A Romantic"s Letter to this Beautiful Life

We can't have it all 

But we can make the most of the memories we have 

Long car rides in a nostalgic land that was the original home 

Losing yourself in his emerald blue eyes 

Singing of God"s endless love in Lithuanian at bible study 

Stranding yourself in the middle of nowhere with dear friends 

Wednesday prayer nights of hope with your dearest roomies, believing in God to do miracles of the impossible. 

Sipping banana chocolate lattes at midnight with your best friend talking about this beautiful life 

Singing Russian love songs in coffeeshops with an acoustic guitar

Late night walks after youth group lost under the starry Baltic sky...

We can't have it all, 

But we can make the most of the memories we have, 

Our hearts will break within our glass souls 

We will fall in love 

We will fall out of love 

Oh how short this life is! 

As we immortally lie to our mortal selves

Taking the ones we love for granted 

You are only 22 once 

Perhaps our lives didn't go as we planned, hoped or dreamed, but I thank God He had something even greater in mind 

I thank Him for 

Each smile 

Each heart felt laugh 

Each dear soul I have ever met in this beautiful life 

Each moment of artistic inspiration 

Each musical melody that ever danced across the catacombs of my wandering heart 

For Every time I was lost under your Baltic sky 

for every time I was lost under your American sky 

And every culture in between and beyond 

We can't have it all 

And I've finally come to peace with this reality 

But we can make the most of the memories we were blessed to be alive for. 

Wine Red Lipstick

I'll never forget the day I stopped wearing "Wine is Everything" red lipstick
It was a slow loss of identity, as blood flows out of the body
How could such a small seemingly insignificant detail mean everything?
I wish we would have met when you saw that world on my lips
You met the "natural beauty" version
Plain.
Simple.
"Conservative" "Society" would have preferred that anyways,
but honestly you never knew what that color meant to me
You missed out on a part of my heart and soul I choose not to reveal
Or perhaps a part of me just died
and I chose to bury it in the grave
Once and for all. 

The Rock Soul

I sprawled myself across the cold earth as if in snow angel formation
I turned onto the other side as if the dirt were my pillow
and listened for its heartbeat,
the world was silent in the middle of the dark forest
I held my breath,
and I felt a small thump,
In the land of my own flesh and blood,
it was indeed some sort of heart beat,
 but not one that I recognized or grew up with.
I looked into the reflection of a nearby puddle,
those facial features were deeply embedded and sewn in this earth,
confirming its origin,
but the soul,
Oh this Beloved soul,
that heart,
beated from another land,
another time,
another place,
another artistic inspiration,
another melody,
there was no rock soul to be found,
not a trace,
not a breath,
not a single kiss,
I cried,
as if it were the biggest insulting joke of life ever experienced.
KODĖL?
KODĖL?
KODĖL!?!?!?
I screamed.
Olive green pants drowning now in mud from tears.

_________________________________________

There were choices to be made,
conform and be like the rest, disown this rock soul, OR
show the world, a unique interpretation of redemptive musical life,
and face the risk of being judged, mocked, rejected and disowned.
It just seemed so irrelevant,
but for some reason the heartbeat within,
weakly whispered not to give up,
reflecting a lifeless face
missing wine red lipstick
an over conservative
art starved
musically deprived
fear trapped
 stranger I didn't recognize....

The Kindness of the World

She found herself sitting on a bench in the city centre

What a luminous sunny day it was

With her coffee stained tattered journal

Which held her most precious thoughts of the heart

She looked up and saw a young man, near the age of 20, black leather jacket, sea green brown eyes, back brushed sandy blond hair, he smiled as he said goodbye to his friends,

As he walked passed her she could see the deep sadness in his eyes. He was hiding some secret. The tears slowly formed as he turned the corner to cover his face.

The rest of the world went on like nothing ever happened.

A young lady, dressed in a wine red dress, with dark curly hair, so beautiful. Underneath she was a dreamer, struggling with doubt, society judged her, she really wanted to give up, Praying someone would reach out, support her.

The rest of the world went on like nothing ever happened.

Another unkept man,  slowly moved down the road, long hair past his chin, smoking a cigarette, with a stern look on his face, others cringed and gave him strange looks of disgust.

The rest of the world went on like nothing ever happened.

An older woman, probably in her 60s was practically crawling up the bank steps, she outstretched her trembling hand for the door’s handle, but couldn’t make it.

The rest of the world went on like nothing ever happened.

A teenage girl with hair dyed blue, bright red nails and lipstick, the wind caught her black long sleeve shirt to reveal scars on her wrist.

The rest of the world went on like nothing ever happened.

After several hours of observation....with unbearable tears  in my eyes and a heavy heart I  closed my wet seemingly ocean drowned journal. 

My World

Artistic inspiration is

his sea glass blue eyes

her dark wine red lipstick

peacock patterned leggings

the abstract mess of pictures on the desk

a prayer room created from the heart

Artistic inspiration is

the colors of  a Lithuanian sunset

the young Czech man playing a sad and haunting melody on his guitar

the laughter of a  Croatian woman

a young Polish man’s long black dreadlocks

singing worship songs in Serbian

the taste of Italian tomatoes

Artistic inspiration is

the rushing clear mountain rivers of Bosnia

hiding in a bush at 1am  in Kosovo

talking to three pastors in Montenegro

breathing in the air of putrid fish in Iceland

a sunny abandoned Macedonian road

Artistic inspiration is

the endless late night conversations of dear friends

her echoing laughter

the relentless fire in her eyes

once lived memories of the travelers heart  

What They Said

They said sit 

I danced

They said scientific English 

I wrote creative 

They said be silent 

I screamed 

They said this wall will remain blank white 

I painted it the colors of the Baltic Sea sunset 

They said conform

I stood out 

They said give up it's no use

I pursued it with relentless passion

They said be normal 

I told them I would rather die than disown the heart and soul of who I am 

The Heart Song

I stood on an expansive dirt hill overlooking Przystanek Woodstock (also known as Polish Woodstock). It was late evening, and I was lost in a sea of dreadlocks, tattoos, ear gauges and the punk rock/ metal artistic craziness of over one million people. I found myself in the evangelistic adventure of a lifetime, near the small southern village of Kostrzyn nad Odrą.

 I carried Ruslana Evelyn (my guitar) and started walking with a few of my friends from my missions school at the early hour of 1 in the morning. I  thought to myself, “What could I possibly be doing at this questionable time on the streets of Woodstock?”   We trudged through roads that were drowning in putrid garbage and every sin imaginable while the smell of cigarette smoke floated in the air like a piercing fog into our eyes.

We arrived at the northern most part of the festival and there I saw of group of fifteen young people sitting in a circle laughing, the aroma of pot and alcohol hung like an old forgotten curtain.  I was too tired to speak with them. I merely and passively walked by.  Then one of the young Polish men noticed I had a guitar and asked, “Cześć, would you like to come hang out with my friends and I?”  At first I was hesitant, and then agreed to do so. Everyone wanted me to play a song, and so the first one to come to my mind was Pasaulio Švesia (Here I Am To Worship). I had no idea why God wanted me to sing this song ( I was very new and afraid with my music evangelism at the time) and especially at this unexpected hour.

Nevertheless, I let this sweet melody drift into the calm starry Polish night sky. Afterwards, I looked up and the same young man who invited me to play had tears in his eyes. He expressed thoughtfully, “Your song really touched my heart.” It was truly an unforgettable precious moment. 

There are many people in the world who are waiting to be inspired by your heart’s song. Will you find the boldness to share your story?