A hundred years ago I was a pastor and read stuff like that,

said the (not so) stranger in the seat next to me, while the 9P barreled us through the gray streets of downtown. He didn't speak until I had closed the book, Becoming Human. This intriguing dialogue began just as he reached over to pull the line. His stop was next. He ended the conversation with thoughts on what happens to people's online accounts after they die, and then he walked away and went to work. 

And I have felt for two days that a very special human to human conversation was missed -- the exact conversation I long to engage in with people I meet for the first time.

What's your story?

Every story is meaningful.

Every story is gold.

And sometimes, our stories are a burden that can only be lifted by a listening ear.



Friend,
I can't hold the whole world,
but I can hold your story.

& I would be honored if you held mine, too.

"to begin, begin."

Oh I'm gettin' kinda rich
on the sight of any soul
alive.

(alpha rev)



It's safe to say that this all started a few months ago when I received an email from a blogger whom I respect so much, Elora. She invited us into an e-course that is more like a community of women exploring and struggling through the same things as me: faith, art, creativity, writing, the joy and pain of our stories. Not too long after I signed up, scared and completely doubting my competence and even my love for words that has existed since about the age of 14, I saw this quote online:

to begin, begin.

A simple phrase to any other Pinterest passerby, but to me, it was a divine message. Or more like a divine command. Creative desire has been swirling around inside of me possibly all my life, but I've just become painfully aware of it in the last year. It often fights to escape in random thrift stores, through crafty projects, during the decorating process of our home, and when I'm staring at my closet. It's also sparked by blogs and books and songs. It's like my whole being responds to this creative longing, this need for designing a lovely space, a fun outfit, or putting soul-wrenching words on a page. 

I know what I need to do. I am choosing to let my creative self go free. I am beginning. 

Why?

because I want to unfold, be vulnerable, be authentic.

because I want to know beauty and feel empowered to offer it from my own depths.

because I love connection and community.

because I understand that ignoring my internal struggle will not make it go away.

because I am pursuing my gifts.

because I am haunted by the word artist.

because I want to be fully alive.

because I know in my bones that God is the creative being that breathed all of this to life - all of these intricate flowers and fruits and gorgeous humans - and he has breathed life into me, created ME. 

I often wonder what I'm supposed to do with that ... I have these Donald Miller-ish "why" questions about the universe and how it's all here and we know about it and what are we to do with all this knowledge?! And then ... then, as I'm walking across the busy downtown street to order a coffee, I see a gorgeous human who seems to have forgotten his beauty & the beauty at work all around him. Maybe he lost it a long time ago, traded it, or maybe it was taken from him purposefully and hatefully. It's not my place to know these answers, but I do feel compelled to help him find his beauty again. To share a beautiful smile that might, just might, bring out a beautiful smile in him, a hint that there is always, always hope & that love never fails.

I know it's not my place, either, to pursue perfection. I know how easy it is to see only the good things and feel the sting of self-pity because another's life seems better than your own. This is why you must know my story. This is why I must know yours. We must pursue the real together -- we must help each other have eyes to see and ears to hear, not just the things we want to, but all the real things about us, about the world, about God. And then we must branch out beyond our stories, because the danger of a single story is real, too. Maybe you and I are too much alike, so let's go beyond our similar worlds and enter into other worlds full of stories that are much, much different than anything we've ever learned. 

Somewhere in all of that, restoration will happen. 

I believe it. I have seen it. 

Restoration will continue it's work in me. Reconciliation will come to our world. 

Oh yes, I remember why. I must enter into this because of the story that has continued from the very beginning. Because "everything is waiting for you." Because we're all being called, summoned, beckoned forward, whether we hear it or not. We are invited into more. 

And I want to be part of it all.

xo.
C

"We'll try to document this light with cameras to our eyes

in an effort to remember what being mended feels like.

we're home sweet home."

[sleeping at last]

I don't know how I could ever feel alone again after that day.

Looking back now, I still get chills all the way through. I still feel the flush of my emotions. I can still feel the feeling like the city paused it's shuffling, its cursing and commotion for a night, stood by and watched, and blessed us.

It snowed on Friday, April 12th. It had been snowing a lot up 'til then, too. My long awaited hopes of a bright, crisp, green, Spring wedding were not fulfilled. But, snow makes things beautiful just as well. It felt perfectly cozy at The Van Dusen Mansion that day, all the richness of wood-carved furniture, more fireplaces than you could ever need, and best friends surrounding was quite enough for me. Not to mention some All Sons and Daughters playing in the background. That was my serenity time. Kip... well, he watched golf and drank beer and played pool. Serenity in a different way, I suppose.

Slipping into my dress, exhaling so that it could zip all the way, chuckling with the girls as Lauren had to reach her hand in and around to find the straps - all sweet, sensory memories of preparing to go see him. We both surprised each other with our outfits for the evening, so naturally there was squealing and high-pitched "you-look-so-beautiful"s. That's possibly my favorite part of our video - the volume of seeing each other. No tears, just joyful, minnie mouse voices.

And thus commenced so many photos that I don't know how we kept our facial muscles going for ALL of them. Our friend Kendra is pretty darn good at what she does. 

It's a strange thing to have an event be all about you. Birthday parties as a kid are the closest things to that kind of spotlighted celebration for me. It was beautifully overwhelming. 

Because of our personal preferences of venue and the style of ceremony we desired, we had only 60-ish people in the room with us while we were wed. Some of these chosen ones were people we had been journeying with for years, and some were new friends with whom we now share such rich, authentic, Minneapolis-community. 

We kicked off the evening with words. Not surprising, right? Stefan & Meredith, a dynamic duo, welcomed the guests downstairs & Meredith read this. And, Stefan used the word "story" without me even asking him to. 

We were hiding on the second level so we could hear their words, then we scurried upstairs before the herding ensued. I've never been one for a grand entrance, so we decided to both be in the ballroom when our friends and family came upstairs: waiting for them, inviting and welcoming them in our own way. We pretty much created an experience that we would love to have at a wedding ... surprise, mystery, not just watching but being intimately involved in such a grand event as two becoming one.

Our friends Chris, Kayla and Nathaniel blew our minds with their harmonies and instrumental genius. We had requested Your Love is All Around and Crags and Clay, both intended to still us in those moments and remind us that this is holy. Our love is holy. We aren't just fancily dressed for a great party, but we are indeed "fearfully and wonderfully and beautifully made," and He is going to keep making beautiful things out of us. 

Together.

In & through community.

The physical beauty of the room itself was breathless, but the blessings spoken over us were out of this world. Literally. Heaven came down for us there in that old house. There was yielding and loving and worship. Truth, vulnerability, Ashley speaking Brene's words and Drew's call and response prayer-declaration. I wish I could shape that evening in better fitting prose, but I'm not sure that's possible. It was a "you had to be there" night. And I do wish everyone could have been there!

The kiss was, well, suffocatingly wonderful. My husband is very expressive.
JOY.

I have so many perfect visual memories of this time. We enjoyed a cocktail hour with our ceremony group, then went over to the big party. It was a better party than I could have ever imagined or planned; a true celebration that even involved a black out. I don't think it was our fault, but I'd like to think that we were having THAT much fun.

So here we are.
We are the Joneses.

It's been a hell of a journey thus far, and it will forever be. I am seeking peace in that. Peace that He's called us to more, and marriage is part of the more for me. It's a movement towards more than myself, more than my pain and my joy and my pleasure and my cute house. It's somehow all about Him, even here between these two bodies, interlaced in these ringed fingers. There's blood and tears and life and death here. And I'm making peace with a beauty that my soul has never known. It's hard. And it's good. I'm beginning to understand that little things can cause me to crumble, and yet even these are pieces of his glory. All of this is, and I am continuously invited into a flow of life and spirit that is both infinitely greater than my humanity and humbly part of it. As David Whyte says ...

... we are all preparing for that abrupt waking, and that calling and that moment when we have to say yes. Except it will not come so grandly or so biblically, but more subtly and intimately in the face of the one you know you have to love.

Cheers.



and maybe one more quote.

"I send you out to the spot where you are, right now. You are right where you belong. You have everything you need to begin.
And we will walk it out together, you and me."

-sarah bessey-

& you shall speak

Lately, as in the past year-ish, I have discovered a lot of passion inside of me. Mostly anger, honestly. Beloved friends and counselors have given me permission to feel, and let me tell you, the feelings tend to come like a raging stampede. Me being a quiet(er) person, I've never been fond of yelling or noise. But these feelings are apparently done being firmly stifled. How I am trying to "deal" seems better said by Elora,

"I would do anything sometimes for a piece of land big enough where no one else on the earth could hear what sounds want to come rushing from me. I would go out to that land and yell my lungs out against whatever sky happened to be hung in the atmosphere that day. Seriously, that's what my prayers look like sometimes - like someone has lost their freakin' mind."

Yes friend. Yes. Just like I've lost my freaking mind.

These words are a strange transition into the following words, which have been sitting in my draft section for a couple of months. The next part felt more telling and empowering for me in the wake of confessing that I sometimes feel like a crazy person. This kind of honesty and release seems logical, though. If only I had the space so no one else could hear me...
or maybe it's better if they do?


The following is a letter to myself :

Candice Mae Lyerla Jones,

You child, you woman, of the greatest and highest Love

you are your name's sake.

Unblemished
Shining
a crown of glory held by His hand

A gift
blessed
thrilled by all that He has done

You are an artist. You are skilled with words and have been given an overflowing heart of encouragement. Use it. Breathe deep and let beauty flow from your lips - let worship flow out like precious oil at His feet - let your heart bubble and spill over in adoration, finding its form in well punctuated sentences, poetry, and big vocabulary you only know because you used the online thesaurus. 
Pray without ceasing, especially when people ask you for it. Speak boldly and with heart, for he has enveloped your heart in his, and you know him.

Let also the hard truths come
the ones known only by felt pain, stabbing grief, and by suffering.
Know deep in your woven-together soul that these hard things are good. That all is grace in this life. Receive it with open hands, darling girl, and let it go with open hands, too.
Every moment is surrender.
Every breath is a profound gift.
Every person is crazy-loved.
See them.
See yourself.
It's all his glory. We're the glory.
The earth is full of it - we must see and respond, being gentle and careful with this creation-gift.

Listen to your favorite quotes, ones that say things like

"Know who you are and use what you have been given to speak to the world."
&
"Become a student of what you love, because what you love flows out of the way God made you."

Let your mind be like those intricate, handmade dream-catchers you always coveted as a child. The ones with turquoise and feathers that hung so whimsically in the air and kept watch over you -- filtering the bad things and welcoming the good
and helping you rest.
Keep watch, dearest. Listen only to love and grace.
You need this. You are capable of this.
The other stuff
the shame stuff
just doesn't matter anymore.
You have limited time. Let none of it be wasted in sulking or brooding.
Climb out of your armor and expose yourself.
This is freedom. This is life well lived.


So stand up
stand up, you dreamer.
Pay attention to the deep things of your heart that call out to you;
that remind you of where you came from
who you belong to
what you are made for.
Listen to the people who show up in your literal dreams
like the angelic man who passed by you that one night
and who said,
"I am from both worlds, just like you."
Capture these dream moments and hold them like whispers from heaven
hold them close like they can teach you the mysteries of the universe
because they can.



You are not of this world, Candice Mae,
yet you are here
living, breathing, and forever altering it.
Remember the timelessness you were designed for.
Remember that you are more than flesh and bones.

And in the moments of fear
(because fear will never cease)
rest in Sister G's words:

"but I also know that scared and sacred are almost the same word, and often the same experience."

Honor the sacred that is often cloaked in the scared and the ordinary. Be brave with yourself, for you are like an endless cave to be explored. Listen to your sisters and brothers who have traveled into the depths and who also desire to become softer, to unfold, to offer peace. You know that you are a peacemaker. You delight when there is joy and laughter, you long for the pure and the lovely, but please don't run from the messy and broken.

Believe the best. Believe that everything that is said and done to you is somehow a cry for love
& then simply respond.


In your small, broken heart
child,
let this seemingly impossible love
this blinding light
shine.

Stop for the one.
Smile at the one.


Let your life bloom and blossom

 and then invite everyone in.

on the way,

C

Dear Wilderness :

Be at your best. Her armor is thin as the fabric of her dress. I know the rules ... the weaker trees bend. But make her immune when your temper storms in.

When she gains her balance, be as still as you can be. When she's climbing branches, be the feathers underneath.

When she regains her balance, be as steady as she needs. When she trusts you blindly, be her worthy lock & key.

Though it goes against every grain of your sand - like turning wolves into lambs - be your best for her.
Your best for her.

& when she finds her balance,
be as gentle as she needs.

When she shines her brightest,
let no dark cloud intervene.



[ speaking to me ]

-sleeping at last-

"Sometimes I think dreams are like this,
cocooned in wombs which others may mistake for graves.
But we know.
We know the dream is just forming, waiting, maturing. We know that it is not there due to procrastination. It is there due to our careful nurturing, mothering, protecting.

And when we are alone
we rub tender fingers over the swollen creative womb
and say,
'All in good time, my dear. All in good time.'

We say 'seize the day' but sometimes even in the seizing some things just aren't ready to be birthed.
We trust the tension,
and check every now and again to make sure that little fetus heart is still about the business of beating. We are resolute and calm as we trust our motherly intuition.

As the woman I spoke to said, "It'll happen."


-Mandy-

http://www.messycanvas.com/

my awakening [process]

is this a soul that stirs in me
is it breaking free
wanting to come alive?

because my comfort would prefer for me to be numb
and avoid the impending birth
of who I was born to become.

[brooke fraser]

"Dive in with your eyes closed for the life you were born to claim
& the water will be paralyzed by the courage you contain
and the flutter of your earnest heart -
it will fill the silent seas."

-sleeping at last-

--



a dream happened one night
after I had fallen on my knees at a concert and wept through this song.
it's a bit strange to explain, but I know it was a metaphor of something more
something bigger & greater that's happening inside.

I dreamed that I was giving birth
but the odd thing is, I never saw a baby.
I was just experiencing the process
and I knew deeply that something was coming out of me
something beautiful
and purposeful.
I had to just keep breathing
and let it come to life.

And I was surrounded by close friends from my community --
I remember their faces
they were there, in it with me, right beside me.


Ok, I don't base my life decisions on dreams that I have, but I do pay attention. I pay attention to the ones that stirred me, that caused me to wake up still feeling how I felt when I was there in that mystery world of my mind (and heart). The truth is, my soul is in a constant state of sensitivity, or vulnerability, whatever you'd like to call it. I've been finding books to read, songs to listen to, people to meet that are all seeming to conspire together against my comfort zone. I would not say that I am "comfortable" very often. Like I said, I'm very sensitive to the world, especially to the stark contrasts of what I believe and what I see, what I hope for and what actually happens. I see a person wandering the streets, being yelled at, dirty and confused, and grief grips my heart something terrible. I see a dead squirrel on the road, and I feel the aching separateness of humanity and the rest of creation. I process things differently than most people I know. I am affected by nearly everything. I'm a Reactor, so Kip categorizes me. And dear God, I've been given an overwhelmingly amount of empathy. So in wanting to live fully and intentionally, I'm choosing to believe that this dream is like a hint. It's like a nod. It's like a, Hey Candice Mae, there really IS more going on than what you see with your eyes -- keep paying attention to those heart and soul feelings, those shaky and take-your-breath-away experiences.
These feelings, indeed, seem like arrows pointing towards my purpose, towards the intention of my creation.

I just read a blog where the writer, a mama who has experienced many, many hard things, shared a really interesting thought. She questioned if possibly, before we were born into and onto this earth, our souls had a conversation with God. Maybe, she says, we were given the opportunity to express the lessons we'd like to learn while we were here living our physical lives. Maybe we chose our destinies, or at least chose the kind of hard things we'd experience so that those hard things would build in us the grand and holy character that we desired to have in the world to come.
Many people I know might immediately speak some verse or some belief that would threaten the validity of that, and that is ok with me. I believe it's ok to question the universe. I believe Jesus is my friend, and He loves to converse with me about my weird thoughts, or my reaction to other people's weird thoughts. Honestly, I believe in make-believe things like that mama thought of. I live in a very practical world in which I try to make wise and good decisions, but on the inside I am like imagination gone wild, a walking "WHAT IF?!" I believe anything can happen. I love stories of impossible things. I love crazy people and prophets who don't fit in. I sometimes feel like a crazy person made for another place or another time. And most of the time ... I keep this part of me hidden, for fear of what others will say. For fear that I really am as drastically different as I seem -- fear that I will have no idea what to do with my true self.

In realizing some of these deep truths about me, I found a book at a garage sale called Walking on Water by Madeleine L'Engle. It was a total random buy, but I had a slight feeling that her book was what I had silently and subconsciously been waiting for. She talks about art and artists, about stepping out into unknown things and finding yourself there. She adamantly urges us to use these gifted (often hidden) parts of ourselves - to give ourselves up to something greater - to create and to inspire on behalf of the world.


"We write, we make music, we draw pictures, because we are listening for meaning -- feeling for healing. And during the writing of a story, or the painting, or the composing, singing, or playing, we are returned to that open creativity which was ours when we were children. We cannot be mature artists if we have lost the ability to believe ... an artist at work is in a condition of complete and total faith."

"Stories are able to help us become more whole, to become Named. And naming is one of the impulses behind all art; to give a name to the cosmos we see despite all the chaos."

"But when the words mean even more than the writer knew they meant, then the writer has been listening. And sometimes when we listen, we are led into places we do not expect, into adventures we do not always understand... as long as we know what it's about, then we can have the courage to go wherever we are asked to go, even if we fear that the road may take us through danger and pain."

"There is no denying that the artist is someone who is full of questions, who cries them out in great angst, who discovers rainbow answers in the darkness, and then rushes to canvas or paper. An artist is someone who cannot rest, who can never rest as long as there is one suffering creature in the world. Along with Plato's divine madness there is also divine discontent, a longing to find the melody in the discord of chaos, a rhyme in the cacophony, the surprised smile in time of stress or strain... it is that what is has been disarranged and is crying to be put in place. Perhaps the artist longs to sleep well every night, to eat without indigestion, to feel no moral qualms, to turn off the news and make a sandwich after seeing the devastation and death caused by famine and drought and earthquake and flood. But the artist cannot imagine this normalcy. Vision keeps breaking through, and must find means of expression. "

"The artist is a servant who is willing to be a birth-giver... I believe that each work of art, whether it is a work of great genius or something very small, comes to the artist and says, 'Here I am. Enflesh me. Give birth to me.' And the artist either willingly becomes the bearer of the work, or refuses ... "


Yeah. Conspiracy, right?
And this book was only the beginning. Not surprisingly, at this same time Hillsong United came out with a new album which includes a song called Oceans. If you've heard it, you know what I mean.

spirit lead me where my trust is without borders

let me walk upon the waters, wherever you would call me.

take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

that my faith would be made stronger... 

It feels really strange and too personal to be writing about this, actually. But I think it's what I need to be doing. Because honestly ... writing is not happening in any other way. And writing seems to be the preferable way in which I process and analyze my life. So naturally, I might explode at any moment because it's just swirling and storming inside of me -- all of these things I'm thinking and feeling and wondering about. It's in there, and I'm working on getting it out. I'm working towards fearlessness.
However, my mostly introverted self doesn't want all of this outside of me yet. If friends want to talk about this, I don't know what to say. And people, I almost always know what to say, because I've thought about it for days before I talk to you. But this... thing? ... me? ... I don't know what to even call "it," is causing me to stumble and struggle with words in a way I haven't really struggled before. It's all heart. And maybe a lot of spirit, too. And well ... the spirit is like wind. I'm not following so well. Or maybe I am?

And yes, all of this is making me mildly insane. And very tired. But I don't just want to be tired. I want to dream. I want to discover. I want to be that person who enjoys life & still struggles, but is also doing something that actually brings her more life and allows her to share her life with the world.
So here enters : Viv, a new friend who will hopefully add to this internal & eternal conversation and help me make sense of some it. Just some. We'll be meeting in a couple weeks, so let's hope I'll have a lot to say by then.



Life is a story, folks. Your story. My story. A journey. A drama. And I want mine to be rich in love, adventure, and wonder. Heck, I'll even take this uncomfortable stuff and the controversy if it makes my story more interesting. I'm opening myself up to a beter story, not just for me, but for those around me and those who will come after me. And for Jesus. I want his story to continue to heal and change the world like it keeps healing and changing my own heart. Freeing me to be, perhaps, who I once chose to be -- this character, this artist, this restorer of things and earth.


seeking & believing,

C




Try hard to concentrate
hold out your hand, can you feel the weight of it?
the whole world at your fingertips
don't be, don't be afraid
I promise I'll keep you safe.

You'll be an architect
so pull up your sleeves


as you build up your collection
of pearls that you've pulled from the deep
a landscape more beautiful than anything I've ever seen


darkness will be rewritten into a work of fiction
you'll see
as you pull every ribbon
you'll find the secret it keeps

dismiss the invisible by giving it shape

You are an artist
and your heart is your masterpiece

& I'll keep it safe.



-sleeping at last-

here in the meantime

[ side note: I started this blog in December ... I loved reading & thinking these thoughts again, and adding some here & now things as well.]

"but here

in the meantime

may the unknown harvest life."

-sleeping at last-

sometimes I really enjoy thinking of my life as a movie.
like right now....
staring at a photo of two brazilian beauties, arms wrapped around mine, one kissing my cheek, me grinning like a girl who knew exactly where she was meant to be in that moment - remembering all the wonderful gifts and miracles that came together to allow me to excitedly board that plane with 8 other friends... this would be a movie-moment:

you know when there is that moment of slow, soft, instrumental music, the camera panning in on the character in deep thought. Often these moments are towards the end of the film. Sometimes it's immediately following an adventure, and sometimes it's a few years after. The movie shows you a bit of the character's life - where they are now, what's different or very much the same about them. There seems to be these key moments of reflection that give you a glimpse of their inner longings -  for a person or for the adventure they were once caught up in.

Right now,
staring out my window at the beautiful downtown scene, snow falling and the to-do list growing, I wonder how this movie moment would play out for me. I'm reflecting on this past adventure of loving Brazilian children and working to reclaim their innocence and their heart; longing for those mile-long walks to and from the place where they lived - walks to and from the murky Amazon water that welcomed us on a stifling hot day.

Maybe I'm sitting here, thinking how wonderful my life was then and how much I'd love to return.
And maybe I'm simply remembering and appreciating.

Remembering the glory of trips and passports and not having to worry about returning phone calls, answering urgent emails, text messages, or facebook comments.

Maybe I'm simply remembering a different life
and a different me,
appreciating who I am now in view of the journey I have been on, knowing that people change - I have changed - and I am moving forward, always.

In movies, sometimes the character goes back for their past adventure or their past lover, and sometimes they don't.
Sometimes, the best ending to their story is the simple fact that you were able to be a part of it - you saw them grow, you saw them make hard decisions and mistakes. And you saw them move on. You watched them as they kept going.

And here, in moments that could change life's direction, (as each moment could), sometimes it impresses your heart more when the character chooses to enter into these changes and this new life; a life that seems less than, but is actually just different than.
Sometimes I appreciate the character's development and current commitment more than I would enjoy seeing them go back to what they used to know.

Enter: Candice's current (slash ongoing) journey.

"She is a dreamer,

a doer,

a thinker.

She sees possibility everywhere."

This here journal sits on my desk at work as a reminder of who I once was and who I continually want to be - someone who never wants to feel stuck where she is: who has the deep soul conviction that each moment of life is wondrous and purposeful, full of potential and possibility. Someone who wants to dream as well as do here and now, and most importantly, someone who wants to be -- be present, be aware, be here now. 

Someone who never forgets that it's all about the journey and who I am becoming. 

And there is so much beauty in the becoming. 

Erase the shoulds.

Ignore the better-thans and constant pull towards judgement and comparison.

And live your life. 

"Live on. And be yourself," as Macklemore says. 

The tension is here. The struggle between my heartbeat-passion and the everyday grind of living and giving and loving will always be here, too. I'm eternally grateful for the affirmation and encouragement I discover in the words of others. Like Sleeping at Last who sings :

"let's stay the course and let the tension make us new

I don't know if it's virtue

I don't know if it's just dumb luck

would it matter if it was?

What if we welcomed change in or openend up just enough

to let it begin? 

'the doors will open wide for you'

it was said just like it was the truth

if we walk right through..."

Life is happening, people.

& I want to be all in -- all thankful, all intentional, all at peace.

As I often repeat : all is grace.

Let's live on.

breathing & becoming

from Ann Voskamp...

"Our every breath is a surrender to His sovereignty.

YWHW.

It's always fear that brings tension--
the tension that brings the pain. And then it's the pain that makes us think we can't go on ...

So when the world contracts tight
breathe deep and let it all come
with no fear, no fear.

'Remember? You're a bag of sand, and there's a hole in your toe, and the sand just keeps trickling out.
Just let everything that comes on, trickle on through.
Don't hold on.
Just breathe and let go.'

All the torn places in a life show us how to let go... We breathe slow together, letting what He gives in this moment fill us, run through us,
move on out into the world."

I've been doing this a lot lately ... breathing.
Just breathing.
I so love this analogy of being like a bag of sand with a hole in my toe and letting it all keep trickling out, slowly but definitely.
In the good things and the harder, good things, I must remind myself of this image. It all flows out of me -- whether it's bitterness or sweetness, love or hate, anger or joy. It all comes out. And the ways that it comes out can show me if I'm really letting go or not.

But it's not just about the letting go, is it?
It's about the letting it come, too.

"let it all come, with no fear."

How does one do this? Gaze out from this place in life with open hands and an open heart? What do you do when you accept what's already happened to you -- accept the reality of your pain and your past and your process -- and how do you still welcome it, welcome all?

In the fuzz and fog of these questions-- and honestly, this fear-- I see him here.
A man of strength and sacrifice and immense love. I see him standing and gazing, just like that, and he's unafraid. Because he did it. And he does it. Every single day. He's not bound in this time-capsule of an earth, but he's still here and he moves and he shows up when we can't. I'm not sure how, but the childlike dreamer in me can imagine and hope and trust in what I don't understand. Madeleine L'Engle says it well,

"Only the most mature of us are able to be childlike. And to be able to be childlike involves memory; we must never forget any part of ourselves... 

For growing up never ends; we never get there. I am still in the process of growing up, but I will make no progress if I lose any of myself on the way."

It's a beautiful thing to love yourself as you are and as you once were; "to never forget any part of ourselves." I find this in the breathing and the becoming. I breathe it in, breathe it out, and become something from it-- whatever it is. I can take everything as some form of grace, even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.
Because in the hurt I have become what I could not have been before that painful experience. As Brooke Waggoner sings... I have to break inside, before I die to me. 

Whatever the breaking looks like -- we'll breathe slow together & we'll make it through.

Whatever the joy looks like-- we'll let it fill us here & now, let the tears and the pee-your-pants laughter flow out, and we'll want for nothing more than this moment.

Whenever the fear seems louder than the hope, we'll fix our gaze on him who is fearless, and we'll choose to have no fear.


And when the torn places seem to be outnumbering the healed & whole places...

"We trust the one we call Abba as a child does, knowing that what seems unreasonable now will be seen to have reason later."

&

"We have to be braver than we think we can be, because God is constantly calling us to be more than we are..."