follow me, follow me down

Will you take a few moments and read this post? Because she puts it beautifully. And because she's way more honest than I think I could ever be.
[ at least for now ]

----


These are my words for life ::


people & their eccentricities -
Downtown Minneapolis is ideal for watching people move at their own paces, to their own secret rhythms. I noticed two extremes across the street from me: an older gentlemen in white shorts and a crisp polo, casually enjoying a smoke outside of a classy building, and then waltzing past him, paired with an unusual walking stick, went a purple-haired man. I watched the two - watched polo guy glance purple-haired guy over a few times, then glance back again after he had passed. I couldn't help but wonder to myself... maybe polo guy sensed that purple-haired guy somehow had more than him, even if his exterior seemed to prove a lack thereof. Maybe, just maybe, polo guy thought to himself...
 he's more free than I'll ever be.

So goes my mindful wanderings regarding the monetarily rich and poor of our world. I continue to believe that those who seem to have less really have more. And they have so much to teach me. I must continually remind myself that people are people, like me, like you - whether they are holding a sign on the side of the road, or walking beside me on their daily commute to work.


feathered faith -
a few weeks ago, I, in a moment of profound empathy and spirit-nudging, texted a dear friend and told him to be on the lookout: there are whispers and signs of our Lover everywhere. And to specifically pay attention to feathers - he's leaving some behind for you.
Well, maybe, just maybe, that word was more for myself. I have spotted his feathers everywhere - stepping off the bus, walking downtown, in my backyard, at the lake. These are burning heart moments for me, when I remember my words to my friend, when my soul sparks with surprise at His thoughts toward me, too - my precious reminders of his love, reminders to rest under the shadow of his wings.
(psalm17:8)


hiding and fighting -
some days, this war within me is more than I can overlook and ignore, which I'm learning to be thankful for. The struggle toward authenticity will be ever before all of us. I guess it just depends on whether we want to keep going or whether we want to sit down and decide that we've come far enough. Sometimes I do that - just sit and refuse to move. Sometimes that's okay, because I probably have much to think through, much that I haven't let myself feel, and that kind of sitting can be transformational. But sometimes, I am fighting to be the center of my world, fighting for recognition, fighting for peace (total oxymoron), and fighting to remain right where I am so that I can be seen, heard, and validated.

I'm realizing that healing a heart is a long, committed process. I'm realizing that tears can be like a river that forces me out of my tightly held position - tears and pain and floods of emotion can help me to see the truth of myself, and more-so, the truth of these hurts and mistakes and bitter memories that I'm still holding onto.

Just let it flow in and around and over and out of me.

Let go like a confession, see what you were born to find... 

( Elenowen: Flying for the First Time )



holding close -
I'm going to marry the bravest man I know. We're learning so much about the other - two very separate souls longing to somehow merge ourselves together, hoping for a greater understanding of love and wholeness that we've never known on our own. Though we, in our very individual ways, still sometimes long for independence and a lack of accountability, we're discovering the beauty and enormity of this journey. A journey with enormous challenges and an unending supply of opportunities to be good to each other - living a life of goodness that mirrors the gracious, unconditional goodness our Abba displays towards us.
We are conditional, however.
And we are limited in our love.
And we are needy in our uniqueness.
But we're seeing, even now, even after so little time (in comparison to a hopefully long lifetime together) we change our tones more quickly, and we apologize much more often. We want to be consistent: taking in forgiveness and pushing out our selfish motivation.
I want to hold him closer, reminding myself that I am worthy of his love, marveling at the strength of his heart, the depth of his questions, and the wonder of his creativity.
I'm so grateful that we are not only attempting to merge our lives, but we're intentionally creating this unified life - pursuing passion, admiring adventure, seeking treasures in ourselves and for our future home, laughing and crying, ebbing and flowing.

Oh, what our future holds...

Hope.

Skyway Jesus

I saw Jesus again today, in the skyway by Macy's.

I was wondering why I was walking that way - it was a beautiful morning and I should be outside as much as possible, my weary self longing to soak in every second of sunshine and fresh air.

then, I heard him singing.

I don't even know what the words were, all I could hear was his sweet voice, calling out to each person as they passed, reminding them of the beauty that is easily missed in today.

I bee-lined for him, outstretching my hand so that I might catch this infectious disease that made him sing so beautifully and triumphantly.

He looked  me in the eye, and he said I had a beautiful smile.

Good mornin' sister,

don't let anybody steal your joy today!

Ok, I'll try.

No... you can do this.

Words for my soul.
I'm so very thankful he met me there.

he finds me

... when I'm hiding 

behind all my disguises.

& nothing is hidden from your sight
wherever I go
You find me.
You don't miss a thing.

You know me.

Hmmmm.. this one... here... yes! Perfect. 
Arranging flowers is one of my favorite hobbies. Finding the right colors, or all the mixes of colors; the huge and the small, the wild and the perfectly groomed. Flowers are my favs. And there's something about putting them together to form a brilliant, blooming creation that reminds me of the patience and practices of the Master gardener. My Abba loves to garden, especially with me. The patience, the toils, the delight in flower babies when they fiiiiiinally show their little buds with peeks of color - a small glimpse into their unique, created beauty. I have literally, tangibly, felt his mutual squeals of joy as my forget-me-nots and zinnias popped up one after another.
Watching them grow week by week has stirred these words in my heart and mind:

"I want to unfold. I don't want to stay folded anywhere, 
because where I am folded, there I am a lie."

Nearly too deep a thought for me to express what it means. To unfold... to reveal my true self to the world that can (and will) trample, laugh at, point out imperfections... to unveil, to release, to just be. Be me. Such small simple words for such a huge, heartbreaking and courageous journey. "because where I am folded, there I am a lie," speaks volumes to my insecure self that so longs to be authentic and longs to love what he has made, for it is good. This is my greatest quest.
For now I will say, I'm just a settling soul, still moving around and getting comfy in her own skin, remaining open to discovering beauty both within and out and around; soaking up the sunny moments and soaking up the sometimes refreshing, sometimes sorrowful, rain, believing that I am unfolding all the while - though some of the process is microscopic and unseen.



Several experiences have happened recently that have made me laugh, or catch my breath, or just sit in silent, reverent awe, because they are things that happened at the perfect time, created for me in what seems a perfect, simple moment. One experience happened on a morning I was hanging out in Dunn Bros before work. As I was sitting at my mini table, writing in my calendar, the instrumental Time After Time came on in the store. This song has melted my heart ever since seeing the timeless classic, Julie & Julia. I reveled in the beauty of the music as it sweetly serenaded me and my cranberry-orange muffin, remembering a seems-like-long-ago life and thanking him.
Another lovely moment was sitting in a room of awesome people for the launch of an amazing initiative in our community. Meeting and greeting so many purposeful, aspiring humans in one night is an awesome occurrence all its own. To top it off, one of the tunes of the evening was Electric Feel, which holds a very special place in my heart from very special friends. I haven't heard that song played in public before, especially didn't expect it to be played in that setting, which made me rejoice all the more. And then there are countless, almost daily, moments of checking emails and receiving so many needed words of encouragement via close friends and friends I've never met before but with whose hearts I am deeply connected through the typed words they freely and vulnerably share with the world. One such post was this one: The Mad Season. Words to my feelings right there, folks.

So all of these moments, magical as they seem, are just moments, like small arrangements in my grand bouquet of a life. I am choosing to be more aware of the interconnectedness of it all. Sometimes it's just one lonely yet strikingly beautiful flower, and sometimes it's a whole bundle of strange and wonderful types. In each vase, in each situation, in each life, He is bringing us all together, loving us all as his own.


:: More inspiring and comforting words from my online bffs ::


"You do not have to change in order to love yourself. You have to love yourself in order to change. That means embracing yourself completely, right now at this moment - as a bitter, scared, disorganized, faithless mess. This is called radical self-love and we will be practicing it here."

Sister G



I want to be shiny and new, all put together, but I just can't get there... I'm a lot like my old house : cracked and mismatched and patched over. On my worst days I start to believe that what God wants is perfection...

I practice believing that, bottom line, God loves me as is, even if I never do get my act together. I put my hand on the plaster wall, numbly and textured, and I think thankful thoughts about the walls. Then I put my hand on the floor, and I think thankful thoughts about the floor, even though it's scratched and ridged, and you can see where one of my black heels lost it's little cap and the metal part left tiny round divots in the floor, over and over, like confetti stamped into the wood.
I imagine that God does that to me, puts his hand on my head, on my heart, on my savage insecurities, and as he does it, he thinks thankful thoughts about me.

--Shauna, Cold Tangerines

& I'll be comin' your way

Dear world,

I am taken,
and I have taken many courageous, mostly scared, very sacred, steps toward my taken-ness.

If you do not know my whole story... well, that's for another time. 23 years of life recollection seems a bit much for here. But I can surely summarize the year of 21 until now. On the week of my 21st birthday, my mother had a heart attack. I was in Texas celebrating with a friend, and I was planning on leaving the great state of Alabama soon after my vacation and returning to where my heart had stayed a couple years before: Denver, CO. Needless to say, the health condition of my mama stirred fear in me, but nonetheless, my heart called my name from the far away mountain range and begged me to go back. I also feared this going back was a backwards step that would leave me in more of a fluster than on a focused path. Further still I went. Away and back again. To recover my passion. To learn. To be soaked in community and hopefully acquaint myself better with Jesus, who I hoped would give me answers and restore my forgotten joy.

Fear & insecurity held tight to me as I re-entered a very familiar place. This time I knew less friends. This time I felt completely vulnerable. Less excitement, more anxiety. My third YWAM school was intense. I had gone with another expectation-- to be face to face with a guy-friend that I knew but didn't really know, and with whom I was very intrigued by. I wanted to try this dating/ relationship thing, but I also wanted to stay in my safe, protected bubble. This is also a story for another time, but just to give you context, I was nervous upon nervous and strangely prepared for something & someone to come into my life, break down my ridiculous walls, and show me such persistent, accepting love that I was left humbled and defenseless, clinging to a version of faith I'd not yet known.

My heart experienced quite a journey in those 5 months. Way, way up and way, way, way down. So many tears and so much snot, you probably wouldn't believe it. Provision. Prophecy. I was rocked. And I once again fell in-love with this place and these people who were on unique yet similar journeys, and who lovingly embraced each other-- heart to heart, snotty face to snotty, blotchy face. And we were all changed, further still.

In the beautiful country of Brasil, another journey began, though not to my knowledge at the time. Kip Jones was a mostly quiet, seemingly light-hearted and funny soul who I had overlooked for the previous 3 months. Though he was in my school (and there were only 12 of us) I did not see much of him. He later confessed that being one of two males in the school was a bit overwhelming, so the not seeing each other was mostly intentional. He had an amazing smile that totally gave away the precious softness of his heart. He captured my attention at times, and I quickly dismissed the silly girl thoughts. But in the land of strange creatures and wildness unknown to all of us, I found myself lingering beside him on long walks through thick trees and sitting next to him on crowded bus rides into the city, blindly enamored by him. It was during a night of watching the movie Date Night, sharing headphones and deep, gut-laughs; during days of talking to each other about home and friends and family, realizing that we really couldn't be more different; afternoons of lying in hammocks silently & very much aware of the other's presence; him picking minuscule thorns out of my hand, and me later watching him sear his foot-wound closed (like a real man); rainy afternoons teaching us how to play Texas Hold'Em; dance parties; and best of all, witnessing both tenderness and crazyness as we shared playtime with the kids nearly every day. Watching him exhaust himself to their fun & benefit left me weak in the knees & confused in the head. Didn't I want this other person? What the hell am I doing?

The journey back from Brasil was somber yet entertaining as I taught him to play Dutch Blitz on a plane ride, dreading the separation that soon would be between myself and all of these beautiful new friends of mine. Kip had agreed to stay at Cassie's house after the trip-- a lovely friend we both drew close to during our school. I held tightly to the thought that he liked someone else, and I still liked someone else, and that our differences would never, ever allow us to have the phenomenal friendship that I had glimpsed and yet refused to believe was possible. After all, we were going back to completely opposite sides of the United States, and everyone knows... Yankees and Hicks don't get along. Though we hit it off, who knows what would happen if our friends & families met each other. :)

We parted ways on the streets of Boulder-- leaving him with Danny and me climbing back into the car with Cassie, exchanging sarcastic words of "I guess I'll never see you again" and me shedding a few surprising tears at the possible truth of that thought. Upon my arrival to stay with family in Illinois before going home, I received a hopeful phone call:
Kip, staying in the snowy tundra that is Fargo, calling to tell me that he feels a certain way towards me and wants to respectfully back away should I not share in those feelings. I happily (and shakily) confessed that I did, indeed, share in those same feelings. And we talked until 6 am.

So began a new journey.

I was ruined after that. "Where do I go now? What should I do here? Should he move here? I need to know him in real life!" Stir crazy is an understatement at its finest. Apparently my heart couldn't get enough adventure, so we planned a road trip to Canada with some of my besties. First time together since YWAM, and never have I felt so awkward and at a complete loss of normal function. And he still liked me. A lot. And I was so uncomfortable! Awkwardness is a great way to describe the early days of our dating relationship. There was much fun at the newness of being downtown, in the uncertainty of what I was actually doing. Later came some defiance, closely followed by miscommunication, forced affection, and boundaries... what boundaries? I felt really lost at times. We were both angry. I slowly began to separate myself. My thoughts were one thing, my feelings were another, and my soul was suffering quietly, at least for a time. Little to my knowledge, I had deep things in me that were planted there at a young age and had grown all of these years-- like thorny weeds hiding in the underbrush of a garden, sometimes you don't find them until you start digging around. Or until the flowers finally wilt away and nearly die. It's difficult to put words to this time in our relationship. I was deeply wounded, crippled by my own shame and pain that was finally brought to the surface after years of stuffing, shielding, and shunning it. None of these tactics worked. What did work was experiencing betrayal. Feeling betrayed by everyone and everything under the sun, feeling hurt and lost and unknown. Feeling like I could never be fixed or forget or forgive. Feeling as if this person who I had made all of these "sacrifices" for, invested all of this time and effort into, did not see me or understand me at all... nor did he love me enough to pursue me in the ways I desired to be pursued. Betrayal. And I had very much betrayed him.

I entered a "dark night of the soul," so I'v heard some call it. I doubted everything. I gave myself permission to feel everything, mainly deep sorrow and furious anger. I let myself be completely broken, for the first time ever. I didn't try to keep it together or hold it in. Shame showed it's ugly face. And with the support of so many: counselor Tom, small group friends, far away friends, and most of all, Kip, I stared It in the face and refused, even in my frail broken humanness, to let It win. I decided to weld the two me's together, melting my head knowledge into my whole being-- trusting more with each breath that God is great, that He is my Abba who loves and cares and heals and feels and acts. I chose to believe even when it wasn't, and isn't, the complete truth of how I felt or what I currently experience.

Emerging out of the inner darkness, I realized how totally loved I was and am. Not just by my gracious Abba but by this man who has seen the best and absolute worst parts of me. He has seen my pride, my lack of compassion, my superficiality and my hypocrisy; he has heard my ridiculous fears and seen my impulsive self-salvaging habits. And he loves me, not for those things, but in & through them. And I love him in all of it. Choosing to keep stepping forward, together, has brought us to this next part of our journey, which is a story in and of itself.


July 9, 2012. My 23rd birthday. A boring prime number, yet there was nothing boring about this day at all. Expecting to have a counseling sesh, only to find that I apparently made up the appointment in my head, I drove back to my house to gather my supplies for the day and pick up Kip for our breakfast date.Wilde Roast was my request. Driving over the Hennepin bridge, Kip pointed out Nicollet Island and nonchalantly mentioned that we should walk down there after breakfast. I agreed, knowing I'd probably eat way too much and a stroll would be helpful for my birthday gluttony. We were bummed to see the patio already full of happy guests, and made our way to the counter then to the bar to better scope for an opening table outside. These two nice gentlemen greeted us after a while and gave us permission to hover over them while they finished their coffee. I didn't really hear the part about hovering-- I just grabbed my stuff expecting to sit down right away, to which they joyfully received our company. Warren and Jonathan, you will forever be part of our story, and we'd love to come see your beautiful yard and your highly taxed home. And we promise to vote No. :)

Post-breakfast (with an achingly full tummy) we walked down and around to the river, commenting on its color and correcting Kip's assumption that the Gulf looks similar. No, not at all. After some small talk and a bit more walking, he abruptly stopped me.With a very serious & gentle expression on his face, he began speaking words not uncommon to my ears or my heart. He expressed his deep desire to do something extra special on my birthday, to which I replied how much I loved my gifts, to which he seemed to ignore me and kept talking. The speech took a steep turn when he referenced a special conversation with his papa, including biblical references about women and men and love and longing and completion and togetherness. And with more words that my mind did not absorb because my heart was beating way too loud and my lungs were not functioning properly and my thoughts were racing in nervous anticipation, he bent down in humility, vulnerability, and hopefulness, and asked me to one day become his wife. And without hesitation, with a whole lot of joy and a burst of holy confidence, I accepted his proposal.

We are engaged to be married! Transitioning from a journey of friendship & curiosity, from intentional time together to an honest-to-God promise to each other, we are thrilled and fully ready to continue our journey. We are thankful beyond thankfulness for so many faithful friends and family who have encouraged us along the way, giving us the right words at the right time, letting us question and be upset and praying so fervently for the best outcome. And we whole-heartedly believe that this is the best-- that our challenges have shaped us in hard ways and changed us immensely, creating new people who better know how to love, serve, and give of themselves. People who are present and honest, who want more than anything to live graciously, respectfully, and love like Jesus.

The following post greatly blessed my heart and so brilliantly illustrates what we both believe is the purpose woven into relationship, specifically between life-partners, and it's what we want our love to be a window to: the ever present, constant, radical, audacious, and unending love of the Father in Jesus Christ our Lord.

"And three years later, with dust in all the cracks of his sturdy, peasant feet,

He walked a long and rocky trail to the top of death hill.

Because that is where His chapel was and He was going to get married.

But His vows of love needed to be written in blood; red ribbons of split-wide sacrifice.

Cross-eyed and crossed-out and criss-crossed in pain, six ways damned til Sunday, he said,

'I take you...

to have and to hold...

from this day forward

in sickness and in health

in riches and in poverty

... as long as we both shall live,'

which is nothing short of eternity.

You, together, represent the image of Christ.

The image of Christ.

You mean the one I just detailed? This was and is the answer my soul was desperate for hearing. 'Why marriage?' Because I would give my living and dying breath to reflect an image like that--

an image of a marriage declaring an insurmountable love. 

When we re-fastened ourselves one to the other it was with intention that we,

together,

are a mirror of the risen Son on his wedding day."

--Erika

amen.

I love you, Christopher Alan Jones.

today, we got it wrong.

we did.

but tomorrow, there is grace waiting,

and we can do much better. 

-Elora-

This morning, I get to work, first one here. Turn on the t.v. to watch the Olympics, of course, while maintaining full multitasking function. But the channel had been changed and the 700 Club was on. Yes, it's embarrassing, but I really liked the 700 club at one point in my life. I still appreciate a lot of things they have to say & the resources they share. Oh, but today... I'm still recovering from my stomach dropping and tears filling my eyes, pain overwhelming my heart. My heart is still beating at an unusually fast rate.

Chik-fil-A. 

Enough said, right? 

Wrong. I have so much to say, and I say it with conviction and out of a broken soul that has been shown more grace than we stubborn humans ever should be given. I speak from knowing other precious souls who are the beloved of Christ, who have endured much pain in their life and have overcome, and now they have chosen their path in life which is different than mine, but our struggles to be close to our Creator could not be more of the same. 

I am not upset with Christians. I am so grieved about the ideas of some Christians, the opinions of some Christians. Why is it so terribly hard for us to just accept each other? Love each other? Welcome each other despite all of our baggage? Because, news flash people, we ALL have baggage. 

Where I stand, before an Abba that is defined as love not hate, a Being far beyond us that is both mother and father, lover and friend, so very close to the hurting and hungry and ignored, I cannot continue to make judgments. My thoughts, my views, are completely irrational in the presence of love. Because love does not condemn. Nor is it easily angered. Nor is it exclusive. Nor does it care about fried chicken in the midst of a never ending battle that is turning more people away than humbly beckoning them to come in. 

I heard a man who is employed by some research group comment about this whole extravaganza. He spoke about GLBT people as a forceful group who just wants to pick a fight, stir the pot, experience even more brutality from Christ followers. Regardless of whether that is an honest stance of some, I understand. If I had experienced what others have experienced in life - hatred, rudeness, blatant rejection - I'd be out to pick a fight, too. Wouldn't you? 

Where is the love, people? Seriously. Can we continue (or start) praying for these bridges of humanity that have been burned to be reconciled in Jesus? Because that's what he came to do. This is the exact message we carry in us-- these broken, fragile bodies. It's not about us and them. It's about us and Him, all of us, and how we can restore what's been destroyed. 

Not keep destroying.

Healing.

Mending.

Loving.

"If you stick with this, living out what I tell you, you are my disciples for sure. Then you will experience

for yourselves

the Truth

and the truth will free you."

John 8:32