Jan 062017
 


I have been disconnected feeling for so many years, from myself, from others, and worst of all, from God. And, when I have had the opportunity to connect I have pulled away, recoiled like a snake stepped on whose only reflex is to tangle up on itself.

I have purposed this year with my OneWord365 to be “intentional”. How that is going to play out, I don’t know. But, I am excited to be intentional with my children, my parents, my boyfriend, and of course my relationship with Christ -my God.

The desire to connect to myself and to others, especially the One who created me, has overridden the desire to pull into myself and hide from the world the way I used to. I want to, no I need to, live life in the love that was ordained by Christ Himself when He spoke to us saying “And a new commandment I give to you, that you love one another as I have loved you…” He didn’t add in an “if, and, or, but, unless” etc to the command, so I am going to live with the intent to connect through Christ, to connect in love and to work at connecting with my soul and strive to reach my potential.

I love connecting with each of you every week as we flash-mob write. As we tweet about sports and justice and chocolate and ask for prayers. Connecting through our own words and the Word of God, the words in the books of our dear friends as they follow where they are to be lead.

I am excited to see who will join us this year and who I will connect with and what we will connect over, maybe a favorite dish, children the same age, mentors or a friendship that makes no sense to the naked eye but simply feels natural and right.

We all live with fear. It hangs around, whispering in our ears, reminding us of all we can’t do or will never be. But that’s not the end of the story. We also have a God who draws close to say, Fear not. I am with you. This Spirit transforms us into fear fighters–women breaking free of trepidation to find bold dedication to God’s peace-, purpose- and joy-filled callings.

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Nov 102016
 

I often feel like an outcast, like I don’t have much in common with the Christian community or the secular community. I am a single mom who has lived through hell -literally. I struggle to see other families married and having kids and being on the same page and all of that when I am co-parenting with my own parents and I was a teen mom.


And yet, I feel like I belong at the same time because Christ didn’t accidentally make me fall in line with the people in my life, He didn’t cause me to check and email, stumble across a blog post or fall into a chapter in my Bible that spoke to me by accident.

No, He invited me in, even when I feel like the world may not want me, and I am learning that rejection is not only okay, but it is often necessary, because when we reject something that isn’t good for us, or are rejected by someone or something we thought was good for us, we are vulnerable and that vulnerability allows us to open up even further to prayer and to God’s love and plans for our lives -that is, if we allow Him in!

I no longer believe in coincidences. I believe that there is a reason for everything and while a LOT of those things have hurt and hurt really badly over the last weeks, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I am walking a path that the Light is guiding me down.


I am amazed by the kindness and care I have received. The things I have in common with people I never met and the quirks I have and that they have that blend us together and make us work.

I have spent a lifetime praying to a God that often doesn’t seem to answer and yet these moments of commonality and acceptance are like a big ole swat upside the head from the Father that loves beyond all, saying to me “Child, if you would just have some patience!”

Practicing patience as a virtue is hard when it’s something you weren’t born naturally doing, and yet because I was created in His image, just like you were, I know that it is something I can strive towards, I also know I will never be perfectly patient, or perfectly anything, other than His and I have learned that I shouldn’t strive for perfection, I should strive to be in the presence of the One who is always perfect!

Oct 302016
 

I sold my soul and the Angels are Weeping.

I stare into better days as seen through my own mind in the form of drawings on paper and I am scared that I can see an island I will never see again, swim in a spot I grew up in. Everything has changed in the blink of an eye and strangely it’s a pain that I never expected, a permanency that I never thought could be felt. Yet each of those waves in the water that roll toward the shore and break are reminiscent of my heart. They depict a tragedy that 6 months ago I could not have foreseen.  Not emotionally anyway.

I had to find you, tell you I need you and beg to go back to the start and as I stare off into my drawings hanging on my walls I realize that there is no going back to the start. Today cannot be taken back and tomorrow will never again return.

Death is 100% permanent.

Life is 100% fatal.

So why can’t I handle this? Why isn’t it easy? Why do I yearn to watch my blood flow from me so that I know I am alive while simultaneously wanting to do whatever I can do make the pains of life stop –even if it’s just for a few minutes?

The water will never be that same shade of blue again. The sun will never feel so warm. The strength of a drink will never feel so good coursing through my veins. I sit here, and I weep. I cry out and my voice echoes off the empty walls of life.

The light on top of his corpse will never be as bright as it was the day it first started, a speck of light within his mothers’ womb, flicking on and off like a lightening bug in the cool summers night. Like blinking eyes glaring at you from just above the reeds.

Gone are the days of sleep overs and drawing on one anothers backs as we whisper to avoid waking up our grandparents. Secretly loving how good it feels to feel that finger run along your back while you guess what it is creating. Preparing you for an intimacy that seemingly will never come because if you accept that intimacy it may mean that you will never feel those tingles up your spine again, the caress down your back. The hands that hold your hair as you lay sick on the bathroom floor. The cousin who removed a rock from my elbow when I refused to let the aunt who was a nurse! Gone are those days, never to return, never for the children to replicate because now love and life has been replaced by technology where the words “I love you” come easily to so many and a friend is someone you have likely never even spoken to.

 If they can all leave us, one by one then whats to say tomorrow won’t be the same, hold the same pains, cut a little deeper, push a little harder. Why do we fight the inevitable?

Tell me you love me.

In this life and the next.

Tell me that next time around it won’t be this hard. That my heart won’t break 1000 times before I am 29.

Tell me that my babies are safe in the Heavens above and tell me that I will be someday soon as well.

Tell me that the only one who possesses me is the person whom I have given myself to and that that won’t ever go away. Stop tearing me apart. Stop making me bleed. Stop having me run in circles when I know that there is an off-ramp to a better place instead of being brought back to the start.

If you love me, won’t you let me know?

I am a shell of who I once was, a shell of who I no longer can be. I stare down and read my name on the grave and I realize just how cold I am and I wonder why the angels are weeping and my heart isn’t beating.

Oct 212016
 

Lately, I have become one of those people who takes up two or three parking spaces without a care in the world. I think that makes me the person who frustrates me the most!? This tiredness is giving me this nonchalant attitude of simply not caring, and I don’t like how it is changing me.

I want to do everything in a manner that brings glory to God and yet I don’t have the energy, so what kind of Christian does this make me? Is He meeting me in the parking lot and whispering in my ear that it’s okay to park crazy as long as I park safely or is He looking down and shaking His head at this broken child and saying that I have fallen and fallen hard?

When will He answer my prayer and refill my energy supply? When will my psyche realize that I am not psycho and that less is better than more? Will I realize it when He whispers into my itchy, fluid filled ears that I am enough?

Or, are these truths that I already know but refuse to admit to myself?

I need to park myself down and have a true Sabbath. A day of rest. A day to live love and absorb the world, the Word. A day where I don’t think about tomorrow and simply live in His grace and in the faith I have that He already has tomorrow planned and worked out so that I don’t have to be enslaved to the calendar or a list.

I need to create the habit of a weekly Sabbath for myself. I would LOVE to know how you do this so you don’t burn out like me!?

Oct 202016
 

I’ve reached this sort of burn out that I didn’t know I could get if I wasn’t post-partum. This exhaustion that cuts into the marrow of my bones and sucks me dry. A weekend, the kind where you relax and have happy family time isn’t in the foreseeable future, but when is it when you have teens?

Between teens wandering off and sports I am beginning to believe I live in the car. My autoimmune issues are in a constant flare-up, my allergies are beginning to feel like a disease and I have literally dangled by my hair from the seatbelt trying to escape the all-wheel drive jail cell.

I should be grateful for all that I have, and in actual fact, I am. I know that I have far more blessings than so many people in this world but that doesn’t change that I am falling asleep everywhere, not sleeping when I need to, and have a to-do list a mile long with worry on my mind and pain in my soul.

I actually look forward to a Monday now because that means the hectic weekend is over and that I can check off some of those boxes and try to detox my soul by sinking into the Word while allowing it to sink into me.

Don’t ever ask a stay at home mama what she does all day, because it is really exhausting, even if you are healthy.

Oct 192016
 

This song has been a favorite of mine by Evanescence for years. I love the way they express the pain inside of my brain and that longing to be noticed while craving to go unnoticed all at the same time. PTSD is hard. Wanting to disappear has become a part of who I am. Knowing someone has felt the same, or close enough to have written the words and designed the music helps me to realize that my broken-self isn’t alone.

“Missing”

Please, please forgive me,
But I won’t be home again.
Maybe someday you’ll look up,
And, barely conscious, you’ll say to no one:
“Isn’t something missing?”

You won’t cry for my absence, I know –
You forgot me long ago.
Am I that unimportant…?
Am I so insignificant…?
Isn’t something missing?
Isn’t someone missing me?

[Chorus:]

Even though I’m the sacrifice,
You won’t try for me, not now.
Though I’d die to know you love me,
I’m all alone.
Isn’t someone missing me?

Please, please forgive me,
But I won’t be home again.
I know what you do to yourself,
I breathe deep and cry out,
“Isn’t something missing?
Isn’t someone missing me?”

[Chorus]

And if I bleed, I’ll bleed,
Knowing you don’t care.
And if I sleep just to dream of you
I’ll wake without you there,
Isn’t something missing?
Isn’t something…

[Chorus]

Oct 182016
 

Growing up my cousins were our neighbours on two sides. We played and shared and went frog hunting and tadpole catching in the ponds on our property. We ice skated with neighbour kids in winter and then one spring when I was 9 the police came and searched and searched some more for my older cousin who went missing.

They found his body 3 days later at the bottom of the highest cliff about a kilometer into our backyards, across the highway. They said that he had no stomach contents and that he had likely only been dead a few hours.

The official cause of death was suicide, the unofficial was blunt force trauma to his skull, presumably as he fell. How a 17 year old goes without food or water when a corner store and unlocked houses are within shouting distance, for several days never sat well with me. It didn’t sit well with the retired police chief who offered to look into it as a homicide and it didn’t sit well with my grandpa either.

My aunt and uncle didn’t want the help though, so the ruling was as is and the priest denied my cousin his last rites, because you can’t receive more than a blessing if you have taken your own life.

I tended his grave for years, going and wiping the fresh cut grass from the stone and making sure the solar light I bought was still lighting at night, the shepherds hook it hung on something I knew would help guide him to the Light and keep him there.

I don’t believe that suicide is a sin. I know a lot of people do, including the church. I have faith in a God who does not punish those who are mentally ill, and if you have ever been depressed or suicidal you know that there is no such thing as “rational” when in that state of mind. The act of suicide isn’t to cause pain, it’s a final and desperate attempt to end your own.

Whether suicide or homicide I have prayed that as my cousin flew to the ground below that he felt no fear, only peace and maybe even a moment of joy knowing that this act was the pathway to freedom from what we call life.

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