but.for.the.grace

i try words that are never enough to explain, but theres something still that always remains. 2,000 years of promises finally falling lightly around me. i ache for you to fill me complete. i need you to move through me, quietly and fiercely. my own strength gives way, only yours can replace. i could never forget, I'm alive in your grace.

this past week was pretty tough. life just shows up sometimes and you have to throw up your hands, cry a little, pray a lot, and keep on walking straight through. but if only it were that easy. sure it sounds wonderful and simple, because it is, but simple things prove to be harder to pull off. this week one of my friends mom died. the hardest part of all of it was that i set up a time to go see her as she was getting worse. but as i set up the time for a few days later, she passed away quietly the next morning. and im ashamed that my first thought was 'no! i was supposed to see her! i was supposed to hug her one more time. i wanted to tell her i loved her one more time.' the thoughts quickly transferred to relief as i remembered how much she was hurting all these years. but i slipped. my focus shifted. i was distracted for a moment. and fools came rushing in. letting go of mary ann should not have been that hard. i should not have been so vulnerable and belly up to the lies that came all too quickly. death is hard, dont get me wrong, but i wish you couldve seen my soul this week. it was a disastrous wreck. i felt waves of inadequacy mainly, but it grew into a monster with many heads. one of those heads was my past and a fear of not being loved because of that past. even seeing it now i want to laugh for how silly it all sounds. and how did it get there?! i can just see my father god chuckling, shaking his head, saying 'oh my child, hush. you know thats not true.'  the best part of spiritual warfare is when god whispers to you and you know without a shred of doubt that you cant lose. oh how its making my heart glow right now. there are some unbelievable things happening with him through his people, and i want to be able to perceive them.  just gently reminding myself of his simple truth and promise.

2 corinthians 1:3-11

The most difficult part of emotions is sorting them all out and fitting a name to each. And when I get a new wave I can usually bet on deciphering out about 7 different entities fused together like a spoiled chemistry project. Fear is nearly always the trunk, branching its heavy offspring skyward. I guess its most comparable to agricultural tree grafting. If you have a lemon tree, you could, if done properly, successfully graft a similar variety, such as limes,  onto the original trunk. As long as the two tissues are able to vascularly fuse, the grafted branch will bear its original fruit while the rest bears the other. Once the tree has strengthened the new joint, one wouldn't recognize there is a lone lime branch until the little baby limes start poking out of this lemon tree. In many sickened moments we exhaust ourselves by meticulously grafting certain emotions and experiences together. So when the fruit has finally taken we can say, "See?! There! I told you there was a lime branch in the middle of my lemon tree! Now do you believe me?!"  I think I try to use this as an excuse at times for my reactions. Well, of course I thought so irrationally, I've got those ridiculous limes growing in the middle of my lemon tree! I need to remind myself that I was the one who decided that those limes would look absolutely lovely poking out of all those lemons. Now is the time where I start pruning my trees and finding what is truly at the roots. If there is an outgrowth of something unnecessary I pray I recognize it and trim away. There can be beauty in grafting, but do we really need all of our lemon trees to have limes as well?

I admit I got a little carried away on my metaphors today. This is the news I received. My grandma died a couple years ago. I was able to be with her in her last moments, which was a time so dear to my heart. All this time has passed and my grandpa is just now getting ready to sell their house. My grandma wanted me to have their piano. One we all played on for years growing up. It felt like a tsunami hit me. I couldn't tell which way was up or what was making me feel all the things I felt when my grandpa told me. All I knew was that it is the most special gift I've ever received, I missed my grandma so much in that moment and that I wanted to cry. I think I thought of grafting trees because so many times I find myself attaching emotions to memories and memories to emotions. This is somewhat legitimate, I'm not wrong for feeling how I felt, but this is not the definition of that experience or that emotion. They do not define one another. That is perception. Anyways, I know I need to work on separating where separation is due and reconnecting what should be reconnected.

I am a beautifully grafted, strong oak with my Rock & Strength giving me sustenance. I want to bear fruit, give shade and rise towards the heavens.

Isaiah 61

The Year of the LORD’s Favor

 ¹ The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
   because the LORD has anointed me
   to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
   to proclaim freedom for the captives
   and release from darkness for the prisoners,^[a]
2 to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor
   and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
 ³ and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
   instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
   instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
   instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
   a planting of the LORD
   for the display of his splendor.  ⁴ They will rebuild the ancient ruins
   and restore the places long devastated;
they will renew the ruined cities
   that have been devastated for generations.
⁵ Strangers will shepherd your flocks;
   foreigners will work your fields and vineyards.
⁶ And you will be called priests of the LORD,
   you will be named ministers of our God.
You will feed on the wealth of nations,
   and in their riches you will boast.
 ⁷ Instead of your shame
   you will receive a double portion,
and instead of disgrace
   you will rejoice in your inheritance.
And so you will inherit a double portion in your land,
   and everlasting joy will be yours.
 ⁸ “For I, the LORD, love justice;
   I hate robbery and wrongdoing.
In my faithfulness I will reward my people
   and make an everlasting covenant with them.
⁹ Their descendants will be known among the nations
   and their offspring among the peoples.
All who see them will acknowledge
   that they are a people the LORD has blessed.”
 ¹⁰ I delight greatly in the LORD;
   my soul rejoices in my God.
For he has clothed me with garments of salvation
   and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness,
as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest,
   and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
¹¹ For as the soil makes the sprout come up
   and a garden causes seeds to grow,
so the Sovereign LORD will make righteousness
   and praise spring up before all nations.

ambushed.by.the.uglies

Today was a day that I was so thankful to have spiritually supportive women in my life, and so readily available to pick me up and see a few of my sad tears. I am reminded that if evil has a foothold it will climb the whole mountain if it can. I had a conversation with a person who is pretty blunt in his opinions of the lifestyle I've chosen and especially my involvement with the church as my place of refuge and employment. His sarcastic jabs sting and heavy my heart. He mocks me for my new choices and it breaks my heart. He drowns his discontent in a thick cloud of smoke. I want to open a window for him so things could maybe clear up a little for him, but he's the only one with the key. After all this emotional chaos from a single conversation I know that I can't be his savior and his lips speak only toxic disease. It pains me to see his sorrowful, angry projections and walk away from him, but this is where I have to draw the line. I've got a happy bubble now. If someone tries to bring dirt or darkness into my bubble things would certainly implode very quickly. I've got to do a pat down security check on whoever comes in now. If you've got a little pain in your pocket, sorry, you've got to leave that at the door because that's yours, not mine. I was ambushed today by the Uglies, that's for sure. And this is what my Rock & Strength gave me:   Romans 8:31-39

More Than Conquerors

 ³¹ What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? ³² He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? ³³ Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. ³⁴ Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. ³⁵ Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? ³⁶ As it is written:    “For your sake we face death all day long;
   we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”
 ³⁷ No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. ³⁸ For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, ³⁹ neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

 These precious, golden words make me want to beat my chest and shout 'You can't break me. He is before me, beside me and behind me and I am more than a conqueror.' I am not defined by the things that I have done - thank you Jesus.

dorothy.was.right

Nowadays I cry because I am so happy, just like my momma. I never thought in a million years I'd be able to do that, or I thought if I did get to that dreadful era I'd be so busy digging my own grave that the look of a small child would set off the waterworks. I've heard this said once and I can't think of a better way to put it. One day you'll look in the mirror and you'll say, "Mirror, Mirror on the wall, it's true, I am my mother after all!" If I had more time I would be certainly tell you many painful stories about my mother an I. They would make all of you cringe and most of your hearts pull so fiercely downward that you had to cry. If my daddy could explain the tension, he'd say it's because we are so very much alike. And he, i must admit, is right. Today I don't look at it as a curse, but as something I cherish. Because, you see, my mother is a very beautiful person, and her heart is very large. And if I had gotten my childhood wish of never being anything that even vaguely resembled my mother, then I would be a very sad old woman. So, Momma, I'm sorry I stopped snuggling you when I grew up, I hope I'm as pretty as you when I grow up more, and when I'm all grown up I'd be honored to be even more like you.

That being said, my momma's heart feels a lot. And I most certainly got that from her. It was always a burden because I couldn't harness it and work it the right way. I would easily get frustrated, overwhelmed and angry because no one could feel the weight that was so crushing. So I found a dark, quiet place, I turned off the switch and I chose not to feel anymore. I snuffed out the candle, but the wick was still there. So when I finally found myself cold and exhausted from feeling around in the dark on my hands and knees- I knew I needed to light that candle again.

But what do you do when the rush of grace is gone? When the euphoria of multiple chances has evaporated? When the beautiful pink cloud is picking up a storm? You don't have to smile and laugh when its hard and things hurt all over again, but if you want to keep anything that has been given, you need to pick up the phone, open your mouth and do whats right in that moment. Quite a few special people in my life have told me how proud of me they are. I had mixed feelings about those words. I'd waited so long to hear them, but once I did it just didn't seem right. I thought, you know, if they could see in this head of mine they wouldn't dare breathe those words! I've been processing this for a several days now, trying to accept the fact that I am not who I once was, that even though I've been dirty and used I am being restored. Let me tell you, this is no easy feat. It feels schizophrenic at times. There are ideas that I've been stained, and there's no oxyclean to life. Then a hopeless romantic feeling that always has a beautiful counter-attack. I know without a doubt that there is a war going on for my mind.

Here's what I came to. I don't know why some things happened the way they did. I'm not sure if I will ever know that. Couldn't I have learned lessons another way? Surely- but I didn't. And this is the way things are. And people are proud of me. That's ok, because even though there's absolute chaos disrupting my mind nearly every moment, I don't act nearly as foolishly as I once did. It's ok to feel. It's ok to feel things that aren't warm and fuzzy either. I think of it as practice, sometimes I don't really know what I'm practicing for... but it never hurts to prepare. And preparing your mind, heart and soul has an effervescent effect.

If I come to you in tears about something silly like sold-out tickets, please don't minimize that. I've got to feel it as a child feels it. So when the next concert sells out I'll realize that its not fatal.

I love you all. Thank you for being proud of me.

questions.to.answers

I am much too late in attempting to document certain pivotal aspects of my life. There are countless moments that have been forgotten or subconsciously sequestered for sheer sanity's sake. In my vulnerability, for that I am grateful; in moments of empowerment, I am disheartened. In either circumstance I have accepted the fact that some disfigured days will resurface and I will surely feel their weight. A dear woman in my life was sober for several years before she remembered her childhood was engulfed in sexual abuse by a close relative- one that should have been a solid source of trust and compassion. Although I am not anticipating any such similarities, I do know that the more precious I am to God, the more important I am to Satan. In tandem with that, I know that my Rock and my Strength will allow these times to bubble up only when my heart can withstand the pain of remembrance. But until then... I have plenty to process and feel.

Only recently have I begun to appreciate the marvelous wax and wane of life. It leaves beautifully transparent curves of space and depth that artists fervently dream of capturing. Much like the systematic swing of a dusty grandfather clock's pendulum and the joyful dance of a young girl around the Maypole her father carefully constructed in her honor, or the magnificent methods of tides that have instilled a halcyon effect yet erode and destruct in the same season.  Every peak is driven by the depression, every depression dependent upon the peak. It's a wonderfully gratifying continual conversion of potential energy to kinetic and kinetic to potential. It's the momentum and current of life. It's scary and glorious. And I'm running straight into the thick of it. I will be able to mold bits and pieces into words and phrases, but the larger part can only be felt. Bear with me as I re-learn, restore, and re-live my moments. It will test every emotion and need my body demands, for it already has.

It's said that you can be either a good example or a terrible warning, but both are of equal importance. I hope to be both. Believe me, I've mastered the latter, and by God's grace I've begun the former. Hear me when I say this, it is only because His grace is sufficient and I lack nothing that He alone cannot give to me.

Enjoy and take heart, for there is always hope.