Posted in The Scribbles

To Revive and Come Alive

I think sometimes the heart just forgets how to beat and it throws you into the mode of survival and then one day you wake up and realize all the time that has passed since you actually breathed alive with your eyes open wide.

That’s what happened to me.

Twenty nineteen took my childhood and all I’d really known and replaced it with a reality I didn’t really care to know or face. It was like a train wreck without the comfort of the train. A drought in desert lands barren and in need of rain.

And I’ve never been more thankful for a year to wrap itself all up and touch down within another decade altogether.

Twenty twenty feels like the future. And there’s now all these things I need to sort through. All this change I need to process and I think my mind might be starting to say: breathe and open your eyes and your heart again and soak in the precious beauty.

May He grant me eyes to see. A heart to love. And a love to give.

Twenty nineteen was full of empty. May twenty twenty be healing and peace.

And maybe, just maybe, this deep little corner of the internet will revive and come alive and I’ll share a few moments from my wandering through these shadows.

I’m just a soul on a journey, with so much hope through all this gray.

© Copyright 2020 by Cherri Lynne

Posted in The Lyrics and Poems, The Scribbles

First Rain


First Rain

“It’s the smell of glory.”

Then it flashes –
across the sky.


There’s giggling
from within.

Pleasant laughter
as the earth is drenched
in the promise of Love.

Thunder shakes
the ground I rest upon,
sound of mighty Power
overcome the world.

I am undone.

My rung out heart
by the whispered mist
of Hope Himself.

© Copyright 2018 by Cherri Lynne

Posted in Monday Melodies, The Scribbles, These Simple Things

These Simple Things: December’s Crisp

I feel December’s crisp. Loose tank top and jeans that don’t quite fit – they’re way too big, so delightfully baggy… barefoot on the concrete and my soul sings ’cause baby it’s coooooold. And I tip toe back inside so quick, as if I’m trying not to freeze.

It’s a whole fifty-five degrees.

This heart’s overflowing for all this beauty. The moonbeams are casting a fine glow. And my spirit soars. So I open the backdoor and the downstairs floods, full of delight, and the chipper temp trickles in and I smile.

Smile big, and there’s so much joy. I want to twirl in circles, giggling. I want to hold my dearest close.

And these eyes shine, for they’ve caught a glimpse of Him.

It’s messy, this life. And this hair too. And it’s grave, this situation in which I’ve been placed. And yet the courage to rise and face, to stand, to not run away… He’s granted it.

So that’s why I sit here amazed. I’m soaking up this glory. His glory. This gift.

The hard just got harder. But the Great shines through all the Greater. And so I sing, because there’s this Peace which surpasses all understanding and it’s guarding my heart and mind through Christ Jesus. And I awkwardly dance in the vaguest of vague and don’t really explain. But the details aren’t what’s necessary, it’s the reality.

And reality is, even in the middle of the messy – and boy is it ugly mess, let me not minimize the messy – in the middle of it all, He’s good. He’s bigger. And that’s why I’m sitting here, laptop plopped on legs cris-crossed, scribbling. Because He’s beautiful. So glorious. And it makes me wanna shout from the rooftop.

Maybe you’re facing a hard reality too. Maybe you’re confused, frustrated, fearful. I feel you. I so feel you. And I’m gonna pray right now that He gives you eyes to see that He’s greater. “Courage to rise and believe He’s able,” as this beautiful song a friend sent me this morning sings.

He’s so much bigger. Bigger then my biggest fears. So I sit here, still. Resting in His promises. Smiling because of moonlight.

He’s greater, friends. He’s good.

“My Prayer For You” Alisa Turner

“For anyone who’s prayed a thousand prayers
And still can’t find the answer anywhere
Fighting off the lie that no one cares
For anyone who’s out there losing hope
Feeling you’re forsaken and alone
Clinging to the last strands of your rope

May God give you eyes to see, He’s still greater
Courage to rise and believe He’s able
May God be your peace in the fire you’re walking through
This is my prayer now
This is my prayer for you

For all of those with tired and weary souls
But still have faith to ask for miracles
Choosing to believe He’s in control

May God give you eyes to see, He’s still greater
Courage to rise and believe He’s able
May God be your peace in the fire you’re walking through
This is my prayer now
This is my prayer

May your eyes be ever on the Lord, your helper
May you find your refuge in the Lord, your shelter
May you find Him closer than a brother all your days
All of your days!

May God give you eyes to see, He’s still greater
Courage to rise and believe He’s able
May God be your peace in the fire you’re walking through
This is my prayer now
This is my prayer for you!”

© Copyright 2017 by Cherri Lynne

Posted in The Scribbles



I’m lying here. Scrolling. Mindlessly scrolling through the great abyss of Facebook, not even stopping to glance at a single post. The lump in my throat is growing, growing. Yet these salty tears won’t drop.

Emotional, yet too stubborn to let them fall.

So I mindlessly scroll.

“You should go out and cry in the moonlight,” he suggests.

And they almost start flowing simply from seeing those words written out. Because he knows me too well. My heart nearly overflows under the pressure of his care.

Moonlight’s the soothing to my sorrowful soul.

I cannot cry when it’s bright, only under the night sky. To the sound of silence and the distant roar of engines. While pool equipment runs it’s course, and crickets chirp their noise.

On a day when tears press and beg to run, if I give in, if I walk beneath the stars, they race. And as I sit here, back against trampoline’s supportive pole, they fall.

I think this is the sixth or seventh, maybe even eighth, time I’ve cried in the last week.

They’re flowing, wracking my rib cage, steaming down my face, now down my neck. Racing.

We’re texting and they’re still falling. And now this nose is getting carried away. Dripping alongside my eye’s salty droplets.

“It’s okay to cry.”

His words are comfort to my soul.

At last I blow, then breathe deep. The water stops leaking. Snot’s not falling. Heart returns to normal beat.

And I know I again shall weep, even if not on this night. For the pain that grips me over the loss of a dear, sweet soul is not to lie forgotten. It cuts deep.

The regret built in my heart will not repair itself. It hurts.

Yet the care, the love of my dearest friend, sticks with me. Along with the love of God.

For we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. – 2 Corinthians 4:7-10

© Copyright 2017 by Cherri Lynne