is this not sacred

If Jesus lived through years of his life working a carpenters job 

Sweating, getting splinters, dirty feet, and aching muscles, 

Bruised, thirsty and altogether unremarkable, the illegitimate son of––

If If If

Then––

Is this not sacred too?

Is this not holy war 

And faithful, fearful

Living before the face of God

This living

This body

This temple

This secret

This holy place

Here?

Are you sure?

Here?

You want to dwell—

With me?

What kind of god is

This?

That chooses to dwell

Holy

In the dirt

With the dust 

That betrayed him

To make a home 

Out of us

What is this sacred life?

This living

This breathing

This dying

This eating

This waking

This working

This sleeping

This human body 

To a never dying soul 

This is holy ground

Jesus walks here

Dwells here

Abides here

Makes all things new here

Is this the secret?

He is here

black and white

How do I paint the sky for you 

In words of black and white

How do I describe my dad to you

Or the way the trees play with the light

I trace your hands along my scar

But you don’t know how it feels

You don’t feel the leather seats in my car

Or my burnt skin after the sun when it peels

Do you hear the supper bell clang

Do you know the woods where we roam 

Do you remember how the crickets sang

Or the sound of the gravel coming home

I try to do my best to paint

These pictures in black and white

You smile and nod but it ain’t

The same–it’s all just black and white

you touch me

You touch me

    –What?
You lay your hands on my body
    –No.

My body is vulnerable
Weak, open
Too open

My body is sexual
And I can't

Stop it

My body is an object
To be used
By the hands laid on it

It is not safe

    –But you are safe.

Your hands, my God

    –They are safe.

Your hands are gentle

Healing

Not intrusive

Your hands,

They hold me

They are only good intentions

You know me. My body. Its scars. Its openness, vulnerability, beauty, sexuality, physicality, spirituality, trauma, insecurity, its comforts and discomforts. You know the darkness, the brokenness, bruises beneath the surface. 

    –Ow, it's still sore there. 

You know. You know the dirt beneath my nails.

    –Is it dirt? I don't remember.

You know the lies that have shaded my eyes, sealed my lips shut.

You know this body. You formed this body of death. You loved this body of death, this house to a soul. You died to redeem it. You laid your hands on me in the grave. I am not clean. I am dirty and it's ugly here and I don't know how to talk about it. You came to me in the dark when I was weak, defensive. I did not know who you were. 

I only knew gentle hands that didn't rip me open, did not tear me down. You do not ask where it hurts. You know all my bruises.

You wore my death in your own body on a tree in your flesh. It rose up in your throat from your lungs, stealing your breath, suffocating you. Yes– you know my shame. You drank it whole. You stole it away from me.

My body is flesh and bones and dust and divine touch

And you lay your hands on this dirt

And make me come alive in your arms

You take me into your house of healing and you touch everywhere it hurts

And I am not afraid

You take the hurt over and over 

I did not know you were taking it 

yourself in through your fingertips 

on my skin

You trade me 

Life for death

Life for death

Life for death

Until it's all that's left

In this body of death

even the darkness

Even the darkness

Even the darkness

Even the darkness

Even the darkness

I repeat to myself in the darkness

I scream to myself in the darkness

I breathe to myself in the darkness

In the garden

Was it not darkness to you?

In the garden

When your sweat and blood mixed with the dirt

and your body weary, strained, crying,

knowing what was coming next?

Were you afraid when you asked your Father to take it away,

when you pleaded if there's any other way,

knowing there was none?

Did you love him so much it hurt?

Was it physical, emotional, spiritual, mental–

the excruciating pain?

Did you love me so much it hurt?

The thought of being separated, torn apart,

despised, buried, suffocating, abandoned 

by your friends as you chose to die eternally for them

Was it dark to you then?

It is dark to me sometimes

I see redemption coming,

but, here, it is dark

— olivia gwyn

Even the darkness is not dark to you;
    the night is bright as the day,
    for darkness is as light with you.

Psalm 139:12

what if

I remember asking my Dad
Nervous 
Riding in his truck

What was the last thing
Do you remember the last time
The last thing your mom said to you
Before she died

Because what if
Because just in case
Because you never know

Because what if I don't remember
What if I forget

How many times have I 
Tried to brand a memory 
Into my brain, a moment in time

How many have I forgotten?

Eternity is written on our hearts,
But pales in comparison to our own finiteness.

I'm scared of the payphone
Cutting out with no warning

Too many insignificant goodbyes
I love you's, see you later
Ok I'm leaving now

Missed opportunities

Until it was significant
And you missed it
And you're left scrambling-- 

Did I say I love you?
If I can't remember did I even really mean it?

...

You're in an other room right now
and I hope you know I love you
Today right now every moment

Every time you walk out that damn door

thursday night

You play guitar and it sounds like it used to

But it’s not the same 

You play your records and you sit on your bed

And nothing is the same

You’re looking in the shadows for the light 

It weeps behind you as you scramble in the darkness of your own shadow

And it is not enough

You want to believe that it is enough

You want her to be enough

You just want to be enough 

And you want to believe so bad 

But your chest aches from the effort of it

And faith turns to dust in the face of the world

And you wonder what else is made of dust 

And wonder how long till you are

You try to remember the last time you weren’t lost

But the guitar sounds like rain on the roof

And the record sound prickles the air

And you can’t remember so you focus on these things

And so it goes

And goes

And goes

Until suddenly it doesn't

[ Your iCloud storage is full ] 

leaving home

I don't know if I'm ready to write this.

You never know how much you love home till you leave it. When they hug you too hard and you bite your tongue and try to remember to breathe and not let the heat behind your eyes fall yet cause you know it won't stop. When they shut the door behind them and the car pulls out and they're gone. And you can't stand that you won't be there for the clogging performances, basketball games, rainy Saturday afternoons, the family devotions, math lessons, the fights, the competitions for showers, watching Jeopardy at night, campfires, sleepovers, Dad's days off, and every other in between. And the end of a good thing hurts so bad, because it was a good thing. It was so good. And that's how it's supposed to be. It's supposed to be different now, but that doesn't make it any easier. 

Because your little sister is crying and insisting on one more hug and Mom's trying to keep it together and your brother keeps saying he'll see you soon and Dad's saying how much he loves you. And everything new is wonderful and good but it doesn't keep you from sitting on your bed in your room with the door closed blurring pages of your journal with tears.

every good and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow. james 1:17.

behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. isaiah 43:19.

he has made everything beautiful in its time. ecclesiastes 3:11.

no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him. 1 corinthians 2:9.

through my eyes: uganda

for those of you who don't know, I'VE BEEN IN UGANDA.

I went through a wonderful organization called Amani Baby Cottage, got to love on and be loved by 2-5 year old girls, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat if I could. lots of people have been asking me about it, though, and I've been gone so long I felt like I should have something to show for my absence. so here we go: some raw journal entries so maybe you can get a little glimpse of uganda through my eyes. sorry in advance for the run on sentences that never end lol.

6.15.18 It smells like an open fire and chicken over roasted and dark feet on red dirt baked dry by the sun. It smells like smoke and dust, hanging and choking like a cloud in the night. It sounds like motorcycles and horns and locals talking fast and music flying by the window too loud, passing bar after bar. It feels like bleak futures and broken dreams or none at all. It feels like it's too late. Romans 5:8. Ephesians 2:4-8. 1:49 am.

6.19.18. Mama Rosemary, Mama Betty, and Mama Dorothy came up with a Ugandan nickname for me. Balunje: good, beautiful, altogether.

6.21.18. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. 1 Corinthians 1:27-29. mE.

6.22.18. how the kids say "How are you?" like "Ow ah yoo?"

6.23.18. Sarah pointing at the moon, saying that it was America, and that she's going to go there on a plane one day.. "You going to Merica?"

6.24.18. Davide picking flowers on the walk to church and giving them to me to put in my hair. I SAW THE NILE RIVER.

6.25.18. "Auntie Olivia you no see me. Ah notta heeya." except a thousand times a day.

6.27.18. Rosie climbing on my back, hugging my neck, and singing I have decided to follow Jesus at the top of her lungs during bath time. Danny kissing me on the neck and laughing when I acted surprised.

6.29.18. Hearing "Myzungu!" aka white person and stares following you everywhere you go in town.

6.25.18. Sarah taking a picture with me and surprising me with a kiss on the cheek. HOW CAN I LEAVE HER.

6.27.18. Even in laughter the heart may ache. Proverbs 14:13.

6.30.18. Joram: "Auntie I love you."

7.1.18. Brianna holding my hand wanting me to come swing with her, but me telling her I can't because Auntie gave me a project to do but I love her. Her, looking at me considering, gives my hand a kiss and lets go. Help.

7.1.18. It's hard to describe orphan care in a third world country to someone who's never done it before. Because one minute it's bath and bed time and everyone's sweaty and tired except the kids who are way too excited after playtime and you're trying to dry off soaking wet babies but all the other kids are jumping all over your back butt naked and happy screaming after peeing. And then another minute you open the door and they're running at you with their arms open wide yelling, "Auntie! Auntie! Even me! Pick up me!" And you just love them so much it hurts and it breaks your heart in every way you never knew it would. And you learn sometimes you can't fix every broken thing or heal every hurting heart, but you can always love with everything you've got.

7.2.18 Holding brown faces in my hands and crying and smiling and trying to tell them I love them and I have to go now but it's too hard to speak and they're smiling confused at why my face is all funny and teary. Long hugs and knowing the words left unsaid and loving till it aches deep in your chest like it'll never go away.

something

I want to write something
about the healing and
the hurting
but I'm too lost in between
and I'm starting to wonder
if they're not maybe
the same thing

Where does one stop
and another begin

I'm starting to think
both come at once
on the gentle waves
of an untamed Grace

journal excerpts + pics 2017

2. 12.17 "your momma must be so proud"
3.3.17. my car started lol
3.26.17 face-timing til one in the morning and eating bagels together a thousand miles away
4.1.17 corn hole at Granny's + banana pudding
4.9.17 planning to skip prom and eat waffles and play xbox instead
5.11.17 mom brought me breakfast in bed whAt
5.17.17 but I ran and ate bread and samoas and drove unfamiliar country roads with wet hair and late sun on my bare arms and now the sky is pink and purple fading to dark behind the trees and it's ok
5.21.17 everything is so good and I'm too scared to think about it or I'll cry cause beginnings mean endings and time slips by so fast and I don't know how to love people well enough yet. what if I've lived all this time and they haven't seen Jesus yet?
5.24.17 "it was probably nothing but it felt like the world"
6.3.17. me:smiling  him:shut up

6.5.17. dad "olivia can you come back in here real quick? i want you to hear a song"
6.11.17 ..i'm here to serve my Savior. i'm here to love, cherish worship, glorify, and enjoy Him above all else. i'm here to serve other people. & i'm so tired of all the other stuff occupying so much space in my finite brain.
6.24.17 everybody home. pizza.
7.4.17 "when we behave this way, when we refuse to love someone and deliberately withold our love from them.. instead of calling them higher, we are condemning them to stay where they are, in their faults and sins and shortcomings. we won't acknowledge the best in them because we want to make them pay for their bad behavior first. we are seeking to punish them, but in doing this we are feeding the very thing we wish to starve and condemning them to be their worst forever." - eric metaxas, "if you can keep it" 12:20am

7.21..17 [what i learned] that it's okay to open up. to listen when it hurts and when you wanna fight back and defend. how pretty the view from jefferson memorial is at sunset. what good thai food tastes like. that we don't always know what God's doing but He's always good and He never leaves us alone. to stop dismissing the psalms that are all about praise.
7.24.17 today i failed a lot. today Jesus said again come as you are
7.25.17 i feel so loved i might die
8.2.17 the ocean $1 tacos 50 cent frosties springsteen's greatest hits sunroof down
8.6.17 and sometimes "for the best" still feels like the worst
x.x.17 the held glance in the mirror of ur eyes, brow creased in concentration, messy hair 11:35am
9.19.17 will having mom in his contacts as mammy
10.2.17 "mY Favorite Things iS to Be With YOU" note from jules

10.21.17 i just can't believe there was a a last time they got to hear his voice and a last time they got to give him a hug and maybe they didn't do it like they meant it. i can't believe for him this life is over already, too soon
10.24.17 never on the day you leave / john mayer
11.10.17 "so also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice and no one will take your joy from you"
12.13.17 laying out in the field in the freezing cold under a blanket with the boys to watch the meteor shower "where the heck is the little dipper like what the freak"
1.1.18: "no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love Him" / 1 cor 2:9

and it was Good
how was ur 2017 ??? xo

ps within the next week or so I'm gonna have a "how to journal-ing" post going up on Odyssey. OH I guess I haven't told you guys yet, but I'm writing weekly for Odyssey now, and you can find my stuff all HERE. check back in a week or so and you can see my post on "5 ways to start a killer journal and actually stick with it"! WHOO! sorry this post took me so long I'm kind of the worst. ok thanks love u all bye.