As the water trickles down, the foundation begins to crack under pressure, just as the bruises fade. The wind in the air is thin, even as time counts down to the end. When will the light finally grow into an unbreakable chain?

My story is about a woman who had two kids between the ages of 21 and 25. She had two girls who are now 15 and 10. After she had her second child, she made one of the hardest decisions she now regrets. She decided to have her tubes tied and an ablation done because she knew, deep down, that she couldn’t take care of another child due to personal reasons. Despite her belief that she would never have kids again, seven years later, after getting remarried, she found out she was going to have another baby.

She was shocked when she took two home pregnancy tests. She thought, “How is this possible?” Her doctor had told her that the procedure was supposed to be effective, but after two exams were done, the first test revealed that the procedure, after all this time, hadn’t worked, and the second test revealed that there was indeed a baby. Unfortunately, she ended up miscarrying, and all that was left was the gestational sac. She was only two months along, and even though she didn’t yet know the sex of the baby, she wanted to honor him by imagining him as a boy since her partner also had girls.

She was devastated and decided to create a memorial for him. She made a plaque, had a memory box with angel wings, and a special Christmas ornament with his name and the message “In Loving Memory.” She also chose a tattoo for her arm featuring wings, a golden halo, and blue feet to represent him. Her parents even made her a special present to honor their first grandson. They crafted a family of bears, with the mom bear and each of her cubs. She took it home, wrote each of her babies’ names on it, and gave them a special paint color.

Every year, she takes a moment to honor her son and reflects on what he would have looked like if he had loved his sisters and how big he would have been. Many questions run through her mind: What would he have grown up to be? Who knows?

Dear Unsealers,

“Bucephalus” is a protest poem about the violence we inherit, the pain we normalize, and the strength it takes to break those cycles. I wrote it to examine the ways masculinity can be distorted by trauma, and how empathy often gets buried beneath performance. This poem speaks to the cost of silence and the quiet resilience of those who choose tenderness in a world that teaches them to harden. It’s a reminder that even the deepest wounds can bloom into something honest—and that too is power.

Bucephalus
The formation of the soul is a seed in the earth,
forged in pressure, blooming through trauma.
Divine mother, singer of arias—
violence takes the limbs from a miner
in an act of endless cruelty.
The acrid scent of sulphur is the last gravestone
where innocence mourns at midday.
By the deathbed of an absent father,
or the bedside of a son who accepts affection
in the slap of abuse’s caress.
We live in a world of dogs dressed up as lions.
One’s suffering is another’s pleasure. Homophobic chauvinism—
masked insecurity; an aversion to kindness,
to the laughter of children.
Those who piss have prayers as well.

A soul adrift in uncharted terrain, she questions all she’s known. Past trials seemed unbearable, yet now she doubts every step. Her words, a desperate cry, poured onto pages in verse and prose. But from her lines, I sense no escape, only loss and shattered dreams. Everything she stood for, believed, and fought for all for nothing.

Life is like walking on a bridge; it can crumble and break when the energy is off. Twists and turns will appear along the way. When you find yourself in a tough spot, breathing becomes harder when there’s nowhere to run. The mind and balance can only handle so much, and if you’re alone, there’s no escape. How can one person sort everything out and stay alive?

A woman without her chariot has lost all hope and ponders. She sighs, thinking, “How much more can the atmosphere around me crumble?” In the lost cage that was her home, she counted the days and waited patiently for some light to appear.

Change. It’s a part of life.

Seasons change- the sun stays out longer, the leaves change colors and fall, the snow and ice melt, the plants begin to bloom again.
Humans change- as the years pass every person matures physically, socially, and emotionally.
Technology changes- new ideas develop and old ones are updated.
Culture changes- music and fashion fads become popular, then fade away, and sometimes come back again (though not all of those things should. Looking at you, fanny packs).

But, like it or not, ready or not, at some point everything changes.

Modify. Replace. Fade. Update. Improve. Decrease. Alter. Develop. Transform. Revive. Correct. Shift. Amend. Vary. Fluctuate. Tweak.

CHANGE. Everything changes.

I hate it. I hate change. I always have. Even more than hating change, I hate not seeing a REASON for the change. Which makes it difficult sometimes, when the Creator of the universe doesn’t think I need to know the reason, or at least not at the moment I’m asking for it.

I think this opposition to change first started when my family moved away from my childhood home at the end of 7th grade. Try telling an emotional middle school girl, who was very comfortable in her small Christian school and church, that she was now one of 500 kids at a new school where she knew no one. Needless to say, it didn’t go over well. Fast forward eight years when my parents decided to move again, this time, right before my senior year of college. I was so angry. Not at my parents, really, but at God. I felt he had ripped home away from me the last year I really needed it. It took months for me to get over that anger. Those two moves were defining moments in my life (more on that later). Looking back 21 years and 13 years respectively, I can see how the Lord worked both of those moves out for my good. (Funny how He always seems to do that). He used change to direct my life where He needed it to go, but at the time, I didn’t like the change.

Change. It’s a part of life. It’s a part of MY life. But for some reason, it has felt like this year has held more change than ever. Changes I can’t seem to understand. Changes I don’t want to understand. Change. I still hate it!

However, as I continue to wrestle through that ever-present loathing of change, I am beginning to see a thawing in my attitude towards it. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still not a fan. But, throughout this year, I have tried to more purposefully and consciously look back on what the Lord has done for me. As a history teacher, this was easy. I love looking back on the past. It is literally my job description. I now have 34 years to look back on and see how God has wisely and lovingly guided me through numerous expected and unexpected changes. My goal in the coming years is to remember that history. I spend my days telling kids to remember what He has done…it’s time I took my own advice! I have no better way to sum up this new focus and attitude, than a favorite quote of mine from the Chosen. Earlier this school year, I started to watch the Chosen for the first time, after years of one of my friends encouraging me to do so. I have not regretted it. In the Chosen episode when Peter walks on water, and Jesus pulls him from the waves, Jesus holds him tightly in the boat, and says to him, “I have much planned for you, Simon. Really hard things. Just keep your eyes on Me.” That quote has played over and over in my mind in the months since I first saw that episode. But now it has MY name in it. “I have much planned for you, Jessica Dawn. Really hard things. Just keep your eyes on Me.” Like it or not, ready or not, at some point everything changes…but you know what? I serve a God who is unchangeable. That thought grounds me more and more the older I get. MY Jesus “is the same yesterday, today, and forever” (Hebrews 13:8)!

A year ago, just a few months before my 33rd birthday, I sat down and wrote, for lack of a better phrase, a personal historical account. A record of several specific ways I had seen the Lord give me the “desires of my heart” (Psalm 37:4). I am not going to rehash that whole account (if you are interested in reading that, I might be willing to share). The purpose of this account is to explain how some of the things from last year’s account have already changed, and what the Lord has taught me through those changes. What I did last year was make a list of all my responsibilities at school/work and prioritize them based on what I felt the Lord had called me to do at that point in my life. Below is an excerpt from last year’s previously mentioned “historical account”.

I want to be the absolute best middle school history teacher I can be. I have a few specific goals to work on in my classroom in the next few months to make that a reality. I want to be a better basketball coach, but more purposefully seeking out the girls on my teams who need the Lord and discipling those who already know Him. I want to keep serving the Lord here in Wilmington. I’ve struggled with this thought throughout the last couple years, about whether this is where I need to stay, but over and over God has made it clear- WIlmington, NC is where I’m supposed to serve. WCA is where God wants me to be.

Shocking no one, the top two most important responsibilities on my list were teaching history and coaching basketball. It’s been that way since I was in 4th grade. I’ve never had a question mark behind that statement. God wants me to teach history and coach basketball. Period.

Looking for it, or not. Change comes.

That has been the unexpected theme of my Year 33. I started last April with a heart fully dedicated to being purposeful in the areas God had called me to serve, and I do believe I have done that. But in the midst of that passionate pursuit to be purposeful, He threw me a curveball. Several curveballs actually, and the first one was only a month after writing my Year 33 “historical account”.

After much prayer and consideration, I decided not to coach basketball this school year. Anyone who truly knows me, knows how hard of a decision that was to make, and how massive of a change that was in my life. Honestly? I struggled internally with that for months and barely spoke about it to anyone. I had peace about it when I made the decision, and I still have that peace today, but that change was so hard to process. Again, I don’t like change, especially not when I don’t see a good reason for the change, which was the case in this situation. I still do not have all the answers for this one, and that’s ok. God never promised to give us all the answers. Habakkuk is a great example of someone who never got the answers to the changes he saw, and “yet,…” (Habakkuk 3:18), he focused not on the changes, but on the God who allowed the changes. Later, Paul encourages us to “set our affection on things above” (Colossians 3:2). Or as Jesus tells Simon in the Chosen, “Just keep your eyes on Me.” I love basketball, and I love coaching, but the Lord needed to teach me some things off the court this year, and I am going to walk forward confidently in this change.

The second major change began just a few months after my decision to step away from coaching. I knew from before this school year ever started that I would have to make a decision about whether I believed the Lord still wanted me at WCA. This one is hard. Wilmington is my home. I have moved so many times in my life (the two mentioned at the beginning of this document was only the start!). God must have smiled on 13 year old Jessica crying about leaving Chesapeake, VA because He knew He’d be moving me ten more times…well, Eleven. For the past eight years, I have known beyond the shadow of a doubt that the Lord wanted me in North Carolina at Wilmington Christian Academy. But with just as much confidence, I now know, my time at WCA has come to an end. The opportunity to teach with my Dad and Mom up in Green Bay became available and I know the Lord is calling me to take that opportunity. The Lord is moving me…again. Processing this change has been tough. There’s a lot of feelings that have been rising to the surface as the school year has progressed that I do not like (for example, the tears running down onto my t-shirt as I write this). And yet, in the midst of my emotional processing, I have a peace “that passeth all understanding” (Philippians 4:7). I honestly can’t fully explain how confident and peaceful I feel about this decision, but it’s there. Please do not miss the irony of this situation, because it certainly has not been lost on me! Thirteen years ago, I was ANGRY at the Lord because He called my family away from Wilmington to go to Green Bay. We had only been in Wilmington for eight years, and I felt like I had been there my whole life. Wilmington WAS my life. Eight years ago, God brought me back to Wilmington as a teacher, and it has been wonderful. This was my “dream job” back in high school. I am so grateful for the time God allowed me to minister at WCA. But back to the irony… Now I have also made the decision to move away from Wilmington, my home- to the SAME place God took me kicking and screaming thirteen years ago. Again, the Lord must have smiled down on 21 year old Jessica knowing full well that the next time He asked this change of me, I’d respond differently. Wilmington will always be my home, but it’s time for the Lord to use me in a new ministry.

Just one year ago, I had several emphatic periods at the end of my purpose statements. I KNEW I was right where God wanted me to be. Little did I know those periods were actually supposed to be commas.

Modify. Replace. Fade. Update. Improve. Decrease. Alter. Develop. Transform. Revive. Correct. Shift. Amend. Vary. Fluctuate. Tweak. CHANGE. Everything changes.

I may not like change. I may not understand it. I may not be ready for it. But my God is unchanging and THAT is where I rest and find my peace in the midst of my questions and confusion and emotions. I was not prepared for either of these massive changes, but in closing, I want to challenge you with one more thought I have stolen from the Chosen and made my own. Matthew, the former tax collector turned disciple, tells a Roman officer that when he finds himself clouded with confusion, he stops and reminds himself, “I only have one thing to do today. Follow Him. Everything else seems to fall into place.”

This is the second year I have now written a “personal historical account”, reflection and purpose statement to guide my next year. Year 33 was my purposeful year. I am sitting here at the very beginning of Year 34, which I am now going to call my immutable year. It has been said that “there is nothing permanent in this world, except change.” Maybe that is true. But my goal this year is that I will continue to fix my eyes on the Old Rugged Cross as I seek to be faithful to the Immutable God who has given me the opportunity to serve Him. If I want to be like Jesus, that means, being immutable. Seasons, humans, technology, and culture changes, but my God remains the same- and asks the same of me. “Be ye steadfast, UNMOVEABLE, always abounding in the work of the Lord” (I Corinthians 15:58).

“I only have one thing to do today. Follow Him.”

Hello there sunshines, I am here with some great news you can naturally overcome depression and anxiety. The bible teaches us how to naturally balance the positive and negative emotions in our lives. It’s ok at the darkest moments In Our lives to go to the doctor and get the help needed at that moment, he made doctors for a reason. What’s not okay is to rely on that medication to fix al of your childhood and adult relationship traumas. God has walked me through deliverance and a Beautiful way to enjoy life, focus on self love and hear his voice and tune out the world. Here are some tips on how to live life to the best of your ability on a budget. First find a job that u enjoy not have to show up to everyday ,but want to show up to and take pride in your work daily. Second find an area where just u and God can bear each other’s voices. God showed me and my sister in Christ this past year so many ways to see and appreciate his beauty from door dashing, in multi states ,to visiting museums and botanical gardens, to Learning about plants animals and history and it was a great stress reliever. Everyday for the past year doordash paid for our museum trips ,air b and b , and food and gas as we traveled America. We stayed in the tri state area and everything was within four hours of home.Our daily budget for spending was 20.00 most of the time it ended up under that price range. The third thing God helped me with to not be stressed and depressed was laying all of life’s problems at his feet and he gives us rest as it states in scripture. Picture yourself with one carryon bag then another suitcase and before u know it your carrying the entire planes luggage. This analogy is our lives we tend to worry and fear and pickup baggage that doesn’t belong to us. Cast your cares upon him and he will give u rest Amen. The fourth way to get rid of anxiety and depression is by using sensory things from your environment. This consist of smelling hearing seeing tasting and touching. I find for me nature walks running waterfalls and rivers,coloring on sidewalks with chalk, photographing nature and just being youself in general, traveling to local places, interacting with animals both tame and wild, and social distancing when needed work best. When noises around us are loud and overbearing putting on headphones and listening to something encouraging helps. Get in the habit of finding the daily verse that speaks life and encouragement into your soul and live out your purpose, 💓 u are loved I pray this helps the mass numbers and you can get peace in your hearts and enjoy your life much love and light 🕯️

Recently I have discovered in my small community that your guilty until proven innocent without even knowing things were going on behind the scenes. What do I mean by this? Being black mailed has scared even Christians to do what’s right when the time comes. The church I attended the neighbors I lived next to doctors teachers attorneys and many more were involved in the childhood battles I have faced and even as an adult still face today. My father in heaven. Told me to speak up and speak against this judicial system which is a hierarchy of wealthy men controll the less fortunate aka the elite control the community. There’s no middle class,in my small town of Hillsdale. What is said goes and people lie about things and hurt anointed ones without doing research ,to see if what’s said was even true. People are falsely testifying and involving children and minions to do their dirty work. I’m writing this to Inspire that they are not alone .what I overcome no woman has overcome in the history of this area. What tactics have been used on me and others before me no longer work they picked the right one to mess with this time. God called judgement and my case was won in the heavily courts and here on earth justice will now be served. Keep fighting for what’s right you are not alone you are not crazy chances are what you are experiencing has to do with past money or assets and they have put someone else as a child in your place. God doesn’t make mistakes go for the gold take back what the enemy stole. Much love and light 🕯️

Dear Lord,

We’ve had a lot of talks lately. Some good, some not so good. I’ve prayed for a couple ambulances and high schoolers and the parents for the infants at my school.

I’ve prayed for less anger, more sleep, less anxiety about the world. For the United States, for Gaza, for Syria and Lebanon and Yemen and the Congo…

For guidance.

I’m not the best of Jews, I know that. I don’t eat kosher like I should, I often forget my nightly prayers, I work on the sabbath. I know I’m not the best.

I try. I fast and I repent and I want to learn more about you Lord. I feel like the older I get, that I feel closer to you. I pray to you in good and in bad times. Our relationship has its valleys and mountains but I know you better. You’ve always known me though.

There’s a lot of suffering in the world. Time is marching backwards underneath my feet and I feel like I cannot make the world stand still. Or continue the original path or rotation. I pray in the hopes that you will be able to guide the right people to the right paths soon. Existence is a form of resistance, right?

Poetry feels a lot like prayer. I take a pen to my carotid artery and bleed all over these little letters, in hopes that it will string together coherent words. Using a young language to spill these feelings that I’m not quite sure have names. I pour it all out, I step back, and realize the feeling is duller now that it’s no longer in me.

That’s what prayer feels like to me.

I don’t know why, Lord, you made me this way. I know there must be a reason, there’s always a reason but I cannot see it. And I want to see it. I know you don’t make mistakes but— why do I feel like I am one?

I don’t feel like a good sister, a good friend, a good daughter, a good lover. I feel like I’m selfish. Spoiled. I demand too much. Give too little. A hypocrite. A liar.

Sometimes I don’t feel human. I’m so angry sometimes, Lord, that I just want to scream!!

Sometimes I just wanna grab someone and slap the living shit out of them. I wanna make someone feel as horrible as I do. I want them to feel every punch, kick, stab, slice, grope and rape that I have experienced. Then I feel horrible for wishing this fate on a nonexistent person and I pray for forgiveness. I know it’s an intrusive thought, I know I’d never do such a thing. But it kills me when I think about it.

There are times that I wanna go into an empty field and just scream into it. Sob as hard as I want for as long as I want. No one to eavesdrop, no one to watch. Just lose it fully for once.

I need that.

I’ve prayed to you about some things that I didn’t mean. I prayed to die many times. I know you know I didn’t mean that, which is why I’m still here.

I’ve prayed why my boyfriend doesn’t love me. I know he does, I just wish I could feel it like I know it. He adores me. He loves me. I need a little help remembering that Lord. If you have the time to spare, I’d greatly appreciate that.

I think- I think I struggle to believe I can be loved. Years of hurt can do that to a person. I try so hard to make sure those I love never feel the way I felt. Unlovable. Broken. No longer human. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a relationship outside of my childhood best friends that made me feel like a person.

When my boyfriend and I started dating it felt like someone had reignited a previously stamped out candle. Now the wick is burning but there’s no wax to cling to. I am so fucking lonely G-d. If you ever have a spare moment, enter my dreams and remind me that I am not alone. Remind me of my partner, my brother, my friends. Remind me of the job I love, the life I’ve chosen, the skills I possess. You’ve got bigger things to worry about than me, but I’d like to not be forgotten. Don’t forget to remember me in that whirlwind of human chaos you’ve come to know.

I know that I just have to grit and bear some of it like a big girl. I know that I have to fight. But I— I don’t have a lot of fight in me right now.

So Lord, if you could do this for me, I’d greatly appreciate it. If you could instill in me the need to fight, the need to claw my way out, I will claw my way out.

Amen,

Dear Ex,

It has been almost five years since I left you. I miss you still. You leave monthly whispers of alimony, and quarterly updates of your life since the abandonment.

I keep feeling that it is all too good for me. I left you in the worst possible way. I professed my love for someone else – someone I could never have, anyway.

I was flippant and psychotic about it, too. I got up and left one day, never to return.

I regret leaving you the way I did. Our marriage was dying a slow death. But I didn’t have to hack at your heart in one fell swoop.

I made you pack my belongings because I couldn’t bear to come back and do the deed myself.

Recently, I had a nightmare that the tables were turned. I was packing your stuff. Only then, did I realize what an impossible task I set you up with.

I stayed for 13 years because I thought the good outweighed the bad. The fun times seemingly overshadowed the screaming matches, the cruel use of semantic language.

You told me I was hard to love, that I was emotionally complex. That was your way of calling me a bitch.

I called you out on it. You confirmed the not-so-cryptic message.

But hey. We both had our unresolved traumas that we brought into our fights. Not even two years of couples therapy near the end of our marriage could foster effective communication skills.

We were both far too wounded to see past ourselves, yet we didn’t know where one of us ended and the other began. The intertwining and untangling happened at the most inopportune times.

You told me during our last quarterly update that you had forgiven me for my transgressions. I asked why, and you said that four-and-a-half years would be a long time to hold onto such emotional turmoil.

I realized then that I had not yet forgiven myself. Now, I listen to the 36-year-old part of me who left. I understand now.

That part of me was doing the best they could. They thought they were being merciful by finally ripping off the bandage and walking out on our eight-year marriage.

It was that moment that I could finally start to forgive myself.

Then, I listened to the 27-year-old part of me – the one simultaneously full of hope and doubt about our upcoming marriage. They whispered to me:

I love her so much. But I’m in too deep.

Had I loved myself then as much as I do now, I would have been merciful and cut the cord right then and there.

I put your happiness above my own.

And now I realize that you weren’t happy either. Not with me. And certainly not with yourself.

We sought love within each other, when we needed to look within ourselves first.

Had we done that, we might have been best friends for 18 years instead of fractured lovers for 13 years and separated souls for another five.

I forgive you, dear ex.

I also forgive myself.

You may not ever be my best friend again, but I will hold our fun times dearly.

Now, as tears well up in my eyes, I contemplate a future of being in a relationship with myself. After all, no other relationship will matter to me nearly so much.

I will probably never get married again, but I wish myself – and YOU – all the happiness in the world, finally.

And maybe soon, we will both achieve inner peace and tell each other all about it in our next quarterly update.

Dear Me:

You’ve come so far, you’ve struggled hard,
Yet somehow you’ve gone nowhere.

You’ve been in love, you’ve been a friend,
But still can’t find someone who cares.

It’s not your fault, you’ve tried your best,
But just can’t help to feel ashamed.

You broke their trust, they broke your heart,
Still you are not the one to blame.

Your roads been rough, your feet are worn,
Yet you still walk through thick and thin.

You deserve a break, you deserve to live,
Stuck in the past is where you’ve been.

You do know better, you know right from wrong,
Yet you still make the same mistakes.

But you do you, you must go on,
It’s your strong will they cannot break.

You’re a good man, you’ve just made bad choices,
Don’t let them be what defines you.

You write these words, you know them well,
Don’t let bad vibes be the ones that find you.

Just be yourself, and love yourself,
Slowly one day things will get better.

You can do this it’s the choice you made,
When times get tough just read this letter.

Vibrant with excitement,
Smiles that brighten
The evening, like the sun.
Once it creeps into the horizon.
Having an amazing night
& waking up to a beautiful morning.
Sky gazing, watching the
Clouds forming and dissipating.
I’m looking at A masterpiece,
from God’s Creations,
like it was the stroke
From the wrist. I’m feeling
Blessed to witness this image.
My eyes Constructing art,
With images from the
The mind. Working with imagination,
Creating & Living through these illusions.
Miraculously mirrored images from within.

I wish there was a truck stop in Heaven,
With a restaurant attached.
A salad bar and a buffet,
And a payphone in the back.

The coffee’s always hot,
And the food aint too bad.
I wish there was a truck stop in Heaven,
So I could talk to my Dad.

He says “I’m flyin over Montana,
just dropped a load of rain.
I’m headed down to Dallas,
And then up to Maine.

No more haulin’ produce,
Gasoline or TVs.
Cause up here in Heaven,
I’m haulin’ prayers and dreams!”

I wish there was a truck stop in Heaven,
With a restaurant attached.
A salad bar and a buffet,
And a payphone in the back.

The coffee’s always hot,
And the food aint too bad.
I wish there was a truck stop in Heaven,
So I could talk to my Dad.

“This rigs as big as a mountain,
You can see me from where you are.
It’s no Freightliner, no Peterbilt,
It’s an actual Western Star!

My Jake-brake is the thunder,
The exhaust makes tornadoes!
Man, it means so much more
to be the king of the road,
where the streets are paved with gold!”

I wish there was a truck stop in Heaven,
With a restaurant attached.
A salad bar and a buffet,
And a payphone in the back.

The coffee’s always hot,
And the food ain’t too bad.
I wish there was a truck stop in Heaven,
So I could talk to my Dad.

I’d tell him that I miss him,
every single day.
“Wish you could just stop by,
and meet my wife,
when you pass by this way.”

He tells me not to worry,
That one day he’ll meet her.
But if we look up at night,
we can see the lights,
of his 18 wheeler!

I wish there was a truck stop in Heaven,
With a restaurant attached.
A salad bar and a buffet,
And a payphone in the back.

The coffee’s always hot,
And the food ain’t too bad.
I wish there was a truck stop in Heaven,
So I could talk to my Dad.