize the people around me. My father, instead of standing with me behind the scenes–was in the crowd and took his time getting to his place. The pastor even called the wedding a funeral.

But worst of all: I was marrying the wrong guy.

I knew him, but we were friends a long time ago in high school. I have no idea how he appeared in my dreams–but it was obvious that we were not in sync. We missed each other’s cues and I kept looking around expecting someone else to show up instead.

In short, I knew he was not the one for me.

change in gravity_blog_jencosby_relationships


Today,  I feel the weight of my actions and wonder if I can reconcile them to my beliefs. I feel like a victim who does not know they have been harmed. It is as if I am a prisoner who does not see the open, waiting door. It should be easy to move when you live for excuses, but I have taken intentional steps away from the disease of harmful decisions and repetitious cycles of apathy.

I thought I was past “triggering out” and using my previous abuse as an excuse to wield unforgiveness as if I have never done anything wrong. When I personally make mistakes, I want understanding–I need the person I hurt to see the pain behind my mask of pride. But sometimes, we have to be broken beyond what we think we can take.

It is only after we are shattered that we are open to being saved.

In my weakness, I can admit my truth. I can tell you that I have issues. I have mommy issues and daddy issues and issues with authority. I have issues with accepting people who say that they love me. I have a hard time believing sorry when the behavior does not change. I have a hard time reconciling with people who chose to walk away.

My dream reminded me that I am not perfect. It reminded me that I can want something so badly, that I am blinded to the danger staring me in the face.

I pray my reality does not reflect the same mistake.


Patient Lines.


I am waiting patiently with bated breath
for you to tell me I am different. That in
all of the numerous love affairs from your life–
I am the only one you could never set free.
I crave wistful imagination and wide
set eyes of hopelessly smitten affection.

I wanted you to look over at me in
the middle of the night with
a vibrant sort of expression.

But I am the one who lies awake–staring
at the cracks in my ceiling while you sleep
blissfully unaware next to me.
From the moment that I was able to believe
in love, I always thought those who are meant
to be were connected by more than just feelings.

We tread the line somewhere between
wishful thinking and absolute destiny.
Stacking expectation until it all falls down.

Can we exist in moderation? Will walking
narrow paths fit our individual goals?
Or are we squeezing the right shapes
into completely wrong holes?

I honestly do not know.

I just hope we learn to recover,
before we are forced to let go.


I woke up in a panicked sweat
searching desperately for something
I knew was not in my bedroom.
Shadows creep–as the darkness plays
against my subconscious’ attempts
at understanding.

I am not mourning or acknowledging
any further distress. I accepted
the keys to my own happiness.
Driving away from this detour
on my way back towards
a more beneficial path.

Doubters laugh–
mocking my progress.
Waiting for the day I fall
Hoping I ask them for help
just so they can applaud their own
pointless existence.

But they were never any
friends of mine.

I am the definition of
tough love and perseverance.
The one who never gives up–unless
I am forced to retreat.

But this isn’t really about me.

It’s about being shaken to the core
by a dream and reaching out
in vain–knowing no one will ever
fully see what you are going through.

It’s about putting on a
brave face and welcoming
the certainty of the unknown.
Being a responsible adult–
even when you find it hard to believe.

Admitting you messed up
and making amends
so long as it does not distract
from your peace.

And if I can just get to this final place
of forgiveness and self-love…

art, drawing, girl, dreams, sara herranz

I know these nightmares will eventually stop.


If Only.

You have a way with words that rush like rain but no one knows who made you this way.
I searched for the right answers, but all I knew is that I loved to be in love with you.

If only I could pretend none of this is happening.

I walk now towards valleys and forge my own path in a wilderness I was always meant to walk through. Breaking fellowship on every ground I attempted to place a root. Violently striking out against anyone who ever sided with you.

This is a chartered course but no one knows where the final destination will be. For now the coordinates are: me without you, you without me. And these jaded hearts do not heal like they used to. You cannot rebound with the next opposite or hop to another extreme.

After all, I am a vibrant winter and quiet spring–a host of mutable complexities.

Things change. What started as a walk in the park began to get hard. Yellow caution, now an unmistakable red light. You were a tiny star in my infinite galaxy. The one I used to build dreams around. Now I am awake and clumsy with suspicion. Taking the longest road back to reality.

If only I could pretend none of this is happening. 

I do not care that you are gone. I care that you deliberately dragged me along. I care that you pledged allegiance to us, while in the same breath planned your exodus. I care that my devastation at being deceived led me to fight for someone unworthy of me.

But now I force myself to get up. Tackle the voices in my head telling me I am not good enough. Repair the damage I introduced to my family. Find a way to absorb the cost.

If only I could pretend none of this is happening.

100% Chance of Rain.

While you rage against the machinations of fate, take care at the dose of humility knocking on the front door of your heart. Not one contemptuous breath will pass once THAT door is opened. So just breathe. Take a moment to study everything. Stop trying. Stop insinuating. Let all the chips you’ve refused to drop fall, finally into place.

I rejected change. Held on too tightly to a past diluted with rose colored glasses. And a future masked by nimbo-stratus clouds on what should have been a perfectly sunny day. Weather reports are not suggestions. But it is a choice to opt out of the stalemate of pride.
Rain is necessary if you want your crop to survive.

I survey one moot point while digesting this silent insubordination:

No One. Owes You. Anything.

I still find a way to resentfully brood; fully knowing I so desperately need hydration. Looking up at those same clouds alive with lightning and thunder, threatening my every move. I do not want to be swallowed by darkness, but I struggle on the thin line of recovery–while walking towards the safety of the light. Little hands reach for me through the depths of the shadows, but I stand rebelliously between the promise of death and the burden of life.

It was never up to me to decide.
Pain is necessary if you want your crop to survive.

Dream Light.

How is your dream life?

How do you face a Monday morning alarm clock when you can’t sleep at night?
Skip through Friday, relax on Saturday, on Sunday recuperate.
Then it’s another week of the same things over and over again.

Seems like nothing changes and your heart is weighed down in despair.
Tired of every failure, every frustration, every delay in gratification.
Feels like the pressure is bearing down on you from all sides.

How do you face the day when you cannot dream at night?

Whistle while you work, but the reality of your situation makes you anxious.
Impatient, because you have done all that you can do.
And it still doesn’t seem like enough.

TRUTH says, “Tough–You think you’re the only one who feels this way?”
GRACE offers relationship, but no direction for change.
So we are left with TIME.

Some people take “time” to an awful place.
They measure the benefits of growth by how long it takes.
Time is an essential component that needs to be met with grace.
Then, truth can minister healing and deposit hope into our ways.

It takes much longer than you think.
None of us will reach perfection
on this side of eternity.

And this surprises us because we focus on what we can DO to be saved.
Yet, God loves us infinitely–without merit or pause.
We were Created in His image and purposed for His cause.

So, our dreams must be in alignment with what He has ordained.

Grace captivates.
Truth establishes order.
Time is what eventually will lead us to change.

–Be Blessed.

A Common Story.

No one knows when Wendy fell in love with Peter Pan.
But I can assure you it wasn’t on her first trip to Never-Land.

Love doesn’t manifest over a campfire.

Sure, you can talk about blue lagoons and mermaids
and maybe Captain Hook too.
But you failed to mention the “Lost Boy” was you.
He wanted her to believe, but she needed proof.

When a woman is enchanted she will see the absolute best.
If you claim you can fly, she will ignore the harness under your vest.
If you say you can’t die, she will quietly address your wounds.
Swear you won’t lie, and she will lose sight of the truth.

Imagine Wendy.
She is just a girl who couldn’t sleep.
Chose the wrong night to go exploring.
Wishful words and fairy-tales wrapped her in their mystery.

She fell in love with a boy who did not want to grow up.

…and the rest is ancient history.