on bitching less and listening more

So, how's that working for me? well....

...time passes at the same rate.

...I have discovered that I am more courageous than I thought.

...I have overcome fears that otherwise would have paralyzed me.

...And not everyone can do what God has empowered me to do...not that I'm special but I have found that in obedience, there's a certain element of humble strength---of knowing and doing and doing the unknown.

Knowing and doing and doing the unknown. 

painting pretty pictures

We've been here two months, ONLY TWO MONTHS; and I am miserable. Everything is hard. I have only two friends; I need dozens more.  I am very tired of this culture.  Everything here---yes! EVERYTHING is done half-ass. Everything needs to be fixed.  EVEN BRAND NEW FURNITURE NEEDS TO BE FIXED!!  I hate hauling water! I hate not having what I need to bake! I hate improvising for measuring cups---the cookies never come out right!  I can not understand how anyone can think THIS life is so exciting and fulfilling??

Not so pretty, eh? Kind of ugly, actually.

Ugly colors make ugly pictures. So here I am, a missionary---with the responsibility to communicate back to the church on how God is working.  But, truth be told, I think it's more like helping the church feel good about supporting us. Ya see, during our previous missionary travels, I publicly shared my personal struggles---honestly, openly, and without filters. So many from over 20 other supporting churches expressed sincere appreciation for my true colors, which, of course, encouraged me to keep sharing.  However, after being confronted by our church leadership about my not so pretty depictions of life on the mission field, I realized they preferred a lighter shade of my true colors---don't change them, just lighten it up. The message I got: Paint pretty pictures with not so pretty colors.

So that's it...people want to feel good about supporting missionaries.  Why of course! And pretty pictures feel good.  It's so missionary-like to write and express about the wonderment of living on the mission field, the great work being done in the name of Christ, and the utter satisfaction of living a life set apart. The irony is that every missionary knows that this is not the real story. But it's the story my church leadership wants to hear--oh, let a touch pity be seen, but if the missionary's experience is too ugly, or too hard, or too sad, or too whatever, then it must not be from God.  Surely, God's will is 'happily ever after.'  What a pip!

And since I mentioned God's will---could it be that God's will is wherever we find ourselves, regardless of our personal comfort or present state of mind? Is not God's will to be with us? Sometimes life just ain't pretty...even when we are walking humbly with God in faithful obedience. Sometimes the journey is just hard, ugly, sad, and utterly lonely.

Sometimes there's just nothing pretty to paint.

life on the other side

Here we are...living as missionaries again.  I can't help but wonder how I ever got here.  I mean, I am not a nice person.  I struggle with so much; hatred, jealousy, lust, envy.  The list is endless.  And yet, for whatever reason, God has offered me this incredible opportunity (again) to bring the love and light of God to many hurting and hungry people.  He has given me a ministry to serve His Church.  

It's such an honor to be 'called' to serve the Kingdom....and to actually GO.  To actually TRUST God and watch in awe as He meets all our needs through His good and generous people.  But even more than that, it's been wonderful to find that people are actually good.  God's people are kind and tender.  For so long I have feared them.  And now, on the other side, I can only the goodness.

How gracious of God to give me another chance to show my deep love for His Church.  I just hope I don't screw it up.

everything's different

This time it's different.  The transition, the feelings, the expectation.  I am learning to love the ones I'm with and be present with God.  And I'm learning new things about God. I feel as if my eyes have been opened and I'm gaining new insights, new understandings about the world around me and how I am to live in it.

Pretty cool.

and we're off...

God gave us favor, once again.  We have left well this time.  Despite the tears and sorrow, there were many laughs and good times remembered.  It was a good departure.

At the house, it was sweet, sweet sorrow.  Tears and hugs clung tight.  

At the airport, we were graced with favor again.  There seems to be a good feeling in the air, a good Spirit all around us.  New and old friends, family, and the son my our best friend came to help.  It was a  rather motley crew but ever so precious. 

And now it time to sit and wait.  I love this part best; all the work is done and we wait for our flight.  It's a kind of 'pause.'  I like to pause. 

...until we're off again. 

how bad is bad?

Just wondering....I mean, I have been having some fun and letting my hair down. But I can't help but wonder if I am being bad.  God, I want to be a child that brings joy and love and happiness to all I meet.  So why do I feel bad about that?  And then I question, how bad is bad? Where is the line?  It seems I knew it so well one time and now it isn't so clear. 

What happened?

on saying good-bye

Have you ever thought about the different kinds of good-byes?  Different good-byes for different occasions, different people.  Some good-byes are just for around town, a sort of 'see you later.'  But other good-byes are more like the kind that aren't really spoken, they're only felt; a kind of 'good riddens.'  And then there are those that are rip the heart right out of the chest.  The good-bye that's at the end of times as we know it; when we hoist our sails to head out in a new direction or step out of our boats altogether.  The kind that separates families and friends with distance and time.

This season of separation is upon me now; it's the end of times as I know them.  However, as the Lord would have it, I will also be saying yet a different kind of good-bye to a dear friend and special family members.  I will leave them behind sick.  I will most likely not see them again on this side of heaven.  This is most unsettling; these very last good-byes are the most soul searching.

It puts all the other good-byes into perspective.

christian taliban

The American culture wars are so fascinating to me.  As an self-proclaimed fence sitter, my opinion can vacillate on most all issues.  I seek to find the compromise; solutions are always in the middle.

The current scuttlebutt in the news is over statements made by a company owner who professes to be a christian.  This owner was interviewed by a christian program and in that interview he stated that they, as a company, supported the biblical view of the traditional family unit.  That statement was then misquoted as being 'against gay marriage' which resulted in flooding the social media with all kinds of interesting, provocative, and quite frankly, ignorant comments. I tried to stay away from it all but I just couldn't help myself....I'm such a sucker for controversial conversation.  I just love a good dialogue that explores all sides.

It was there in the verbiage of someone's rant that I saw "christian Taliban" used as a description of the born-again politicians who legislate their religious morals.  This struck me in the heart and has stayed with me.  As offensive as it was, something about it rang true.  I can honestly see how someone of a different religion or value system could feel oppressed by those who hold traditional values and who are in power to change or make policies based on those values.  I can honestly see how the evangelical, right-wing, born-again christian values are perceived as being shoved down the public's throat.  We must never be a christian Taliban. God forbid!

Separation of Church and State is absolutely essential for people, all people, to be truly free.

I think I just changed my politics.

dreamin'

Had a dream last night...strange things those dreams.  Makes me wonder what is trapped in this head of mine.  I have vivid dreams, intensely vivid dreams where I wake up convinced I just experienced the dream as if it just actually happened.  I oftentimes wake up so disoriented that I have no idea what day it is, where I am, or what I am doing.  And sometimes, not often, but sometimes I have to remember who I am.  It's crazy.

I have also noticed that as my stress level rises, the dreams become more bizarre.  In this dream I was some place rather public and I was topless.  It was strange in that it was ok that I was topless; it wasn't bothersome to anyone, including me.  I felt somewhat exposed but yet I was able to engage and interact with the people in the dream.  The exposure or embarrassment was more like a feeling you would have if you were under-dressed, that's all.  But still, I woke up wondering WHAT was THAT all about.

I am sure if I were to explore it more with a psychoanalyst I could decipher my unconscious and find underlying emotions, but I don't need to.  These dreams are what a friend once called 'anxiety dreams.'  We're moving across the world to live and serve in Africa!  Hello?  We have joined a new mission.  Stressful; wonderfully stressful.  I am in a position of great responsibility, therefore adding even more stress and anxiety.  I don't need a therapist to tell me all this stress and anxiety is coming out in my dream life.

But out of curiosity, I googled the Dream Dictionary online and found  a couple of different meanings for nakedness; vulnerability or openness.  Both seem to fit, as extreme as they are.  I am feeling vulnerable and yet have nothing to hide, I am open, as we press forward.  I have to admit, reading the meanings gave me a bit of comfort: A note of commonality. 

Hey, here's a wandering thought....maybe I should keep a dream log.  Oh man, that just might be the next 50 shades of.....Miss Jones.

Vulnerability or openness
Read more at: http://www.thecuriousdreamer.com/dreamdictionary/ Copyright 2012 The Curious Dreamer

Vulnerability or openness
Read more at: http://www.thecuriousdreamer.com/dreamdictionary/ Copyright 2012 The Curious Dreamer

sin boldly

Well, here's the scope; I am a missionary.  With that comes certain expectations to behave and conduct myself in a manner that is fitting for the calling.  I have no idea why God has called me to be a missionary.  I am not worthy nor am I very disciplined for such an honor.

How can I live in a manner that is truly pleasing to God and not just a show?

My problem is I have high tolerance for sin in others and myself.  This conclusion came to me after many years believing my sin made me never good enough for God. I tried and failed all the time.  Then one day, in my self-hatred, Jesus showed me that sin no longer had the power over me; He nailed it to the cross and I was free. I can do wrong things and still be loved and accepted by God. This was really quite liberating...because I do wrong things all the time.  However as missionaries, we are dependent on the generosity of others and therefore feel a sense of accountability to them. Missionaries tend to become very skilled at covering up their sin (or denying their true self) in an attempt that they may be above reproach.  As if I could ever be above reproach. The last thing I want others to think of me is, 'above reproach'.

Far better that I am known as I am, sin and all.  That way you get what you see. 

feminism

My journey began as a child of the 70's; during the rise of feminism.  It was a confusing time for a girl, but an empowering time as well.  Back then I remember a story about my friend and me making the cut to be the very first girls to play on the Little League in our small New Hampshire town.  We had two teams back then due to the large interest, the Little League and a a farm league. We played on the farm league.  And me being left-handed I played first base.  But just the fact of having girls in the league at all was progressive for our little town.  I remember the jaunts and jeering well.  But we were pretty good handling and hitting the ball.  And we loved the game and team, and in the end that's what mattered.  Boys are all about balls.

Darrow L. Miller and Stan Guthrie in the book "Nurturing the Nations: Reclaiming the Dignity of Women in Building Healthy Cultures" exposes the age old misogynistic lie that men are superior to women.  A lie that has been passed down and bought by every culture, every religion, every nation since the fall of humankind in the garden.
Boys are not better than girls; and girls are not better than boys.  However, in our world today there are many instances where the preference for men is so deep rooted we don't even recognize it within our family structures. Not to mention the exploitation, abuse, oppression, and murder of women is the global norm.  Global gender inequality is a huge issue--what can one person do to turn the tide?  What can the Church do? Where is our responsibility?  Where do we even begin?  The work is great for even in the Church, many have embraced this very lie.

As for me, my passion has been rekindled; empowering women to speak out while exposing the lie in the our societies, churches, and communities. Today I stand with the feminists, seeking to promote gender equality and exposing oppression in all it's forms.  May God go with me. 

changing channels

Therapy is an interesting and wonderful thing.  Introspection, insight, and talking it out has a power, an energy that fascinates me.  I have always been one who thinks deep and probing thoughts. 

I entered therapy with a well-seasoned therapist whose religious background was not like my own.  It was completely intentional to see someone who would not give me the pat answers often found in Christian circles.  I needed to go to places most Christians dismiss as selfish, sinful, and forbidden.  I needed to find me.

At one point, I was done. Full. Afraid, really. I went into our space intent on not returning to it again.  When she asked me why, I answered that I wanted to change channels--I was done with this show. She laughed; I went back. 

The funny thing is, my therapy was on a time constraint because I was moving overseas in August. We started it knowing it was going to stop after a few months. But I wanted to stop earlier than we planned. Quite frankly, I never wanted to start to begin with so I was always looking for an out.  In fact, I had to 'prepay' in order to keep going because I was certain I would have blown her off.  So therefore, it was good for me to 'finish' our time instead of cutting it short. That, in and of itself was therapeutic.  But now the time to part has come.

She helped me see me as I am.  She was so good to me and for me.  And I can say that because of her help, I am so much more aware of who I am.  I will miss her and our time together.  But I must move on from this place and focus elsewhere. It was time well spent, a show worth watching, a channel to consider.

silence

It's good for me to be quiet.  Often times my mind becomes so full of thoughts that I need to be silent just to think them.  Even if I were to speak my thoughts, I don't think I could speak them fast enough.

Perhaps silence is the language of God?  Plants reach up to the sun in silence; the clouds pass, the sun sets, and the stars orbit in silence; even babies are conceived and silently grow into individual humans.  Growth and change happens in silence.  

Silence is where I find God. My soul craves for quietness every day.  I need it in order to hear the still, small voice of God whisper deep within. For when I am quieted, God speaks. And when God speaks, I listen.

Psalms 46:10 "Be still and know that I am God"

looking ahead

I shared my story with a group of women this past weekend.  It was a humbling and very exciting experience. I think God is up to something because I am sensing that feeling of preparation again.  I know he is leading me and will bring to pass whatever is planned for me.  I just know it will be something, perhaps something big....?

I had a conversation with a couple of key people from our mission and the prospects of what my role could be when we leave in August to serve overseas. Our church partners are requesting from our mission education, empowerment, and encouragement for their women.  They want to address menstruation taboos that are impeding the education of girls and other pertinent issues that are impacting their women from moving ahead.  I will be there in a position to serve them.  But I have to wonder, could it be for me to speak out on women's issues on a broader, potentially national scale? Perhaps all this interest and exposure to gender issues is for such a time as this. 

"Aslan is on the move." 

earth, wind, fire, water

There's just something about the elements.  Without them we wouldn't live.  And yet, they have the power to destroy life.

Just pondering...

open minds

So, how often do we pass judgment before we have all the facts?  Like, all the time.  I just had a conversation regarding someone's opinion about the Vagina Monologues who didn't have all the facts because they didn't see the show, only read the critical reviews. I was even put out and offended when I read the reviews...and not to say they were not correct, they were.  However, they missed the point.  The whole premise of the message of the Vagina Monologues was about women being sexually abused and assaulted. A couple of monologues were for comic relief. Were they vulgar?  Perhaps, that is if you consider talking about orgasms as vulgar.  Religious of any sort? Definitely not.  Pure female human sexuality, as it is in today's western culture.  For adult audiences only.

Frankly, I think expressing our sexuality openly is a sign of maturity.  But some would like to keep it sacred.  Surely, our intimacy is sacred, created by God for our pure pleasure and oneness.  It is indeed the most spiritual human interaction of our existence.  I can not wait to meet the Creator of this wonderment face to face and thank him for such a beautiful act of love and oneness.  What an amazing God to give us such an amazing gift!!  It is sacred, for sure.  However, when it's stolen, used against women and girls, hated, and made more than dirty then we have a real problem.  Women have been abused and assaulted sexually and then are told such things are not to be talked about, therefore we suffer in silence.  Breaking the silence is what the Vagina Monologues are all about.

Breaking the silence, however it's done, is always good.

the things that matter

"In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty, and in all things, love."

Recently, I was at a church where the preacher was talking about missions (imagine that).  He mentioned the Moravian church movement and their commitment to sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ to all people.  There's a great painting entitled "First Fruits" which portrays all the first converts from different tribes and clans.  It's a marvelous picture of unity in diversity. 

I've been wandering around with thoughts of the things that separate us and unify us.  There's been a rift in our church that has exposed the sin of men in leadership.  Not just our church, but the capital 'C' Church.  But interestingly, these very rifts are allowing for new thoughts and ways of doing church to emerge.  I think it's pretty exciting, if you ask me!  However, there's much division rising up over views and interpretations that essentially are non-essential.  It's a hard life when we focus on the non-essentials and allow them to divide us. So I wonder, what exactly is 'essential?'

It's the story of God. Creation by GOD the Father, the fall of humanity, redemption by GOD the Son, and reconciliation by GOD the Holy Spirit.

Creation, Fall, Redemption, Reconciliation.

How that all plays out in individual lives or collective cultures is as diverse as the anyone can imagine.  And quite possibly non-essential for that matter.

cost of obedience

Obedience is costly.  And I have paid a very high price.

My obedience led me to the mission field where I found myself questioning many, many things.  I saw racism.  I saw legalism.  I saw rancid piety.  Hypocrisy was all around me.  So here I was, professing to be a Christian while questioning everything around me eroded my confidence in the religion of my choice.  Was it erosion or enlightenment?  However, I fear I have passed on my questioning mind to my children.  Some say this is a good thing to ask questions, but I have to wonder.  Because now, at this time, my children do not live for God as I would like.  They choose not the things of God to focus on.  They care not to worship God in His house.  They reject the Church, His bride.  I feel they have rejected the very essence of my core...my faith in Jesus and my love for God. 

It breaks my heart to see them so far from the very source of life itself.  I feel I have failed them. 

And yet, I will follow my Jesus wherever he leads; though none go with me, I still will follow.

swim parallel

Sometimes I get caught in the bullshit of male authority.  Being a Christian hasn't helped in this case...subjecting myself to an institution that historically and sacredly has embraced male leadership.  For me, I can go to great mental and real scenarios that leave me hurt, confused, and scared.  I just don't know how to stop it.

My therapist made an interesting observation of how I was caught up in something I didn't have any control over.  She said I reminded her of someone being caught in a rip tide.  The feeling resonated.  Then she asked me what are we are supposed to do when we get caught in one.

You can't fight a rip tide.  You must swim parallel with the coast.  There is no resistance when we swim parallel.  It's the way to be free of the current.

There's a lesson here beyond the current.

I can't fight the rip tide, the social constructs of male authority, but I can swim parallel.

fundamentals

I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible.

And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all worlds; God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God; begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father, by whom all things were made.

Who, for us people and for our salvation, came down from heaven, and was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the virgin Mary, and was made man; and was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate; He suffered and was buried; and the third day He rose again, according to the Scriptures; and ascended into heaven, and sits on the right hand of the Father; and He shall come again, with glory, to judge the quick and the dead; whose kingdom shall have no end.

And I believe in the Holy Ghost, the Lord and Giver of Life; who proceeds from the Father and the Son; who with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and glorified; who spoke by the prophets.

And I believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church. I acknowledge one baptism for the remission of sins; and I look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. Amen.

Everything else is negotiable. 

somebody asked me to pray

Funny how that makes my heart jump.  It's such an honor that someone would actually ask me to pray for them and with them.

Prayer is such an intimate act; I consider it spiritual lovemaking.  If you have ever prayed in the Spirit, you can feel the energy fill the room as the Divine takes away every breath.  There have been times when my knees want to give way.  It is just awesome.

But I wonder if they knew what I am thinking about the church if they would even ask me to pray....I wonder if they knew that I really am questioning many of our fundamental beliefs if they would even allow me in the same room with them.

I hide nothing and yet, I feel I am hiding everything because if I were to tell it as I see it then I fear I would be banished from their circles.

Somebody asked me to pray and in so doing I revealed my very intimate and honest connection with God.

Is a connection to God enough?    

the God box

How often have we put God in a box of our own construction; a box that suits our liking?   We've got all kind of boxes, big ones, little ones, ones of gold and silver lined with silk, ones of cardboard and tarps.  

God cannot be boxed.  His ways are not our ways; His thoughts are far beyond our farthest reach.  How dare we even think we can know Him?  Glimpses are all we have; glimpses that give us only hints to His majesty, glory, and power.  
   
On a visit to a Buddhist temple in the far east I discovered that eastern religious traditions are quite similar to our western orthodox Christian traditions.  They pray; they have holy water; their craftsmen took great care to create magnificent structures; and they have statues of their great man. 

 It must be a human condition to put God in such boxes. 

As I ponder, there seems to be only three essential touch points where God and humanity connect: creation, redemption, and peace.  The Father created, the Son redeems, and the Spirit brings peace.  

Distilled further: Caring, forgiving, and loving.  No boxes there.
 

   

shame on me

I was introduced to shame at a very young age.  My mother was the first to introduce me. Whenever she was displeased she used to point at me with one hand and strike her fingers together toward me saying, 'Shame, shame, shame.'  Then she ignored me.  It didn't take long to learn how bad I was. 

Then I was ashamed because of the attention I got from men.  Somehow it was my fault.

Then I was ashamed for all the mean things I did to people.

Then I was just ashamed. 

But even that shit is nailed to the cross:

I'm forgiven because you were forsaken
I'm accepted, you were condemned
I'm alive and well
Your spirit is within me
Because you died and rose again

Amazing love, how can it be?
That you, my king. would die for me
Amazing love, I know it's true
Its my joy to honor you

Thank you, Jesus.

 

redeeming sex

I was a beautiful child.  As such, I was invited to sit on the laps of men while they visited at my parents' house.  I never really wanted to but sensed from my parents that I had to accommodate our guests.  I was touched and used as a rubbing post often.  

So there was my role in childhood---a sexual play thing for men.  

But it started even before then; I don’t actually remember when.  I know I witnessed the sexual abuse of my sisters by our uncle while I was in the crib.  Then my uncle started with me when I was 6 or 7 and continued until I was 16 years old.  I was a very angry and rebellious adolescent; rebellion empowered me to confront him in the act.  He stopped.  I won, so I thought.  Little did I know the bondage sexual abuse had on the soul.

My first sexual intercourse encounter was when I was 13 years old.  I was raped.  Funny how I never considered it rape.  I did say no, but no wasn't an option.  So I obliged, naturally.  Isn't that what girls were for?  Thereafter, I was unable to say no to any other advances that came my way.  I was filled with so much shame.  I remember considering becoming a prostitute, thinking it was all I could do.  I thought so little of myself and even less of men. 

I met Jesus at age 18.  When I became a Christian, I really didn’t think believers even had sex at all.  I thought when I gave my life to God I was going to be a nun; a Baptist nun.  And I would never ever have to oblige another man with sex again.  But God knew that all my experiences with sex needed to be redeemed.  And God had chosen the perfect person to walk this path with me.  This man loved me so gently and completely.  I dare say he was unaware of the deep brokenness I cradled in my soul when he married me, but he never once made me feel ashamed, broken, or ugly.  He holds the key to my ongoing healing.   

Of all wounds, it is the sexual wounds that reach deep within and affect the very essence of our womanhood.  Each of us must tend to our own past, nurse our own wounds, and confess our own brokenness.  It is our process, our journey, which then becomes our story.  Wonderful stories that meanders through the changes and seasons of our lives.  And as we share them, shame is released and healing comes.

What was once broken is now made whole: Redemption happens.
            

have you ever...

Looked hunger in the face?
Held a sickly child while she urinated on your lap?
Sat in the suffering of another?

on spiritual matters

I am a Christian.  I would even go so far as to say I am a born again Christian, even though that has negative connotations in our culture.  But it is what I am; let it be said for the record.  But let it also be said that I am becoming less and less comfortable associating with the right-wing, conservative, fundamental, evangelical subculture.  I find that subculture extreme and excessive in nearly all things. Come on, helicopter egg drops? Smoking stages? Campuses for thousands? Really?

I'm not so sure this is what Jesus meant when he said to Peter, "build my Church."

Fact is, the North American Church spends millions of dollars on promotion, presentation, pastoral and staff support while the Asian and African Church starve.  Not to mention the myriad of social injustices that plagues humanity today.  Injustices such as poverty, AIDS/HIV, the oppression and abuse of women, and the orphan crisis, just to name a few.  Injustices that I believe as Christians, as the Church, should be our focus and priority.

This is what I read in my Bible:
  Matthew declares our 'acts of righteousness' as giving to the needy, praying, and fasting. 
  Micah tells us to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God.
   James says true religion looks after orphans and widows and guards against corruption.
  And Jesus himself says we have but two commandments; to love God and to love others.

I dare say that God is not pleased with our collective indulgence while the needy elsewhere goes without.

Am I the only one who sees this? 

soft pink roses

Sometimes the simplest things bring the greatest comfort.

Soft pink is a gentle color.  Tender and delicate.  To be honest, it has always been a favorite of mine.  Over time I think I outgrew it.  It was too gentle, too delicate for the harsh world I lived in.  I needed bright, bold colors to push against the angst.  Intense colors that declare life.  Loud colors.  There's nothing loud about soft pink. 

Recently, at an indoor flower show, my soul was awakened from her winter's slumber as spring sprung forth in magnificent displays of plants and gardens. Of course I wanted to bring some of it home. While looking over all the choices, I found myself attracted to the soft pink roses.  I dismissed the notion and tried to find something more bold, more vibrant for my table.  Something more my style.  But I kept going back at the array of roses, back to the soft pink ones. They caressed me with their tenderness and beauty; they reminded me of the child within who once loved soft pink things.  They were absolutely lovely. 

For years, I have held back the harshness of life with vibrancy and boldness.  I have pushed away the soft and delicate things in order to survive the sinfulness of men.  Soft pink is a color that would never describe me. But that day I was feeling free; there was something about those soft pink roses that felt so good.  Finally, I gave into to the wanting and embraced them.  My soul smiled as my heart filled with love. God is not finished with me.  I am still ever changing.

My friend and I admired the bouquet, inhaling all its glory.  I decided to speak the unspoken. In a quiet voice, I said, "Ya want to know something? These soft pink roses is really what I'm like on the inside." She looked at me in utter disbelief and said, "Really? Maybe you should let it show more often."  "Hmmmm, maybe I should."

Maybe I will.

jagged edges

I am so afraid so much of the time and of so many things. Seems to me I've been afraid ever since I can remember.  I fight it with hate, judgment, and isolation.  I just don't know how to shake it off. God promises me that He has not given me a spirit of fear, but of love and sound mind.  And yet, I find myself hateful and full of anxiety.  And what do I fear? Do I fear love itself? Am I so broken that I can't even allow others to love me?  Do I ultimately push them away in order to fulfill my own fate of isolation?  My own self loathing? 
I have been hurt so deeply by those entrusted to protect me and care for me. I have stories, sad stories of what was done and how I responded. It shattered my little soul and now I'm left with jagged edges that cut others who get too close in order to protect myself. 
I know the God of all creation, the Savior of all humanity, and yet, I find myself fearful and unable to response to uncomfortable situations without hate and judgment.  God help me. 

In the beginning...

God created the heavens and the earth. And so begins all of history.  A beautiful place, perfect and harmonious in every way.  Peace and mutuality prevailed.  Until, that is, sin entered.  Shame, brokenness, oppression, pain, sickness permeated our perfect world.  A very sad day for all of humanity. 


We'll start here.