A poem for you.

I took a detour

On my way to you…

I stopped along the outskirts

Of the woods you used to own,

And picked a couple handfuls

Of the wildflowers that we thought once, ours…


It breaks my heart a little

To pluck these beauties

From the earth,

But I can’t stop myself…

They’re more to me

Than a vase full of apologies…

They scream,

“I won’t forget you!”

I couldn’t.


And now – As much as it pains me

To separate them from the ground…

My heart tells me

That they no longer belong to this fertile soil.


You, Wildflower,

Are soon to be taken from this earth…

With so many lives

Lived in those

Vibrant yellow petals.

You will forever be remembered as

Growing tall,

Wherever the winds carried you.






That’s how I’ll forever see you.





I brake for birds.

The neighborhood threeway stop

Had my foot on the brake.

No cars in any direction…

Just a bird…

Walking across the street.

I watched the little winged creature

Take his morning stroll,

And all I could do was wonder, why?

I was stopped longer than necessary,



Why aren’t you flying high, little one?

Why have you grounded those gorgeous

Wings of yours?

Do you need a minute to think?

Are you sick of sharing the sky?

Do you need a new perspective?

Are you tired?


Sometimes we all need a break from our natures.

If only to remember that we need to return to ourselves…

To effortless living…

To what feels right.


So walk a bit little birdie…

But don’t take too long to get back

Where you belong.

Flying high – Dipping and diving…

Your spirit’s smile,

Greeting each new day’s morning.


-Becky Moore

But a vapor…


If my life is but a vapor,

I pray it be a sweet-smelling one.

If the blink of an eye

Departs me from this life,

I pray your face be my parting frame.

If I am merely dust,

I pray to settle somewhere near the coast…

To be washed up and down the shores of

His creation – Until the sun and the moon

Bid one another farewell…

And the waves of time no longer exist.

-Becky Moore


I’m about to show you how dumb I am.


So I’m gonna just go ahead and type this all out without doing any research – With no clue as to what I’m actually talking about. I think I’ll end up with a point to it all…Just stay with me. And to all of you seriously smart people in my life – I mean, *cough Melissa *cough, you know who you are;) This is me telling you how much I didn’t learn in school…But I can doodle you a masterpiece – Believe that.

On with it, Becky…

So I’ve been bouncing a quite basic concept around in my mind for a bit. It started when I decided that I have too much stuff…and that I can lower my stress level by minimizing said stuff. And because my brain really never shuts up, I started thinking about stuff in general…

A thought that boggled my mind just came to me in bold print,


Say what?!?

I was sitting on my couch, with a cup of coffee, of course…staring out my back windows and just trying to decide if this bold thought was true or not.

I asked myself,

Does matter multiply?”

Or are we working with the same stuff…over and over again? See – If I had a mind for science, I’d maybe know there was a theory, or three, that proved me wrong or right. I watch quite a bit of The Big Bang Theory – But I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with String Theory or Dark Matter – So, I’m pretty much at a loss.

Then I started thinking about all of the stuff I have in my house…


I’m just arranging

And rearranging…

It’s all the same stuff.

Nothing new…

Just arranged differently…

It’s so disturbing to me

That the order of my things

Effects my mood

So severely. 


I have this need for more stuff…

It bothers me that I’m not above such obvious materialism. Yet, I can’t attribute the need to keep all of my stuff to one thing – Near ’bout everything I own has sentimental value. It feels wrong to let go of a memory.

I’m a sentimental hoarder.

A couple of months ago my dog accidentally broke my late Grandma’s lamp. I didn’t know Mary Donyce LePoint Rains – So the lamp felt like one of my ties to her. I bawled like a baby when the lamp broke. As I cleaned up the mess, I chanted to myself,

“It’s just a thing. You can’t take it with you.”

Over and over I said that to myself until the floor was all cleaned up. After that, I wanted to get rid of everything…’cause I’ve tied myself so deeply to the things that hold memories – So much so, that I literally cried over the loss of it.  I can’t live through great loss twice – Once with the actual person and secondly with the things that I tie to them.

I wonder if someone else has cried over that lamp…

If it’s sentimental value has been recycled over the years…

Reincarnated sentiment.

This is the stuff that I think about.


The thing is, it really is just all stuff. It’s all the same stuff that’s always been around – Just remade. At least, that’s how I see it.

My basic revelation is that


Nothing is new…

Nothing is mine…

Nothing can be lost…

It’s all just the same kind of different,

Over and over again.


I don’t want to spend my life worrying about the things that I have or don’t have…

I don’t want to spend my life arranging and rearranging stuff…

I don’t want to be sad that some material thing is gone.


Does matter multiply?

The things that matter do…

Love can grow…

It can change a heart…

It can give you hope…

It can satisfy a longing – A need – A dream.

Unseen matter multiplies…

It abounds..

It confounds.


I just wanted to share this with y’all – I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately…This is me – Just trying to grow – Trying to be better:)


This pseudo-science lesson has been brought to you by Becky M.

Now you see why I can’t homeschool my children.

XOXO, Beck

To Sum It All Up.

There are so many things I could give up about this past year…parts of me that would leave you shaking your head, asking a friend if they knew…leave you disliking me, loving me more, disregarding me – SO many things. I heeded the advice of my sister and didn’t share, when I really really wanted the release of pressing publish. But she was right – Some parts of me need to be protected.

I’m gonna share a poem that I’ve written over a period of time this past year. Some of it was penned in church, some on airplanes, some while listening to music in my bedroom – They were all inspired by the hope that I have found this year, and every other one, in my Lord…my saving grace, Jesus Christ.


My Experience was a quiet one.

Your love…

Gentle and patient.

Wind in my hair,

Eyes set on the stars,

Listening to the sounds of the night…

You made me feel loved.

Your creation spoke to my soul…

Gave me peace.


Take my prayer,

Give it flight…

Send it soaring

On the wind.

In the dark of night,

From the depths of

The ocean of my soul.




It’s in the hushed moments…

The darkest times…

When the chaos ceases…

In the melody of the wind…

In the vastness of the ocean…

Deep and blue.

It’s in the towering pines…

The moon and the stars…

The hoot of the owl…

In the cry of a newborn.

It’s in the intensity of the trained one…

In the diligent farmer…

Toiling day and night.

In the playful birds…




It’s in the smile of a stranger…

In the tears of the grieved…

In the uninhibited laugh of the joy-filled.

It’s in the dance of mother and child…

In the unnamed giver…

It’s in forgiveness…

Both given and received.


It’s being valued by The Creator.

It’s the hope I find in

The love of Christ Jesus.

It’s the steadfastness I find

In the Holy Spirit.

Surrounding me…

Swallowing me up…

Washing over my soul.


I pray that each of you takes time to reflect on and find beauty in the broken pieces of last year. I know for many of you the notion of finding any good in your situation seems preposterous – But you can do it. You must. Cry – Kick and scream – Curse at the wind…but at the end of the day – Find your hope in Christ Jesus. He loves you.

XOXO, Beck

Planting seeds.

I was tired from a long day of traveling the English countryside…We had been exploring castles, rocky beaches, and cathedrals. It felt like we were almost back to our starting point when we stopped again. I put my book down, it had kept me occupied in all the downtime, and wearily exited the bus…

It was a small chapel – Nothing apparently special about it. But there was something…something in its simple grandeur. We arrived after church hours and a kind woman opened up for us. Immediately I felt like I was in my childhood church that had burned down a couple years back.

As I walked around the chapel, respectfully looking at the stained glass windows and beautiful architecture, I began to get the feeling that I must sing in this little chapel on the hill. I don’t know about anyone else…how the Holy Spirit works in them, but when He is nudging me towards something, my heart rate sky rockets and I just know that it’s Him and not me leading my thoughts and actions.

The sign on the podium had a scripture on it, and each person that walked through the doors of the chapel would surely see it. The thing that caught my eye was JESUS in bold print. From the moment I walked in, until the moment I walked out, I was singing Something About That Name in my head – And maybe whistling it as I walked:)

When I was a young girl, up until my church burned down, I would steal moments away in my church with the stained glass windows. When everyone was gone…when beams of colored sunlight lit up the space…when only God was present to hear – I would sing to Him my offerings of praise and adoration.

Now, in a hillside chapel somewhere in the English countryside, my heart rate wouldn’t let up on me, and I decided that I couldn’t leave without doing what I knew had to be done. There are times when one MUST worship the Father. And when your natural way is through song, you just can’t hold it in…it’s a whistle eeking out…a hum that never ends…a song sung in a chapel on a hill. So I waited for everyone to exit, except our tour guide and the kind woman that opened the doors for us, and asked…

“Do you mind if I sing a song?”

“Of course not…go ahead.”

So I sang a song…



There’s just something about that name.


Like the fragrance after the rain.


Let all Heaven and earth proclaim.

Kings and kingdoms will all pass away,

But there’s something about that name.


When I was through singing, our tour guide ZoZo hugged me and told me that he would never forget that moment. The kind woman blessed me with tears in her eyes and hugged me as well. I felt like they acknowledged that it was Christ through me working in that moment.

As I took my seat on the bus, I thought about how important what just happened felt to me. How I was unsure of Zozo’s faith – He had never spoken the name of Christ Jesus around me, but he made it quite clear that he valued life and the profundity of it all. He was so very kind and generous…I felt like God used this gift that He’s given me to get that seed planted…

This moment he said he would never forget was all about Jesus.


It takes but a tiny seed planted…

It takes but two hands watering…

It takes but a morsel of faith…

For growth,

For abundance,

For life everlasting.


Your stage may feel small – The task you’ve been given may feel menial, and you may feel like it’s time to go on home…but trust that if you are a child of God, no endeavor done in His name could ever be small or unimportant and HE will give you strength the finish the course. 

He waters our seeds planted and makes them grow.

XOXO, Beck



Damn you…

I cut you out,

I prayed you away…

You have no place 

In my life now. 


You make your way

Into my thoughts.

I keep closing the door…

You keep knocking. 

Damn me…

If I let you back in. 

You have no place

In my life now.

If I get outside of myself…

And start missing the pain again,

All I need is to remember

How damned I once felt. 

You make me forget what’s real,

And my reality is far more secure,

Than your damned truths.