Like A Tree

I think that anyone that I stay connected with, or probably mostly just follows my blog to see what's going on in my life probably notices that I end up on this page a lot. It seems to be at least once a year (sometimes multiple times a year) I end up meditating on the tree. And I notice this in myself. It used to bug me. I used to feel ashamed and insecure, until one day I heard a sermon at North Central (and I'm ashamed to admit that her name escapes me and I went to track down her name, but she no longer works at NCU) and the sermon was all about how often the Lord takes us to the same place over and over again. As we enter new stages in life we often have to venture through the same lessons, because we have to learn them in a new way.
T.S. Elliot once wrote "We must not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we began and to know it for the first time." Life is cyclical, continuing to rebirth us from on state of understanding, wisdom, and knowledge into the next. We are continually be called into the adventure of the unknown and yet being rebirthed into the same lessons we once learned, just learning them in a new way. I think that's what Paul meant when he said,
"And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit." (2 Corinthians 3:18, ESV). With each veil that is removed from our eyes, we discover a new depth and greatness to the Lord, and learn how to trust him in new ways. But the way we learn in each phase of glory tends to bring us to the same lessons. It may present itself differently, but the core is the same and used to strengthen us.
So what does this have to do with trees? Well, I was watching "Bones" on Netflix the other day (actually I watch this show a lot. Sometimes you just need a break during nap time). And they find this dead guy that has been wrapped inside the roots of this tree. Anyway, they go to cut down the tree to determine cause of death. And why do they do this? Because the rings on the tree will be darkest on the year it is greatly nourished (in other words, find the darkest ring, you find the year the dead guy died). Dr. Hodgens also educates the audience that the rings show you when it was a hard year. When their was a storm. (And who said TV is uneducational and will rot your brains) Yet with every year a new ring is formed, the tree is stronger, and better equipped to withstand the next season.
Like trees, with go through seasons over and over again, yet with each time a lesson is confronted, we have another ring to help us withstand. The struggle may look and feel the same, yet the truth is we are stronger and better equipped to stand during the storm.
So if you're like me and find yourself in the same place over and over, have faith, don't beat yourself up. More than likely you haven't  fallen, if you're truly seeking the Lord and your desire is to follow him, you've probably just cycled and are on your way to greater depths.

Embracing The Most Important Work

C.S. Lewis once said, "Children are not a distraction from more important work. They are the most important work." And I have loved this quote for a long time. It's easy to love this quote until you find it applies to you. Just as it was easy to love my stretch marks before I had them, so it was easy to see the work of motherhood as the greatest gift to humanity until it was my gift to give.
And now I'm here.
As I've stepped into the role of stay at home mom. It doesn't seem so glamorous, not so important. When most of my day is spent sitting feeding a baby or rocking a baby. In a culture focused on works, it's easy to find my identity in nap time. The ultimate show of my worth being what I did during that time. Did I do the laundry, the dishes, did I get a shower in? Sometimes it's the simple task. But as most life transitions, this one again has forced me to reevaluate, where is my worth found. It always seems that this is where I struggle when the season changes. I find myself stripped bare of everything I thought made me, well...Me. And then go about the work of being busy. Trying to fill my life with tasks until I break, and I'm tired, and have nothing left to give, but harsh words and stress.
That's when I have to let go and realize, I yet again have to be rebuilt
Renewed.
Fixing my foundation so that I once again come to the realization that who I am is not dependent on what I do, but whose I am.
Trees grow, not when it is summer and when their leaves are green in all their glory. But they grow when they have been stripped of their leaves and the winter storms come. That is when another ring forms around their trunk and their roots deepen.
The change of seasons grows the trees and so it is with me.
And as my season changes, so I must choose to be like a tree. To let another ring grow around my trunk and sink my roots, so that even more I will find my identity in Him and less in me.
Then I can trust that summer will come again, and somehow the lessons I learn in this time of Momhood will become a gift.
For now I'm going to have to embrace my season of autumn. Where the greatest gift I have is this baby that cuddles on my lap just to hear my heart beat. In the same way I'm going to choose to sit on my heavenly Papa's lap and listen to his heart, remembering where I come from. The laundry may get done. The bathroom may get cleaned, but in the end my most important is to sit with my Father who has called me to sit with this baby. So we're together just gonna sit tight and see where this season takes us.

The Heart of Creativity

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I've been doing these Adventures in Green Living for about a month now and as I have been my creativity has been booming. That's why I started it.

Confession Time: Before I began writing these, I was feeling burnt out. My loyal friends and some followers could probably notice by some of the things I'd shared.

Life is draining. Life in winter can be even more so, but isn't that how the seasons work. We have times of drought where inspiration and spiritual wellness is sparse. Then here comes the spring. Like the first bout of lightening striking the Earth to fill it with  nitrogen to spark the birth of new seedlings. So a burst of inspiration must be set forth in the human mind and body to produce the life of new creativity. Hence has been my Adventures in Green Living.

Each project produces a realm of more ideas. More thoughts about what can I make with this? Or how can I make that?

I am a believer in creation. Maybe it's because I'm a creative type, but I believe that creativity is one of God's doorways of expressing himself through human beings. Creativity is the meeting of humanity and divinity. Creativity is prayer.

This may be the noticing of creation. Ann Voskamp in her book One Thousand Gifts declares this as Eucharist Deo, or the giving of thanks. It is seeing the hand of God and giving thanks.

It may be in creation itself, when we empty our minds to hear God's voice and declare its truth. This in Meditation and Prayer, aligning our hearts with his.

Creativity is the work of Prayer. Creative living is a prayerful life, where we take the time to notice and interact with God.

I've started meeting with some friends for a creativity group and last night we watched a Ted Talk with Elizabeth Gilbert, the author of Eat, Pray, Love. And she talked about how in this century, with the evolution of post-modern thought, we have neglected the concept that creativity is outside of us. The ancients believed that all expressions of creativity were the expressions of a higher power being made manifest through human encounter. She continued to talk about how upon the viewing of a play or performance, when struck with the awe of creativity, the ancients would yell "Alla!Alla!" Meaning God. This later, through immigration and cross culture in Spain became "Ole!" which we hear declared in all sorts of cheers.

With post modern thought we have forgotten God, which has lead all the pressure for creativity to be upon the artist. He is responsible to produce out of his own mind. Not merely be an observer and tool of divinity.

As I continue to explore creative living and making it a part of my prayer life, this is my goal: that I may experience God more fully. You'll be occasionally seeing me post more about this as I continue exploring with my creative friends. However, my challenge is to see God. To seek to be in his presence. As David, maybe the greatest Biblical artists "One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek, that I may dwell in the house of the Lord forever, to gaze upon his beauty" Psalm 27:4.
I want to be like David. I want to dwell in the presence. I want to live in creativity. I want to experience God in my all day everyday.

So here's to a new adventure, or maybe not new, but continually growing and evolving, to understand what it means to walk with Jesus.

Springtime and Planting

 

Spring is one of my favorite times of year. It's when winter melts away and growth takes place (both in the physical earth realm and the spiritual). All the harshness of the snow and cold is replaced by the green ness and life that has been in hibernation for a season.

 During this past season of winter, all of my plants got ruined. Through cats and icy windows, all of them died. I was left a little bitter. However, now I'm starting new, with a fresh batch of plants. I have tomatos, basil, and cilantro. So basically, I can make pizza sauce and salsa.

Because I live in a basement, it has been quite the feat to get them enough sunlight. However, so far, I have taken them to work, for a drive, and to the lake in an effort to get them enough sun. Here's their progress and soon I'll be looking for a fun way to repot them (any suggestions or recommendations for repotting plants would be highly desired).

Fruit

A tree is known by its fruit.-Luke 6:44.

Trees are beautiful, mystical things. A symbol of anticipation. In winter, seemingly dead, storing up energy and nutrients for the rest of the year. Spring it Burts into blossoms abloom. Summer growing, emerging, developing, sprouting. And finally in the fall there is a bountiful harvest of produce.

Figs are my personal favorite. However, I have wonderful memories of gathering apples in my family's' backyard and later roaming orchards. For a while our neighbors had a pear tree, until they cut it down.

Trees trees trees. All different, but all trees, and so it says "you know a tree by its fruit." The fact of the matter is that I'm never going to pick a fig out from under my mom's apple tree. It's never in a million years going to happen. Though I'd like it to, and if I knew a way to make that apple tree start producing figs, know that I would. However, it can't and it never will, because it's an apple tree and apple trees produce apples.

I was listening to the 3dm podcasts today and they went into the next chapter in Luke, where Jesus is questioned about his leadership and that of John the Baptists. And it goes back to fruit. He says "John the Baptist came fasting from bread and wine and you say he has a demon. However, the son of man came eating bread and drinking wine and you say he's a glutton and a sinner. However wisdom is proved by her children."
Jesus and John both carried a divine purpose in the hands of God. However, because of the difference in purpose their lives looked very different. However both were judged. In the verses prior it describes the people as seeing John as too radical so they strove to play some party music and set out hourderves (total paraphrase) to liven his spirit. Make him not take things so seriously. However, the same people saw Jesus as too radical and they turned on the funeral music, trying to convince him to tone it down.  Like me trying to turn my apple trees into fig trees, these people saw their leadership and exclaimed "hey, that doesn't look like how I want it!" And in their judgements sought to change Jesus and John.
But a tree is known by its fruit.
Jesus knew who he was, and I am assuming John did as well. They knew their purpose on earth and sought to bear fruit that bared such.

In church this past Sunday the pastor challeneged: what is your purpose? In life? In your relationships?  The Lord does not cause happenings to occur by accident. Everything has a reason. When we discover the purspose, we able to align ourselves accordingly and fruit is produced. We don't seek to produce figs or pears. We produce apples, because we are apple trees and producing apples is our purpose. And for all those who cast judgment, desiring us to be different, there opinions don't seem to matter.
Only time tells the fruit we produce. We cannot merely preach "this is the fruit I produce." Though an apple tree seedling may come with a tag saying "hey, I produce apples." Only time will tell it's true fruit. If it's an apple tree it will produce apples, but if it's a fig tree it's simply a fig tree wearing the wrong tag.
The only way to truly know our own fruit is to listen to the Father. Hear his voice, meditate on his words of purpose,  and follow through the doors he opens, confident. Above all we have to trust. Listen and trust. Listen to the purpose he places on our hearts and trust as we follow his tender leading.

I feel I am in a season of definition, allowing Papa to define my purpose. Surrending who I think I should be (whether that's due expectations or labels have put upon me, or my desire to be something else) and embracing who he's truly made me to be, no matter the thoughts of those around me. For I really am a fig tree, though I strive to be an apple like those around me. Now is the time to lay aside the desire and expectation. Now is the time to stop talking about the fruit I want to produce. Now is the time to live and in due time the fruit will harvest. Let the world watch. Now is the time shine and Glorify Papa as I was Intended. 

Oaks of Righteousness

From the Book of Isaiah:

The Year of the Lord's Favor

61 The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
    because the Lord has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor;[a]
    he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
    and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;[b]
2 to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor,
    and the day of vengeance of our God;
    to comfort all who mourn;
3 to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
    to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
    the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
    the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified.[c]
4 They shall build up the ancient ruins;
    they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities,
    the devastations of many generations.

5 Strangers shall stand and tend your flocks;
    foreigners shall be your plowmen and vinedressers;
6 but you shall be called the priests of the Lord;
    they shall speak of you as the ministers of our God;
you shall eat the wealth of the nations,
    and in their glory you shall boast.
7 Instead of your shame there shall be a double portion;
    instead of dishonor they shall rejoice in their lot;
therefore in their land they shall possess a double portion;
    they shall have everlasting joy.

8 For I the Lord love justice;
    I hate robbery and wrong;[d]
I will faithfully give them their recompense,
    and I will make an everlasting covenant with them.
9 Their offspring shall be known among the nations,
    and their descendants in the midst of the peoples;
all who see them shall acknowledge them,
    that they are an offspring the Lord has blessed.

10 I will greatly rejoice in the Lord;
    my soul shall exult in my God,
for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation;
    he has covered me with the robe of righteousness,
as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress,
    and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
11 For as the earth brings forth its sprouts,
    and as a garden causes what is sown in it to sprout up,
so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise
    to sprout up before all the nations.

Since my freshman year of college, when I first got involved with the anti-human trafficking movement, I have seen this verse plastered. It would appear that every organization focused on this issue has made Isaiah 61:1-3 their theme verse. I'm not going to say that it's inappropriate. In fact, I think it's a fantastic verse. However, in all my having this passage repeated over and over again, somehow it felt like it had been ran into the ground. Taking simply the 1-3 I proclaimed that it was my calling to set captives free. I was the anointed voice of the Lord. But even then, as time has passed, I took it for granted. When I would hear the verse read, my mind immediately would switch to a blackout. I knew this verse. After all, I had heard it at every event for the past 5 years. Yes, I was familiar, but never before had I seen that the captive was me. 

In the recent I have had this passage directed at me, at me personally. Not just once, but on the multiple. Maybe it's time I start listening. Reflecting. Actually taking time to hear what the Lord is saying. 

So I have, and I've begun to realize I am the one needing set free. It is the promise to me that my broken heart will be bound up. I will be given liberty. I am the one that will have a seal of beauty placed upon me, and will be called an oak of righteousness.

It is only in finding my own freedom that I am able to draw others into freedom. And this verse says that. As I live in the freedom given, the Lord chooses to give even more that will pour out of me to splash onto others. 

However, Isaiah is not a book written in the time of Hope. Instead it is written in the darkest night. While Israel is in captivity. While Israel still walks in the darkness. The Chapters before talk about the sin of Israel and the darkness in which the people live. But at the very end of this Chapter the Lord talks about how he will cause the seeds he has planted to sprout up. Seeds of righteousness and praise. 

This season of post-graduation has been hard. I've been through transition...a lot of transition and most of the time am just left to wonder if this season is crazy, or if I'm going crazy. Feeling stress I don't always respond the way I should. I live my days just trying to hold on and wonder, where is the Lord. However, this verse speaks volumes, saying "the Lord will cause to sprout up what he has planted." As nature is coming into spring and a time of planting, so this is my season. And in Spring the rains pour. They are full of thunderstorms, and what more can be expected of my life. However, without the rain, where would be the flowers? Without my own storms, how can their be growth?

Rain pours down on Earth, 

causing life to sprout up that

proclaims hope and joy. 

finding my voice

It's no new news that I struggle with insecurities. Who doesn't? Also not new that I have crazy weird social anxiety. I struggle in close friendships. Desiring ti be liked, I become a people pleaser, silencing my voice, my thoughts, my beliefs, likes-dislikes, the very essence of who I am until I am all but dead. Yet my opinions do not die and u find myself with iSolo un rato,entro a las inner tension as my skin is the color of chameleon but my heart beat is a bold hue of unchanging color yellow.
Still, I desire this to not be revealed, because to be different is to make waves,  and though my desire is to keep from making waves, to have a quiet ocean, due to the natural force of things, I inevitability do. And the paradox is my voice that I consistently deny existence is heard.
I was talking with my dear friend about this chameleon effect. How sometimes I wish I just didn't have thoughts and opinions, because then it would be easy to simply go with the flow.  I wouldn't have to worry about being heard, because my voice would blend in with the rest. I'd constantly be unified.
And she replied that is sad.
And when I asked her why, she answered "you are a gift."
Your thoughts. Opinions. Ideas. They offer something to the world that noone else can and if you were to lose your voice the world would not be complete. When you silence your voice you are depriving the world of something vital."
I never thought of it that way. The idea that it is ok to disagree. It is wonderful to have a different opinion, because it is what brings beauty to tge cobtrast. As a painting, some of the most lovely effects are created by the clashing of hues.
My friend is studying marriage and family therapy and she explained in her course work they often describe family as "you can be you, and I can be me, and we can hold on to one another. "
The better I know myself, the more I will know what I have to offer. The more I can see the beauty in differences, the better I will be at embracing them and even may find joy in them.

I have a voice. My voice may sound different than others, but harmony is not made without a difference in notes. There is beauty in difference.  It's time to embrace that and let my voice be heard.

breaking points

 All have breaking points. That point in time where we are stretched so thin, so tight, so tense that the very concept of breathing has become a new phenomenon.  We keep on functioning in a state of utter exhaustion and chaos that it becomes normal and what is really normal is simply a vague memory. We pick up our feet and keep moving forward, and when I say pick up our feet, I mean wearily trudge through life praying "God let there be an end, because if this continues in the after life, I rather skip the after life all together and just be allowed to sleep."
Yet, in the midst of all that subconscious chatter we convince ourselves we're ok. Our worlds are crashing in a cacophony of unrest, but as long as I have  (insert pitiful rationalization) under control, I'm fine. We hold on tightly, suffocating the life of that one think of sustaining us. The thing letting us know it's ok. Like a small child gripping a teddy bear, choking the neck until the seam has frayed, the stuffing fallen out, and even that one dash of hope has been made a mess. We cling to meaningless things, a coping mechanism that when ashes hit ashes and dust hits dust can only lead to ruin.
A chaotic type-a misery seeing her world fall apart in hysteria, "but at least I've got my body." Ten pound gain hits the scales. Life unravels. Hopelessness invades. Prevails. Conquered. Defeated.
Only at our breaking point do we come to the realization of how futile are the things we put our hope in. Letting tears run down our cheeks, releasing the  squeched ability to feel and recognizing what we' ve put our trust in. Grieving the loss of something naturally good, we are forced into surrender and discover the inner cravings of our soul, neglected, starving, and pushed to the side for something that can never fulfill.
At our breaking point we recognize the true hopelessness of ourselves and a hope in a salvation that comes from something greater. So as we release we no longer have to cling, because we are embraced and empowered to rise again. Overcome the obstacles and take back our lives. Out of the wreckage we draw pearls of wisdom and a strength we did not know we possessed.
Indeed, breaking points are beautiful things if we let them be. 

dying to live

If anyone is to hold on to his life he will lose it, but if anyone would give up his life for my sake will find it. --Matthew 6:25

 Live in a worls seeking life...seeking hope, joy, peace, and love...
They hourly work week has sky rocketed. Seeking fulfillment that can be found in a store, we run ourselves to the ground in burnout, and for whatm...most people I know spend their weekly earnings getting smashed so they can forget the hellofa week they had. Ah isn't that the life? And if it isn't booze, it's food, movies, the latest samsung x galaxy phone...we want more and more and more, because at the end of the day we are searching for fulfillment, but are lost clinging to a less than satisfactory means to satisfy a craving for life...we're We're all looking for something. Me especially, trying to navigate through thi a cloud of fog my friends have begun to call my life. It has become clear I am in need of some serious direction..maybe even intervention...
and as I sit here pondering the meaning of my life I look to Ruth. Moabite. Foreigner.  Reject. Widow. The whole gammot of purposelessness fits her description. In a man's world where your worth is determined by the value of your husband, if you don't have a husband, you're screwed, and that's where we find our girl. The one strand of hope she has is a mother-in-law blessing her to go home and get herself a man. Go get yourself a purpose and let your life begin. How often do I feel this. Go out and do something. Find your point in living. Discover what you want and life and do it.
And this is ruth's response...
"I will not leave yoy. Where you go, I will go. Where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God."
Embracing a widow's curse, she clung to death, a life of lost purpose.
And how does the story end?
Her value was restored. Her worth tripled. The salvation of the world was birthed from her womb. Her blood flowed through kings.
And I'm left to wonder, all these things to which I've been clinging, what would it mean to let go? To let the purpose I thought I had be put to death and embrace a new horizon?

Papa, I am so prone to become distracted by the things this world values. Reveal to me the life I'm dlstriving for that needs to die so that I may truly grasp the meaning of life abundant.  

relying on innocence

Question of the day: where is your hope?
So much in this walk of life I find myself striving, slowly dying,as I press on in the self-righteous pursuit of perfection.
Living right. . Being kind. Only speaking the nice things that pop into my mind and the other...? Taking them captive, of course.
Then a fall. As my my mother's mother, and her mother, all the way down the generation.  A fatal plague to haunt humanity.
My mouth a flickering flame that dare consume the f forest.  Destruction is reaped in itspath and I'm left to greive my long-lost sense of holiness. I'm gripped by the evidence that I am perfectly imperfect.
I shudder in the presence of one who is. And though these words are not original,  they are all I have in th we preaence of the Holy.
"Woe is me. My lips are unclean, and I come by it honestly.  My family, nation, people of earth are sinful and we are in ruin."
Then the one greater than I takes the coal, purges my lips, and says the words my heart yearns for. " you are forgiven.
How sweet a gift I cannot buy for myself.
To rely on myself is to miss the revelation od my salvation. Something that that can only be given and accepted in grace.
My salvation is not founded on innocence but a gift that cannot be bought.  

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.

O Come, Emmanuel

Emmanuel, the
savior of  the world. My soul
finds hope in divine.

Emmanuel. God with us. Those words have become near cliche in our 21st Century mindset of holiday and Christmas time. However, the power behind them is astonishing. God, becoming man. Divine, taking on flesh to show his love to the ones he created. That is the hope of the world. We are loved. We are seen. We are not alone, because One came down to where we were to give us life, love, and purpose. In becoming human, he raised humanity to divine. That is the blessed hope. We have God with us. Emmanuel.

Let the waters rise...

Sometimes I feel like I don't know what is going on.
My life is consistently inconsistent.
The only certainty of constancy is the Lord.
So that's what I'll hold on to.

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. 

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. 

Peter

So Spirit lead me where my faith is with out borders. Let me walk upon the water wherever you may call me--Oceans by Hillsong

When Jesus renamed Simon, Peter, he was calling him "Little Rock." This is ironic, because at the end of the parable about the wise man who built his house up on the rock and the foolish man who built his house upon the sand, Jesus refers to himself as Petra, "Big Rock."  This name change wasn't to say that Peter had arrived at the "goal," but a prophesy of who he would become. This was a summons, a call, a promise to Peter that he was forming him into his likeness.With each step onto the water, Jesus was forming Peter into rock on which he would build his church. With each step towards Jesus, Peter was leaving behind the identity he found in Simon, the fisherman. He was finding a new identity as Peter, the Rock.

This has caused me to reflect on the identities the Lord has called me to leave behind in a pursuit to follow after him. With each step upon the water, I have left behind identities found in performance, guilt and shame, control, anger, image, fear,lies, and even calling. With each step I walk fuller in the light of an identity formed in authenticity, confidence, freedom, joy, belonging, courage, truth, and being. I am a child. I am made in the likeness. However, each step takes a fighting for. I have to be willing to leave behind all that I have ever known. All that that seems logical to walk in a new knowledge that defies rational and reasoning. I have to be willing to lay down my own thoughts, to walk in the faith that is set before me.

It is the hardest thing in the world, but Abba, if it is what will shape me into your likeness, bring it on. Take me deeper. Let me walk upon the waters, and when my mind slips back to where I use to be, catch me, guide me that I may radiate your glory. Because where I am weak, you are strong. When I slip, oh how your redemption, grace, and mercy is illuminated for the world to see. May I be a beacon of hope. May my life shine into the darkness, drawing wandering ships to the lighthouse.

Orchards and Pie

 Apple Orchards are such a treat!
Honey Crisp Apples I love to eat!

Today I had the joy of going to an apple orchard with some of my dearest friends. We romped down the rows and frolicked through the trees to "secret apple-picking spots" like we were 8 years-old again. Joys upon joys. And i was reminded friendship and apple orchards are two beautiful things, and somehow they both lead to family: a sense of belonging and togetherness. 

Snapping photos at the orchard also reminded me that I had pictures on my camera for some freezer apple pie filling i was meaning to blog about about a month ago, so treats for the readers: 2 for one blog post, read about all my sentiments on apple picking and get a freezer pie recipe all in one. 

P.s. the pie was made from my mom's all organic apples she picked off her own tree. impressed? enjoy !

Step 1. Slice, dice, peel, and core fresh apples. nummy!

Step 2:  Measure 6 cups apples into bowl

Step 3. Add 1/4 cup sugar

Step 4. Add 2 Tbsp each cinnamon and flour, 1 Tbsp each  nutmeg and cloves

Step 5. Place in freezer bags and label. Freeze until ready to use. Serving suggestion: use in pie, crisp, heat and serve on ice cream, make homemade apple sauce.