Debbie McKisick Haupt

Love Where You Are

When you choose to love where you are,

whatever the circumstance, whatever the relationship,

whatever the ease or difficulty,

whoever the person,

wherever the location,

you unlock the power of love

to make possible the impossible,

to change the unchangeable,

to set free the captives,

to heal the broken,

to restore the beauty.

Whatever the circumstance, whatever the relationship,

whatever the ease or difficulty,

whoever the person,

wherever the location

choose to love where you are.

It’s Time

Pull the plug

on the full tub

of sadness.

Let the old, dirty

bath water out.

It’s been sitting

stagnant

for too many years.

It’s time

to release

those tears.

Psalm 56:8 “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.”

Matthew 5:4 ” God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

Goodbye, Childhood

I didn’t purposely set out to write a bunch of sad poems about my life. But in my brokenness I did cry out to God, and often felt lead to write down my thoughts, feelings and memories. This became a way for my heart to heal. Maybe you feel you lost a part of your childhood too. It is okay to grieve that loss. I have found that only God can bring complete healing.

I’m just a little girl,

please treat me as such.

Your grown-up words and behavior

are just too much

for me to understand and comprehend.

I feel my innocence coming to an end.

I just want to be free

to run and laugh and play.

I want to feel loved.

I want to feel safe.

Your adult world scares me,

please don’t burden me with it now.

My plea goes unheard,

I guess I’ll deal with it somehow.

I’ll pretend it’s okay.

Your grown-up world is fun,

and no one seems to notice

that I’m much too young.

Goodbye, childhood.

I’ll save you for a rainy day,

maybe then I’ll be free

to run and laugh and play.

My Little Boys’ Pockets

My two oldest boys, James and Michael, were about four and five years old when I wrote this. I was inspired with these words at the exact moment I was filling up the washer and checking their pockets! Now I look back at these memories with such longing. They grow up so fast. Those little boy days were so sweet. My two oldest are now 19 and 20. I also have a 16 year old daughter, Anna, and a 13 year old son, John. This reminds me to enjoy my children and cherish every age and stage!

As I fill up the washer with soap and water

and sort through all the clothes,

I do as I must to prevent further mess,

I check the pockets of my little boys’ pants.

I’m often filled with anticipation

and, yes, I admit, some fear,

for I never know what I am going to find,

and how it will change from year to year.

I hope that it’s not the dreaded frog,

a worm, a beetle, or a poly wog.

I have yet to find such creatures thus far,

but what I have found is still quite bizarre.

A plastic toy starfish, empty bullet shells,

a toy crab tangled in a mesh of rubberbands.

Sweet Tarts, a miniature skateboard,

a jumbo paperclip, and an American flag.

A chewing gum wrapper, a toy dolphin,

and a miniature baseball helmet,

trading cards, army men, a piece of candy,

and a pocket full of rocks, you can bet!

Little boys’ pockets are truly amazing,

a secret place for their own collections.

They are the treasure chests of boyhood,

the results of hard play and explorations.

It’s in those pockets that we get a glimpse

into a little boy’s world of make-believe,

a world of adventure and curiosity,

a world where they dream their dreams.

And it’s in those pockets that we pause,

reflect, reminiscence and conclude,

that it is our privilege as parents

to help make their dreams come true.

I wrote this poem long ago, in my twenties. It’s about my dad. I lost my biological father when I was 5 years old. He was killed at the age of 26 in a car accident. I don’t really remember much about him. But I have always missed him and have felt a special connection to him. When I felt no one understood me, I always knew my dad would have. I am a lot like him. A thinker, creative, artistic, quiet, sometimes moody. I have written several poems, processing the grief and loss that remained unresolved for so many years. Grief bottled up turns to anger, bitterness and depression. This is one of my ways of letting it out, letting go and healing.

If only you could see

how much of you

you gave to me.

If only you were here

we could talk of things

we hold so dear.

Sometimes we are so silent

but yet we’re never still.

We know who and what we are

yet many never will.

If only I could talk with you

so much I want to say.

But most of all I’d ask you, dad,

to guide me along life’s way.

I know you had the answers,

your dreams to share with me.

And yet I am just like you,

I hope that you can see.

Your way of showing the world

just what you felt inside,

you expressed in drawing;

sometimes a place to hide.

And that’s how I got to know you.

I looked long and close

at your way of expressing

what meant to you the most.

You inspire me, you comfort me,

you share with me your love.

And, again, I am just like you.

Can you see me from above?

I love you, dad.

My Mask

Often when people are hurting inside, they want to hide. They don’t want others to know. That was me. It is hard to find people to trust with your pain, and when in public, we just force a smile. My hope and prayer is that you have someone in your life you can open up to who is safe. Someone to be real with. Who will love and accept you for who and where you are. But even if you don’t have that someone, you can have Jesus. He loves you with a never-ending, unconditional, ever-lasting and perfect love. He never fails and he is always ready to listen.

Can someone please

Offer me

Some kind of disguise?

So I don’t reveal

Too much

Of this pain inside

When they sense

My sadness

Please help me to grin

For they must

Not see

This pain I am in

Go away, world

12.1.12 – I wrote the below poem during a dark time of depression and happy people made me angry. Maybe you can relate. If so, there is hope. I am not stuck in that place anymore. Through the help of godly counsel and the grace and mercy of my Lord Jesus Christ, I am a new creation. I am joyful, content, healed and feel loved. It doesn’t mean life is now perfect. I still have lows, but I can turn to Jesus and he carries my burdens and comforts me. He cares about our every need and knows our despair. Call out to Him. He loves you.

Go away, world

Just leave me alone

Especially you with your happy little lives

Go ride your merry-go-round of consistency and predictability

Enjoy the pace where you can get on and off at your leisure

As I tighten my grip on this roller coaster of the turbulent and the unknown

Where the highs of exuberance are met with equal lows of despair

Enjoy your brightly colored lights and joyful music,

Your playful and whimsical surroundings

While I’m encased by hard, cold steel and loud rumblings

That never seem to end.

Even though my highs are extreme and thrilling,

It never quite prepares me for the drop to come.

And even though the course is familiar,

I am never really in control.

The highs and the lows,

Around and around on the track I go.

The controller is relentless,

Faster and faster

Louder and louder

My cries to slow down cannot be heard

Nor would they be considered anyway.

For the ride has a mind of its own.

Psalm 40:1-3 “I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the LORD.

Psalm 42:11 “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.”

Lose Yourself

Like a barren tree

stripped of all beauty,

The autumn leaves

of my identity

falling one by one,

floating slowly to the ground.

No longer anchored

by impressions I make.

I cry out to my Creator,

How could you?

Why do you?

The still, cold silence.

I see that I am losing

Who I thought I was,

Who I wanted to be,

Who I wanted others to like.

There is now nothing left

to clothe me,

to brag of,

to hide behind,

to have confidence in.

Proud of my autumn leaves,

their majesty, show of color and outward beauty,

masquerading who I really am underneath,

A false security of appearances.

Now forced to look at my bareness,

Stripped, naked, ugly, alone, powerless, helpless, hopeless.

I lost myself.

Then …

My Creator clothed me again.

New, fresh, green, tender, soft, subtle, refreshing, alive

A new self emerging with

grace, humility, substance, meaning, strength,

and gratitude for new life.

God

He spoke

I heard

He waited

I forgot

He continued

I pretended

He pursued

I ran

He loved

I noticed

He invited

I ignored

He persisted

I hardened

He allowed

I broke

He carried

I rested

He restored

I flourished

He loves

I receive

Only Truth

It is said that

‘the Truth will set you free’

Yet the Truth is what we hide from

instead of letting it be

A place that is safe

A place that is good

Truth, I’m afraid,

is misunderstood

We fear what we know is our reality

as we keep up the act and the pretending

that all is okay, it will be alright

Why, then, can’t we sleep at night?

The Truth may hurt

The Truth may sting

yet it is only in this Truth

we can truly be free

(John 8:32 “And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free”)

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