Wrestling with the Easter Bunny

Romans 8:39 "neither heights, nor depths, nor anything in all creation can separate use from the Love of God found in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Easter is the time of year where little girls get dressed in frilly, colored dresses. We buy boys miniature grey suits and baby blue bow-ties and we call this "our Sunday best." We fill up baskets with "grass" the color of the rainbow and send our children off too look for eggs supposedly hidden by a gigantic rabbit that we took pictures with at the mall last week.

At the core it has remained a family holiday, even if we throw out the death and resurrection, lent which precedes both, and even before that, Passover. And it seems, like Christmas, we've forgotten the true meaning. Yet, recently I feel like I'm more able to relate to the fuzzy bunny holiday than the celebration of my salvation.

It's easy to feel far from God.

Anyone that lives in this busy world knows the struggle of trying to make-ends-meet and still follow God whole heartedly. There's that ever present tension, where we're striving to stop to say our morning prayers, yet still win the race of making it to work on time.

This goes out to all the 20-somethings struggling to figure out what it means to live in "the real world," every-one who works the glorious human services schedules, and all those who struggle to hear God's voice.

I took my job, praying Lord use me. Knowing that even if I missed church, there is something to be said of "caring for the least of these," and "walking alongside orphans." So I prayed "Lord use me. Teach me to pray in the moment, not just when I carve it out in my schedule. Teach me to feel your presence, even when time slips through my fingers to bask in it. Be my guide." I'm still praying.

It's hard working a One-Sunday-off-a-month schedule. It's hard to know where you sit with God when you don't have a preacher reminding you every week. It's hard to pray and remind yourself where you sit with God when most days you're surrounded by situations that challenge his existence.

However, through these time of loneliness, struggle, and testing our faith is made stronger. In times when I am discouraged I've been learning to cling to this verse:

"neither heights nor depths, nor anything that is in all creation will separate us from the love of God found in Christ Jesus our Lord" Romans 8:39.

And as Linus to Charlie Brown: That is the real meaning of Easter.

When my life feels like a circus of juggling a job against my spiritual life. When I'm really not sure where I stand in this great scheme of life. When Easter has become simply a rabbits feet and candy. That's when I remember that I am loved.

Despite the challenges. Despite the struggle, I am loved more than I can ever imagine. And when I remember how much I am loved in the midst of chaos, that is when my faith is made stronger, because God reaches down to remind me he is still there.

Happy Easter Season. It's coming just next week. Remember, no matter your situation. No matter how you feel, you are loved. And that is the true meaning of Easter.

Within Limits

I have my limits. I am a woman. I'm white. I'm twenty-something. I have anxiety...just to name a few. And I struggle. I feel like I'm consistently on the struggle bus of striving to be strong enough, yet feminine enough, culturally-sensitive-and-non-offensive-enough, competent enough, and all the while striving to ensure that it doesn't seem like my struggles confine me. Praying that maybe someday it would seem that i am limitless and have transcended the struggle. The struggle is real.

I found this TED Talk yesterday, and decided I needed to share my thoughts on it. I know, shocker, because I never blog anymore. However, I new i needed to reflect on this, and decided maybe my thoughts might encourage someone else in knowing I'm their seat-buddy on the struggle bus. I wasn't sure what exactly my thoughts on it were at first. However, after a day of reflecting, embracing, letting-go, grasping, and repeatedly struggling with my limitations I came to my end. I am challenged to change.

I feel like this is the reflective challenge I make in every single one of my posts. Maybe that's why I've stopped writing for so long. However, though I feel challenged to change. Not new. Futhermore, I'm feeling challenged to change my perspective. Also, not new. However, maybe where I've gone wrong before is in what I perceive to be the goal. I feel like in my daily walk of perfectionistic tendencies, I'm always striving to be better. Be more. Develop. Grow. I don't want to stay the same, making the same mistakes. So I push my self to eat a little healthier, move a little more, fine-tune my resume. And I get caught in the balance of thriving and failing where I strive. If it's not in the physical sense, it's in the mental sense where I find myself striving to change my perspective. Take every thought captive. See the joy. Be thankful. And as my flaws get in the way I stumble and find myself back on the struggle bus.

This is where I found myself as I watched this video. The thought slowly began to creep in my head: what if I'm ok? What if my limits (these things that feel like prison walls I'm consistently trying to escape) are actually my road to freedom?

I pause.
Reflect.

In the words of Elizabeth Gilbert: "Ruin is the road to restoration."

I breathe.
Sigh.
I'm OK.

My circumstances do not define me nearly as much as what I do with them. Like an artist viewing a canvas as an end, so I have been making my limits a handicap. Yet an artist is not bound by a border, instead he lets his creativity flow with what he has. He does not look at the tools he has been given and sigh in frustration. Instead he looks in wonder at the possibilities and gets to work at extracting beauty from the ashes. So I refrain. Looking at the seemingly ashes of my own life, I lay down my confines and embrace the possibilities.

I am a woman. I am often emotional. I cry often. I struggle between the balance of trying to be strong, yet being feminine. I struggle, because I walk along side little girls who have had the unfathomable thrust upon them, because they are little girls.

I am white and though I am the majority at large, on many personal occasions I am the minority. Being from the country, having limited Spanish. I AM country. I know absolutely nothing about being a inner-city black kid from East St. Paul. And when I hang out with my Latino friends I have absolutely NO idea what is going on.

I am a twenty-something with anxiety. I, again, get emotional. I struggle to appear competent, yet not appear to think I know everything. Afraid I said to much or said to little. Full of life decisions. I'm told to relax and enjoy the moment, but the real world is a big place with insurance, taxes, and bills. Overwhelmed? Yes.

I know my limits, and at time they seem overwhelming. An most of the time I am working to overcome. I want to transcend, but maybe the secret to freedom is not in escaping, but embracing. As I let go of my expectations for what I should be, and begin to hold loosely the limits given to me, I find them grow and expand until I see them more clearly. Holding in both hands and owning what I have been given, I see that my tools cannot change, but with them I can create.

 I can create beauty and a home. I can share my opinions and thoughts, and though it may not always be with my voice and words, I can hold my head up high and I can live. A life that is not defeated by the storms, but instead is made stronger. I can be a shelter to others, a rock for others as the Lord is my rock. And I can love despite the struggle, in the midst of adversity, it the midst of darkness I can show love to the least of these. I may not always understand, and may not speak into a situation, but hugs are not given with words. The present of presence is sometimes the greatest gift of all. So I will be present with everything I have.

Limits do not define us. What defines us is what we make of them, so I plan to make the most of them. 

Grace and thanks

When was the last time I counted my blessings? Earlier this year I was reading a book all about this subject and how gratitude has the power to bring healing to our lives. With in just a few short months I seem to have forgotten every lesson learned. Though still in my head, it has taken a toll trying to transcend into my heart. It's a discipline, to write, to think: What are the blessings on my door step? I forget that only I have the power to see the good in my life. But not  just to look at my life, but to see the good in others. One step at a time. Counting my blessings. I've been struggling to do this. But I'm going to make a point. Before every meal, to stop, breathe, center myself and say thanks. When I was little we said "grace" before meals. But isn't that what gratitude is, saying the graces that are brought into our lives? When we see the light, the world doesn't seem so dark. I'm choosing thankfulness. 

expectations

We all have that in our heads. The ideal. Those thoughts that say "it should be..." or "could be..." It's the pre writing of our own story we play in our heads. Our thoughts before life events,  we're so often unaware of the record playing over and over in the soundtrack of our minds.
Then suddenly reality collides with our picture perfect expectations and suddenly,  often surprisingly,  we are met with disappointment. After all, how can the real world ever compare with reality, like Britain and Narnia for the Pevensie children.
The world is not magic, there is disappointment, chaos, and confusion.
However God is still good.
When expectation meets reality, we are given the choice to either embrace disappointment or letting go. Let go of the expectations.  Our ideas of perfection and let the Lord reveal the perfection he is working.
To see the beauty in the world is an art.
To see the joy is to embrace a gift.
To name it is to offer Thankfulness for what has been offered.
So many times in the Bible the Lord is declared and shown to be above the chaos of our lives. Life is chaotic. It often does not make sense. We can't deny that. However our Lord is order amongst the disorder. He makes sense amongst our storm.
 Be still and know that I am God. -Psalm 46:10

August Thankfulness challenge

I've mentioned earlier this year reading the book 1000 gifts. And since then started keeping a Thankfulness journey. Being plagued with anxiety since I was a little girl, I've been seeking breakthrough this year.

Eucharist deo...The theme of this book.

Thankfulness always proceeds the miracle.

I'm choosing to try my hand at the discipline, instead of seeking the healing, seeking Jesus. Praising him for the gifts he give. Worship exalting all he has shown himself to be in my life.
I seek to be come disciplined in this area, and though am not pwrfect, many days forgetting my journal, still in process of disciplining my mind to acknowledge the Lord's blessings.

Today, while scrolling through my Facebook news feed I discovered that there is a special Thankfulness Challenge through the month of August. So in disciplining myself, I'm choosing to participate and inviting everyone else to join in.

Tumetoka Mbali

A few years ago I was attending a church with a large Kenyan community. And while i was there I learned the phrase "Tumetoka Mbali."

I was told the best translation of this phrase from Swahili is "look how far we've come."
 It's a phrase representing the process of reflection in which we compare the past with the present and find ourselves saying "wow! I'm no longer there."
And thus is the season I feel I'm finding myself in.  a season of Tumetoka Mbali.

Over the past year a lot in my life has changed. From one transition to another, I have been soaring, and since my graduation from high school I must admit that's a consistent trend. I feel like there's a constant force, stretching,  growing, changing me. And I must admit, those points of transition are hard. They're stressful. Anxiety provoking. However, it's the journey that has brought me to where I am today.

I was chatting with a mentor friend today. A woman that has played major roles in this process of several pinnacles over the past few years. We sat, enjoyed each other's company and talked about all the memories. All the good things, the hard things, the dumb things, and the things that left us dumbstruck. As there was a sigh in the conversation only one thing came to mind.

Tumetoka Mbali

Look how far we've come.

Isn't that the beauty of life.  I was again listening to these awesome 3dm devotionals and a point made was: I am not just saved. But I was saved. I'm being saved. And I will be saved.

I grasped onto the hope of salvation. I had that initial moment of realizing grace given, the life preserver thrown into the ocean and I latched on.

But it didn't stop there. Everyday I am called to continually recognize the grace extended. God doesn't want to just take me from one great conversion moment to the next. He wants to take me on a journey where I am continually experiencing and grasping new aspects of this love. He wants me to relish in new graces daily until finally I am perfected in the knowledge of that beautiful amazing grace.

And it's at points and seasons like this where he calls me into Selah. He brings me into a pause. Moment of quiet reflection.

Tumetoka Mbali.

Look how far we've come.

Papa, I thank you. I thank you that you have me on this journey. I thank you that you steady me, pressing me onward up this jagged cleft called life. One shaking, fearful step at a time you lead me and give me peace. I thank you that you bring me to resting points where I may pause in amazement of the thus far. I thank you that someday I will stand on the top of this cliff and be amazed at the view, taking in the vast colors of the sunset painting the valley in your glory. SELAH. 

Grace for Self and Others

I was sitting on the beach the other day, spending some time with Papa. After a busy weekend of friends, time off (which generally means a slew of social interactions and no alone time), art fest, church, etc. etc. ironically I had had no time with the Lord (just me and the Lord that is). So desiring desperately to work on my tan before my brother's wedding, I hit the beach. 

I found a spot between two other ladies, they said it was empty. I laid out my colorful blanket I got in India last year, and simply laid there. The sun laying soft kisses upon my skin as the sand cradled my body. I was wrapped in the essence of bliss as I finally...relaxed. The pressure of perfection finally easing as I...released...every...care....breathing. I wrote earlier this week about how bad I've become about this simple practice, and in this moment realized that I had slipped back into my regular patterns of inability for respiration. Stress and anxiety steadily choking out my ability to breathe, now I was uncoiling the nerves from around my neck to simply be. 

From the waters edge I overheard the conversation between a child and his mother, regarding his brother, Summit: 

Kiddo: Summit! Summit don't play with the oil. 

(I don't think there was actually any oil in the water, but this kid was convinced there was something funky going on there.)

Kiddo: Summit! Stop! Stop that!

Mom: Hey, don't worry about him.

Kiddo: Ok...but I don't want him to catch disease. 

Kids are continuously my greatest gift from Papa to give me perspective on my place in life. They remind me how God views me, as a child: innocent, naive, and sometimes just dumb. It reminds me that even on my worst days, I am loved. When every move I make is a mistake, even in the times I think I am doing good, I may be disciplined, because he disciplines those he loves, but in the end.... I am still loved. Papa simply shakes his head, probably laughs at my toddling, and helps me get back up. I'm his child, that means I'm still learning how to do this holiness thing. I'm still learning what it means to show his love. And I fail...even in my best attempts I am going to fail. Yet even in my failures I'm often like that kid on the beach, worrying about everyone else. Saying "hey, stop that, don't play with the oil" (what oil!) "I don't want you to catch disease." And because I'm human and am going to continue to grow, I'm going to continue to make these mistakes. It almost seems a little hopeless. This idea of perfection that we're supposed to be being shaped into, but will never be able to obtain. 

However, slowly, I think I'm learning that that's the point. The fact that I am continually making these blunders just brings me back to the realization that I am so completely and totally dependent on Christ. I need grace. So maybe then the point of this life is not to obtain the so-called perfection that I am being shaped into, but rather learning how to pass out grace, of the lack of perfection in this life. Recognizing that I fail and having grace with myself, receiving grace from God. That spreads that I may have grace with others. Knowing we're all trying, we're all failing, and there's grace for us all. That removes the stamp of stress and anxiety. It restores freedom to try, try, and makes it ok to fail. Makes it ok to try things and not succeed, because it's expected. In all risk there is an expected loss as a possibility. However, if we never try we never know. Grace gives us the freedom to take risks, because even if we fail, it's ok,  and we can pick ourselves up and try again. What is a full life with out the lessons learned from our unknowing? 

Letting go of all my striving for perfectionism....ever so slowly embracing the ability to try.....to make mistakes....to be hurt....to get back up....try again....Freedom. 

Stewarding Friendship

This week my phone died. Yes, my cellular device, a constant addiction. Distraction. My source of connection to the world killed. 5 times in 2 days. Memory erased, contacts destroyed. I would have all my friends send me their numbers just to have them lost again. I couldn't be happier.

I lost numbers, facebook, instagram, snap chat, all my photos. The only thing left is my ability to call/textfriends. E-mail, and my calendar. And yet, I feel this is the best thing that could happen to me.

With so much connection, I find myself overwhelmed. Always checking the latest message. In a group of physical people never present. This didn't just happen, it came on slowly, but now I'm addicted and circumstance has caused me to give up cold turkey, and I don't think I'll go back.

The first day of cell phone crash, I was talking with my friend who shared that social media can cause depression and suicidal ideation. Because we're constantly checking it to see if anyone messaged us and no one usually has, then it's like being in a group of people that are ignoring us (mind you this is from a friend, I haven't checked the validity). However, on top of that, I have noticed in myself the constant draw to be online, be with people, even though I could be with the people I'm with. It's an escape from society...and I use it to bandage my social anxiety. However, could it be that my vice, instead of helping me escape from one awkward social experience is just plunging me into another....?

Even on days when I am constantly recieving messages. Facebook, text from mom, instagram, snapchat, text from friend, answer all, e-mail check. Repeat. How often do I find myself so overwhelmed with the notifications demands of a devise that my heard begins to palpitate at exhilerating speeds and I must admit I'm anxious beyond belief. I can't compete to meet the demands.

Not to mention the numbers of numbers I don't ever even use. Who is that friend on facebook? I must know them from somewhere. That one time. Must have been a great time, but who are you? Same with my phone. Who is Jessica P? I know we were friends...right?

Is it really healthy to be hanging on to all these relationships? Trying to make them work. Fighting my way through? For me? I don't think so. Though facebook is a wonderful too. I use it to send my sister cute pictures and let my mom see my life in the cities. I can even coordinate group events with a single message. But do I need it all the time? I don't think so, so Adios.
And Rachel, I love your cat, but I've decided I shouldn't be escaping uncomfortable social situations by perusing all of the videos on snap chat. Finally instagram....I really don't think I need 10000 pictures of peoples food on my phone. So I'm letting go.

As for my contacts. I've been praying. Papa, in this season who are you wanting me to connect with, pour into. Who are my people. I think he's answering.The numbers I have and will have are meant to be for now. The ones I lost, I guess the season is over for now. Time to start pouring in where I am to the people I'm with. No more distractions. 

blessings and curses

There's a chinese legend of a young againn ose horse ran away. Upon the news all of his neighbors sent condolences for his misfortune. However, his father warned him, "do not be downcast, for how are you to be sure that this is a curse?"
Within the month the mare returned, bringing with it a beautiful wild stallion. Upon hearing the news, all of the man's neighbors congradulated him. However the man's father warned, "do not be so quick to celebrate.  How do you not know this is really a curse?"
Upon approaching the stallion, the animal became wild, kicking and flailing to the point that he kicked the young man, sending him flying across the field, causjng unrepairable damage, and leaving the man crippled.
Again, upon hearing the misfortune, the man's neighbors sent their condolences.  However, once again the man' father warned, "do not be so quick to view this as a curse. For all you know this is a blessing."
Within the year war broke out in the country, requiring every able-bodied man to fight in combat. The numbers of slain was inconceivable.  However, because neither the man nor his father were able to fight, they were the only men in their village to survive the war to take car of each other and the the other survivors in the village.
Moral of the story: perspective is everything.
Today I was supposed to go to Canada. I spent 2 months saving for this trip and today we received a blizzard.  I am no longer venturing to Canada.
Because I am not in Canada I was able to eat breakfast with my housemates, spend some qualuty time and conversation with not just one, but two beautiful friends. I went for coffee with my brother. Spent some time in meditation. I was free to cover a shift for a coworker/friend who broke her foot. Finally, I get to go dancing. Not such a bad day after all. I guess it really is all about perspective. 

choices

We all have choices. 

These words of timely advice sit in my head as I wait in limbo. 

You always have a choice, and the embracing of this reality is the first step in power, empowerment for yourself and power to truly change the world.

values, beliefs, thoughts, behaviors.  

All start with a choice. 

And there I sat with a choice. 

Disregard my reason for existence or shine in the darkness as light. 

And I chose. 

I chose life. 

For how can I deny my source yet still remain living. If a branch seeks to destroy the tree does it not realize it will destroy itself.  

So I a branch submitted to the entity that is greater than I. Embracing the life, abundant life, I have been given. 

Choices.  I had one. I made it. And I chose life.

listen

 In the quiet. A still, small voice whispering my name. The tenderness of a lover. Truly the gentleness only one so enamored could hold. It's the draw of intimacy.  Something so craved by the world, yet so few beings come to find. Though some may encounter a vague shadow none may experience its purest form unless they have come in contact with the Divine.
The Divine: omniscient, all powerful, creator.
One may only be fully known when known by that which is its source.
I am fully known, for my heart has been enthralled by one greater than I. He has captivated my very being.  I am not my own.  I belong to the one who knit me together in my mother's womb. In His way I will delight
,being brought into perfection as I find myself perfected in Him.
To find intimacy is to have your name whispered so no one else can hear,but you hear and secrets are made known to yourheart.
I have intimacy with divinity.  I am known. 

Ecclesiastes: Injustice and the Gospel

I was talking with a friend this morning about Ecclesiastes. Her church has been studying, and ironically so have I. The first few chapters are all about injustice and evil in the world. About sin, and how no matter what we do, that will never change. No matter how good we are. No matter how we best try to live our lives. There will always be evil. Then we die. That's our lives.
However, the blessed hope is that we do die someday. Only then are we released from all the injustice in the world, both inflicted on us and that which we inflict. Until then, we are saved only by having a savior willing to sit with us through the storm.
I've been struggling lately. I see so many areas in my life where I don't measure up. Where I've never measured up. And the truth of the matter is that there always will be those areas. However, there is someone who's working that out with me. It doesn't give me an excuse to keep going about in the wrong, but it empowers me to pick myself up, dust myself off, and keep going. 

Significance

Significance. n. The quality of being worthy of  attention....

Papa, may I see my significance in you. 

In the prescence

Stillness. Sudden break
of noise to restore healing
and inner peace. Life

--Today I was challenged to sit and be made well.
It's hard for me to sit. Be alone. Anyone that has followed my journey knows this.
Even when I am still. By myself my mind was racing. However today i was deliberate.
Today I chose to simply be. I entered into the stillness of my mind. Today I found peace. 

Identity piece

When I was younger I heard a man say "If you paint a picture thinking 'what will this look like in the gallery'" you're missing the point." And for some reason beyond my understanding that resonated with me, because there was some creative force inside that could not be silent, needed to be expressed, and that expression was who I was. I knew that I was an artist. As i grew by skills and abilities were strengthened and this gift was affirmed, until it was no longer just a gift. Just a skill. It was me. The very essence of the drawing was not simply a reflection, but a revelation so deep that it carried my very soul. I was my work and my work was me. There was no separation and it was within that that I found all purpose. All meaning in life. It was my identity.
And still, I grew. In wisdom, in ability, in praise I was received for who I perceived I was. I couldn't imagine doing anything different. Could see myself walking in a different life or light, This was my lime light, my stage. The place where I shined like the stars and it was that which I was called. In all my glory I displayed who I was for all to see and they loved me. Then the curtain call. As the critiques drew their pens and made slashes to the page, my soul became the target of the endless ridicule game, and all I was expected to say was "ouch?"
So small reaction for the tearing of one's soul. As one stabbing my chest, to rip out my heart. Hold it in their hands as it is still beating....beating....and they throw it on the ground to make their point.
I am worthless.
What is that precious piece of work you called art? My soul...my life...my everything....Displayed for the world to see just to be destroyed.
Yet here I am....Still alive....barely breathing as all that I ever thought I was has been put to death and now waiting to be revived. Oh death where is your sting? Wouldn't it be sweeter if you would just come to me. Draw your sword and put to death the rest of my being, because what I thought I was is gone and here I am still standing.
So I stand, In shock and awe, trying to grasp the concept that there is so much more to me than I ever thought. I am more.
My gifts. My calling ripped away. I'm still here.
Surprise.
I am strong. I am a woman. I am in process. And sometimes. yes, sometimes I am weak, but that will not make me defeated. I am a warrior. I am a fighter. But more than anything, I am a child, called out. chosen. adopted. Those are things that can never be defined through a calling or a skill-set. Likewise, never taken away by the proclamation of whoever thinks they're in authority at the time. And if I were to paint a picture of who I am it would display the glory of my Father who rescued me from the pit. I am alive. No one can change that. That man who said that thing about a picture hanging in a gallery. He was right,  because I am so much more than a exhibit to be on display to entertain. I am an expression of divine love, and my art is an expression of me. I am an artist, and in that I reflect all the Father has made me, his beautiful child, creating in his image as he made me. 

When life gives you lemons, make a face scrub

So I've been doing some reading on things good for your face and skin, and lemons are one of the things I found are beneficial! So today I made a lemon-sugar face scrub and WOW! Softest my face has been since birth. What did I do?

1Tbsp Sugar
1 Slice Lemon
Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. 

Seriously, try it.

And for a little fun, here are 10 fun facts I found on the World Wide Web about the benefits of lemons for your skin:

1. Heal Acne and remove black heads
2. Lighten dark spots and blemishes
3. Help prevent oily skin
4. Soothe chapped lips
5. Natural skin cleanser
6. Helps remove scars
7. Exfoliates
8. Moisturizes
9. Fights Wrinkles
10. Helps fight skin cancer

Living in the Presence

Sometimes I just sit and ask myself, "What am I doing with my life." I feeling like I'm just on this earth, chilling. Nothing special. For the first time in my life, I don't have a direction. I don't have a focus. I have no dream or vision!

There. I said it, and maybe now that it is out in the open it will become a little more okay. However, with this directionless, I find myself floundering. Desiring purpose. I crave it, and find myself tempted to chase after every passing thing. Desiring more. To have more. Do more. Be More. My lack of zest has lead to lack of zeal and this lack of zeal leads to insecurity...fear....anxiety...loss of identity.

Seeking identity. Realizing I have been stripped down, bare bone and soul, I realize that so many things I have found purpose in. So many things I have made my essence. My being. but in the end what were they? All passing...a chasing after the wind....And I'm shaken to the foundation. Clinging, I loose sight of who i am, and whose I am. Comparing, I grow anxious and back away, hiding from relationship...I talk my self down, not wanting to appear full of pride...desiring significance i gossip and use sarcasm. Classic. Pushing people down in order to make myself feel better about myself. Like a child.

What makes a woman? Where is that security found? In the quiet confidence that results in the ability to enter in to relationship. Walk in the knowledge off who I am and what I have to offer. To be strong enough to encourage and embrace, needing to hold nothing back. Where does this come from?

I see it. It's what I want. And when I stop and listen I know the beginning. It's in the living. In the consistent knowledge of knowing I'm never alone. To live in the presence of the almighty. Seeking him first so that I may recognize his beauty in all. To see myself as he sees me, that I may look at others through his lens as well. To know I belong, because I've been giving a room in my Father's mansion. To walk humbly in my giftings, and exercise in my calling, because it is what I was made to do. To have the conviction of my identity as a daughter of the king that I may raise us those, especially those that have nothing to give in return.

So often I run around my day, hearing, but not listening. aware, but not acknowledging the presence of the living God that abides with me. However, if I miss the source of all things, how can i bear fruit for his glory. I keep on praying for purpose. for vision. maybe this is it, to simply decide to live each day for him, living in the mindfulness of his presence, that I may know my identity in him, and bear the fruit of his power.


Create in me a clean heart oh God, and renew a right spirit in me,
change me and make me new. may I be like you.
May the words of my mouth and meditation of my heart be pleasing to you Oh Lord my God
that I may dwell in your house forever. Amen. 

Naked and Afraid

Today I started a little bit of a journey. During November there is the classic celebration of beards, "No Shave November." It's the embracing of total manhood by the means of growing facial hair. It's the pride and joy of a man to have a furry face. But what about for the ladies? I mean, call me a feminist, but I think it's a little lame that us women can't have a celebration and liberation. I mean, I guess I could go the whole month without shaving my legs...but let's be real, I like furry knees as much as the man who's thinking about taking me out for coffee.

So for, me, I'm taking it back to my face with less focused on what I'm putting on, and more on what I'm taking off. "No make-up November"! In resonance with the Season of the Tree, I am going to embrace my natural beauty. Refusing to hide those circles under my eyes, or the lips I wish were fuller. I am who I am. A treasure.

However, beauty is more than skin deep, and so is a season of embracing every part of me. Exposing my many layers, as the tree looses its leaves, it's glory and lies bare before the elements. So I dare to let my entire being find freedom.

I am learning I am more than what I do. I am who I am. I am a being. Letting my walls fall down, the face fall off. The charade comes to an end as the lipstick fades and eyeliner rubs off. I see the sleep deprived eye lids and a half-beating heart. I see that I am everything and nothing all at once. I'm discovering what I am and what I'm not. Peeling back the layers, I discover intimacy with myself, and force myself to be content with what I am now, and look forward to the willing embrace I hope to find. 

Tending my garden.

I was flipping through some photos today and it dawned on me, wow my whole life I've really been blessed with friendship in every season. I also realized a sad truth, in that season I rarely have recognized it. So consumed by feelings of worthlessness and shame, rarely have I looked out to see the blessings that await me. People who truly care if I would let them in. So this is my season. This is the journey I'm on. Discovering Home. Discovering I belong, and I always have. I'm working on embracing it, the good. The bad. The messy. The uncomfortable. All of it is apart of me, and all of it belongs. I'm learning to be embraced. I think that's the hardest of all. If it's just me and my mess, I can figure out how to deal with that. stifle it, hate myself, close myself off from people. But to be embraced despite of it...? that's unthinkable. And maybe that's why I need to learn it.

I don't know when the lie started forming, but I know it's been there for a while. Seeded in the crevices of my mind and taking root, an unquenchable weed daring to choke the life out of the flower that dared to blossom. I don't know where it started, but it's been there since ever I could remember. "Your hateful." the rancid venom stings my soul.
"Unwanted"
"Unloveable"
"A reject."
And i digress, spiraling away into retreat. Holding people close, but only at arms length. Superficial living. Never truly believing that i could be...loved. I sheet of glass between me and the ones that maybe, possibly I could find love. But love is just a figment of the imagination which means possibility is really impossibility in the end. So I've been stuck in this rut. A mental mind trap, mulling over lies probability. However, the longer meditate, the more relativity shifts to reality and I have found that I've been living in this state where I not only hear
"Reject."
"Unloveable."
"Unwanted"
I believe it.
I am it.
I am hateful.
So undeserving of affection or a truly open, honest conversation that does not require the sacrifice of who I really am to appease to the likes of someone else's preference. Instead, a masking of the real me becomes the norm until I don't know how to do much more than fake it with the ones I call my friends.
However, my mantra's "fake it till you make it." So maybe if I just pretend to be pretty enough, good enough, smart enough, happy enough, maybe just maybe I will obtain the goal and I'll no longer have to pretend. Again, the impossibility of possibility becoming reality, but I can dream.
Still, I'm no fool and I know a dream is only reality until you wake up and that's when I find that I'm still me.
The way I always have been. Always will be. And I continue holding all the spectators at arms length, longing to embrace as long as they stand ten feet away to avoid catching a glimpse at all my imperfection. But I wonder what could be if I let the walls fall down around me. To break the glass I believed was a boundary, but really only turned out to be a cage. And I see, possibly, quite probably, honesty is the best policy, to let made known the truth of who I am, unashamed. To up root the weed inside my head that screams:
hateful,
unwanted,
unloved,
reject,
and replace it with the seeds that blossom life.
You're accepted,
you are wanted.
you are loveable.
you are home.
Tending the garden
of my heart, lies uprooted,
a flower bed blooms.

Restoration

Overwhelmed is a word and world I am becoming faintly familiar with. Chaos has been creeping into the cracks of my life and leaves me screaming, "Slow Down!" Consistently confused, and I regret to admit, slightly depressed, I find it a struggle to sift through the layers of what is going on in my life. A lot of it has to do with transition out of college, into real life, having 2 jobs, shifting communities, and some other things far to personal to share on a blog. I find my self distracted. Loosing sight and focus of where I am and whom I'm called to, I find it quite easy to slip into frequent melt downs. Now to top it all off, I'm sick. What a week!

Seeking the Lord, I felt lead to read Ezra this morning. The story of the temple being rebuilt. It begins, "This goes to fulfill the words spoken by the prophet Jeremiah." So I turned to Jeremiah and began reading about struggle. Israel and Judah's struggle of whoredom, turning away from the Lord who loved them to worship the works of their own hands. They began to serve the gods of foreigners, so the Lord delivered them into exile to serve foreigners. The Lord lays out a list of destruction for the ways that he is going to lead Israel to ruin, but in chapter 5 there is a breath of hope. The Lord says "But I will not make a full end of you." This is a promise that the Lord will restore. The Lord then continues into a list of ways that he will restore Israel. And I realize that is the beauty of the Gospel. The Lord restores. He always tears down so that he can rebuild.

Right now, between being sick, a little depressed, and fairly overwhelmed, I am in ruin. As the temple, I have been brought down. So the Lord says, but I will restore. That is redemption. There is Hope!

Now is the time for transformation. To seek the Lord, to remember what he has called me to. He's called me to dwell in this season. To find myself at home with him. He has called me to belonging, to belong to him. But not to let those stop with me, but let it overflow that others may find a home and belonging through interacting with me. Anything I do outside of this is a little bit of rebellion in my own heart, striving to fulfill my need to do more. Be more, when the Lord has just called me to be and he will be the more.

I'm in process. Not all the way there yet, but I will be. I'm coming. The Lord is restoring me. The Gospel is that Christ came, as flesh, to put to death flesh so that we could rise to full life. I'm being brought into full life.

Question of the Day: How is the Lord transforming you.