tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60876585202593523062024-02-07T00:20:26.554-06:00come and listenAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.comBlogger217125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-83687499817934292472014-09-25T17:59:00.000-05:002014-09-25T18:11:52.073-05:00this one's for me<br />
<br />
"the breeze is orchestrating a complicated ballet<br />
between the leaves.<br />
the dance is on."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
the leaves swirl and crackle<br />
spinning up and circling 'round, like shaping some invisible structure outside my window.<br />
the winds of fall<br />
the circling of earth and seasons<br />
<br />
my heart is softened in the midst of change<br />
whose isn't?<br />
<br />
i'm often surprised how much lasts through these changes<br />
like the old lamp to my left,<br />
like the rings on my finger.<br />
the past is sometimes more present than we think<br />
or realize.<br />
<br />
like how stories can affect us so,<br />
surpassing time and culture and the separation of a screen<br />
with actors retelling what has been.<br />
<br />
my heart is softened<br />
by pictures of family far away.<br />
family ...<br />
it makes me rethink my own wanderlust<br />
and my priorities of self.<br />
<br />
where would I be without their love?<br />
I would not exist without love.<br />
None of us would.<br />
<br />
this is what I come back to in the swirl and circles of change.<br />
I am here for love,<br />
I'm not without anything<br />
if I have love.<br />
<br />
and this love is beyond what I think it is<br />
it is beyond feeling, even.<br />
it chases us through the past<br />
into the present<br />
and beyond, into our promising futures.<br />
love comes both before and long after us.<br />
<br />
it will never end.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"all the world is<br />
conspiring for me.<br />
the dance, the dance<br />
<br />
everything everywhere nourishes my growth<br />
the dance is on.<br />
<br />
let it be known<br />
i can hear the music in all things.<br />
today it's on,<br />
this one's for me."<br />
<br />
{ <span style="font-size: x-small;">Mamuse, Garden Song </span>}<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-28473539249072914102014-08-13T12:46:00.003-05:002014-08-13T12:46:58.568-05:00<br />
"indeed, in every life there is some wound that continues to weep secretly, even after years of attempted healing..."<br />
<br />
[ john o'donahue ]<br />
<br />
<br />
how do I explain my sadness?<br />
<br />
I don't know, but it needs to be shared. we need to talk about sadness, sit with each other in sadness, so that we can continue to move on to hope. but sometimes, hope is far away, or not in our sights at all. and sometimes, it's going to be awkwardly long, because I can't just arrive at hope without having swam through the sorrow. and swimming without a shore in sight is just plain exhausting.<br />
<br />it was here, in the swimming (or drowning) and the tears, where I heard a new voice.<br />
a voice that seemed to flow from a place where pain was understood, not cured<br />
and where questions meet questions,<br />
not simplified answers.<br />
<br />
She said,<br />
<br />
<i>remember when you <a href="http://momastery.com/blog/2014/06/08/beauty-routine/">read about being beauty-full</a></i><br />
<i>how you can absorb all of these miracles into your being</i><br />
<i>and let them fill you?</i><br />
<i>why not try it, my dear?</i><br />
<i>why not take in all that surrounds you?</i><br />
<br />
<br />
as I took a breath, I saw the stars above<br />
and the trees right in front of me<br />
and I heard the crickets singing around me<br />
and I imagined all of the precious little creations that fill my yard<br />
and my garden.<br />
... all of the many gifts of my life.<br />
<br />
It was no magical cure to my sadness, but it was what I needed -- to be reminded of how connected I am to everything. that I'm not alone.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Go find some place beautiful<br />
or just simply sit where you've sat a hundred times,<br />
and listen<br />
and look for all the beauty that is already surrounding you.<br />
<br />
<br />
"& may all that is unforgiven in you be released."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>xo</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-28617403286723328142014-04-28T09:18:00.000-05:002014-04-28T09:18:29.870-05:00"what if I never let you in & chase you with a rolling pin? Well, what if I do?" (marriage: A) <br />
i married you<br />
in the wildness of april<br />
the snow drifted softly<br />
over & into our yes.<br />
<br />
a year later<br />
in the howling wind<br />
this almost but not yet of spring<br />
we live together<br />
side by side<br />
shining and dark<br />
billowing and steady<br />
<br />
our love is<br />
a branch near breaking<br />
a bud,<br />
new yet strong<br />
a drop<br />
sliding down<br />
free falling into<br />
a sea of obscurity.<br />
<br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
One of my favorite relationship songs is Ingrid Michaelson's, <i>Giving Up.</i> I've appreciated the melody, but now I find myself living the words. This is where I am a year into my marriage:<br />
constant surrender.<br />
Waking up every morning & going to sleep every night with a mental, emotional, and spiritual posture of open hands, an open heart.<br />
Sometimes weeping, sometimes laughing, always desperately trying to stay open, regardless of feeling.<br />
<i><br /></i>
Because I don't know what else to do.<br />
<i>Because maybe there's nothing else I can do. </i><br />
<br />
<i><br /></i>
This is a complete paradox to me. It seems that my marriage is what I should cling to, not release -- that it should be the one thing I do control. Yet this belief has already caused me heartache.<br />
<br />
I am not in control.<br />
Of anything.<br />
<br />
Yes, I make my own decisions. I choose my attitude. I choose how to respond to my emotions. Yet if I look closely, really, the surrender and acceptance is much more prevalent than the mastery.<br />
<br />
Giving up.<br />
Giving in.<br />
<br />
-----<br />
<br />
<br />
Several weeks ago, our community participated in lectio divina together. As Katie read Ephesians 5:1-2, we listened, paying close attention to the words & phrases.<br />
<br />
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he didn't love to get something from us</div>
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but to give everything of himself to us.</div>
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<u>love like tha</u>t.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
These words have stuck with me for years -- the <i>love like that </i>command, which is more like a blessing. Loving like this, giving all without getting, is painfully hard. Have you tried it? It feels like dying. And I think it is, in a metaphysical way. I think that's why we're told to do it, because it kills what we cling to -- selfishness, fear, hurt -- everything that keeps us from healing, from seeing past ourselves & moving past our pain. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Let it go</div>
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& love like that.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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------</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In an email conversation with a friend, she shared a desire to hear and to know the reality of marriage -- for people to mentor singles, in a way, by sharing the raw, the real, the all of their relationships. Everyone's marriage & relationship is a sacred place, a secret place. There are things we don't share, or could not possibly share for the mystery and depth that it is. Still, we can be real about our lives, and that's what I want to do here. I want to be one who accepts the challenge of authenticity & transparency. We're only a year in, and if I'm honest, I'm already a different person. I did not (& do not) enjoy the process of change, and even so, I am grateful to be in the tension, to feel the movement from who I was to who I will someday be. I love this change, and at times, it majorly sucks.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Every day, we say yes. To everything. There are kisses that leave us weak. There is beauty in making meals together, sharing beers and showers and a bed. And there is pain in unawareness of need, lack of remembrance, distance of bodies and turning off of lights and emotions. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We say yes to everything</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
& we keep going</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
keep living & loving</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
like that.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
-------</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
"We are here essentially to risk ourselves in the world,<br />
we are a form of invitation to others and to otherness."<br />
<br />
-David Whyte<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-3805431314020114702014-03-28T12:42:00.002-05:002014-03-28T12:45:10.568-05:00<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Smells of Good Food"</div>
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<br /></div>
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by Saint Catherine of Siena </div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA7n0E4kO1UlORaKdB6bQoKdWFRBjKt_SNZKR1szngbpFzWCYYuT0lZ7YYfpKcbWsZDiXXpcOWVKZ1DWjmDkUIkFIIW0KF05Qjyj4F-kNDj4bclJ1Y1Llk9njk0mN4pKAAzYyDr-dXaSMv/s1600/latte.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA7n0E4kO1UlORaKdB6bQoKdWFRBjKt_SNZKR1szngbpFzWCYYuT0lZ7YYfpKcbWsZDiXXpcOWVKZ1DWjmDkUIkFIIW0KF05Qjyj4F-kNDj4bclJ1Y1Llk9njk0mN4pKAAzYyDr-dXaSMv/s1600/latte.JPG" height="267" width="400" /></a></div>
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"Truth never frightens.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I remember once walking out in the winter</div>
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to greet my father as he returned from work.</div>
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<br /></div>
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He was a little late that night</div>
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and I waited by the street corner near our house.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The cold can enliven thanks, my wool coat</div>
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became a sacred robe,</div>
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how happy I felt to be alive.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I waited in a world of magic,</div>
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smells of good food,</div>
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the street lamps, the smoke coming from chimneys,</div>
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the candles burning in the windows,</div>
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the snow.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Angels feasted, as I did, on existence</div>
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and God kept saying</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Have more of what I made."</span></div>
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I saw him coming. We ran into each other's arms</div>
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and he lifted me as he so often had -- </div>
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twirled me through the air</div>
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his hands beneath my arms.</div>
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That is what truth does:</div>
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lifts and lets us</div>
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fly."</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-26287299617765130502014-03-12T21:45:00.001-05:002014-03-12T21:58:01.118-05:00ashes // what my mama always said<br />
it was two days before Ash Wednesday,<br />
<br />
on one of those windy, harshly cold days. She needed directions, at first. Then she moved me over, out of the walkway, and said she actually needed more than that. All I could offer was a ride, and she graciously accepted. It was in the elevator where we exchanged names, and I opened my heart. She spoke of generosity, of us belonging to each other, and I opened my heart some more.<br />
<br />
Weaving through downtown, I told her that I really wanted to be sure she had food that night. She waived my request and said she'd be fine, not to worry. Her life preached, in a way. She asked permission to smoke in my car, and I said sure.<br />
<i><br /></i>
She told me a bit of her story, asking me if I had kids, that all hers were grown and it was only her now. Her finding her own way. I told her no, but I was almost a year into marriage, to which she chuckled and said, "Well, them kids are comin'!" quickly following the prophesy with advice about keeping my legs closer together. Then I laughed - <u>hard</u>.<br />
We were fast friends.<br />
<br />
When I dropped her off at the Salvation Army, we kissed the other's cheek like family. I wanted her to come over, but she had other plans.<br />
<br />
I could smell her long after she left : perfume and ashes.<br />
<br />
I felt like one of those ignorant hosts, despite being told to <i>be ready with a meal or a bed, for some have extended hospitality to angels without even knowing it. </i><br />
As I drove home, I thought about how much my life would change if I understood helping and kindness as an interaction with heaven itself.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Something my new friend said to me in my car stuck like superglue -- the kind that burns a little when it interacts with your soft skin. She said that I was good because I followed the rules & my parents must be so proud of me.<br />
<br />
And my heart broke open wide.<br />
<br />
She, like so many I have known,<br />
like myself,<br />
believes one of the worst lies of them all ... our worth of love, grace, and acceptance depends on how well we can follow a set of rules.<br />
<br />
Yeah, these are my ashes, too.<br />
<br />
Her mama always said that you get back more than you give. That's what Jesus said, too.<br />
And all of this talk reminded me of what I had experienced a couple weeks before, sitting with a group of women exploring our ashes, still searching for our beauty.<br />
<br />
We read this together:<br />
<br />
as for those who grieve:<br />
God has sent me to give them a beautiful crown<br />
in <b>exchange </b>for ashes<br />
to anoint them with gladness instead of sorrow<br />
to wrap them in victory, joy, and praise<br />
instead of depression<br />
and sadness.<br />
People will call them magnificent<br />
like great towering trees<br />
... and they will rebuild this place from its ruins.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i><br /></i>
Here,<br />
in the exchange,<br />
it's hazy.<br />
It makes eyes pour and voices shake.<br />
The rebuilding is happening.<br />
And it hurts.<br />
But we're doing it together.<br />
<br />
<br />
We're rebuilding ourselves from the destruction of our own beliefs,<br />
<br />
all of us smelling of perfume and ashes,<br />
<br />
together.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-29683326894018463932014-01-10T09:52:00.000-06:002014-01-10T09:52:15.013-06:00ready or not : 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>2014 means door, </i><br />
<i>like an <b>invitation</b>,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> </i>she said.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u><br /></u></b>
I was graced with an answer to the question bouncing around in my mind for weeks after a conversation with my dear friend & co-worker.<br />
<i>What is the theme of this next year? </i><br />
It was haunting me. No matter how many Google searches I strategically typed, I could not find it. Of course, my answer was to come in a more beautiful, intentional way - the way that so many answers and realizations have come to me over the past few years: via my community. Specifically, the community of women I am so privileged to journey alongside. We sip coffee together, cry together, and go deep together every other Sunday morning. And I'm convinced it's heaven on earth.<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>
This specific Sunday, when my word was divinely delivered, we were having a Christmas party, reflecting on last year and sharing our themes from 2013. My first thought was <i>struggle.</i> It had been a heavy year of struggling through new things, like marriage and a parasite, and old things, like family and the continuous questioning of WHAT THE HECK DO I WANT TO DO WITH MY LIFE?! I experienced an awakening of sorts during the year of 2013. Circumstances and situations aided this soul transition -- getting married, moving into a new house, reading books, finding blogs, joining a writing e-course, my own inner unrest and discontentment. I had breakthroughs and total breakdowns. I let hard conversations happen and actually <i>engaged</i> in conflict. [ That's huge, y'all ].<br />
I am now a consistent blood donor, thanks to wonderful friends who have made it fun. I never thought I could be so brave with blood and veins and needles. Ok, enough of that.<br />
<br />
I proved my strength to the only person who should be convinced of it : myself.<br />
I have connectedness (strengthsfinder - yeah!) and I delight in this strength, especially while reflecting on life and how it is that I am where I am in this very moment. I can see the weavings -- the little nudges and conversations and prayers that have forged this path through unknown and doubt. It seems like so much has prepared me for this year of invitation.<br />
<br />
A favorite message of mine from <a href="http://urminneapolis.org/">Upper Room</a> in 2013 was based on John 1:37-39. Jesus asks a simple question to two men who started following him -- <i>What do you want? </i>Which is a legit inquiry if people had been walking behind you for a while, without saying anything. The two men ask where he is staying, and he responds with (wait for it ... ) an invitation:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">Come and see. </span></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
These words set up camp in my heart, along with a question asked during that same series. What do you want? This question was repeated again during my closing <a href="http://www.thestorysessions.com/about/">Story Sessions</a> call, where we were not only asked what we want, but given some time to scribble things down, giving names and voice to our tangible and intangible desires. I LOVED this. Reading over my list gives me butterflies; another reminder that I am on my way to what is true and good and right for me. It also makes me feel a little sick and shaky, the way she might be feeling, too:<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
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<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">image from Pinterest</span></i></div>
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Maybe if she heard <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8LS4lM_mDEc">this song</a> she would feel a bit better up there. Maybe she would swallow her fear. Maybe she would finally release the need to know the outcome. Maybe she would sing along in her shaky, little voice ...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"sink or swim, I'm diving in</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>where the river starts rushing</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>where my heart starts beating."</i></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
One of my fav.s, Glennon, wrote these words:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
"I am unsure of what your lack of readiness has to do with the fact that the world needs the little miracle that only you can perform. The world needs you to use your gift - ready or not...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Jump, honey. Do it.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sometimes you'll belly flop and it'll sting and everyone will laugh, and sometimes you'll do a perfect screwdriver and everyone will clap.<br />
But after a while, you will learn that you don't jump for everyone.<br />
Everyone doesn't matter.<br />
You jump because at the end of the day, when your head hits the pillow,<br />
you want to be <b><span style="font-size: large;">One Who Jumps</span></b>. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
That's all. That's everything.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Don't wait 'til you're ready. Nobody's ever ready. Just jump now."<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">- <a href="http://momastery.com/blog/2013/12/19/jump/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=jump">Momastery.com</a></span></div>
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Cheers to invitation, opportunity, newness.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And jumping. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
xo</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
C</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-9826653133163501572013-12-03T14:31:00.000-06:002013-12-03T14:31:00.333-06:00<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>A hundred years ago I was a pastor and read stuff like that,</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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. </div>
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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.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>What's your story?</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMN-C1HArrg_R8IrjHgMla3qYkCD0mNEEIWpjup5SGnUTS7C3rfCQL8IvWzZXjKb756NGe-UyDJ-pEPHuunkB2IcbAOZxMZV1joUUMYd3X-Mr9Khmaolp1QFSr_njar_c_sTw7ea1Xs3eS/s1600/story.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMN-C1HArrg_R8IrjHgMla3qYkCD0mNEEIWpjup5SGnUTS7C3rfCQL8IvWzZXjKb756NGe-UyDJ-pEPHuunkB2IcbAOZxMZV1joUUMYd3X-Mr9Khmaolp1QFSr_njar_c_sTw7ea1Xs3eS/s320/story.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div>
<br />
Every story is meaningful.</div>
<div>
Every story is gold.<br />
<br />
And sometimes, our stories are a burden that can only be lifted by a listening ear.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Friend,<br />
I can't hold the whole world,<br />
but I can hold your story.<br />
<br />
& I would be honored if you held mine, too.</div>
<div>
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</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-48317686311548609392013-09-25T11:22:00.001-05:002013-09-25T11:22:50.732-05:00"to begin, begin."<br />
Oh I'm gettin' kinda rich<br />
on the sight of any soul<br />
alive.<br />
<br />
(alpha rev)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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, <a href="http://eloranicole.com/">Elora</a>. 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:<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
to begin, <i>begin</i>.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I know what I need to do. I am choosing to let my creative self go free. I am beginning. </div>
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Why?</div>
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<br /></div>
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because I want to unfold, be vulnerable, be authentic.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
because I want to know beauty and feel empowered to offer it from my own depths.</div>
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because I love connection and community.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
because I understand that ignoring my internal struggle will not make it go away.</div>
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because I am pursuing my gifts.</div>
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because I am haunted by the word artist.</div>
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because I want to be fully alive.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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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. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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 <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/chimamanda_adichie_the_danger_of_a_single_story.html">the danger of a single story</a> 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. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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Somewhere in all of that, restoration will happen. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I believe it. I have seen it. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Restoration will continue it's work in me. Reconciliation will come to our world. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And I want to be part of it all.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJheWzkISGNRdzqoRNsfP7-gJI-Y-iSKo_a8ISCgoWm3MjhYf0znrs7BygwVDzdkoRSbY1flYq9p1Dxn8L9BTY0QnWj4ji1rZbvFKxdaWtk4i5vVEdTDxQmk9C4dNELmtzn3dT1pqeJzJY/s1600/email.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJheWzkISGNRdzqoRNsfP7-gJI-Y-iSKo_a8ISCgoWm3MjhYf0znrs7BygwVDzdkoRSbY1flYq9p1Dxn8L9BTY0QnWj4ji1rZbvFKxdaWtk4i5vVEdTDxQmk9C4dNELmtzn3dT1pqeJzJY/s320/email.png" width="238" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
xo.<br />
C<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-11911493246888902762013-08-23T21:34:00.000-05:002013-08-23T21:34:48.043-05:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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"We'll try to document this light with cameras to our eyes</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
in an effort to remember what being mended feels like.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
we're home sweet home."</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
[sleeping at last]</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I don't know how I could ever feel alone again after that day.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.</div>
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And thus commenced so many photos that I don't know how we kept our facial muscles going for ALL of them. Our friend <a href="http://kendraelizabethphotography.com/blog/">Kendra</a> is pretty darn good at what she does. </div>
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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. </div>
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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. </div>
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We kicked off the evening with words. Not surprising, right? Stefan & Meredith, a dynamic duo, welcomed the guests downstairs & Meredith read <a href="http://drbelove.wordpress.com/inspiration/midlife-poetry-2/the-true-love-by-david-whyte/">this</a>. And, Stefan used the word "story" without me even asking him to. </div>
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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.</div>
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Our friends Chris, Kayla and Nathaniel blew our minds with their harmonies and instrumental genius. We had requested <a href="spotify:track:5k1QEAjIqll9B753OanSQx">Your Love is All Around</a> and <a href="spotify:track:2GlTZI3KyKGOvZMmOrgL6W">Crags and Clay, b</a>oth 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. </div>
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Together.</div>
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In & through community.</div>
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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!<br />
<br />
The kiss was, well, suffocatingly wonderful. My husband is very expressive.<br />
JOY.<br />
<br />
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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.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
So here we are.<br />
We are the Joneses.<br />
<br />
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 ...<br />
<br />
<i>... 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.</i><br />
<br />
Cheers.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
and maybe one more quote.<br />
<br />
"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.<br />
And we will walk it out together, you and me."<br />
<br />
-sarah bessey-</div>
<span style="background-color: #ccccdd; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #ccccdd; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-4735255445765094682013-06-20T13:21:00.001-05:002013-06-20T13:25:51.463-05:00& you shall speak<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">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 <a href="http://eloranicole.com/">Elora</a>,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"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."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Yes friend. Yes. Just like I've lost my freaking mind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">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...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">or maybe it's better if they do?</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>
The following is a letter to myself :</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: ff-enzo-web; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 600; line-height: 21px;"></span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Candice Mae Lyerla Jones,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">You child, you woman, of the greatest and highest Love</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">you are your name's sake.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Unblemished</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Shining</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">a crown of glory held by His hand</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A gift</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">blessed</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">thrilled by all that He has done</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">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. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Let also the hard truths come</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">the ones known only by felt pain, stabbing grief, and by suffering.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Every moment is surrender.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Every breath is a profound gift.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Every person is crazy-loved.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">See them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">See yourself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's all his glory. We're the glory.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The earth is full of it - we must see and respond, being gentle and careful with this creation-gift.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Listen to your favorite quotes, ones that say things like</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Know who you are and use what you have been given to speak to the world."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">&</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Become a student of what you love, because what you love flows out of the way God made you."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">and helping you rest.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Keep watch, dearest. Listen only to love and grace.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">You need this. You are capable of this.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The other stuff</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">the shame stuff</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">just doesn't matter anymore.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">You have limited time. Let none of it be wasted in sulking or brooding.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Climb out of your armor and expose yourself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is freedom. This is life well lived.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So stand up</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">stand up, you dreamer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Pay attention to the deep things of your heart that call out to you;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">that remind you of where you came from</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">who you belong to</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">what you are made for.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Listen to the people who show up in your literal dreams</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">like the angelic man who passed by you that one night</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">and who said,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"I am from both worlds, just like you."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Capture these dream moments and hold them like whispers from heaven</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">hold them close like they can teach you the mysteries of the universe</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">because they can.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">You are not of this world, Candice Mae,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">yet you are here</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">living, breathing, and forever altering it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Remember the timelessness you were designed for.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Remember that you are more than flesh and bones.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And in the moments of fear</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">(because fear will never cease)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">rest in <a href="http://momastery.com/blog/">Sister G's</a> words:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"but I also know that scared and <b>sacred</b> are almost the same word, and often the same experience."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">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 <u>know</u> 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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Believe the best. Believe that everything that is said and done to you is somehow a cry for love</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">& then simply respond.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In your small, broken heart</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">child,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">let this seemingly impossible love</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">this blinding light</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">shine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Stop for the one.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Smile at the one.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Let your life bloom and blossom</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> and then invite everyone in.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">on the way,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">C</span><br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-1479803990552089792013-06-20T13:08:00.000-05:002013-06-20T13:08:22.946-05:00<br />
<br />
Dear Wilderness :<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
When she gains her balance, be as still as you can be. When she's climbing branches, be the feathers underneath.<br />
<br />
When she regains her balance, be as steady as she needs. When she trusts you blindly, be her worthy lock & key.<br />
<br />
Though it goes against every grain of your sand - like turning wolves into lambs - be your best for her.<br />
Your best for her.<br />
<br />
& when she finds her balance,<br />
be as gentle as she needs.<br />
<br />
When she shines her brightest,<br />
let no dark cloud intervene.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
[ <i>speaking to me</i> ]<br />
<br />
-sleeping at last-Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-28594749733469897932013-06-13T13:44:00.001-05:002013-06-13T13:44:57.365-05:00<br />
"Sometimes I think dreams are like this,<br />
cocooned in wombs which others may mistake for graves.<br />
But we know.<br />
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.<br />
<br />
And when we are alone<br />
we rub tender fingers over the swollen creative womb<br />
and say,<br />
'All in good time, my dear. All in good time.'<br />
<br />
We say 'seize the day' but sometimes even in the seizing some things just aren't ready to be birthed.<br />
We trust the tension,<br />
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.<br />
<br />
As the woman I spoke to said, "It'll happen."<br />
<br />
<br />
-Mandy-<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.messycanvas.com/">http://www.messycanvas.com/</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-70251512858453888742013-05-17T09:51:00.000-05:002013-05-17T09:51:52.456-05:00my awakening [process]<br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;">is this a soul that stirs in me</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">is it breaking free</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">wanting to come alive?</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;">because my comfort would prefer for me to be numb</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">and avoid the impending birth</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">of who I was born to become.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;">[brooke fraser]</span><br />
<div>
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />"Dive in with your eyes closed for the life you were born to claim</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">& the water will be paralyzed by the courage you contain</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">and the flutter of your earnest heart -</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">it will fill the silent seas."</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;">-sleeping at last-</span><br />
</div>
<br />
--<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
a dream happened one night<br />
after I had fallen on my knees at a concert and wept through <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PjUEfpyPUvg">this song</a>.<br />
it's a bit strange to explain, but I know it was a metaphor of something more<br />
something bigger & greater that's happening inside.<br />
<br />
I dreamed that I was giving birth<br />
but the odd thing is, I never saw a baby.<br />
I was just experiencing the process<br />
and I knew deeply that something was coming out of me<br />
something beautiful<br />
and purposeful.<br />
I had to just keep breathing<br />
and let it come to life.<br />
<br />
And I was surrounded by close friends from my community --<br />
I remember their faces<br />
they were there, in it with me, right beside me.<br />
<br />
<br />
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, <i>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</i>.<br />
These feelings, indeed, seem like arrows pointing towards my purpose, towards the intention of my creation.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;">"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."</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;">"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."</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;">"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."</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;">"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 <i>is</i> 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. "</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">"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 ... "</span><br />
<br />
<br />
Yeah. Conspiracy, right?<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>spirit lead me where my trust is without borders</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>let me walk upon the waters, wherever you would call me.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>take me deeper than my feet could ever wander</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>that my faith would be made stronger... </i></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
seeking & believing,<br />
<br />
C<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;">Try hard to concentrate</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">hold out your hand, can you feel the weight of it?</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">the whole world at your fingertips</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">don't be, don't be afraid</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">I promise I'll keep you safe.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;">You'll be an architect</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">so pull up your sleeves</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">as you build up your collection</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">of pearls that you've pulled from the deep</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">a landscape more beautiful than anything I've ever seen</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">darkness will be rewritten into a work of fiction</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">you'll see</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">as you pull every ribbon</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">you'll find the secret it keeps</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;">dismiss the invisible by giving it shape</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;">You are an artist</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">and your heart is your masterpiece</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;">& I'll keep it safe.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;">-sleeping at last-</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-81314897873649497302013-03-22T12:11:00.002-05:002013-04-29T08:56:13.131-05:00here in the meantime<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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[ side note: I started this blog in December ... I loved reading & thinking these thoughts again, and adding some here & now things as well.]</div>
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"but here</div>
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in the meantime</div>
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may the unknown harvest life."</div>
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-sleeping at last-</div>
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sometimes I really enjoy thinking of my life as a movie.<br />
like right now....<br />
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:<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Right now,<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Maybe I'm sitting here, thinking how wonderful my life was then and how much I'd love to return.<br />
And maybe I'm simply remembering and appreciating.<br />
<br />
Remembering the glory of trips and passports and not having to worry about returning phone calls, answering urgent emails, text messages, or facebook comments.<br />
<br />
Maybe I'm simply remembering a different life<br />
and a different me,<br />
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.<br />
<br />
In movies, sometimes the character goes back for their past adventure or their past lover, and sometimes they don't.<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Enter: Candice's current (slash ongoing) journey.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqnU9zyYufvXvtZcd_e_9MaurcEyvLAJe_IS-GfCqubB3yo2kJWfg6cfKtXROQBJVi0Hyr-l-qq6ioYF3h4AKzdcOyXI3piD6KkZeDkiuL6rfq5d_xmHHoC7y8MQiVFd7Yd3sX-2NWpNgb/s1600/PC170436.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqnU9zyYufvXvtZcd_e_9MaurcEyvLAJe_IS-GfCqubB3yo2kJWfg6cfKtXROQBJVi0Hyr-l-qq6ioYF3h4AKzdcOyXI3piD6KkZeDkiuL6rfq5d_xmHHoC7y8MQiVFd7Yd3sX-2NWpNgb/s320/PC170436.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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"She is a dreamer,</div>
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a doer,</div>
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a thinker.</div>
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She sees possibility everywhere."</div>
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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 <i>dream</i> as well as <i>do</i> here and now, and most importantly, someone who wants to <i>be</i> -- be present, be aware, be here now. </div>
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Someone who never forgets that it's all about the journey and who I am becoming. </div>
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And there is so much beauty in the becoming. </div>
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Erase the shoulds.</div>
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Ignore the better-thans and constant pull towards judgement and comparison.</div>
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And live your life. </div>
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"Live on. And be yourself," as <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hlVBg7_08n0">Macklemore</a> says. </div>
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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 :</div>
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"let's stay the course and let the tension make us new</div>
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I don't know if it's virtue</div>
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I don't know if it's just dumb luck</div>
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would it matter if it was?</div>
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What if we welcomed change in or openend up just enough</div>
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to let it begin? </div>
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'the doors will open wide for you'</div>
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it was said just like it was the truth</div>
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if we walk right through..."</div>
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Life is happening, people.</div>
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& I want to be all in -- all thankful, all intentional, all at peace.</div>
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As I often repeat : <u>all is grace</u>.</div>
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Let's live on.</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-79289784180298403052013-02-06T20:16:00.000-06:002013-02-06T20:16:04.724-06:00breathing & becoming from <a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/">Ann Voskamp</a>...<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
"Our every breath is a surrender to His sovereignty.<br />
<br />
<i>YWHW.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
It's always fear that brings tension--<br />
the tension that brings the pain. And then it's the pain that makes us think we can't go on ...<br />
<br />
So when the world contracts tight<br />
breathe deep and let it all come<br />
with no fear, no fear.<br />
<br />
<i>'Remember? You're a bag of sand, and there's a hole in your toe, and the sand just keeps trickling out.</i><br />
<i>Just let everything that comes on, trickle on through.</i><br />
<i>Don't hold on.</i><br />
<i>Just breathe and let go.'</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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,<br />
move on out into the world."<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<i><br /></i>
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<br />
I've been doing this a lot lately ... breathing. <br />
Just breathing.<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
<br />
But it's not just about the letting go, is it?<br />
It's about the letting it come, too.<br />
<br />
"let it all come, with no fear."<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
In the fuzz and fog of these questions-- and honestly, this fear-- I see him here.<br />
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,<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
"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... </div>
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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."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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.<br />
Because in the hurt I have become what I could not have been before that painful experience. As Brooke Waggoner sings... <i>I have to break inside, before I die to me. </i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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Whatever the breaking looks like -- we'll breathe slow together & we'll make it through.</div>
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<br /></div>
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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.</div>
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<br /></div>
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
And when the torn places seem to be outnumbering the healed & whole places...<br />
<br />
"We trust the one we call Abba as a child does, knowing that what seems unreasonable now will be seen to have reason later."<br />
<br />
&<br />
<br />
"We have to be braver than we think we can be, because God is constantly calling us to be more than we are..."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
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</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-22094937095262936482012-12-22T17:08:00.000-06:002012-12-22T17:08:48.598-06:00come in. <div style="text-align: center;">
why don't you think of God as the one who is coming,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
who has been approaching from all eternity ... ?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
-rainer-</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
"when a heart breaks ... does your heart break?"<br />
<br />
the words bounce from the hardwood floor I'm crumpled upon to my ears and down deep into my soul.<br />
<br />
"can you hear your people, Lord? does Your heart ... break?"<br />
<br />
I mouth these lyrics through my sobs, and stare at my open hands sitting heavy on my lap - my eyes catching on the band wrapped around my finger. <i>How did I get here? </i>I know the question will not be answered as it rises from my broken heart. In one moment of gut-wrenching emotion, I am able to feel completely lost and completely grateful. Don't ask me how. But I know he's here. I've made it this far.<br />
<br />
In my weeping, my body tenses every single tiny muscle, like my spirit is moving, yearning to escape and break free from whatever this is - this beast that is far greater than just emotions and anger and exhaustion.<br />
and right here, I am begging him to come in. Come into this hole that was burned into my sweet child self. Come into this frustration. Come into the offenses. Come into my broken heart.<br />
<br />
<i>Oh, won't you come in?</i><br />
<br />
I am searching for him in the abstractness of Christmas. This year has been different than previous years. I am more distracted, less attuned to the little whimsical things about the season. More heaviness that I'm brining to the manger scene. More hurt that I'm lifting alongside my carols and praise. More darkness and cold surrounding me. More unfamiliar things I am experiencing.<br />
<br />
It's here in all this more and hard and struggle that I am met by a precious, innocent child.<br />
And I am told that he, this baby, is God.<br />
God has come in to my world, and he's vulnerable. He, with his mind and hands and cries of a newborn - he has come to make me new, to show me truth, to heal me. This child.<br />
<br />
It's a beauty and miracle that my mind rejects, but my soul's rejoicing is too loud to linger on any specific doubt. It brings tears so unlike the ones I know ... tears of love and joy and thankfulness. Tears that emerge from a heart that is satisfied with not knowing everything - just the love of such a God who would plan something as complicated as this and yet as simple as this. To become like us. In order to overcome that which overwhelms us. To experience and remind us that he also felt. And feels. And he still knows.<br />
<br />
<br />
"... but he goes down to come up again and bring the ruined world up with him. One has the picture of a strong man stooping lower and lower to get himself underneath some great, complicated burden. He must stoop in order to lift; he must almost disappear under the load before he incredibly straightens his back and marches off with the whole mass swaying on his shoulders."<br />
[C.S. Lewis]<br />
<br />
<br />
On Thursday night, I watched a man perform O Come, O Come Emmanuel. As he slowly and perfectly sang the first verse, my hand gripped Kip's a little harder. I was swept into the great cry of humanity - into the great promise of deliverance and restoration.<br />
Ransom.<br />
Tattooed on my back and into my heart, this word encompasses Jesus for me.<br />
<br />
He came.<br />
He comes.<br />
And he will come for us.<br />
<br />
<br />
caught up in our everything of life, let's ask him to come in.<br />
let your soul finally feel its worth.<br />
hold this baby & let him give you comfort and joy.<br />
embrace the mystery of the one who has been approaching from all eternity.<br />
<br />
<i><br /></i>
he comes to set you free.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-17839427121074187272012-12-06T13:16:00.000-06:002012-12-06T13:16:01.893-06:00In Which I Re-post an Entire Entry by Sarah BesseyOk, another blog that I am totally and completely in-love with, thanks to a forwarding by my very soon to be mama-in-law. <a href="http://sarahbessey.com/in-which-i-commission-you-2/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+EmergingMummy+%28Sarah+Bessey%29">Sarah Bessey</a>, everyone. She's amazing. I hope you enjoy the following words from her heart - I cry every single time (in a good way).<br />
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Here, come and stand in front of me.</h2>
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Stand on your own two feet, let’s look each other right in the eye. It’s a beautiful day outside, warmer than it should be in October, and the trees are slowly staining scarlet, the gold is shaking down, and the early autumn sky is already far away from us. I picked a nice spot for us, the wind can take your breath, and your eyes are not satisfied with seeing, I know.</div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Stand now, head up, <a href="http://sarahbessey.com/in-which-you-are-loved-free/" style="border: 0px; color: #052985; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: initial; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">you are loved, remember? You are loved, and you are free</a>. No shame here.</span></div>
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Let me stretch my arms out wide, like an Old Testament prophet, my hands are worn and lined, I have mama-hands, and let’s do this properly.</div>
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I commission you.</h1>
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In the mighty and powerful name of Jesus, I commission you, for the work of the Gospel, as a minister of Jesus Christ, to live in your world as an ambassador of the Kingdom.</div>
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I commission you in the work of healing, and serving, and loving, and reconciliation. You are an emissary of justice, and your work from now on is to put things right, to call those things that are not as they will be.</div>
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I pray that the God of hope would fill you with peace that passes all understanding. I pray that you will be drawn into community, so rich, so deep, so diverse, that you will disagree and fight and remain in fellowship together anyway. I pray that you will bring casseroles, and prayer, and laughter, and tears, to one another. I pray that you would have your toes stepped on, your feelings hurt, and that you would forgive. I pray that you would be given the gift of realising you were wrong about some things. I pray that you would be quick to seek forgiveness when you are the transgressor. I pray for messy living rooms, for late nights, for dirty dishes littering your counters, and I pray for a faithful handful of friends and family to call when the darkness presses in close to you. I pray that you would be quick to show up at the right time for another person.</div>
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Come a little closer, I’m about to get all charismatic on you. Oh, yes, I want to lay my hands right on your head, let’s do this.</div>
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<strong style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I call you to joy, friend. </strong> I set you apart in your regular, walking-around life for the daily work of liberation and love, proclaim the Gospel with your hands and your feet and your voice to every soul in your care and influence. May your soul long for prayer and for the Scriptures, may you keep secrets, may you give away your money, may you share your meals, may you sit alone in silence outside under the sky and be satisfied, may you change the bedding in the middle of the night after yet another childish accident without anger, may you hold babies, and comfort the dying, and be the voice of knowledge tempered with grace and wisdom, and may you never forget how to sing and be silly. May you make room in your life to be inconvenienced and put-out, may you be Jesus with skin on for a few people. May you be fearless, and may you eat good food.</div>
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I pray that no matter your tool or method: mothering, preaching, cooking, writing, organising, washing, teaching, building, money-making, all of your whole life encompassing it all, that you will walk in knowledge of the sacredness and purpose of your calling. I pray for dreams and visions, for the active leading of the Holy Spirit, and I pray that you would never ever ever forget that Abba is very, very fond of you.</div>
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I pray for perseverance and for discipline, I pray for speech seasoned with salt and goodness. I pray that when you are bored, and you are tired, and you are discouraged, when you feel futile and small and ridiculous, I pray that you will never, never, never give up.</div>
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Your ministry, your work, begins now, and it began long ago, in your world. <strong style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Turn around, and face your life.</strong> Look it in the eye. This is it.</div>
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If you are surrounded by jelly-faced toddlers or thousands of longing hungry souls, or if you lift your head to find yourself in a hospital or a back alley or a church or an orphanage or your own suburban kitchen, if you are given a voice for dozens or only one other soul, you are a minister, feel it, say the words, roll them against your teeth: you have been commissioned for the work of the Gospel, in Christ Jesus, you have.</div>
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I send you out.</h1>
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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.</div>
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Blessed be His Kingdom, now and forevermore. Peace be with you, my friend, peace.</div>
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Keep your eyes open for the signs of God’s presence, he’s already at work in your world, revealing his ways to us all. You get to be a part of it, and me, too. We’re in this together, let’s do it together, <a href="http://sarahbessey.com/in-which-i-am-done-fighting-for-seat-at/" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; color: #052985; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: initial; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">we’re calling people outside to the bonfire</a>.</div>
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-Sarah Bessey-</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-64941675048947638712012-11-19T22:11:00.002-06:002012-11-19T22:11:37.290-06:00tell me a story<br />
<i>This God made us all in our diversity from one original person, allowing each culture to have its own time to develop, giving each its own place to live and thrive in its distinct ways.</i><br />
<i>His purpose in all this was that people of every culture and religion would search for this ultimate God - grope for him in the darkness, as it were - hoping to find Him.</i><br />
<i>Yet in truth, God is not far from any of us.</i><br />
<i>For you know the saying, "We live in God, we move in God; we exist in God."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>... when they heard ... some shook their heads and scoffed, but others were even more curious ... </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Acts 17:26-28</i><br />
<br />
<br />
I love these stories - these organic, dramatic, weird stories of old from this Great Storybook. These stories are not for children. Or maybe they are. Maybe its anti-exclusivity is what makes it the most beautiful. We like to change the story so it makes sense. We assume things. Or we ignore the mystery. It's always been hard for me to ignore. For whatever reason, I have not been a scoffer at hearing such things as divine creation, unfailing love, and redemption. Maybe it's the poet in me that appreciates such language - a poet's heart that somehow believes such nonsense in the face of our real life tragedies.<br />
<br />
This theme of "story" has been present in my life for a while. I have at least one thought every day of how can I be intentional about what's happening in and around and to me; how can I both embrace and create a great story, for there is one already happening, and there is also one yet to be told. Yet to be birthed and lived in and given a chance.<br />
Both of those stories are me. Both of those stories are you, too.<br />
<br />
I happened upon a most curious sight last weekend, strolling in the chilly wind with Micha and Kip. A few people were huddled under a bridge with this large canvas sort of thing. Curiosity (and the love of this city and its interesting people) got the best of us, and we ventured closer. We became part of a wonderful phenomenon called public art, where a brave and inspired artist provides a piece for <b>you</b> to create and bring their vision to life. Maddie is both brilliant and brave. We weaved our strips of burlappy fabric in and out to form, in the end, a lovely quilt. And we did our required part of participation:<br />
we told her a story, while she listened and recorded them.<br />
<br />
For me, the specifics of the stories were not as grand as the whole piece as we experienced it this past Friday. Sitting in a room (with exposed brick, I might add) while story after story after story was being told over the sound system was nothing short of awesome. The parts I did catch, between meeting and talking to our new friends, were simply amazing. Seeing this creation that hung over us in that room, a thing that had been manufactured by not just hands but by people with deep emotion and deep hearts, stilled me. And I couldn't stop smiling. Couldn't stop celebrating the greatness of it all. So much came together that night, that week. So much is still being formed and connected and woven. Creation. Hope. Purpose.<br />
<br />
Another fabulous fact about Maddie's quilt is that it's compostable, so those of us who participated can have some of the rich soil that will eventually come from this project. Recycling. Restoring. I have so many thoughts around this, as you can tell. The theme of story also has another part for me and that is "full circle"ness. Many of my desires to be connected to Minneapolis via its broken and beautiful people seem to finally be landing and resting here. Here being a specific place with specific people - people who long to be who they are, be creative, be friends with the different, and take part in healing, in genuine family, inhaling and exhaling, moving and having their being in Jesus.<br />
Like this art, there are times and seasons when all of these components of us, of our stories, seem to fit together like a jigsaw puzzle, and we cry or laugh or both, knowing that in a strikingly holy way our lives are much grander than we thought, and our God seems much smaller and closer and into the details than we've previously experienced - the intricate weaving of hands and hearts and stories. And he's also into the great and glorious big picture of everything - us working together towards wholeness and life and re-creation. His full-circle story.<br />
<br />
Today I feel as though I'm adding significantly to my story, and more fully accepting the truth that every moment is a choice to sail or stagnate.<br />
Today I feel like I have chosen in little, intentional ways to not just pass by but to stop and let curiosity woo me into mystery and thus deeper into my life. As Fred says...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"two stories then - our own story and Jesus' story, and in the end perhaps they are the same story. To cleave the truth of our own lives, to lift and look beneath our own stories, is to see glimmers at least of his life, of his life struggling to come alive in our lives, his story whispering like a song through the babble and drone of ours... our stories are the best parody of his story, and if as Paul says we are the fragrance of Christ, then it is like the fragrance of the sea from ten miles inland when the wind is in the right direction, or like the fragrance of a rose from the other side of the street, with all the world in between.<br />
yet they meet as well as diverge, our stories and his.<br />
that's what we have to tell finally.<br />
we have it in us to work miracles of love and healing as well as have them worked upon us... to bless with him and forgive with him, and once in a while maybe even to grieve with some measure of his grief at another's pain and to rejoice with some measure of his rejoicing at another's joy, almost as if it were our own...<br />
it is our business to bear witness to, and live out of and live toward and live by the true word of his holy story as it seeks to stammer itself forth through the holy stories of us all."<br />
<br />
-Frederick Buechner, A Room Called Remember<br />
<br />
<br />
let us live our stories<br />
and live them well.<br />
amen&amen.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-80580904996496017722012-11-01T10:49:00.004-05:002012-11-02T11:22:39.550-05:00<br />
<a href="http://www.anewliturgy.com/04.html">Click here</a> for something artistically brilliant.<br />
I love celebrating creativity! Hope this brings life to your heart as it has to mine.<br />
<br />
<br />
Spoken words: from G.K. Chesterton, <i>Orthodoxy</i><br />
<br />
<br />
"The thing I mean can be seen, for instance, in children, when they find some game that they specially enjoy. A child kicks his legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life. Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again!" and the grown up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony.<br />
<br />
But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony.<br />
<br />
It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again!" to the sun,<br />
and every evening, "Do it again!" to the moon.<br />
<br />
It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike.<br />
It may be that God makes every daisy separately but has never got tired of making them.<br />
<br />
It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy;<br />
<br />
for we have sinned and grown old,<br />
<br />
and our Father is younger than we."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-84811523377185241962012-10-11T16:40:00.002-05:002012-10-11T16:40:30.168-05:00donutsI have developed this pre-work morning routine.<br />
It usually includes getting off the bus and heading straight to my new favorite coffee shop- People's Organic- then taking the skyway over to my building.<br />
<br />
Remember skyway Jesus from a couple months ago?<br />
I haven't seen him since that post. I honestly started to believe he was an angel that showed up in Macy's just for me.<br />
<br />
And then today, I heard him singing with that familiar gospel sound, and my heart lightened from its load. I will now refer to him as Arthur, since that is his actual name. Arthur gave me a huge hug, recognizing me immediately. I told him I had missed him. He had not been feeling well, he told me, but he was good now. He was so anxious to come back to the city and do the Lord's work - spreading his joy, making people smile.<br />
I told Arthur I was on my way to get coffee, and I asked if he liked coffee. He said no, he's hyper enough as it is. So we agreed upon OJ and a donut, if I could find them where I was going. I was thrilled to find another soul who seemed to care for sugary breakfast items as much as myself. And even more thrilled that I could serve him as he served everyone walking through Macy's, beginning their work day.<br />
<br />
So away I went, and back I came, supplies in hand. I told him he was doing such good work here.<br />
As I walked away, he yelled my name and told me he loved me.<br />
<br />
There in that hallway, stretching over and above the road, a path to get from where I am to where I'm going, I was filled.<br />
I looked at others differently. I smiled at strangers with new enthusiasm. I felt loved in a new way - loved by a brother, loved by our Father. I felt unified with people on a deeper level. I felt courage that no matter what, no matter who, I could connect and feel it in my bones - feel this connection and unity with all. Feel the greater purpose found in all - the truth that He's everywhere, and we're a grand story.<br />
<br />
A friend like Arthur is not merely a compilation of words in my story - he is a sweet, sweet song; the break in the middle of a storm or a conflict or a commotion of feelings.<br />
He is the bridge that reminds me to breathe, to see, to know... that all is well and all will be well.<br />
<br />
Just smile,<br />
tell people you love them,<br />
and don't let anyone or anything steal your joy today.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"Yes the Lord... the Lord... he's been good to us..." </i></div>
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-20990330371802543482012-09-26T11:09:00.000-05:002012-09-26T15:17:21.322-05:00<br />
Friends,<br />
<br />
Gathered around our fire of love, we welcome you to come and listen...<br />
<br />
<br />
It almost gave out.<br />
And it's not the first time.<br />
<br />
<br />
Our love story has been one of closeness and distance, depth and shallowness; feelings of great love and feelings of complete, rip-my-heart-out-right-now despair.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Abba, we look to you as our hearts remember...</div>
<br />
remember earlier this week... that time when my face was blank and my heart was stone? The time that he wouldn't leave for fear that something had flown and we had lost...<br />
<br />
By this time, we've experienced each other enough that we can hold to the poet's truth: <i>no feeling is final, </i>even when we feel like we're dying. We can get up the next day and keep moving and eventually our hearts will find their way back again and our minds will regain healthy thinking and we'll once again be in-love. We'll once again choose to love.<br />
<br />
So here, around our warm love-flames, we want you to know that it's hard work. You might know this already, but I didn't have a clue. And honestly, no one knows until they feel it. Until they feel both the soaring glee of wantedness and the falling feeling of being forgotten.<br />
And it's somewhere in the middle of this soaring and falling and slamming down and shattering and picking up, that we find ourselves. And we find each other. And we find a community of others.<br />
<br />
I've watched Kip make fires many times, carefully placing the wood and the kindling, so specifically setting it up for a successful flame. The initial burst of heat and beauty is breathtaking, and doesn't seem to last long enough. With time, it settles. The wood breaks and falls away, and we must keep adding to it, keeping the flames bright and warm. But sometimes, either purposefully or not, the fire seems to falter and the coals grow dim. The flames are barely alive and look lifeless with their lack of strength. We grow cold in this stage... and sometimes the chilling lack of fire causes bitterness;<br />
sometimes it's like I'm frozen right where I'm sitting and I'm staring into it, like I know what I could do to save it, but my position is one of passivity. I choose to ignore it. I choose to stay cold. I wrap things around myself to hide, to somehow get warm again without the fire. And in these moments, I fear.<br />
<br />
And in these moments, I can either invite heavenly light or welcome a darkness that will surely overtake me.<br />
<br />
The Light is the work.<br />
The darkness is always there.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The flames of our love are purposed to draw others into their warmth, bringing them into our story - a love story built on authentic brokenness and healing woundedness. It's an ongoing story - one barely beginning with our initial meeting, and one that will continue on, always progressing, always challenging, always transforming.<br />
As we move deeper into our story, as time passes, we'll continue to stoke the dying embers. We'll watch in amazement as what we thought were just ashes rise up and set fire again. And we'll learn to take better care of it. Of us.<br />
As we grow, may we dream once again of a love so great, not mourning the lows, but standing back and watching the change and calling it <u>good.</u><br />
May we see His great love alive and active in our small campfire.<br />
May we add to it, letting it crackle and pop as it will.<br />
May we be so bold as to risk getting too close, able to see the dancing fire in each other's eyes.<br />
And may we move together, even closer, diving straight into the all-consuming, wonderful flames of Love, letting it burn away at our once frozen-solid hearts.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
& he set me on fire</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I am burning alive</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
with his breath in my lungs</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I am coming undone.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Love's taken over me</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and so I propose:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
letting myself go.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I am letting myself go. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You are my joy.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">-David Crowder-</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-53376072398954946532012-08-28T11:36:00.002-05:002012-08-28T11:36:34.090-05:00follow me, follow me down<br />
<br />
Will you take a few moments and<a href="http://www.the-lifeartist.com/2012/08/05/in-which-i-am-almost-all-the-way-burned-out/"> read this post</a>? Because she puts it beautifully. And because she's way more honest than I think I could ever be.<br />
[ at least for now ]<br />
<br />
----<br />
<br />
<br />
These are<i> my</i> words for life ::<br />
<br />
<br />
people & their eccentricities -<br />
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...<br />
<i>he's more free than I'll ever be</i>.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
feathered faith -<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
(<i>psalm17:8</i>)<br />
<br />
<br />
hiding and fighting -<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Just let it flow in and around and over and out of me.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Let go like a confession, see what you were born to find... </i><br />
<br />
( <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vsw1BPagj2c">Elenowen: Flying for the First Time</a> )<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
holding close -<br />
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.<br />
We are conditional, however.<br />
And we are limited in our love.<br />
And we are needy in our uniqueness.<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Oh, what our future holds...</i><br />
<br />
<i>Hope.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-12347953442597343502012-08-20T14:17:00.002-05:002012-08-20T14:17:53.785-05:00Skyway Jesus<br />
I saw Jesus again today, in the skyway by Macy's.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
then, I heard him singing.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
I bee-lined for him, outstretching my hand so that I might catch this infectious disease that made him sing so beautifully and triumphantly.<br />
<br />
He looked me in the eye, and he said I had a beautiful smile.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Good mornin' sister,</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>don't let anybody steal your joy today!</i></b></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Ok, I'll try.</b></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>No... you can do this.</i></b></div>
<br />
<br />
Words for my soul.<br />
I'm so very thankful he met me there.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-79493905935927837312012-08-18T11:28:00.000-05:002012-08-20T14:25:32.963-05:00he finds me<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
... when I'm hiding </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
behind all my disguises.<br />
<br />
& nothing is hidden from your sight<br />
wherever I go<br />
You find me.<br />
You don't miss a thing.<br />
<br />
You know me.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<i>Hmmmm.. this one... here... yes! Perfect. </i><br />
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.<br />
Watching them grow week by week has stirred these words in my heart and mind:<br />
<br />
<b>"I want to unfold. I don't want to stay folded anywhere, </b><br />
<b>because where I am folded, there I am a lie."</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
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. <i>Be me</i>. 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.<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
Another lovely moment was sitting in a room of awesome people for the launch of <a href="http://www.facebook.com/One2oneproject">an amazing initiative in our community</a>. 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 <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MmZexg8sxyk">Electric Feel</a>, 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: <a href="http://howtotalkevangelical.addiezierman.com/?p=879">The Mad Season</a>. Words to my feelings right there, folks.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
:: More inspiring and comforting words from my online bffs ::<br />
<br />
<br />
"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."<br />
<br />
<a href="http://momastery.com/blog/2012/08/14/one-bad-word-appearing-twice-sorry/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=one-bad-word-appearing-twice-sorry">Sister G</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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...<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
<br />
--<a href="http://www.shaunaniequist.com/">Shauna</a>, Cold Tangerines<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6087658520259352306.post-66261345051084218872012-08-08T12:56:00.001-05:002012-08-08T12:56:22.367-05:00& I'll be comin' your wayDear world,<br />
<br />
I am taken,<br />
and I have taken many courageous, mostly scared, very sacred, steps toward my taken-ness.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<i> Didn't I want this other person? What the hell am I doing?</i><br />
<br />
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 <i>we</i> hit it off, who knows what would happen if our friends & families met each other. :)<br />
<br />
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:<br />
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.<br />
<br />
So began a new journey.<br />
<br />
I was ruined after that. <i>"Where do I go now? What should I do here? Should he move here? I need to know him in real life!"</i> 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.<br />
<br />
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 <i>ever</i>. 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
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. :)<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
"And three years later, with dust in all the cracks of his sturdy, peasant feet,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He walked a long and rocky trail to the top of death hill.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Because that is where His chapel was and He was going to get married.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But His vows of love needed to be written in blood; red ribbons of split-wide sacrifice.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Cross-eyed and crossed-out and criss-crossed in pain, six ways damned til Sunday, he said,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
'I take you...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to have and to hold...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
from this day forward</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
in sickness and in health</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
in riches and in poverty</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
... as long as we both shall live,'</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
which is nothing short of eternity.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You, <i>together</i>, represent the image of Christ.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The image of Christ.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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--</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
an image of a marriage declaring an insurmountable love. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When we re-fastened ourselves one to the other it was with intention that we,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>together</b>,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
are a mirror of the risen Son on his wedding day."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
--<a href="http://www.the-lifeartist.com/2012/07/09/12-years-and-why-are-we-married-again/">Erika</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
amen.<br />
<br />
I love you, Christopher Alan Jones.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15708124525229719472noreply@blogger.com1