Every Good Thing She Carries

First and foremost,

Thank you, God, for her.

Thank you for a love I didn’t see coming,

Yet somehow feels like it was always on its way.

She arrived like answered pray,

Like light slipping through a window I didn’t know was open,

She changed the rhythm of my life,

And introduced a new sound known as love.

She loves me in languages I had never learned,

In ways my heart didn’t know it could be spoken to,

I’m truly grateful to her,

And every good thing she carries.

I love the way she wears confidence,

It’s not loud or forced,

But it’s like how sunlight rests on the morning,

Natural and undeniable.

She knows her beauty,

Not just what the mirror reflect,

But what her soul has always whispered.

She stands in her truth,

Unmoved by doubt,

Rooted in a quiet certainty that inspires mine.

I am unguarded with her,

Able to place my thoughts in her hands,

Without fear of them breaking,

I trust her with my heart,

The way one trusts something sacred,

Knowing she will treat it well,

As something more precious than rubies.

Her kindness flows without hesitation,

Like a river that does not question where it’s going,

Only that it must give.

She welcomes my world as if it were her own,

Meeting my people with warmth,

Welcoming others with grace,

That feels both rare and familiar.

There’s beauty in her generosity,

But even more in the way she gives it freely.

She is my partner in every sense,

Steady in joy,

Present in hardship,

Unshaken when life asks more of us.

I don’t just exist with her,

I experience all the true beauty of life.

She is the one I walk beside,

Equally yoked,

Aligned in purpose,

Moving in the same direction,

With hearts that understand each other.

She is a woman who reveres You,

Who places You at the center,

And allows that love to overflow into everything else.

I see it when she prays,

When she reads Your Word,

When she moves with faith,

Even when the path isn’t clear.

I know she is not here by chance,

You wrote her into my life,

With intention,

With care,

With love that only You could design.

So I thank You,

For preparing me for her,

For allowing our paths to meet,

For the love we now carry together,

And for every good thing you placed inside of her.

A Little Race with Death

People have said that I’ve gone mad,

But they don’t understand,

I have always needed something to outrun.

I’m obsessed with racing the very best.

Obsessed with tasting victory like it’s rum,

Letting it burn my throat,

Letting it scorch my insides.

Winning is a flavor I savor slowly.

I roll it across my tongue,

And swallow it whole.

It is sweeter than candy,

Sweeter than love,

Sweeter than prayer,

I refuse to let go of its taste,

It’s irresistible and delicious.

I refuse to lose,

And I don’t care what I have to lose.

Or who.

Winning is the only god I bow to.

The only altar I kneel at.

The only voice I obey.

No one can beat me.

No one ever has.

No one ever will.

Death comes knocking at my door one evening.

Not gently.

It says my time has expired,

And my body belongs to it.

My wife collapses at my feet,

Crying, begging, praying

My children cling to her like loose fabric in a storm.

Their fear irritates me.

Death just stands in the doorway,

Tall and patient,

Certain it has won.

I feel it creeping into my lungs,

Freezing them from the inside out.

And my legs tremble,

For the first time in my life,

I feel slow.

So I make a proposal,

A race.

I tell Death I will run for my life.

That I had beaten better opponents than it.

Death laughs,

And whispers I’m already halfway gone,

My life alone is not enough of a wager

I smile,

And tell Death if I lose the race,

It can have me, my wife and my children,

Death pauses,

Saying it’s not their time,

I shrug and respond I’ll make it their time.

My wife gasps,

And says my name like she doesn’t recognize me.

I don’t look at her or my children,

Winning requires sacrifice.

Death laughs harder than before,

At her horror.

At my devotion.

And decides to accept my challenge.

Death offers me time to prepare,

But I refuse,

Because I never needed time.

Only a finish line.

The race begins without warning,

No starting pistol or countdown.

Just my heart trying to abandon me.

Death moves like smoke beside me,

Effortless.

Unbothered by me.

The ground beneath us fractures into shadow.

Each step feels stolen from eternity.

My lungs collapse inward.

Blood fills my mouth.

My vision splinters at the edges,

And Death pulls ahead.

Its fingers brushes my shoulder,

Cold.

Certain it had won.

But I lean,

I lean like I’ve never leaned before,

And I cross first.

There is silence.

Death stands at the line,

Defeated.

Studying me.

Bewildered that I have bested it.

Death admits I have won.

I collapse.

Gasping for air.

But I am alive.

My wife rushes to me.

My children sob against my body.

Their hands tremble with relief.

I push them away.

Their touch feels small,

And means nothing to me.

I am staring at Death.

At the thing that had never been beaten.

And I had beaten it.

The rush floods me,

Hotter than blood,

Sharper than oxygen,

I stand slowly,

And ask for one more little race

Death tilts its head.

I explain that one victory proves nothing.

My wife begs me to stop.

Calls it a miracle that I won.

But it wasn’t a miracle.

This was proof.

Proof that I was faster than the inevitable.

Stronger than the grave.

Better than the end.

I demand for Death to race me again.

Death studies me longer this time.

And says that I barely survived,

I grinned,

Then I barely needed to win.

The sky darkened.

Death began to fade.

And say that I cannot outrun it forever.

I laugh.

And respond I don’t need forever.

I only need to beat it again and again.

My wife whispers that I’m scaring her,

And I finally look at her,

And realize something important.

When I crossed that finish line,

I felt more alive than I ever had holding her.

More complete than the day our children were born.

Because they were never my greatest achievement.

Winning was.

Death starts to disappear.

I call out to Death,

It pauses.

Death feels something new with me.

Not fear.

Hunger.

I let Death know that I’ll find it.

The room feels colder.

I’ll chase illness.

I’ll chase war.

I’ll even chase rooftops and speeding cars.

Just so I can put myself in Death’s path,

Until it has no choice.

My wife starts crying.

Death watches her,

Then looks back at me.

For the first time,

It smiles at me.

It whispers that it’s looking forward to it.

Then Death vanishes.

I step outside,

And begin running.

Running away from my family,

And running towards Death,

Because now I understand something.

It isn’t life I’m trying to preserve.

It’s victory.

A high that rushes my veins,

And has me eager for more,

And there may come a day,

When Death finally wins,

But it won’t be because I slowed down.

It will be because I asked for one last race,

Just a little race with Death.

The Sound of You Still Echoes

I can’t help but think about our old kingdom,

Remembering all the unnecessary papers in the room,

Stacked and spread around like skyscrapers in a city,

It was a world of pure imagination,

Paradise found in an unexpected place,

Built simply by listening to you,

Listening to the way you loved your saxophone

I wish I could go back to those days with you once more,

Why did those days ever have to go?

I remember the songs you used to play,

Especially my two favorite songs,

I can still hear the notes now,

Still feel the vibrations settle in my chest,

I felt your love for music,

Before I ever understood it.

I watched you practice with intention,

Study with seriousness,

Refuse distraction,

And be fully devoted to your craft,

Something you truly loved.

And that’s why your sound was always different,

And why no one else could ever compare.

I loved hearing you play jazz,

But gospel was something else entirely.

When you played,

I could feel your love for God,

It poured through every note,

And it was like a quiet offering of yourself to Him.

You knew your talent came from Him,

And you gave it back freely.

Your praise didn’t need words.

Your love for God lived in the music.

You knew the songs I loved the most,

You told me you were learning them,

Studying them carefully,

Excited to show me what you’d been working on,

Eager to teach me,

In ways I didn’t yet understand.

You taught me the value of effort in music,

And how it’s impactful in family and relationships.

You showed me how to pour into others,

Shared how love and kindness carry weight,

Shared that what lives in your heart,

Will always translate through your work.

I remember you saying people feel love,

And they’re moved by it,

When it’s real.

I learned so much from watching you play,

You taught me the meaning of hard work,

The beauty of devotion,

The power of knowledge,

The simplicity of love,

The discipline that keeps it honest,

And the faith that anchored it all.

Thank you for teaching me so much,

The sound of your lessons still lives with me,

The sound of your love reminds me to be gentle and kind,

Not be afraid to give fully to others and to myself,

The sound of you still speaks to my heart,

The sound of you still echoes.