Oct 072016
 

My faith has been through the wringer lately, and I may have been failing the test, letting myself fall, letting the world step in the way, letting myself give in to things I know not to do. And yet, here I am writing as part of this crazy group and I feel the cradle around me, knowing that like the prodigal son, I am always welcomed back, a feast is prepared and my presence is worth a celebration to the One true Father -our Father, yours and mine!

How wonderful to be His. To come back from the darkness and see His Light brightly shining at the end of what seemed like driving a tunnel in a car that has broken headlights. Yet, I know it is easy for me to break, shatter into a billion pieces and watch the scars scab over but never really go away.

You can glue the mirror back together again, but it never reflects the same. It’s always more fragile than it was before and the tiny shards that we couldn’t pick up and see leave scarred cracks where the glue resides, a wholeness that isn’t really complete and as best as I try to be whole I have to accept that I am only as whole as I am in Christ and that while my tests may be failed, and I may fail this journey called life, I will one day be wholly whole, in His divine presence as I am greeted at the pearly gates and welcomed into the Heavenly realm.

A compilation of 150 blog posts from the Five Minute Friday Community. The stories found in these pages span a diverse range of experiences, but share a common thread: A Love For the Bravely Written Word.
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Oct 062016
 

You look at me with cupped hands
Your thumbs wipe away the tears that slip from my eyes without my permission
You whisper ‘baby it’s okay’
And, I know it will be.

Because, You created this day.
You knew the saltine water that would spill from my eyes
You knew as I struggled to catch my breath the word to escape my lips would be ‘sorry’
I have no reason to be sorry, I am Yours.

I grip onto Your hands and feel the holes in broken flesh and know that my scars are Yours
That as you hung on the cross You were working to purify and heal my inevitable sins.
With the flash of a light You knew from the start that this is how love would truly begin.
And, the Earth trembled as the Father eagerly awaited You at those Holy gates.

I wait on my charges just the same.
That they would walk through the door with lessons learned, full of Love and soul-y unscathed
I have to place their hands in Yours because it is You who holds life’s script
Like me, I know they too will trip.

You reach out that broken-scarred hand and raise us up from the depths
You show us that blind-faith is the only faith
That the answers are predestined, defined
That Your ordination is Love of the purest kind.

A compilation of 150 blog posts from the Five Minute Friday Community. The stories found in these pages span a diverse range of experiences, but share a common thread: A Love For the Bravely Written Word.
$12.99 USD

Oct 022016
 

The strawberry plants in pots on the deck didn’t have much of a yield this year and now their leaves are vibrant reds against the greens and yellows with feelers reaching across the wood of the deck and towards the table where we didn’t eat outside because some people are afraid of bugs, but where I enjoyed my morning coffee and fetch with the dogs just the same.

The air crisp and cold this week unlike last week when the fans were all on and the air conditioning tempting. The sky has been painted in hues of blue, green and grey as the atmosphere tries to decide if the rain is the story it wants to paint of if its that of the sun setting golden behind golden leaved trees.

The wind whistles and whips and tears many of those leaves off all in a matter of a few hours and yet while out for a drive I am surprised to see that some trees stand naked and stark, a grey that is reminiscent of one who is dying -that pale colorless flesh reserved just for those who are extremely ill. And the backdrop is vibrant yellow, green and the sun pokes through just long enough for the next batch of clouds to roll in filled with the water of life that will supply these trees through their roots for the months that winter will provide.

Keeping the natural spring that all the animals congregate around, regardless of the mercury, spewing naturally warmed water into a pool for them to drink from. And I am reminded that God takes care of the Raven and I can pass my worries and anxieties and fears to Him because that Raven was an animal created for us {wo}men to care for while He cares for me directly!

“Do you hunt the prey for the lioness
and satisfy the hunger of the lions
40 when they crouch in their dens
or lie in wait in a thicket?
41 Who provides food for the raven
when its young cry out to God
and wander about for lack of food?
~Job 38:39-41~

A compilation of 150 blog posts from the Five Minute Friday Community. The stories found in these pages span a diverse range of experiences, but share a common thread: A Love For the Bravely Written Word.
$12.99 USD


Oct 012016
 

I hadn’t planned on this tiresome walk, the one that has left my legs feeling uselessly cramped and the fire inside my muscles screams for a break as I drag heavy feet along as I shuffle, seemingly without a cause.

And, the words roll across eyes tightly closed the way credits run so fast at the end of a movie and I am reminded that “even though I walk through the shadow of the valley of death, I feel fear no evil” because “His staff and His rod will guide me ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE{Psalm 23} and my cup will be filled to overflowing and when I fall face first into that sandy valley He will heal the pains I feel and the steps will become easier and I will become lighter and the journey won’t feel so long.

Because, getting to know Him is a lifetime of work and yet no work at all because as our Creator, He already knows us and us Him and while we often hide it or deny it or ignore it, His presence is always in us, regardless of the roads we walk.

Creating a relationship with the One who saved me is beautiful, knowing that He has always been faithful to me, even when I wasn’t is a miracle. A journey I will likely walk 1000 times more and each time I take those first aching steps I will be reminded that He is the crutch that will help me to stumble along.

A compilation of 150 blog posts from the Five Minute Friday Community. The stories found in these pages span a diverse range of experiences, but share a common thread: A Love For the Bravely Written Word.
$12.99 USD
Aug 182016
 

I never enjoyed team sports or even understood them. No desire to watch or learn so I find it funny when I am tweeting with Jen into the weird hours of the day and night about baseball, a sport I never played, watched or understand. Yet her passion and love for the game, for the TEAM, the players even if they are on the WRONG team, makes me want to cheer her on, cheer with her, send her crazy “outs” that look insane to anyone who doesn’t click to see the conversation and it’s totally fun.

I am the girl on the yoga mat seeing how bendy I can be. Reading with my leg up the wall while the other one is folded at my side for several chapters before I realize I should probably switch. I love being alone. I need it. It’s my soul time. My time to pray, meditate, sweat it out, think, detox the day away.

I love the idea of being a part of something, but I want to lurk in the shadows and not be on center stage. I experience community in far different ways, and that’s more than okay. Matthew 6:6 tells us “When you pray, go into your inner room, close your door and pray to your Father who is in secret, and your Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you.”

I’m not trying to get bonus points or be better than the person who is leading a huge group. I simply like to keep things small, I like to share with the page and I enjoy that the page shares back. Maybe I won’t ever be on a TEAM that carries a roster or has a starting line, but I know that I am on God’s TEAM and He is on mine!

Aug 112016
 

I take a deep breath and point my bottom up in the air wondering how attractive THAT has to be and sorta laugh to myself how awkward yoga can look and how good it can feel. Even though I am not feeling well I decided to hit the mat and sweat it out and lift up my spiritual energy, centering it, refocusing it on the one who created me in the very beginning and saw that I was good.


It has been easy to be down over the last few months. I have felt a ton of pressure in the little things and a lot of slippery serpent heads slithering their ways into my thoughts and creating anxiety and fear, and a lack of trust. In the last session of Hello Mornings, which I have loved for years and even lead a group with Jen from Faith Mustard Seed in for several sessions. This intimate group of people I thought I could trust and ask for prayer in were the ones I went to when I found out my cousin had another baby born asleep. Before anyone had even commented or offered prayers in the private group I was being tweeted about it and my faith in a female lead church community collapsed -hard.

At the same time I had just finished a course in ministry and had received grades high enough to earn me a scholarship. I haven’t logged back into the site since to see what I would like to take, I haven’t even requested a copy of my transcript or diploma for the first course.


Women are supposed to be building each other up, for ever we have helped one another -raise babies, pray, stay strong in faith, cook meals for other families and even offered to help cook or clean for our female friends and acquaintances when they needed it the most.

We are supposed to be lifting each other up and instead this crazy world of social media, on every platform, has become a game of trying to be better or look better or take better photos or eat better foods or pray better. A game of my way is better than your way and the most beautiful of people from Facebook to Twitter to Youtube have worked hard to cut those life giving umbilical cords to the One who always loves and always pulls us up by showing us their ugly sides.

 

It is hard to not be pulled down when in the back ground they are spreading rumors, exposing your private moments and your broken-hard is exposed for the entire world to see.


I am having to remind myself daily as I check in with my soul that my faith in Christ has not changed, but my faith in humanity is definitely in question. It is so much easier to slam the laptop closed and keep it all inside, locked away inside the confines of my mind, but like the Queen song says “I want to break free” and in order to be healthy, I need to.

I am definitely on the defensive, my stress levels high and every one who I was trusting as my “church” community whether in real life or online has fallen into this line of wonderment where my PTSD is triggered and I have to ask myself “can I trust you?”

As I raise my hands up and breath in deeply and lift my heart I know that I am being held by God. And that is all that really matters.

Aug 032016
 

The thunder shatters the sky with its lingering boom and the forks of lightening travel down grabbing giant bites of the earth and as quick as it strikes it disappears and the night returns to the black shielded by the clouds. Thick air has lost it’s stickiness as the rain wipes at the ground and everything on it, like a violent baptism and the proof of God’s touch will be evident once the clouds lift and the smell of ozone lingers in the air, when the sun rises the plants will be fed, happier, seemingly taller and more green and though they live without sin the twisted baptism done in the night cleanses all the yuck away and leaves a brighter, happier display of God’s power and might and I remember being 3 years old and my hair bobby-pinned just right and the white dress I wore and my grandma smoking a Number 7 as she tugged and pulled at my hair making it perfect only so a priest could dump the baptismal water over my head and wipe away the painful pulls and place me in the hands of a God who loves always, fiercely, deeply, completely. I watched my brother also clad in white have the water poured over his tiny skull and the sign of the cross on his forehead and the tears come out as this stranger touched him and in my childs-mind I wondered if the tears were the evil that had crawled inside leaving him.

As the storm loses it’s strength and then comes back with a greater intensity than before I can’t help but wonder if that’s how God works in me, I stray and when I become the prodigal son and stumble back home are His arms open wider? Is his love more intense? Or am I simply more willing to acknowledge and accept? Am I still saved of my sins through the baptismal sacrament that happened when I was merely 3 or was I really only saved when I accepted Christ as my saviour so many years later?

Does the child with faith and who does not understand reap the same benefits as someone who has always placed the Word of God and living in God’s love first? When scripture tells us we must come to the throne of the King of Kings in child-like fashion does this mean we must live with the reckless abandon that we had as young’uns? Does it mean I shouldn’t question and simply obey? Is this type of thought even okay? Should I read the books that pull me near or leave them down and enjoy the miracles of Noah and the Ark, Moses leading his people, GODS PEOPLE, out of slavery and into the dessert, should I imagine the parting of the sea or the burning bush? Should I stare into stained glass window panes that depict that stations of the cross and feel the pains that the Christ-child suffered for me?

And as soon as the twisting storm began it calms and I imagine Jesus on that boat taking on water and how He calmed the storm. If only it were the middle of the day I know there would be a rainbow to see!

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