bumper to bumper

I feel quite undone today.
Full up with the goodness of my Papa God. My heart aches at His sweetness and His nearness.
I want to cry almost every minute I think about it.

And yet...
I stutter here a bit. Not knowing what exactly to write. I go back to the first sentences and breathe in the goodness that I know is there and try to dwell there a little bit longer.
Just a little longer please. His answer to me is always yes. I can dwell as long as I want.

What does goodness look like? It comes in so many forms. I struggle with it all the time.
I have been taught to be thankful. I have been taught so thoroughly that I can say "thank you" and "this really sucks" in the same breath.
And mean them both completely.

He is good. And ever present. Attending to my sorrow tho there are times where I feel that His attentions could be better spent elsewhere thankyouverymuch.
He doesn't play the part of "magical fixer" very well. I wish He did.

I do still believe in miracles. Tho not in the charismatic all caps way that I had embraced for a time.
GOD WILL RESCUE YOU! HAVE FAITH SISTER! BELIEVE AND RECEIVE YOUR REWARD!

No. Not that way.
But also not in a completely complacent tidal pool way either. I do not sit in the tepid water and wait for the next wave to wash me back home. (although there are times lately that I swear some kid with a sharp stick is poking me and shouting "WHY ARE YOU SLEEPING?!")

No. Not in that way either.

I believe in miracles in a beautiful lyrical way that sings as it weaves my heart longings into a tear filled Hallmark Holiday special. I believe in the majestic wonder of things too big to understand and too sweet to really embrace. I believe in everything working out perfectly.
I need to believe in that way. Cuz reality bites right now. And even there I am oddly happy that it isn't biting as bad as it could and Please Jesus don't test me on that.

When life is perfect I have no need to pray. Did you know that?
And when life is not so perfect?
Well, here I struggle a little.
Because I still have no need to pray. And that feels bad.
It feels very wrong. Pagan. Anti.....everything.

You can go back to other pages in this book and find that this is not new thinking on my part. Prayer was one of the first casualties in my battle with everything I had been raised to believe.

Let me break it down for you...
I no longer believe that you have to beg God for anything. You can if you want to. But you don't need to.
This belief came to me for the first time in the shower.
I was begging God to keep my family safe on our upcoming road trip. I was asking Him to go with us. To guide, guard, and protect us. To send His mighty angels ahead of us to create a hedge of protection along our roadway. I asked for good weather and non-sleepy eye lids. I enlisted a spiritual bumper-to-bumper full coverage policy on our van. I asked for clean restrooms and no vomiting.
I covered every area I could think of. And I still felt scared.
Then He spoke to me.
I heard no audible voice in the shower spray. What I heard was a picture. A video in my worried mind. A remembrance of all the trips I had taken as a child. I watched myself climb up into our car and drive off down the road with my daddy at the wheel and not one care in my heart. We ate meals when we were hungry. We slept when we were sleepy. Sometimes our car broke down...and we got it fixed. It was an adventure every time. Even the harder times.
But I did not ever...not one single time...beg my daddy to keep us safe. (I did tell him to wake up now and then...he is a champion nap driver)
Daddy knew, without even thinking about it too hard, that it was his job to get us to our destination.
And we never had to beg him to do it.

That thought has rocked my world. I can trust my Papa God to get me where I need to go.
He doesn't need my prayers to set everything up for Him...for us.
He just knows what to do and He does it.
Amazing.
I can still ask Him and even beg Him if I want to. I still do sometimes. And He rushes in and quiets me or lets me wail...sometimes both at the same time.
He does miracles for me. Although I have found that more often than not, I do not recognize the miracle until after the fact. I wish He marked them better.
I have to laugh when I think that sometimes those miracles feel like a kid with a sharp pokey stick shouting,
"WHY ARE YOU SLEEPING?!"

Other times, miracles come in the form of the daily sustaining ritual of eating and sleeping and being. The daily grind. A miracle.
I feel that I want to share my miracle with you. Just so you know.
My husband lost his job in November. It is now July. I have money in the bank and no debt except a reasonable house payment. This should not be possible. It would not be possible had he not lost his job.  I am not that smart in the money management department. It is just a miracle.


And in the midst of my miracle I daily struggle with the feeling that I somehow need to beg God for His care or prayerfully lay out the to-do list so that He can be better organized. Time...we need to get on this Big Guy. Don't you think we need to take care of....

I am sure this hurts my heart way more than it bugs Him. He can take my angst. He has proven that time and time again.


So what do I do? I pray.
Ha! Didn't expect that did you.
I pray...but only in a conversational way like I face book or pick up the phone.
I talk to Him about all this. My Papa God and I talk all the time. He almost never gives me the answers in a way that I can pin down to logic but He does answer.
Sometimes I say "this sucks."  Sometimes I say "thank you."

Mostly I feel His goodness and it makes me come undone. I can't explain it. It just does.

dwelling place

This is going to take a while. It takes a lot of words. Even saying that is an understatement. 

There is no short essay form for this topic. I ask you, if you feel brave or curious enough to continue, consider carefully what my heart has laid before you and respond. I would like to hear you.

This is about p*R^0gR@p\-\y. Look at that word carefully. It will come to you.

 I typed it like that in a lame attempt to protect myself from google searches.

Although...with what I am about to say, maybe a few searchers would be welcome here. :-\

From now on I will just refer to it as prn.

When you read prn, know that I am mixing in every “sexually impure” thing that has been agonizing me. The posers, the lookers, the sellers, the industry, the girls at the pool, the advertisements, the movies, the perpetrators and the victims. All of it.

Prn, it has clenched my husband in a death roll.

Taken sniper shots at my sons.

Fileted my marriage, scorched my parenting, targeted my christianity

and barbequed my womanhood.

Yet it has not won.

I am still standing. Still loving. A survivor.

And today, I feel victorious.

But that is not always so.

I have felt myself lost

abandoned

left torn apart

with nowhere to turn and no hope of release.

I have screamed to the heavens

searched both sacred and secular

frantic

to see the end

and all I found was

piety or sheer humanistic determination

but no eject lever

just an endless merry go round

a frustrating circle

no escape

a disease

terminal

and devastating.

How could I possibly have hope when, aside from a miracle, there loomed before me

a lifetime of despair and regret.

Despair for loved ones all around me who are constantly accosted.

Regret for me as participant. For what I have seen that still haunts me. For my curiosity.

Despair in feeling like this will never end. That their struggle cannot be understood. And is a curse.

Regret for me as victim- heart raped each time my warrior men engaged in battle for their lives and left the homefires unattended- open for pillage.

I still bear those scars.

I cannot speak for them. My men. I do not know their struggle tho my heart bleeds just as red

with their every wound.

I am not man. And knowing women also fall into this trap is really no help at all because that is not

my story.

My story deals with passionate men entrapped in hate and loathing both for those they've seen and who they've been for looking.

How is one expected to survive when the battle is bred into your DNA? How does one fight when all you've been about is destruction and it seems that the only way out is to destroy the perpetrator which is you? What do you do with the loved ones you have betrayed in your weakness? You see their hurt while you continue to destroy the very one they long to restore.

Do you see how tangled up this gets?

Not just the looker affected.

But the one who holds his heart.

Torn apart.

It isn't really about betrayal, tho in anger that label has tried to take hold.

No- the tearing comes more with the despair. Why. How.

When will we be done with this?

Because reality proves again and again that you cannot take things back.

You can't un-see.

So do you wallow in despair- and hopelessness- and anger

spewing lava streams of hellfire and brimstone upon society at large and upon the vixen vipers coiled all around you posed to strike.

Hate.

       Hate.

Hate.

It doesn't make the problem go away.

How do we live in this world and hate such a despicable thing that never, ever, goes away?

You cannot run from it.

Cannot protect yourself or those you love.

Although you try.

You try. But it gets in.

continually.

The vile stench of impurity. 

Wrecking. 

Putrid.

Half naked society. Bandaid clad. Lounging on the doorsteps or our hearts and minds and souls.

Maybe not prn exactly. Maybe not prn at all.

But just enough to get a thought jumpstarted that was best left dormant.

Everywhere.

An opportunity to hate. To stand my ground and snarl. For myself and everyone I love.

All out war all the time. Hating. Disgusted. Despairing.

How do you live with the hate that brings death?

Does that even make sense?

I do want that prn to die. To go away forever. And it will someday when all is said and done.

But what til then?

Cry, and fight, and wail, and slip, and forgive, and try-try-try to forget.

The list goes on and around.

You know.

How do you live with death?

One day, my heart decided to stop fighting so hard.

Maybe you can't follow this- and that is fine.

Read carefully...

I did not accept this as in “it is ok”.

no.

But I have come to make some choices. Hard choices.

And I truly believe for me it is an answer- if not a solution- from Heaven.

I realized that I could choose to hate.

Every woman that shows more skin than I agree with.

Every woman that wiggles

or poses

or invites with her eyes

or her lips

or her boobs.

Every woman that does not invite on purpose but through her ignorance or arrogance refuses to acknowledge the battle at hand.

Or I could choose to love her.

And if I chose to love her I could teach the same to those within my sphere.

Leading by example.

I could call out her demonic ways and encourage my men to protect themselves with armor made of piety- self righteousness- anger- fear- guilt- pity- hatred- despair- disgust-

Or I could witness the hurt-

the agony of disrespect both given and received.

The horror-

recognized or not, of living on display-

abused- broken hearted- abandoned- poverty stricken- dying-

If I choose to see the hurt then I have to remember the truth about God.

The truth-

He dwells with the broken hearted.

Can I get my heart around this?

If my Lord came to heal the wounded

if He shelters the abused

if he lives with the ones that are so broken that they are dying

Then my God dwells within...

(I am not trying to be dramatic here. I simply cannot write the end of that sentence.)

Can I model this to my hearts- my men-

When you eyes look at nakedness you are looking at God.

He is there- drawn close in love-

covering her, in her nakedness, with His love.

Does this change what you see?

Can you hear Him?

He does not scream at you or whisper to your guilt.

He does not shame you for your disgusting lack of self control.

If you hear that- know it is not your Lord.

He does not speak in such a way.

Your Lord loves you enough to want you to realize His heart for you.

A heart free- loved- respected- honored- encouraged- believed in- cherished-

His heart for you is the exact same for the one your eyes see...

free- loved- respected- honored- encouraged- believed in- cherished-

I believe that the Lord invites us to look away- but in respect- not disgust- and remember that we have just witnessed a dwelling place of the Most High.

What if, little by little, we could be trained to see God by finding Him – encountering Him-

as He dwells with the hurting.

Could we dwell with Him in places we have only yet been taught to avoid at all costs?

The destitute will change our perspective of right and wrong on the societal morality scale... can we trust Him with our souls enough to follow Him to a world completely opposite of our puritanical standard?

This breaks my mind.

Would such a radical leap change our perspective on prn and our reactions about it and our seeming slavery to it?

Can we love our way out?

Hear me hear me hear me...I am not suggesting that we all open up our arms and embrace the prn industry. I am not suggesting that we train ourselves to look in some pseudo-innoculation ritual hoping to strengthen our resolve.

no. no. no.

Don't look. Don't flirt with it in any way. Stay far away. You can make choices. You can remove yourself.

What I am saying is that there is a pervasive presence of sexual “impurity” all around us every day.

I believe that hatred feeds the beast. I believe that seeing, with our hearts eyes, the presence of God dwelling with the hurting might just give us the strength to respectfully look away without hating.

I am saying that keeping our robes all sparkley white by despising the humanity we encounter might be leading us down a road of pharisiacal right that leaves lots and lots of neighbors bleeding by the way.

I am asking myself to consider it. Then consider it again.

Or hate.

There is no neat wrap up here.

It never ends. This struggle for survival. This journey through the world.

This wrestling with our passions and our purity.

But maybe, in the curse, we can find a blessing.

As shocking and despicable as that sounds.

Could it be a blessing to find love where ever before you only found hate?

If daily you are accosted with opportunities to fill your heart with hate for others and yourself ...and, if daily you make a choice to love...will it slowly but surely change your heart?

I do not do endings well. And since my mind talks in pictures I will end by sharing mine with you.

What if, in this endless struggle you begin to realize that compassion rises over purity like the warm morning sun vaulting over mountains. It brings daylight to the darkened crags, illuminating what was once just blackness.

This change in light may not make your journey easy but at least it can help you find your way.

easy

IT'S SO EASY!!

I heard the words come out of my mouth and I felt the swell in my spirit as my mind began that flippy thing where a thousand for-instances and would be scenarios played leap frog through my heart.
We were talking about the why's and wherefore's of God and feeling the frustration that comes with the not knowing. Not knowing if you are right or wrong. Not knowing if where you are is ok especially compared to where you used to be. Not knowing if the people that you loved and trusted spoon fed you a load of crap or if you just see them as a bunch of yah-yah's now because you reject the you that used to open up and say ahhhh.
I sighed.
I sighed as I thought about how the only way to shut the stupid mouth of the deceiver is to agree to give up.
Silly as that sounds...just wrap up your angst in a technicolor bow and give it to Papa.
"Here ya go." plop.
"I'm not gonna think about this anymore."

I swear it worked.

So I sat there in the moment of realization...easy....it's that easy....woah.
woah.
it is so easy.
I swelled.
Do you know what this means?
If I can take all my not knowing and just not think about it anymore....
if I can forget about being right...
if I can forget about....being...wrong...ugh...
if I can forget about working harder at it
or better yet
if I can forget about all of it every last bit of it and just hand it back to Papa...

I don't know if you know how happy this makes me.
I feel pretty sure that I understand how many people there are out there that can smile and nod and tell me "yes, honey...we know" as they crack open their holy scriptures and point to here and here and here..."we know".

no.
that's not what I am talking about.

See, I thought about posting a thing on FB...
where I would just say "It's so EASY!"
and people would comment and there would be this discussion where I might try and explain what I meant and then they would cover me up with good words and exhortations
and yes-buts.

But I can't.
Cuz see...it just doesn't work like that.
You just have to know it. And I wish you did and hope you do.

This is so easy that it cannot be described it a devotional thought. Not in scripture. Not in quiet time or accountability not even in worship.

This is just.
(not just as in righteous but just as in nothing else...just)

And the more I think about it the more I feel the slants leaning in, pressing down, coming around to the side all sneaky like...

you gotta do
don't forget to
that's all well and good but

and then a list
have to's

But then I breath. And the breath I feel is sweet. It fills my lungs and my head swoons with the largeness of the thought. The sheer amount of oxygen it brings.
easy.

Jesus is so easy.
If you can forget all you ever knew. All you have ever been "taught".
And that is not a requirement. It is just what makes it easier for me.

I think it really is all the things that you don't have to do that makes it so giggly good.
You get to get in any position you want.
Quiet or loud.
Active or still.
Thinking or not.

You don't have to do a special thing. But you can if you want to.
Just...

See...nothing to finish that sentence.

And that's how easy it is.
For admissions sake I will say here that I am thinking of yokes. He talks about that.
But I am not putting that on you. You can take it up with Him if you want.

easy.

I realize how ambiguous I am being. And honestly I am not trying to. It is only that this is so big. So encompassing. It makes perfect sense and none at all.
(which I find to be true of most of the things of God)

I guess I am talking about freedom. I am talking about out of the box throw your hat in the air get out of jail free all your worldly debts paid off all expense paid trip to....wherever your heart desires.
And it requires nothing of you.
Which is not to say that you won't find yourself doing things...but because you get to...not cuz you have to.

Look, I have had my heart-fill of the cost of salvation. I have had the church and the deceiver make me aware of every cent paid for my soul. I have laid on the ground sullied and unworthy and squashed by the weight of all the things that needed doing.
All I wanted to do was love Him. But the weight of the to-do's was too much. I couldn't get up.
Right and wrong are very heavy. Dead weight.

They forgot to tell me that I didn't have to listen.
Good-GOD! (and I am not swearing when I say it)
I didn't have to listen? I didn't have to do? None of that was required of me to get Him?

If you hear me and this makes an ounce of sense please believe that I am as shocked as you are.
Because I had heard the words before but they always had a ps...

and now they don't.
Easy.
Freedom.
no experience necessary.
no requirements at all.
Just....freedom.


As we finished our talking I felt myself saying
"isn't it so ironic that the biggest battle you will face in your freedom is the fight against requirements."

closer in

when trust is not enough
to make things better
breathing is a minefield of regret
sunlight blinds your hope
and comfort bleeds

ones who seem to have it figured out
have left you shockingly alone
tho they surround you with their bodies
and their hands feel warm
their prayers point coldly to a door
where Heaven waits
while you look
in desperation
for the key

you know the right
and everybody tells you
just exactly how to get it done
but you know...
you know
that what they say is bogus
cuz if they're right
you're dead

they say to trust
but you are doubtful
they say get still
but you can't stop
they say reading holy words will bring you comfort
but the ones you find just damn you
and that brings sweet relief
because at least it asks for nothing

so you wake up to another day of darkness
jump through hoops
and beat your fists on walls
then feel the guilt
heaped overflowing
by your lack of self control

you did it wrong again
all your whining and complaining
must have surely sent Him packing
even tho
they say (those ones who know)
He waits
and tapping holy fingers
rests in peace
til you calm down

then one small thought breaks through
(when) fits of rage
are all you have to work with
one small thought is all it takes
(when) unfairness seems to rule your life
one small thought...
a murmur really
that sounds crazy sane and right
"they're wrong"...

So cry your heart out baby
weep the worry
rivers down your Papa's heart

when it all comes crashing

throw your thoughts
and hurl the doubts
then climb up on the shards
of broken dreams
and flow your tears

and He will call to you
tho you may not hear
He will whisper
and He will cry for you
when all your tears are gone
and lost among the ashes

when you feel emptied
and alone
He stands
among your dread
raging with you
stronger than defeat
able to withstand
your hate

when all the right words
lose their meaning
and the weeping
comes again
just open up and throw your head back
so the howls can tumble freely
He will hold them safely
while He weeps
and draws you closer in

it is good to be content

Today I am content.
I can't say that every day. Some days pile up so discontentedly that it feels smothering. Other days feel whiny and at odds in a "I am so bored" kind of way. Still other days feel like they might want to be contented but are hesitant to own it.

Today, I am content. And I just want to say it out loud.

You know...it is good to share contentment. In these days of wanting to be real we can almost be afraid to admit (even to ourselves) the times where the mundane is truly satisfying.
I think those sighs of peaceful nothingness and everythingness are truly gifts from God.
When our eyes are open to the fact that it doesn't really take a fantasmic day of uber fun to make a heart feel glad....we can find that regular is nice. And it is so much easier to get to.

So what is contentment?
Contentment is looking at your situation and deciding? declaring? realizing? recognizing...that's it...recognizing that it is ok.
Your situation is ok.
Satisfying even.

I am gonna say that contentment comes easier when the situation is easy.
( I am a genius. You have been suspecting this haven't you?)

But what about when things are hard?

It is nice and easy to feel content when the bills are paid and the kids are healthy and dinner is on the stove.
But what about feeling content when you don't know where the paycheck is coming from? What about when your husband has a debilitating illness? How about when everyone is whining and you haven't a clue about what to fix for supper or even if you have food to fix it with?
Yeah. That stinks.
I do not know how to be content in those situations.
I think that only Jesus has an answer for that. I have seen some pretty contented people with some dire circumstances looming over them. Doesn't make sense at all. Yet it is there.
How is that?
How can some types of people find satisfaction and contentment in things that other people would find torturous at best?

I want to tell you a little bit about my mom and what she taught me about living content.

My mama was one of those types that could be content even if she was to find herself without her dentures in a gum chewin contest.
She spent the last 10 yrs of her sweet life here on earth completely consumed with contentment. And this in the face of literally bone crushing illness.
Now, I am not saying that she didn't ever complain. She did. But not much. She would let you know she was hurting. Times were when she couldn't help but holler. But she never had a "woe is me" mentality.

And if you asked her, she would lead you to believe that her life was good.

Ok. not to be cruel but you need to know some of what she faced in order to make that last sentence fully carry the sarcastic weight with which it was intended.
(she said it seriously...I wrote it sarcastically)
She was diabetic, and that progressed to bone degeneration in both feet, gangrene, firey nerve pains in her feet and legs, kidney failure leading to dialysis, congestive heart failure, blindness, random hallucinations, frequent blood sugar flatlines...on and on and on.
It wasn't good. It was anything but good.

But all she would admit to was that God continued to provide everything she needed.
Gosh that is irritating. I mean inspiring.
(I would say that right to her if she were here. And she would smile. Except I wouldn't say gosh. Cuz that would be cussing.)

Ok now I am all misty.

I think...that part of her contentment came from her ability to find the happiness inside of her situation. So many times I want to look beyond my situation to a better situation which leads to an insipid longing for something that is beyond my grasp. I don't think she did that.
She faced much hardship in her life and she didn't let it crush her. She didn't let it mould her in a way that openly displayed her diploma from the school of hard knocks. She took her hardships and learned how to find life among the knocks. Good life even.
I think that she really believed it when she said that complaining didn't help anything. (I heard her say that...believe me.)

I know...that she found her center in my daddy's love. He is a lover. He loves her every day of her life here and beyond. She knew that. Maybe it is more accurate to say that she found her place in the center of his love. Either way...she was blessed.
I know...that her children loving Jesus brought her a contentment that all the pain on earth could not take down. We are gonna all be together again soon. That kept her very content.
I know...that she really and truly trusted God with her happiness. She believed with everything in her that He had her best interest at the core of His heart and she could live on that knowledge and understanding. She understood things I did not get at all.

So knowing what I know I go back to what I think. My mom found contentment IN her circumstance. Where have I heard that before?
She didn't look beyond or through her life here to glimpse something waiting for her in Heaven.
She absolutely trained herself to be content with what had been given her here. She had learned to base her contentment on the reality of the unchangeable things like love and life. Real life. Her present circumstances did not affect her contentment because she knew that those circumstances would soon change.

And you know what is really sweet about her contentment?
It wasn't dependent on her living here, or her dying here. She was happy with the prospect of either one. Where have I heard that before?

I know this...
At the end of her stay here I was given the blessing of asking her if she was ready to go home.
My sister and I had talked to her about our love and about taking care of our daddy. She couldn't really talk but she was listening and I got to ask her...

"mom, are you ready to go? Are you ready to go home?"
Her last words to me ...
"Beckie, do you mean Heaven?"
"Yes, mama, are you ready to go home to Heaven?"
"Oh YES!" she said.

and I know she found contentment in those words too.

So today I am content. I say I learned it from my mama yet I hesitate to belittle her accomplishment with my puny life of ease and finding satisfaction in my bliss. I hope that I can honor her by remembering her lessons when my own tough times come along.( I ain't foolin myself into thinking I am exempt. )
Right now all I can claim is that I whine much too much. I get afraid to admit my contentment like it will jinx me for something worse. I also get lazy and malcontent enough to dismiss my ease as complacency and forget to be thankful for the everyday. Neither or these attitudes are glorious.
I want to remember her and be happy where I am. Content.

She taught me that it is possible to live and love through anything. She taught me that circumstances do not have to define your happiness and that satisfaction can be found even in moments of turmoil. She taught me that your regular life whatever that looks like is worthy of thanks. She taught way more than I actually learned.

Just let me leave this as a testament to her wisdom. If I get really quiet I can hear her say the words.

Be content in your circumstances...whatever they may be.

It is good to be content.

always

what I know is this

when I can't hear or see or touch...

when my life is too big or too small...

when I know without a doubt that I am a faker in all respects...

I sit with Papa and I listen.

And sometimes it takes a while to hear.

But when I do the answer is always.
always.

A steady presence that never wavers.

And tho I try to deny it.

I rage against it.

I holler at the injustice of it all.

Or weep at the insanity.

always.

There may be other words added.

Sometimes redirection.

Sometimes refocus on the same path.

But to find that I am never...ever....alone

stills my heart.

And I can say "I trust you"

when I can't do anything else at all.

RiverDance

I watch the river dance and weave itself
around each obstacle that pushes back
and wonder at eternity's simplicity.

The power surge that water brings
could rightly flatten anything
yet power chooses first to step aside
in peaceful search of rest.

To wander here and there
is not efficient and it's clear that
a to b is really not the point.

The peaceful route takes longer
and it looks completely foolish
but I doubt if hurry matters
or if keeping up appearances appeals at all.

Completely doubling back
upon the previously chosen path
retracing yet again the route it took before.
The river pushes on until some rock or hard place
stands and pushes back
and then it dances by
averting conflict with a wave and watery smile.

It seems sometimes like Maker placed each rock and crevice
just so He could trace a lifepath full of scenic routes.
Preferring most to squeeze in miles of going round and coming back
in twists and twirls that pretty much ensure revisit
to that very same position thought long gone.
Yet this time seeing that same hard spot from a victors view
the backside looks so tame as water gurgles on and looks behind
to watch the conflict float away.

River takes the Makers hand repeatedly each day
as willingly he gives up strength and capability
to follow down a different route
that calls for letting go of self determination
to choose the path less obvious
and find the joy in wandering.

now

"Love the people" I hear it in my heart but get confused by all my noise. People are so very hard to love.

"How can I just stand up and love them with your Papa heart?", I ask...not really wanting yet to hear the answer to the question I propose.

"Love them in the now." He says and softly He explains while I begin to listen.

"Not soon,

or when,

Not if

or then

but now.

Not judging actions as if actions swayed the vote.

Not holding back a part for later's full confession.

Not wishing something different or waiting til the better comes along.

now.

The way we are in heavens eyes-

Like newly given love upon a sweet face freshly born of mamas womb.

Like starry eyes aglow with treasures sparkle.

Like first discovery and well worn comfort all wrapped up in one delicious bundle.

now.

Love given freely-

Imperfection seen and cherished knowing strength for weakness triumphs yet again.

Love lavished rightly-

Hearts encircled fiercely in velvet gentle arms.

Love tenderly appointed-

One precious taste of being fully realized and accepted in sweet bliss.

now.

In this moment,

for all you are,

or not,

You are Loved.

Deserving Fathers hand upon your head as surely as the sky deserves the wind.

The eagle soars, not wishing more or less than flight.

For flight is what it is.

Creature created and loved in completeness with all that is whole-

the Fathers heart.

We too, created, and deserving, not for any reason except for love.

now.

We are loved.

He loves us.

Our Father-our lover-our brother-

At once sweetly cherished, fiercely protected, tenderly understood.

We are Loved.

If only our hearts could open a little wider.

To see our makers love for what it is.

To smile in the warmth rained down upon us

And know-

Truly know-

That beyond anything that was,

or is,

or could be-

We are loved.

dancing before the Lord

I am EXCITED about dancing before the Lord.
I am aware (only recently) that it is not about me.
It is not about me...or my freedom...or my relationship with the Lord God OR
His people. (see that can be a big one!)

My walk with the Lord is not now and never will be based on my ability or inability to dance before Him in the assembly.
I am not on display...I do not have to set a good example...I do not even have to
have a good attitude about it...I can just be.
And let whatever come.
I can enter that room and watch and wait...and when
He ushers in the dance I can rest in the presence of the Lord.
I can rest and not worry about what you might think of me
(cuz that is something that I might think about) I can listen for the Lord.
I might be so moved by the
freedom of the dance
that I cannot help myself...I may rush in like a thirsty traveler into a cool stream...
I may lose myself in the
passion
of the invitation of my lover to dance alone with him...
I may feel the
celebration
of dancing in the Glory of the Lord with my sisters...
or I may feel belligerent...I may feel stubborn...I may feel shy...I may feel inadequate...
I might have the strength to battle...or may only crumple and weep.
I may feel a nothing...just not a time for me to dance.

It is strange...because I am very new at knowing what I want.
And in this situation I can hear Him asking..."what do you want to do honey?"
I used to think it was all about the order..."do this now ".
And I would do it.
Because I loved Him. Because I was scared not to.
Because I wanted to be a good girl and please Him.
So in my fear I would beg Him for an order. A sign.
Then I would step out.
And it would terrify me...but it would feel so good too.
But I would need that order every time.

Then, when the Lord really kissed me with freedom...I was in a worship setting and I felt something...not a word from the Lord. Something in my heart.
I WANTED to dance.
Actually, first I wanted to run. So I did.
I grabbed a scarf (one of the dancers big flowy scarves)...and I begin to run
in circles around the auditorium. I felt like a little kid. It was really fun!
Now don't think for one instant that I forgot
about everyone around...I still wondered what they were thinking...yuk...but
somehow it just didn't matter...just wasn't a big deal...I didn't care what they thought!)
Then after a few rounds...and me praying that I didn't
have a heart attack because frankly I could not remember the last time I
had run that far...after a few rounds I stopped up at the
front...FRONT...in front of all those people...and I danced. Because I wanted to.
Because I felt the freedom to go sit if I wanted.
But I didn't want to.
I wanted to stand right there,
fully aware of how foolish I might look...and dance.
So I did.
It became as simple as that. I just did it.
Then after a while I sat down.

I danced. I sat down. And here is the freedom
part...not just for me...
He loved that I danced for Him.
I could feel His pleasure.
But I knew that He would have loved me none the less if I had sat the entire time.
He didn't love me more than all the other people in that room.
He didn't see me as more special because I risked something.
He just loved me. And He smiled on me.
And He was pleased with me.

And that...is what freedom feels like. I pray that for you!!
Not that I have it all hooked up. I don't feel the freedom all the time...
but I am learning what it feels like.
I am learning that I want to live THERE!!
I pray for my friends that they will encounter the
Spirit of Freedom that will engage them and get their attention.
I pray that they will taste that sweetness of the Lord that frees
them to know what they want.
I pray that many will know for the first time the freedom of choice in the Lord.
He came to free us to choose!!
He wants us to want HIM!
He wants US!!

That is the turning point for me...the freedom to choose!
I had been living a lovely glorious life but still a false one.
I was serving the Lord.
I was finding joy. I was serving to the best of my ability.
I was doing all that I needed to...but MOSTLY it was based on requirement.
Because I "knew" it was needed and expected of me.
I am amazed at how good that still all felt.
Because He is good. And serving Him is a pleasure and an honor.
But it was not what He wanted for me. It is not what He wants from us.
Because that still makes us slaves.
And that makes Him so sad.

When I dance...it wont be as a slave girl.
I won't wear a veil and wonder if my performance is pleasing.
I will dance in the delight of my Lover.
I will know that my moves captivate Him as no other.
I will know that my presence stirs a place in His heart that He reserves just for me!
I will dance like a child in the sparkle of her daddy's eye.
My moves will make Him giggle with delight as He marvels at His
creation...as He marvels at what He brought forth from His own self.
I will look at Him and see His eyes glisten because He is so touched that I honored
Him enough to want to dance for Him.
I will dance for Him as He dances for me.
He dances for me!
And when He twirls around He catches me eye and He holds out His hands.
He asks me to come dance with Him.
He asks me to choose.
I have a choice.
He gives me a choice.
I will dance because I love Him...because I want to.
And He will be pleased....because He is.

I might dance at your party...I do love to dance.
Pray for more freedom.
A freedom wild enough to challenge our complacency.
A freedom extravagant enough to break through our hesitation.
A freedom loud enough to shout through the noise of all that we have been taught.

May the sticky glory of the Lord fall on you as you
seek Him today!!
(this from the mouth of my youngest son who walks around the
house singing...
"Here comes the sticky glory ory Halaylula He rains.")

Love you.

all that other stuff I said about christmas...welllllllll.....

This makes me cry. All those people declaring the truth. The thing I stand by is that it shouldn't just be at christmas. The truth is still the truth. He came. Everything else oughta point to this.

dedicated to my sisters

Do you know how wild and wonderful you are?
Arrayed in splendor
grand
sublime
The words ring hollow when compared to your great worth.

You are not object. You are entity.
You cannot be contained nor neatly rounded off to fit the size and shape
of any pre determined peg hole.

You are soft and strong. Stoic and emotive. Delighter and delight.

You shoulder pain that would reduce most men to fetal curled positions
rocking back and forth while calling for their mamas.
Those called for mamas are our sisters strong
with wild heartbeats
they pound the drums of war upon the taunts of any enemy
brave or dumb enough to pick a fight with loved ones.
These sisters feel the hurts not only of themselves but those around
both seen and felt for miles
as sadness from a hurting one sings siren calls for help
that woos a mama/sister heart to actions
far beyond the realms of personal protection.

Determination to see justice win can fuel another and another tender stroke
upon a fevered brow .
Satisfaction in a tended heart can keep a sister soothing long into the night.
Tenderness prevails upon exhaustion flooding broken hearts that beat
both in and out of their own breast.

Strength borne of softness.

These same brave sisters also taste the ache of weakness
brought about by failure in their own sweet hearts to keep it all together.
Some stand defiant
raising fists against the storms.
You will not see them cry out even tho the tears may blur their eyes
with filmy puddles of frustration.
They cannot bend for fear of breaking.
Knowing not that breaking can unbend the knots of time.

Some other sisters swallow hope like pills and loose themselves in tears
that never cease to wet their cheeks and pillows
crying on
til spent with agony and wasted time
and dreams left unfulfilled by life
filled up with daily chores.

Searching skies for answers to their self perceived laziness and lack of motivation.
Wailing long and hard because to get it done feels bigger than the talents they possess.
They look upon themselves...these sisters...as inadequate or faulty in their current state.
A longing rises up to be some more.

Emotion runs the stoic out of town.

It's true, we sisters often fail at bringing forth the beauty as we see it
played upon the mind and heart and soul.
We wish the wishes of completeness and perfection that seem still farther than our grasp.
We secretly suspect that what is needed is not possible with what's been given
as we tend to blame ourselves.
We sisters know that in us lies the answers if only we could somehow
step aside while stepping up.

Do you know how wild and wonderful you are?

The answers here lie not in form as if by solving problems we could shoot solutions
like bullets at a chosen target.
We sisters work within each moment to extract the tidbits of redemption
that can save a day or even turn a minute.

We do not always get to know the why's as we proceed
towards an unseen goal along a hidden path.

We often have to buck it up when all we want to do is sit and melt.

We do not give ourselves the credit we give others
for another day breathed through and night endured.

We need to see that small success can often look like failure.
Steps forward get discounted when we feel the clink of ankle chains.
The time it takes to feel complete can nullify the time just spent
in bandaging
the hurts of many wounds.
Ours and others'.

Those hands that bring such comfort to our loved ones
would do well to bring some home.

Forgiveness starts when looking in a mirror.
Imperfection truly can be all embraced.
Delight can come in many forms both giving and receiving
when we learn to ease the pressures of
expectation and regret.

My sisters, know that being brings no failure.
We can wake today and shower it with grace.
We will take a step and feel the strength that comes
as each new moment swings us to the next one.
Then when we fall we stay or stand
believing that today is not all up to us.
And that is a relief.


Wild and wonderful are descriptions of an untamed heart
that glories in the knowledge that our maker truly knows what He is doing.
And He does it very well.

Do you know how wild and wonderful you are?