FWF

I've moved on.

Well, sort of...

It's just that your memory and your impact-- lingers.

It festers really.

Like old bones that hurt in the cold or

Like an old wound that shoots searing pain at random moments

Or like a ghost limb that itches regardless of its amputation.

I've written this a million times.

I've thought of it a billion times.

Why did you do it?

Was it a game to you?

Did I hurt you so badly that you wanted to make me pay?

Did I mean so little to you that you didn't even care how your actions would hurt me?

Destroy me?

Destroy my family?

How was it going to end?

I left because of you… did you know that?

And I'm glad I did--most of the time.

My friends.

It's the "I'm calling just to chat"
The "wanna go to Barnes with me?"
The "Oh My Goodness, let me tell you what happened..."
That makes a friend.

The back and forth,
You come to my place and I'll come to yours.
The "have you seen this movie?"
The "watchu doing after church?"

Thank God for friends who think you're funny
And who can crack you up.
Thank God for people who WANT to spend time with you.
Thank you Jesus for my friends.

I needed my mommy

I called my mom after church today. 

The events of this morning probably would have stayed with me all day. Maybe even all week, but what my mom had to say helped me break free of the insecurity and embarrassment that immediately follow a mess up on stage. Not even my husband can lift me up from the depths that I fall when something like that happens to me. 

I have to find a lesson in these types of situations. This will not be my last Sunday when I mess up on stage. I have to find a way to understand that it really is no big deal. 

It's just at the moment it doesn't feel that way. It feels mortifying. I feel compelled to flee. Just run away. Crawl under a rock. And cry. 

Reminiscences of the Exodus

Inhale deeply
The sweet smoke
mmMMm
The cinnamon and myrrh
The cassia, calamus, and oil--
Of the finest pressed olives.
Yes! I remember this.
It's been so long since I've smelled
An aroma pleasing to God.

FWF

"Little Girl," the old bear growled,
"Come quickly!
Tie your shoes!
Close your mouth when you chew!
What was that sound?!!?
Did you wipe!?
Hurry up!
You're acting like such a brat!
What did I SAY?!?!..."
On and on it went--
With the young girl and the bear.
Each day she heard the rumblings of the Old Bear
Each day she prepared herself for the attack
Each day she defended herself against the claws
Each day she waited patiently
And each day
The Little Girl grew an untraceable amount.
Then one day the Little Girl,
Now strong and smart and quick,
Left.
And the Old Bear cried.

Mommy Lesson #1: Do not trust your 1st grader to tell you the correct time

Today, Lia arrived at school 15 mins after the tardy bell sounded.

And it was all due to a grave error in judgment on my part.

Drowsily hearing Lia thumping around downstairs, I get up to ask her, "Lia baby!?!??"

"Yea" she replied

"What time is it?"

"Um let me check……it's 6:40"

"Ok baby thanks!"

I stayed in bed for a while after that, wondering why we were having such an early start to our day. Grabbed Maggie out of her crib when she cried and brought her to lay with me. We read books. Lia joined us. We chatted. Hung out. Then lazily I grab by phone from the charger and FINALLY notice the true time.

It was 9:15 in the morning!!!!!

NO way in the world did HOURS go by. It was more like 8:40 when she checked the time. Talk about 0 to 60! We were out of bed, dressed, packed and at school by 15 mins later. Did I mention that school is 10 mins away?

The Bhagavad-Gita (Ch. 2 v 47-49)

You have the right to work, but for the work’s sake only. You have no right to the fruits of work. Desire for the fruits of work must never be your motive in working. Never give way to laziness, either. Perform every action with your heart fixed on the Supreme Lord. Renounce attachment to the fruits. Be even-tempered in success and failure; for it is this evenness of temper which is meant by yoga. Work done with anxiety about results is far inferior to work done without such anxiety, in the calm of self-surrender. Seek refuge in the knowledge of Brahman. They who work selfishly for results are miserable.
-As quoted in Franny and Zooey

FWF--my first attempt

Death and Rebirth:

I was feeling dead. Or so close to dead that that awful, desperate struggle-phase was in full swing. Basically, I was desperate for rescue.

Funny how my death and rebirth all revolve around words. They are my center. It was words that tried (perhaps unwittingly) to slay me, and words that rejuvenated me.

What do you do when your muse has died?
Not an elegant, whimsical, fantastical death
Of a beautiful, fair, faerie-type creature
Gracefully limp upon her chaise--
Hair in bright auburn waves
Still vibrantly flowing upon her brow.
No.
I mean a dried and shriveled body
Laying stiffly upon a dusted floor
Neglected and almost obscenely deceased.
What do you do then?

Why am I posting so much rubbish?

I've been told that I read a lot, but I'm starting to think that I read a normal amount for a person who loves to read. I'm not particularly fast at reading. I just devote a lot of time toward it.

Franny and Zooey--one of the greatest things I've read.

"I'll tell you one thing, Franny. One thing I know. And don't get upset. It isn't anything bad. But if it's the religious life you want, you ought to know right now that you're missing out on every single goddam religious action that's going on around this house. You don't even have sense enough to drink when somebody brings you a cup of consecrated chicken soup- which is the only kind of chicken soup Bessie ever brings to anybody around this madhouse. So you just tell me, just tell me, buddy. Even if you went out and searched the whole world for a master- some guru, some holy man- to tell you how to say your Jesus Prayer properly, what good would it do you? How in hell are you going to recognize a legitimate holy man when you see one if you don't even know a cup of consecrated chicken soup when it's right in front of your nose? Can you tell me that?" --Zooey

I'm telling you this book is an English major's dream

Is it ever enough?

I once read  a quote somewhere that said "The devil is too smart to tell us not to pray. Oh no. Instead he tells us to pray later."

Isn't that the story of our lives?! (of MY life, I tells ya)
"I'll pray later. I'll give later. I'll care later. I'll improve later.
or better yet as Christians we sometimes feel that just by being a christian that I'm good enough. I've done enough. I've given enough.

Although, more often than not I have a very different feeling. I know with every fiber in my being that I'm never really giving him enough. So I keep striving, thirsting, yearning to do so.

Isn't that something?! I try desperately to be more like Christ, to understand God and his word, while knowing that I'll never achieve my goal. But does that mean I should just quit trying? Or just quit trying desperately.

I mean, God doesn't say "give enough to me;" he says, "Give your ALL to me."
He wants every breath--not just the ones we remember to give.

I've recently been told (very lovingly and with much concern) that I run a mile a minute. Asked whether I ever just stop and rest. Told I have too much guilt. Warned against being too legalistic, and it had me thinking, "Is it possible that I'm working too hard to be something I can never truly be?"

I've been thinking so long and so hard about it that I've not actually been able to sleep for the last 2 days--just turning that question over and over in my mind. (So I guess they were pretty astute in their characterization of me :D)

Then tonight as I was searching for new christmas song arrangements for worship in December, I came across a video depicting children who were impacted by war--missing limbs, bodies prostrated in the streets, rags and nakedness and famine and pain. And in my inbox I have the prayer requests of a pro-life ministry I support whose numbers are failing and is trying desperately to understand why. And in my life, I'm never silent enough to pray! So not only are my country and my world ravaged by sin, but my life is void of intentional prayer and peace.

Is it enough to say at the end of the day, "well, God today I didn't do much; didn't do much to advance your kingdom. Wasn't overly generous or kind. Didn't really think about praying or praising you. Kind of did the complete opposite all day, but that should be enough for you, right?!"

Is it TOO much to say, "Father God, give me strength and send your Spirit so that I can do MORE than I'm capable of doing on my own."

That's a pretty scary and intimidating prayer, and I'm debating whether I can pray that and genuinely mean it.

I've just bought Mother Theresa's book, "A Simple Path."
If you want to talk about a woman who was devoted to Christ. In love with Christ. Dedicated to Christ's work, then Mother Teresa is your subject.

If you've ever read one of her books or listened to her speak (just youtube her), I'm sure you'll be struck by her calmness. Blessed Mother Teresa had a peace and joyfulness about her that was astounding--even in the slums of Calcutta with an overwhelming amount of misery, suffering, and poverty surrounding her, she was able to rejoice in the goodness of God.

Mother Teresa reminds me that regardless of the sin and suffering of the world, there is still goodness. There is still reason to rejoice. There is still hope.

And it is this hope and peace that I wish to learn from her so that this desire to be the hands and feet of God can be done efficiently, even-temperedly, joyfully, submissively, un-egotistically...and silently.

This is the day that the LORD has made. We will REJOICE and BE GLAD in it!! (Ps 118:24)

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, the sinner. (The Jesus Prayer)

What is with me and this terrible restlessness?!

I'm exhausted, but I fight any and all sleep or rest or peace.

I just keep on the alert. Like a blanket of urgency has fallen upon every aspect of Me, and I'm thinking, feeling, searching, and seeing everything all at once.

well at least I'm reading a great book:

All In

I'm at a place now
Where I'm one foot in
And one foot out.
Not convinced
100%
This is where my life's supposed to play out

Not entirely sure
You're the one for me.
Not feeling bought in to the vision you see.
Not feeling like I'm part of the team.
Not seeing the future that you and yours dream.

Because Because Because...

I will follow you
Because you're worth my submission.

I will listen to you
Because I respect your opinion.

I will support you
Because I believe you to be genuine

And I will change for you
Because you force me to espy my sin.

At least I've got my health....

Brisk...

I bet that's what all my English major friends would call this morning. Blue skies. Chirping birds. Yet the air had a crisp coldness to it that edged on the wrong side of comfortable.

It didn't stop me from sitting out there, though. About 40 pages in to Franny and Zooey and wondering how Salinger came up with this stuff. All the while listening to

Look how green that grass is! That costs $ too.

the beeep beeep beeep of a reversing tow truck as it picked up my bojankity, p.o.s., hooptie mobile to bring it to the shop for the 3rd time this month.

Money. Loads of it. I spend Loads of Money. It never ends. It makes my teeth hurt just thinking about the exorbitant amounts of money that I spend. Makes me think things like "man I wish we would have never bought this house. It's too expensive." or "Man, I wish I were a freakin' millionaire." You know stuff like that.

But at least you've got your health! Isn't that what all the old folks say when everything's going to crap, but on the bright side you're not dead!

Truth be told, I've got it good. That's why I'm sitting out here with my book. Kid sleeping in the car. Big ole house. With two cars (that just need a little bit of work and the occasional tow). I've got it all. I've just got to spend a load of money to have it.

Siddhartha

I pray for this in my life.

Facade

It's very rare that I feel self-conscious about my writing or the idea of someone reading my writing. For years the only passers-by on this site were people who ventured so deep into the internet that stumbling upon this blog was just another back-space click without a single word read.
That's still my audience. So if you're actually reading this...I'm genuinely surprised :D


Warning: this poem contains strong language

How???

I must learn to listen.
To be patient
To accept
To follow

Service

Recently during a connection group meeting, one of my church friends hit me with such an incredibly uplifting and freeing truth that it staggered everything I once believed about serving.

Sometimes it is the most basic concepts that create the most impactful change. Here's what happened...

I serve in different areas in our church, and in doing so, I invest a lot of my time performing many different duties. I do this because I love my church family. I also do it because I like to feel like a contributor, and finally, I serve because it makes me happy.

But there are some areas where I serve that make me happier than others. And it is here where my paradigm shift occurred.

I always felt that when I was serving in the area I LOVED that it really wasn't serving because it didn't feel like a sacrifice. For some reason I was under the impression that to truly serve the kingdom there had to be some pain involved--an overcoming my reluctance and a grit-and-bear-it moment. If that feeling didn't happen, then there was no real sacrifice, and I wasn't trying hard enough.

It was the same with generosity. For me giving money is easy. There's no pain involved. Lee, on the other hand, cringes when we hand in the checks. To Lee it feels like I'm handing away our security--that at any moment we could face financial crisis and we won't be able to pay our way out because I've gone and given all our money away. But he does it anyway. He gives even when it hurts. Lee feels the sacrifice.

But when it comes to investing in people, Lee is MUCH more generous than I am. He really connects. He listens. He cares. He prays. He texts. He calls. I don't. And when I do, it takes a great effort. I am definitely not as generous with giving of myself as I am with my money. I'd rather pay you than invest in you. (Man that sounds awful!)

This is when the super incredible words of holy Spirit wisdom come in. My friend explained that God gave us different strengths so that the church could have a balance. If we were all generous in the same ways there would be a deficiency or neglect in other critical areas. Lee is a generous investor in people because God knew there was a need for people to be connected to a strong and gentle man who listens and guides without judgment or ridicule. And God made me generous with my money because He knows that there are true financial needs that must be addressed, and together Lee and I are powerful in that respect.

Through the years, Lee has become so much more trusting that God will take care of us financially. He has come to learn that all of our money is God's money, and that when we honor the Lord with our finances that He is always faithful and provides for us in ways we could never have imagined.

Likewise, by following and learning from Lee's example, along with my other friends who are amazing investors in people, I have become more open with myself--allowing myself to share my story with others and to try to help by walking along side them in their struggles.

So back to serving... The church has so many needs, and because of these needs there are so many areas to serve. It doesn't have to be painful. God gave me certain strengths so that I can fulfill a need in the church to fullest and with the most joy. Because the joy of the Lord IS my strength! SEE WHAT I DID THERE!?!? I find Joy in serving within the Strengths that the Lord has given me.

Find what gives you the most joy! Then serve, serve, serve. I'm telling you, I can never get enough, when I'm serving in my joyful place :D

Truth Be Told

There's an arrogance there, I think.

A sinful feeling deep within 

Saying 

That your time is more valuable than mine,

That you owe no one any more or less time than you see fit, and

That you'll get to me when you get to me.

Let me share some truth--

Respect

and 

Propriety

Are real and from the Lord, and

That regardless of how you Feel

You do owe others some of your time,

And finally the very basic truth

That my time is valuable, and I dislike being ignored. 

Always

It's the night before I see you
And the insecurities within me
Are threatening my sanity.
All of the second-guessing
The doubting
The worrying
The regretting
Are overwhelming
me.

Dreams

When I was younger, I was hungry, ravenous even, for success, achievement, recognition, beauty, popularity, and wealth. I was fierce. In college, my desire for perfection met no bounds, and I would do anything (manipulate, charm, or just plain bust-my-a$$) to ensure the means of my desire.

But I got pregnant as a junior in college, and my world shattered a little. And during that time, my confidence in my ability or the confidence that my life was heading toward something special was also shattered. 

Through the years I put together my world. I worked on being a good mother. I worked on being a better wife (which if I were graded, I'd probably be put on academic probation). 

But I have yet to address my dreams or better yet--the dreams of my youth.

I let those die, simply by being satisfied with my husband working and climbing up the ladder and earning the income. 

Recently I've been confronted by people in my life. Confronted not aggressively or condescendingly, but out of curiosity. Why aren't you more? They all seem to be asking me.

And through these few weeks, I've been rekindling the dreams of my youth. Dreams to for higher education. Dreams of a future in leadership. Dreams of doing something substantial.

Now don't get me wrong, being a mom is substantial, but I know that I can be more. Being a mom is not all that I am. I know my time has come to address me.  If I don't, I doubt I'll be able to live out the rest of my life feeling fulfilled. I know I have more to give. 

Private

A life spent overcoming every obstical the world dealt. 

A person with every wrong decision under her belt 

A passion for writing every feeling she ever felt

And a wish to keep it all to herself. 

All the words that were only for me to see

All the thoughts I finally set free

All The lines and letters and history

Were stolen by you out of curiosity. 

I need to learn

how to just *stop singing* so I don't feel like such a stupid idiot on stage.  Worship today was one of the hardest mornings of my life.

It's very difficult to go up there and sing worship when you are so self-conscious. It is the complete opposite of the purpose of worship, which is to glorify and praise God.

#mortified #humiliated

My Gutsy Girl

Yesterday at 4 PM we pulled into our driveway. The girls and I had just arrived home from picking Lia up from school, when I felt inspired to ask Lia how she felt about going door to door.

What am I talking about? School Fundraiser Time, baby!

Lia has been so excited because the class who sells the most coupon books gets rewarded with a CUPCAKE party! And in a manner of optimism that only a 6 year can muster, she was certain that her class was going to win. Little does she know that mommy volunteers with PTA and has seen the numbers. In order to win, every student has to sell, and up until yesterday 3:59PM the only book she had sold was to me--the lone name, address, and order on her fundraising envelope.

I thought about myself as a child and how embarrassed and scared I was to ask someone to buy something from me. I remember sending everything with my mom to work and having her coworkers order the wrapping paper, World's Best Chocolates, or whatever it was we were selling that year. And because of this I never asked Lia to try to sell her fundraising items. I always just assumed she's be scared or too shy--just unwilling to put herself out there, just as I was. 

But when we pulled into the driveway, something came over me. I was so disappointed in myself, and I knew we could do better than 1 sold to mommy. So I looked back and asked her, "Hey baby, what do you think about running upstairs and putting on your School shirt? Then we can walk around the neighborhood and see if anyone wants to buy a book from you."

And her response to me was, "YES YES YES YES!" and up she went and in record time she was back down with her elementary school shirt on and a word track..."Hi. My name is Lia, and I'm raising money for my school. Would you like to buy a book?"

We walked around for an hour and a half. Lia approached every adult she saw outside cutting his lawn or watching her kids play, and gave them her lines..."Hi. My name is Lia, and I'm raising money for my school. Would you like to buy a book from me?" She would even show them the type of coupons that were in the book, and inevitably they would ask how much it was. And she would tell them "Twenty Dollars." 

Lia received a lot of "No, Thank you's" a lot of "It's not a good time" and "I think I'm gunna pass." But she kept on going. She would even pray, "Jesus let this be the house," and up she'd go to ring the door bell. 

Every time she said her little speech my eyes would get teary, and I just kept thinking how brave she is, how amazingly adorable and sweet. Man I couldn't have been more proud of her. 

And you know what?!?!?! She sold 5 books! (mommy's made 6) It was incredible. She worked hard, and it paid off. 

My daughter inspired me yesterday. It's hard to put yourself out there and to be rejected. The easy response would have been to give up, but her belief that God was going to provide her a buyer motivated her to keep knocking, to keep walking.  

Maybe that's you. Maybe you're ready for a husband or a wife, and you keep getting "It's not a good time." Be confident that the Lord will provide for you.

Maybe you're in financial hardship; Maybe you're in a hard marriage; Maybe you're praying for a baby. 

Cry out to Jesus, and Let Him provide! 

Too Tired to Write

My eyelids are heavy
And my words are weak
And my mind is slowing
Along with my ability to speak.

The Struggle

The current of sinful nature

That flows beneath my carefully crusted life,

The molten menacing

That ever so slightly shifts

My continental holiness

Erupts.

The One

All the words welling up inside me--
My thoughts and feelings just bursting at the seams.
And everywhere I turn there's an opportunity
To chime in and pick teams.

My world has become so muddled and foggy,
Where goodness and honesty take a back seat
To selfishness, and self-preservation ,
To politics, and gender/race sensitivity.

What happened to the educated populace?
To where did all the morality flee?
When did we reach a point where babies are killed
Just so I can keep having sex with whomever I please?

Why would people rather kill themselves
Than to own up to who they really are?
And why must I choose a side
When both have everything all wrong?

Do what's good.
And choose what's right.
And be willing to sacrifice
And there are causes worth the fight
There are movements worth the leap
There are charities worth the green
There are people worth the love.

But don't ask me to set aside
The words that express my very soul
The thoughts that God imprinted in my mind
The truths that the Spirit, the world told.

Think about the mighty power held in a voice.
The world created by a single utterance
And my words too have a calling--
To be true and live-giving.

Forget the flattery
And double-sided tongue.
Give me honesty
Give me passion
Give me truth
And give me The One.

Upon us finished

It's that deep yearning--
Calling out for more.

It's the hard thumping
Of my heart beating
And my breath catching
And my soul fleeing.

The beginning

I've had a story tinkling around in my mind for a while, and I feel compelled tonight to type it out. Here's only a few lines, but I figure if I don't post this, I'll never be inclined to finish.

FORWARD
I suppose, as with all stories, it's best to start at the beginning.  But perhaps I'm just one of those girls that never did anything the proper way. It is pretty evident that being so improper is what got me here in the first place.

Where am I? Alone.

Surrounded by a family I never wanted in a life I never asked for.

CHAPTER 1...

Counter culture

Abortion.

Turn away now of you're not interested in what I have to say on the subject of Christians and abortion.

How I Dealt with the News of Your Passing...

Your story blinked into my life late on Wednesday night,

Just a simple click and there you were.

And from the start I knew I shouldn't have,

But I read about what occurred.

And the thought of you filled every fiber of my mind

And the visions were seared into the pits of my soul

And each evil and painful line of your story

Broke my spirit more and more.

'Till I saw your body beaten and broken

Reflected everywhere I turned--

Each time I saw my own daughter, it awoken.

Each time I closed my eyes, your memory stirred.

Then I heard the subtle whisperings
Of the Devil in my ear
Saying this could be your baby's future
And he stirred in me a deadly fear.

And he made me feel the pain you felt
And he helped me see the whole thing through
Making me come up with what I would do,
If my babies turned out just like you.

Perspective

I saw a man
Who lost his son tonight,
Who held his wife in his arms
And cried for a child who never took a first breath,
And my too tight jeans
And my stringy hair
And my un-pedicured heels
And my daughter who shrieks too loudly
And my baby who's still nursing
And my husband who's still limping
And my lawn that needs watering
And my million stupid grumblings
Make me sick.
My God when did I lose sight of my miracles?
Father, how could I let go of the wonder I felt
When I saw my baby smile for the first time?
Lord, why did I ever forget the sight of my
Little girl when she was first placed in my arms.
How dare I behave in any way contrary to
Utter jubilation
And gratitude
And awe.
Father God help me.

Exhausting

My goodness it's difficult keeping up with you--
So incredibly enlightened
So intrinsically good.
I find it exhausting to be constantly wrong
Flawed
Sinful
My goodness if I were meant to be so demure
So submissive
So kind
So humble
So pure
So loving,
Then why was I created so contrarily!

I resent that crisp green line

On my painful, hellish run this morning I saw a man in the distance cutting his grass. It had me thinking about our lawn, and how I have to cut the grass because Lee still is unable to walk, and how I wish the lawn would just get miraculously weed-eated and cut. Instead of the reality of ME having to push the lawn mower later today after this exhausting run.....

All this was running through my mind, as I approached the working man. I noticed him pushing the lawnmower along a narrow strip of grass that stretched between his lawn and his neighbor's. But then he did something that shocked me....he stopped....

He stopped about 3 feet short---the 3 feet that fell into his neighbor's property. It would have taken exactly two strides of his feet to complete that strip of grass, practically the exact width of his lawnmower. Instead, he felt the need to leave a very precise, crisp green line between their lawns.

Credit: CAST

And then I started thinking These Yankees up here in North Carolina are so damn strange! I remember my dad cutting this little square of grass that bordered our lawn and our neighbor's driveway. It was just an unspoken rule that whoever was cutting his grass would cut that little square too. Not just cut one side and leave the other 5 inches longer.  What is that!??!?

That's when I turned the corner running toward my house, and I noticed the crisp line between the side of my house and that of my neighbor's.

Right now that I'm close to PAYING cash for someone to cut my grass, that strip of lawn bitterly mocked me. Lee had been pestering me all week to call someone to cut the lawn, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to take out the $50. So of course, I kept putting it off, and I resigned to the fact that I'm going to be cutting it again. It's super long and it's wet because of the non-stop rains that have visited us almost daily for the better part of a week.

And at that moment I remember thinking, I resent Lee's ankle, and I resent my neighbor, and I resent that crisp green line. 

Just put a magnet on it

My husband doesn't fix things around the house. He's not handy whatsoever, and if you were to ask him about it, he would say that he works with a different type of tool set.

He's a software engineer, and if you need some complex application that can manage 1232345 functions per second, he's your man. But ask him to fix a doorknob, and he's calling Andy Handyman stat.

I'm okay with that because I happen to be handy (at least handier than him), and I learned it from my dad.

As a little girl, I would help my dad build sheds and fences, help him fix the car, or some general plumbing job--always marveling at how easily he calculated all the measurements and angles. My dad just knew how things went together--how they worked. It was something that mesmerized me about my dad, and to be honest, it still does.

So the other day I give him a call. I want to install a cat door and needed a drill and saw to get the job done, and the best man to help me in the purchasing process is definitely my dad. Of course his mind goes beyond big pictures and straight down to the nitty gritty. He asks me how long the blades on the drills are, how thick the door is, he asks what the door looks like and how many volts the drill is, and then he asks what I believe he thought to be a fundamental question, What kind of door is it?

Huh?

Is it metal or wood?

I don't know. I tell him. How would I find that out? 

Then he said it. 6  simple words that blew my mind...

Put a magnet on it.

And I ran downstairs and grabbed a magnet off the frige, walked over to the door and snap! The magnet practically flew out of my grasp to attach itself to my METAL door.

Well there ya go, he tells me... You'll need to use the metal blades on the saw. 

And just like that the crisis is averted.

My dad has this fantastic way of making things so simple. You wonder to yourself, "Why didn't I think of that!?!?" And I wish I had that in me. I remember as a kid him always telling me "Make it easy on yourself."
It's like he always thought I went about things in the hardest, most inefficient way possible. Make it easy on yourself, daughter.

He once told me this was his favorite song, and appropriately so!

Do I have any business leading worship?

I sin on purpose all the time. I know something is wrong but I do it anyway. I often wonder if I have any business leading people in worship when I'm so sinful and broken. And if I want to be honest with myself, I don't always try my absolute hardest to change. My worship is genuine, but I'm always wondering if I'm not just some big phoney baloney.

Am I too Catholic to be non-denominational?

Am I too Catholic to be non-denominational? Does non-denominational = Protestant?

Can someone continue to attend a church when you disagree with some of their fundamental theological conclusions? If you agree on all the big stuff, does it matter that you disagree with some of the small stuff? These are questions I'm wrestling with right now. 

But i should really learn how and when to bring up these topics because now it seems I've become that awkward family member who always says crazy/weird/offensive things at Thanksgiving, and this year you have some friends coming and you have to have that tough conversation like "Hey, you know how you're always saying crazy stuff, well could you, just this once...not do that."

A Memory Lasts Forever Too

I am so used to my digital life, my iPhone with its super cool and powerful camera, my dropbox account that costs me however much $ a month so that I can instantly download and share all of my ingenious family and candid shots.

I am so used to THAT that it takes all the effort I can muster simply to STOP.

Over the weekend my family and I went to the Great Wolf Lodge, an indoor water park, and then spent all day today at the Carolina Zoo. This vacation was on the heels of the most excruciating month we've had as a family. Lee has worked 12-15hr days for 7 days a week for at least 3 weeks straight. We learned so much from this month of over working and under connecting. And we have vowed never to let it happen again.

Me Cheating!! 

So during our vacation there were countless water slides, and magic quests, and meals, and games, and jokes, and stories, but very few made it to my digital photo album.

Instead of looking for a photo op, I was trying to savor the moment. Instead of stopping the laughter so I could quickly snap a few photos, I was just adding my voice to the laughter. Don't get me wrong, I was constantly slipping back into my old habits--stepping back from the fun and clicking away on my camera, but I consciously tried to distance myself from that behavior...

What is that!? Why is it so much more important to have a photo than to be a participant in the action? I feel like we think that if we don't capture it on film (figuratively), then it never happened and no one will ever remember this moment. But what I think really happens is that everyone remembers that moment, you just won't be in the memory. One rarely remembers who took the picture, just who was standing by his side!

I need to be better at being an active person in my family and not just an observant bystander. Hey, there's nothing wrong with capturing moments on your camera/phone. I just know that I allowed myself to be removed from the family time, in order to be the cameraman. I think a nice balance is needed. I'm hoping that I achieved that on this trip.

A while back a wrote a poem about always being behind the lens. If you're interested in checking it out, ---->Click here<----- nbsp="">

On Praying for a Miracle

If only you knew,
If only you could sense the trembling of my soul,
If only you could feel how my spirit shivers,
You would soon realize that it's all been a front,
A Smoke and Mirror expert
Trying to make you feel that I'm more confident than I really am.
Only the LORD knows.
He can feel the breath catch in my chest.
He can see through the mask.
And perhaps only He can bring relief.
So tonight I pray for a miracle, Dear Lord.
I beg you for forgiveness and favor
Both of which I do not deserve.
I wonder what lesson you are trying to teach.
Or maybe this is a form of punishment--
A divine reckoning for active sinning?
Perhaps those I love are suffering
For sins that I've committed?
What is it Lord?
What must I do to end this?
What can I do to have your heavy hand lifted?
Father, please be our guide and our rescue.

Quotes of late--Lia

Me: Lia I love how you love God and Jesus.

Lia: Jesus is God. They're the same thing.

--------------

(I read Lia a book about Mother Teresa. This was her commentary.)
"I like people who are good and help the poor people. I don't like people who do bad things and are mean to babies. But I do want them to say they are sorry to Jesus. So they can go up to Jesus too when the Sun goes larger and larger and we need to get saved."

I feel like sharing

I feel like sharing what I'm reading.

First, there's a book called Worship Matters that my worship leader invited the band members to read with him. As a band, we are discussing the assigned chapters weekly. I'm a few chapters in and the honesty in the book is amazing. Very good read for anyone who needs to check his heart and see who/what he is truly worshipping

Then there's The City of Ember. I've just started, but it seems like an interesting young reader type book.

Also I'm reading Original Intent about the Founding Father's original intent when creating the constitution and what role they felt Christianity held for us as a nation. Did they ever intend this war on Christianity that we see now in our nation? From reading the writing of most of our founding fathers, I can definitively say NO.

Then last night I cracked open The Lost Hero by Rick Riordan. This is a spin-off of his Percy Jackson series, which I absolutely LOVED. I opened "The Lost Hero" and couldn't put it down! I have a feeling that I'm going to become totally engulfed in this series in no time.

Last and potentially least, is The Guardian by Nicholas Sparks. It's good, not great. A thriller with bits of sentimental romance. It's entertaining, but easily put down and not picked back up. (In my opinion)

Here's a list of books that I have checked out of the library and are in a neat stack on my desk:

Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine and the Murder of a President

Girl in Translation-->this one's for my book club. It's due May 15th. I've gotta get reading!

Rise to Greatness:Abraham Lincoln and America's Most Perilous Year

The Aviary

If you've read any of these books and want to share how you liked them, leave a comment below :D

The Subject/Verb Disagreement rant

So there are a lot of grammatical pet peeves out there in cyber space. Most people post about the misuse of They're, There, and Their, or another common point of contention is the misuse of it's and its.

But I feel there is not enough public outcry against the subject/verb disagreement--a major grammatical error that could strip you of an entire letter grade by its mere appearance in your paper.

Listen up folks. If someone says something, he or she says it, ok!??! Not they! Someone is a single person--not a group. If anyone or no one or everyone or somebody or anybody does anything, he or she is doing it.

Does everyone have their subjects and verbs agreeing? (nope, wrong)
Everyone in this class has an A because he or she learned subject/verb agreement.

Next class we'll talk about split infinitives :) jk

Feel free to share, if you have any grammatical pet peeves or linguistic ones.

I once had a friend who...

I once had a friend in grade school who was a brilliant artist. Looking back on it now she was probably a genius. We were just children drawing stick figure people, and box homes, and animals that were just elongated ovals with stumps for legs. But not her. She would draw horses so real that you could see the wind shift the mane along their long powerful necks. She would draw faces so vivid you could see the laughter in eyes comprised of hundreds of tiny dots alone--entire worlds that she would quite literally "dot" into existence.

 We grew up and grew apart, but years later I asked her if she still drew, and she said not so much. I was just in high school at the time, but I remember the world growing grayer. It was just another beautiful thing that I had thought was eternal, which simply crumbled into the sea (Ps 46).

As I'm sitting here, I wonder what God had intended for her to do with that gift. She probably thought it of no consequence, whether she drew or didn't. When she put down her drawing pencils and pens, I can imagine her thinking to herself "what difference would it make if I ever drew again?..."

Sometimes our gifts seems so....unimportant, small, meaningless, powerless. Not everyone can swim as fast as Michael Phelps or sing as beautifully as Celine Dion. We're not all amazing speakers like Martin Luther King Jr., or funny and smart like Bill Cosby. We're not as brave as Joshua, or as faithful as Abraham, or as wise as Solomon. I can go ON and ON and ON! Sometimes I look at my own gifts and think, where in the world do I fit in? Where am I powerful? Where in my life do my gifts make a difference, and I don't mean little things here or there, but earth shattering, world changing differences? No where really.

I've always had something to say. Always some issue I felt deeply about. Always a book bringing me to new worlds. Always a song to sing. And I've always had words. Words flowing from the world around, grasped gently by my mind, and printed with care on any page I could find.

I look at this blog filled with almost a decade's worth of my life in writing and I sometimes think, why did I write all this? Who cares? What difference did it make? So I wrote yet another poem... big whoop.

Then there are other times that I look at this blog and think to myself, WOW! I can't believe I recorded so many of my thoughts. I'll read a poem and remember exactly where I was in my life when I wrote that, and I'll feel all the same feelings as I did then.

God inspires me to write, I just know it. Sometimes I can't help but to tap out another verse or poem or thought. I'm not saying that any of it is any good, but it's me.

I am reminded of David, who was a shepherd, lowly job- not glamourous or powerful by any means- but because of his work as a shepherd he had to fight bears and other wild beasts. And those battles prepared him to win the first great battle of his young life against Goliath the giant Philistine.
That humble beginning and against-the-odds victory were what propelled a young shepherd boy into a war hero, and ultimately into a KING!

I don't know what all my writing means to the world, but one can only imagine what it means to God.

It's the sound

It's the sound of
No one being awake but me.
It's the sound of
The dry, well-thumbed pages turning.
It's the sound of
The walls and floor settling themselves
That make my heart still,
My mind come alert,
My soul decompress.
There are days that I wake
Just for the world to sleep.
There are seasons
That I live among others
Desperately yearning solitude.
This is that moment.
And those are the sounds.

Ps 20

I fall short,

Always.

The mark missed

By such great margins,

As if I'm running to catch

The Sun,

Father God.

My words--

My deadliest weapon,

Skillfully honed

And expertly drawn.

My biggest strength

Is my biggest vice,

Dear Lord.

I am a warrior princess,

Daughter of the Most High King,

Who fights on both sides

Of the battlefield,

My Liege. 

I am a most unworthy subject,

One guilty of treason

One guilty of murder

Of adultery

Of greed and envy

All by using my words--

Like a sword melded with rhetoric,

Slicing and searing both friend and foe, 

My King.

Why would you ever grant me a hearing?

I who have betrayed and hurt you,

Should receive no mercy,

And yet...

My dearest Father,

I can still feel your love.

The Time I Caught the Sun

blame-it-on-the-moon-Painting of Angels-Nik Helbig

I came across a bird resting from flight.
Her tiny chest fluttering with the restlessness
That comes only from having had the Wind
As a companion for most of one's life.

"Come to me little one," I said to the Bird,
"Come little bird and help me catch the Sun."

"I caught the Sun once," She said to me.
"But she cried large golden tears, and I let her go."

I then walked upon a cat lounging in dappled light.
Its strong, lean paws crossed below his head
That was held high and alert--
Curious of my scent and suspicious of my intentions.

"Come to me swift one," I said to the Cat.
"Come to me and help me catch the Sun."

"I chased the Sun once," He said to me.
"But she wailed so loudly that I stopped my pursuit."

My search went on and on, but no one would help me.
So, I chased and caught the Sun on my own.
And she cried her big, hot tears.
And she wailed her sad, desperate sobs.

But I never did let Her go.
And the World all around grew dark.
And the Day turned to endless night.
And the Sky became sad and empty.

Not for me, though.
I kept the Sun close by.
And I never did feel cold again
or Dark or Small or Weak.

But the Sun never spoke,
And no one ever came close.
And  I never did feel love again
or Mercy or Hope or Peace.

Retaliation

I told you that I hate it
So you chose to love it more.
I told you that I wanted peace
So you prepared for war.
I told you that I couldn't stand
Your helplessness galore
So you responded with more of the same,
And I can't take it anymore.

Rebuke

Like tiny little demons
Clutching at my soul,
Like evil hungry spirits
Reaching out for more,
Like angry lustful tempters
Preparing themselves for war,
I am flailing through my life--
Wondering how to free my world
From these urges and constant tremblings,
From these ugly spirits's assemblings,
From this dark and hateful menacing
So I can start to be a blessing.
I yearn to be transformed
To rebuke all that has scorned
And polluted and has torn
The narrow pathway to the Lord.
So I can be a light
And not a darkness and a blight
So I can be mansion
Built on granite
So I can be a blueprint
And on me you can plan it.
And be proud to be my friend
And be glad the time we spend
With great faith, and hope and Love
Until we reach the very end.

quotes of late--The Lia edition.

Lia: "Actually he said, 'I wish I were older." Which means old.eeeeerrrrrr"

Lia while we're driving in the car listening to music: "This woman on the radio sings good."
Me: "Yes she does!"
Lia: "You sing good too. When are they going to put you on the radio?"

Me: "I can't believe the flowers grew back!"
Lia: "I think Jesus is great!"
Lia: "at growing flowers"

I suppose all I needed was...

A little self-reflection.

Soon after writing my last post, admitting my complete failure at devoting myself to Christ as I had planned to do this Lent, I picked up my bible--something I haven't done in months.

This bible is tattered and torn, highlighted, underlined, creased, and thoroughly thumbed through all in my quest for salvation and understanding. Yet its disuse was evident, perhaps not by an outsider, but completely apparent in my heart and attitude. I opened it up for the first time in such an incredibly long time and flipped through the pages; bright yellow, green and pink catching my eye as the pages quickly flipped back and forth--highlights of favorite passages that had gotten me through the toughest times in my  life.

I felt like I was rekindling a relationship with a friend long lost. I felt shame and guilt. I felt excitement--you know that kind of excitement when you suddenly remember a story about a friend you once had.

And then the truth hit me. I had replaced my bible with other novels. I had replaced the time I spent reading my bible with reading romances, fantasies, histories, biographies and anything else I could get my  hand on.

See I know in my heart that God doesn't want me to stop reading books and building my library. He gave me a passion for reading and learning for a reason. But what I also know is that I cannot allow those other passions to replace my God in my life. He is my first love, and I must always remember to make Him first in my life.

So I've started a bible study to take me through the rest of Lent. We're reading through Matthew, and I've decided to double up my reading until I've caught up.  I know, I know... it's not good to take on too much, and I agree that I don't want to get burned out, but I also know that I NEED to follow through with at least one commitment.

Finally, my friends, I ask for your prayers and encouragement.

Ps 118:24
 This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.

My Lenten Failure

Lent is one of my favorite times of the year. For those of you who don't know what Lent is, it is the 40 days leading up to Easter.  It's an amazing time because during the Church calendar, this is a very purposeful time. Traditionally people choose to give up something for Lent, like chocolate or soda, for the duration of the 40 days. But there's a new trend to DO something extra for Lent, like extra prayer or service.

I always enter Lent with a goal. One year I'll give up fast food; another, I'll give up all fried food (being from Louisiana, this is VERY difficult), but this year I wanted my Lenten promise to transform me. I wanted to pray and meditate more. I wanted to fast. I wanted to be born again after 40 days of conscientious recommitment to the Lord.

But I feel that this year I have truly failed. I entered Lent feeling empty and now 2 weeks in, I'm still empty.  I've not read my bible. I've barely fasted, and always in the back of my head I'm thinking, "tomorrow I'm going to start." Then tomorrow comes, and I'm distracted with unpacking my house, and cleaning my apartment, and getting over my cold, and planning a baby shower, and worrying about my various church commitments and all the while, I'm running on E.

I'm ready to be on fire again for the Lord. I'm constantly reminded of the early church. The church in Acts and beyond. The people, those green Christians, that transformed the world. Jesus transformed them, but then they through love, generosity, grace, mercy, evangelism, and passion started time over again. The world stopped and began again. A new age. The A.D. era.

Imagine if all Christians today had that same fire for Christ. What kind of era would we usher in?

I need that fire.

It has to be better than last time

Almost three years ago,  my family and I moved to Raleigh, NC from Baton Rouge, LA.

We were so incredibly unprepared for the move that we just threw all of our belongings into the truck. No boxes, no bags, just chucked it back there and wished for the best.

I was advised TODAY that I close on Friday. That means that in the next 2 days, I've gotta get ready to move, and I'm terrified it's gunna be a hot mess like last time.

But if I could just get 75% of my belongings in a box, then it'll be an improvement!

Thinking

Do you ever think about it?
The how's
And what's
And why's about it?
The why'd it ever start
And how we ever stopped with all of it?

Love thine enemy (retry)

It might as well say, "Gouge thine eyes" how difficult I find its concept and its application.

There are some common enemies that are easy to say we hate or are trying to "love" the evil right out of--corrupt politicians and world leaders, mass murderers, serial killers, child abusers, the list goes on...

But what about those enemies in our personal lives? That individual whom just the thought of makes your blood boil. Whom you imagine arguing with and winning! or think of a witty comeback 3 days too late! "Man I wish I would have told him this.....!@#$%"

In all reality that person may not be as bad as the late Osama Bin Laden, but the emotion toward him or her is 10x what you feel for some evil stranger.

What am I getting at??!?!

Hmmm

I guess my point is it's easy to say you love your enemies, when you don't have to run into them at the family get together every Sunday or have to hang out with him or her because you have the same friends.

But putting that type of love into practice is much more difficult, and I'm only now accepting this lesson into my life.

For a long time, if you were my 'enemy,' I would simply cut you out of my life. But recently I've started reaching out to those people--trying to integrate them into my life once again. Or just trying to get along. Attempting to find redeeming qualities, in what I usually see is a sea of distasteful ones.

Sometimes I feel so fake because it is as if I'm feigning fondness that isn't there, but like I always say, "You gotta fake it, till you make it." And I'm confident that if I keep trying, I'm going to love my enemy into friendship.

As you could probably tell...

From my most depressing late night poem that this new year did not induce happy, excited feelings from me at all. I was reading my facebook, watching tv, and noticing everyone is so excited for the year to come, for the celebration at midnight.

I. was. not.

The Peter Pan in me kept repeating "you're getting old." "you're gunna die one day, and it's fast approaching." "your little girls are growing up..."

And man lemme tell ya, I was getting pretty depressed.

But days have passed, and life went on as usual. And without the huge celebration of passing time, I'm feeling more myself.

I suppose it might stem from this incessant feeling that I've not done all that I was capable of accomplishing. That there could have been more to me and more to my life than what I have.

** And inevitably someone will point out everything wonderful and good and say that I must be grateful. And I am grateful, but is it so bad to be honest and admit that it isn't enough?