New Creation

She lies.
She lies in a pool of viscus blue.
Her hair strangely billowing, slightly matted, slowly waving in the goo.
She's being made new.
Slowly transformed, reality askew.
But way back when,
Before she Knew
She would breathe in sex and cheap booze.
She would breathe in sin and daisy dukes.
She ate nothing but lust and lies
And spat out anyone in sight.
Out with the old.
In with the new
She's sprouting gills.
And she's seeing true
Who knew
That this day would come
But this is only day one.
Many more to come
Painful shifts
And setbacks
And slow drifts
And comebacks
Praying hoping that her good side has won
Then sometimes wishing she were back
Behind the sun
Back in the darkness
Back in the fun
Back in the shadows
Cutting to run
To where
And to who
She hasn't a clue
But until then
She lies in the blue
Being made new

It hurts more this way

Seeing the pain on your face

Watching your hope fade away

Hearing you insulted day after day. 

Calling

Once in a while
I'm sitting back
Looking at myself
Look at the world.

Ps 46:10

Be still and know that I am God. 

Barking

At this point the dog has been barking for 70 minutes...straight.

**Update**

The dog has stopped barking after 85 hell-on-earth minutes.

Axiomatic

7But when [John the Baptist] saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming to watch him baptize, he denounced them. “You brood of snakes!” he exclaimed. “Who warned you to flee God’s coming wrath? 8Prove by the way you live that you have repented of your sins and turned to God. 9Don’t just say to each other, ‘We’re safe, for we are descendants of Abraham.’ That means nothing, for I tell you, God can create children of Abraham from these very stones. (Matt 3:7-9 emphasis added)

You say you have faith, for you believe that there is one God. Good for you! Even the demons believe this, and they tremble in terror. (James 2:19)

"[He] walked in a divine sense of rest..."

'[He] walked in a divine sense of rest. Like, 'You know what? Everything is going to be okay. The Lord is still on the throne. We're gunna make it." Larry Stockstill on his recently departed father of 97 years, Pastor Roy Stockstill.


Below is a memorial of a holy man, who lived a long and blessed life. It is inspirational for me to hear of his joy and rest. You may not know him, I didn't either, but I have experienced the legacy that his obedience to God has created.

How safe is too safe?

Jesus' words were bold. They were brave. They were true. Jesus himself was the Word of God--the word God used to create the universe--made man. And our Heavenly Father entrusted to us that very same Word to be proclaimed to all the nations of the Earth.

In Matthew 28, often referred to The Great Commission, Jesus spoke to his 11 disciples and commanded them:

 Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.

As Christians, we are vessels of the Word of God.  We have to believe that the same saving power that God's word had for us, it will also have for others. We don't need anything else. Therefore, we do not need to sugarcoat, pussyfoot, elaborate, apologize for or defend it. All we need to do is "testify" to it.

But how can we make disciples if we ourselves aren't disciples? How can we proclaim the Word of God when we don't even know the Word of God.

God wants us to have hearts as pure as children's hearts, but an intellect of an adult--he wants us to have a mature understanding of Him. Therefore in order to make disciples, in order for us to become new creations "we must cultivate a hunger for the Word of God."1 We have got to read his Word, and Thanks be to God, His word is free to us! (Of course there are places where the bible is not accessible, but in most of the world, we can access 100 different translations of the bible just by using our smart phones.)

I'm being challenged in this area of my life. I want to be transformed and yet I'm not allowing the transformational power of the Word of God to enter my life. I'm not saturated with his Word. If God created Light and Sky and Water and the entire UNIVERSE by using his words, how transformative can that Word be when its full creative power is unleashed within me?

Filling the Void

Its has only been 2 weeks since Lent began, and I feel desperate when I see how much time I have left. I also thought that by breaking my addiction to social media and other media, that I would have been a healthier person, but I'm not. Maybe I've not given it enough time, but I find myself replacing social media with other just as unhealthy things.

See Lent is not a time just to abstain but also to take up. You remove something and fill the void with Christ.

That's what I've been missing.

I'm realizing now that when you remove something from a crowded space, that space doesn't remain empty. Something else comes in to fill it (even if it is just air molecules). This happens in our lives. If you take something out, you have to be intentional about putting something healthy and good back in. Because the space does not remain a void. It will be filled.

Repentance

I'm reading Bonhoeffer in my spare time at home, and listening to C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity on Audible in the car. Funny enough both were recently touching on the theme of Repentance.

Enjoy!

"Now what was the sort of "hole" man had got himself into? He had tried to set up on his own, to behave as if he belonged to himself. In other words, fallen man is not simply an imperfect creature who needs improvement: he is a rebel who must lay down his arms. Laying down your arms, surrendering, saying you are sorry, realising that you have been on the wrong track and getting ready to start life over again from the ground floor-- that is the only way out of a 'hole.' This process of surrender--this movement full speed astern--is what Christians call repentance. Now repentance is no fun at all. It is something much harder than merely eating humble pie. It means unlearning all the self-conceit and self-will that we have been training ourselves into for thousands of years. It means killing part of yourself, undergoing a kind of death... Remember, this repentance, this willing submission to humiliation and a kind of death, is not something God demands of you before He will take you back and which He could let you off if He chose: it is simply a description of what going back to Him is like. If you ask God to take you back without it, you are really asking Him to let you go back without going back. It cannot happen. "C.S.Lewis, Mere Christianity Ch4 pg 59-60

"The Gospel is protected by the preaching of repentance which calls sin sin and declares the sinner guilty.  The key to loose is protected by the key to bind.  The preaching of grace can only be protected by the preaching of repentance." Bonhoeffer


Bonus Bonhoeffer quote (page 272) that relates to my recent post, which you can read by clicking here.

"We must be able to speak about our faith so that hands will be stretched out toward us faster than we can fill them... Do not try to make the Bible relevant. Its relevance is axiomatic... Do not defend God's Word, but testify to it... Trust to the Word. It is a ship loaded to the very limits of its capacity!"

Metaxas continues, "He wished to impress upon his ordinands that when one truly presented the Word of God, it would undo people because it had the innate power to help them see their own need and would give the answer to that need in a way that was not larded over with 'religion' or false piety. The grace of God, without filter or explanation, would touch people."

page 361

Charles H. Jr.,

You checked out a book back in June of 2014. I found your bookmarker today. A little piece of your forgotten past has amalgamated with my present. 

I wonder did you ever finish? Or did you stop on page 361? Did you stick the hold receipt somewhere in the book when you checked it out, then never getting around to reading the almost 600 page Bonhoeffer, simply return the book to the library without so much as flipping through its pages? 

Anyway, it was cool running into you today on page 361. Maybe I'll catch you again later? 

Our Lord and Savior who?

So I was helping to lead worship this Sunday. It was the first week of a new series called Heart Attack, which takes a look at our relationships and things that wage war against them.

We had a number of things go wrong this morning from microphones not working and buzzing during worship, to our pipes freezing, to the computer crashing numerous times... so many system breakdowns that it would take a post all on its own to address them all.

But if I were to point out the Number 1 thing that went wrong on Sunday, it would have to be me.

At one point during our worship set, I felt compelled to pray. I wanted to express to our congregation that the only perfect love they will ever experience is the love of Christ. But when it came time for me to speak I got scared. I started second guessing myself. I started to think that my prayer was too radical for the unbelievers or new-to-faith in the audience. That the word Jesus Christ was too offensive.

So instead I said something like, "Thank you for the perfect love that only you can give, our Lord."

It wasn't until this morning that it hit me!

The ONLY message that an unbeliever or new-to-faith NEEDS to hear is that Salvation comes through submission to Jesus Christ.

If we preach that message every single Sunday, it would never get old because it is the ONE and ONLY thing that saves souls from entering the gates of Hell!

Every message we preach, every song we sing, every prayer we utter should at its very foundation be about salvation through Jesus Christ!

Nothing has been revealed to me more clearly. If we go a single Sunday morning service without even touching upon the saving power of the blood of Christ, then we have not done the will of God. If nothing we say invites an unbeliever to commit his life to Christ, then we might as well pack up and leave the building.

One should never be scared, ashamed, or intimidated to share the GOSPEL--the Good News--that God sent His only Son, Jesus Christ, to LIVE as a man and to Die on a Cross, offering himself as the perfect sacrifice as atonement for our sins, but that is not all--3 days after he died on the cross, he rose from the dead! And whoever should believe in Him will not perish but have Eternal Life!

I pray to God to give me the strength to allow this to be at the heart of everything I do or say! I ask him to fill me with His mighty power and that through the holy Spirit, I commit myself to pray bold prayers--never again allowing the devil and his lies to penetrate my worship again.

My Reader

My daughter reads until her body falls to exhaustion almost every single night. We sleep with our doors open, so I can hear the distinctly sharp rustle of pages turning until past midnight. 

I reprimand her sometimes--I go into the room and demand she close her book and fall asleep. 

Then sometimes I don't. I just let her read until she falls asleep--whatever time that may be. 

See I remember being a little kid who would read under her covers using a flashlight--scared my grandma would wake up, catch me reading late at night, and force me to close my book. She loved me deeply and felt that my sleep and my studies (of which success relied on me not being tired at school) were more important than whatever book I was reading. 

I bet there were plenty of times she knew I was reading under the covers and didn't say anything. Probably for the same reason I don't say anything to Lia--because she knew how much joy and happiness it brought me. 

Here's a picture of my 9 year old reading a biography on Condoleezza Rice with her Encyclopedia of Marvel Comics open on her pillow. 

 

False?

So I finished the" Draw the Circle, 40 day Prayer Challenge" book last night and realized today, after looking for another book in my bookshelves, that I own a lot of Mark Batterson's books, "The Circle Maker," "In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day," and "Draw a Circle Around Your Kids."

I figured they are all small books, and I could read them fairly easily and get a spiritual refill! So this morning I sat down to read "The Circle Maker."

But as I read chapter 1, a slight discomfort kept nagging at me. Especially when he wrote this, "With the authority of the prophet Elijah, who called down fire from heaven, Honi called down rain." 

Who is this Honi the Circle maker that this guys keeps talking about?

Is he in the bible? If this Honi speaks with the same authority as Elijah, how had I never heard of Honi before?

So I did a quick google search. Turns out many Christians have a problem with Mark Battersons' Christian books on a Jewish legend not found in the bible. 

And while I think the prayer challenge is really good and the book very well written and even inspirational, I do have a slight issue on his basing the whole thing on a legend, which is not biblical. 

Some sources call it heretical and Mark a false prophet. I don't know if I would go that far. 

But it does place enough reservations in my spirit that I'll hold off reading his other works until I look into it further. 

Enjoy

I took this picture of these beautiful tiny pink flowers yesterday from a bouquet I bought. It's a little punch of color in this cold,  white, and gray world outside.

Feeling exposed

I used to not have an issue expressing what I wanted so passionately to say. Not putting it into a poem or making it rhyme, but just typing it out plainly and bluntly. I've become completely neurotic about what others think about what I've said. Will they look too deeply? Will they misinterpret? Will I offend? Will I sound like an idiot? Will what I write affect my career? Will it affect my relationships?

I mean it absolutely consumes me. 

I've recently been tasked to write a small blurb about myself to go with a picture of me on a website. And I can. not. get. it. done. 

I second guess every word choice, every sentence, every single train of thought. Should I mention that I'm passionate about delving deeply into the word of God? Oh man, what if the other people didn't put anything like that, then I'll sound so arrogant! What if they just put that they like knitting? Do I have any PASSIONS like knitting... obviously not knitting, but something like it? hmmmmmMmmmMmMmmMMMmMmmMMmmMMm

Nothing.

Ok. Let me take out passions and just put that I sing in the band..... but what if that undermines my other role. Should I mention my other roles to reinforce my experience with the organization? hmmmm probably not.

And on and on and on it goes.

See I've come to realize as I've gotten older that you can't just say what you want and there not be consequences--even as small as the knowledge others have about you--the insights they glean. Those are consequential.

I've come to treat this space--a cyber-space that I've maintained since I was 19 years old, as a place to hold my most cryptic poems that expose but don't tell what is on my mind. 

Funny thing is that barely anyone reads this, and yet I'm more afraid of exposure than ever before. 

Destined

how would you know
that somewhere far away
there's a girl with all the words
but with nothing left to say?

My yoke is easy and my burden is light

Easy
Ease
Gentle
Cool Breeze,
Yellow and Red
Falling
Leaves,
Tall and thin
Blades of Grass
Bending softly
Against the wind.
Long, slow kisses
And soft firm skin
Wavy locks
Of hair that blend
Blonde and brown
And black and gray.
Everything
I see today
Pushes the darkness
Farther away.

Put myself out there

Didn't let the flat tires deter me

From setting out into the warm sun

And the cool breeze

Clear skies

And a new lease

On life

With fresh eyes

and my soul set free

From the darkness that was cast upon me.

There it is

Took a minute
But now I see
What I was missing
Was humility--
The power to make
My life and wants smaller
All while making
Your greatness taller,
Bolder,
Stronger,
Right to the front
Of my mind and my thoughts.
See I knew something was wrong!
I had belief
But no love.
I had knowledge
With no awe.
And it took one dancing child
With her arms raised high
And her joyful smile
And her gleaming eyes
Bursting with gladness flowing from inside
To remind
Me of the happiness that comes
From being a child of the most high one.
So here it goes:
"Glory Glory Glory
To the Lord God Almighty,"
As I join with the chorus
of the Angels on high
That with every breath
Proclaim with pride
That they surrender their lives
To their Lord Jesus Christ.

I went home

I recently traveled back to New Orleans after being away for over 3 years. I didn't take my husband or kids. It was just me---traveling solo.
And it was the most liberated I have felt in ages. I was able to visit everyone i wanted for as long as I wanted without having to feel guilty for leaving my kids to be taken care of or having to beg Lee to come along. I was in complete control.

I went to a wedding and danced.
I went to a bar and played pool all night.
I drove to the lower 9th, to arabi, to marrero, to kenner, to terry town, to boomtown casino!

Just everywhere.

The love that I received was overwhelming. People who love and miss me were just lavishing me with attention and nothing on this planet could have prepared me for it.

Trust me, I feel like God brought us to Raleigh and he has plans for our lives here, but what I have back in New Orleans is special. I have history and deep affection. I forgot about that...

Challenge pt 1

I decided to challenge myself to write something happy. But I needed inspiration. So I've put together a series of photographs that I've taken through the years and allowed them to take me back to that place--of joy, or warmth, or peace, or contentment. 

Dappled
Beneath the broad and cool canopy
Of your heart-shaped leaves
Once deep burgundy
Have now turned green
Peaceful and quiet
tranquil yet defiant
Through the rustles and creeks
That the wind
Uses to welcome and greet.

Mini-breakdown

My mind is in a state of change--

insecure and unfastened.

My spirit slightly broken,

Bruised, and disheartened.

"You think too much" 

"You push too much"

"Just let it go"

"Just let them be"

And deep inside I keep wondering

"Why does it always have to be me?"

The one to apologize

The one to adjust

The one to bend

And the one to rush

To take on so much

For those who care so little

And with every breath

Condemn and belittle

All that I do

And all that I care for

Without any concern for the time

And the effort 

I invest in this chore?

Give me a break!

My goodness, My God!

I do this because I love.

And I don't need any thanks or any praise

But some Grace

Would be nice.

And some flexibility 

Would be great!

And just like the words on this page

All blurted out and spewed all over

My hurt is dulled

And my spirit glazed over

With the numbing mist

That it instinctively applies

When little chips and little hurts

Expose the tender me inside.

Mending and strengthening

Until the next injury arrives.

I am silent inside

They search for her. Without rest. Navigating under mossy limbs of large cedars. It is dark. The blackness of the trees and the moist green moss creates an intoxicating--dizzying--feeling. And all the while they call out for her. Nothing.

She hears their calls. But the light behind her eyes has died.  "I am silent inside," she whispers to no one.

Pent Up

I can feel it in the deepest parts of me
Coiled and harnessed--threatening to break free.

Ps 46

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. (Psalm 46:1-3 NIV)

When I'm in trouble
When I'm feeling weak
When I'm all alone
And the ground beneath my feet
crumbles.

When I'm attacked and talked about
When I'm accused and lied about
When I'm overlooked and forgotten about
And when every step I take,
I stumble.

I press.
I press into what I know
Not what I feel
Not what I see
And not what I hear.

I press into your presence
I press into another day
I press into your word
And I let the rest slip away

I press into who you are
And what you've done for me
I press into what I've learned
And let the rest go free.

Then even though I'm angry
And even though I'm sad
and regardless of my attitude
I know I'm not all bad

I know that I am loved
I know that I am trying
I know that I've been wronged
And I'm going to stop relying

On others to do right by me
On others to be by my side
On others to be fair to me
On others not to lie
On others to love me
On others to forgive
On others to think of me
As much as I think of them

How do you know?

Do you think you know me?
Do you think you know who I am?
Do you think I lay it all on the line?
Then you believe a lie.

A couple months back

I wrote down almost every word that was racing through my mind. I typed them into my phone, and now I'll post them here.

From June 4, 2015 12:14 AM

Half-truths

Apologies for half-truths
Aren't even truthful apologies
Cause you can't even own up
That you're a liar.

On the Inside

I wish I were more like you
Nothing but light on the inside
Every time I open my mouth
Nothing but kindness comes out.

In the Darkness

My eyes are sore
My head is throbbing
My body wants rest
But my mind keeps running
And crashing
And tripping
And skidding
Over every word and glance and.....

Words

It's hard to organize my thoughts
My words are all compounded

My head hurts

I feel this pressure
It builds around my temples
And then slowly moves toward my eyes
Its a sign
That my brain is failing me
That I've pushed the limits of my consciousness
That my body is betraying me and desires
That which I abhor
The unconscious
The nocturnal amnesia
Sleep.

Searching for Beauty

Recently someone posted a video on my wall of a young lady who was dressed in a tiny bikini that she was bursting out of while proactively dancing. The video is shared mostly to make fun of this young girl, who is on the heavier side, as she "gyrates" her body for the whole world to see. One of the commenters on the video defended and congratulated the young lady for having the self-confidence to dance and showcase her body--regardless of her size. But in reply someone else wrote this:

"eso no es seguridad ,es exhibicionismo....una persona segura de si misma no haria tal cosa...ahora en estos tiempos la seguridad es sinonimo de no tener verguenza y hacer tonteras...punto..."

To translate she says:
"That is not self-confidence; it is exhibitionism...A person who is confident wouldn't do such a thing. In these times confidence is synonymous with having no shame and doing foolish things...period..."

Plastering your half naked body (regardless if you're a size 2 or a size 22) on the internet is not a sign of confidence because people who are self-secure do not need the validation of strangers on the internet. They only need know their identity in Christ (as a friend of mine likes to say). You are beautiful because beauty is intrinsic and universal to all God's creation. It doesn't matter your size, your complexion, or any other physical trait. Beauty is within.

Year 9

On year 9

I wasn't thinking about me or mine

I was thinking about you

And yours

Praying and planning

To bring life 

To give more

To bring peace

To implore

You to seek love

And instead you bore

Into me.

Always Then

For a moment she could hear the waters softly murmuring as she laid in the darkness--their gentle lulling enveloping the slow exhalations of the one beside her, until it had swallowed them whole. He had listlessly drifted into the cool current of Lethe--leaving her alone on the shore. Her torment both physical and mental were sending raking tremors through her, although she remained perfectly still. She was paralyzed by her terror-her constant companion, the reel looping endlessly in her mind.  The visions of what had passed continued to play before her eyes, so that now was meaningless. There was no now. Only then. Always then. 

Full Life

My life is full to the brim
But I always find time to fit you in
Because You are my friend
I wish you felt the same on your end....

Story of my Life

I remember there was a time

When I was willing to throw it all away for you---

For someone whom I loved, 

But for someone who played me as a fool.

I was standing on the edge

Not so much ready to jump,

But to fall

For you.

Lived and died for you

Woke up and thought of you

Fell asleep and dreamt of you

Was ready to give it up for you

Thought I lived for you

But I was tricked by you...

What a fool

I was.

Took time to get over you

Not the same as forgive you

Not the same as fall out of love for you

But to move on from you

Moved far away

And stayed away

And strayed from faith

Then made my way back again

Had to suffer and repent again

and again

And again.

Had to find Christ when I was broken

Had to rebuilt the trust I had forgotten

Had to ask God for a new heart that was open

To seeing the goodness that I had forsaken.

I was and remain a fool.

A fool who has made mistakes

Who loved whom she should have hated

Who trusted when she should have waited

Who felt real things but who spent her time faking it. 

This is the story of my life. 

Quotes of Late--Lia Edition

[Lia and I are walking in the magazine section of Barnes and Noble when she notices a cover with 1Direction.]

Lia: "Mom! Did you know 1Direction is breaking up?"
Me: "Yeah, Zayn is leaving..."
Lia: "Who?"
Me: "Zayn."
Lia: "Which one is Zayn?"

I point to Zayn on the magazine cover....

Lia: "Phew!"
----------------------------------------------
Lia is telling me a story about an argument she had with the boys in her class.....

Lia: "And then [insert boy name] said 'girls fight like this...' and he started waving his hands around all silly. And then I said, 'Does Princes Leia fight like that?!!" and he was like, "No." and then I said "I GOTCHA!"

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

Lia: "This song reminds me of Spiderman."
Me: "Why?"
Lia: "Because it's like a smooth jam, and Spiderman's webs are smooth...."

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

Me: "Who's your favorite superhero?"
Lia: "hmmmm........ She Hulk."

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

Me: "What are you reading about?"
Lia: "The Wasp"
Me: "Who is he?"
Lia: "Wasp is a girl, mom...."

Cold

I appreciate the cold air.
Cleansing and refreshing
And when it stings against my face
I imagine i'm receiving a blessing--
A penance
A purification through the pain
See fire destroys
But ice sustains
It preserves
It maintains.
Really....
I'm hot enough already.
Don't need much more
To set me ablaze.

Inspired

I want so much to say

Its you who inspires me.

But that would be a lie

And at this point in my life

I just haven't got the time--

To pretend

To envy

To strain to feel

What I don't.

Its the empty and the lonely times

Its the anger and the rage

Its the cold and hot and ups and downs

That make me want to create.

I want so much to say

That I feel you deep inside

That I speak to you every day

That its you who keeps me alive

But that would be a lie

And at this point in my life

I just haven't got the time

To pretend

To envy

To strain to feel

What I used to hide. 

gradient white

In my unfinished draft of my poem gradient, i'd forgotten to post this also unfinished draft of the white portion. I've no idea where it goes. or how it really fits in. but here it is, in it's unfinished splendor....

Ever wonder why

I've felt this way for a while now--
 Cold and empty inside.
 No words to write
Because there's no life to describe.

My hand reaching

Since I'm the one with the pencil....I penciled in some nails (since in reality I bit them all the way down)

Lee's hand resting on a scrap of paper

If I sit and stare long enough....

things like this happen

If I'm in the car, I start doodling what I see--most of the times, it's sketches of my feet.

If I'm in church, I start doodling on the weekly newsletter or writing all over my hands.

Then I take my doodles and throw them in the trash.

Maybe I'll start taking little pics of them and then throw them in the trash--just like I did with this banana on my desk.  I ate the banana, then threw the scarp paper away.  But now it's here for you to enjoy :)

J

Gradient--unfinished draft

I never publish works-in-progress. I usually go through a long self-editing process.

But then my changes are lost, and there's no way to retrieve those original words I'd chosen.

I remember studying classic literature in college, and being able to read the rough-drafts of poems and plays--as they were transforming into the masterpieces we all know today.

Now none of my work is a masterpiece. But I thought it would be cool to save a rough draft for once. Keep it logged. That way when I change a word or delete a line or put a comma in and then take it out. I'd remember.

love IS

Yesterday at church the sermon was about Love. Very appropriate considering it was (St.)Valentine's weekend.

We spent time in 1Cr13--in the passages where Love is described... Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is not envious or boastful...

And our pastor spoke about what it looks like to be patient, what it means to be kind, or not envious etc...

But one thing struck me, as an aside really, and it revolved around "love IS," or to be more specific it revolved about what it meant to BE kind, to BE patient, etc. 

See there's a difference between being kind and acting kind. When you look up kind in the dictionary it is defined as a good and benevolent nature. It means the very essence of what someone is is good and benevolent. 

Sometimes as Christians we pat ourselves on the back when we exhibit self-control. What I mean is that we see someone or are put in a situation where we can be rude, impatient, judgmental, etc... And on the inside we are thinking so many things: little insults or wise cracks, inside we're boiling with impatience, inside we're furious. But we rein it all in, and then congratulate ourselves for BEING so Kind. 

When in fact, people who ARE kind, whose natures are truly kind, whose natures are truly patient, aren't thinking of wisecracks and insults. They aren't actually frustrated but holding it in. 

They really are waiting patiently. They really only have soft and kind thoughts about people. They are gracious. 

Don't get me wrong, it is a tremendous feat to hold one's tongue and to exhibit self-control, but that's only the first step. We've got to pray for a transformation of our nature. We need God to help transform us into GENUINELY kind and patient persons. 

Because otherwise we are just ACTING kind and ACTING patiently. We ARE not genuinely that way. 

See Jesus clarified the law for us in Matthew 5. He went further than simply condemning acting upon our sinful nature, but he went so far as to condemn even our sinful thoughts.  Jesus realized that our thoughts reveal a lot about our natures.

_____________________________________

I have the perfect example of living kindness in my husband--a man who is truly kind. 

A number of years back while we were in marriage counseling, we did an exercise. It took us hours, but we sat down and dug into our natures. We searched for who we are at our cores. To better understand each other, it was important to try to pin down that one quality that permeates almost every action and thought. 

Mine was Passion.

Lee's was Kindness.

At the very core of who Lee IS is kind. It explains why he only sees the good in people, to the point of it harming him in relationships and friendships. It explains why he's hurt when people take advantage of his niceness. He has often spoken to me about how people in his life have mistaken his kindness for weakness. And after yesterday's sermon, it explains why he would say this, 

I mean the sermon today was all common sense...Just be genuine!

 Of course being genuine to him would mean being patient and kind--it's who he genuinely is! But that is not the case for most of us, especially me.

I know that I'm not as naturally kind as my husband, but I pray to God to transform me into a kinder and more loving person. 

One Word: Achieve

I was once very ambitious

And competitive to the point of vicious. 

Each challenge was met as an affront--

Stalking my opponent and preparing to hunt.

Till one day my confidence was broken

And I was no longer brave and outgoing

In my place was someone guarded and scared

Dreams left to die because I refused to dare.

And here I am older and irrelevant

trying to start over--to write a new testament.

My one dream is to find something to achieve

And yet I'm so scared to even believe.

Exhilarating

I skim my fingertips across your smooth skin--
Feeling and pinching you.
You are delicate but resilient,
As my zealous hands explore you further.

You feel so familiar to me, but in every way that matters
You're completely new.
And while, I feel like I can predict where this is going--
How this is going to end,

I need you to bring me there.

I always get like this toward the end.
You're irresistible to me.

And once I've had you
Felt you
Consumed you
I place you among the countless others.

Physically forgotten
But eternally etched in my soul--
In the very stuff that makes me
me.

Quotes of Late

Jillien: Bae, how do you feel about going to the store to pick up eggs and bacon for  breakfast?
Lee: I don't feel good about it.
-------------------------------------------
Jillien: Ugh, my friend posted the nastiest shit i've ever seen in my life on Facebook today.
Lee: I hate when t hey do that
Jillien: i can't seem to get it out of my mind. I keep thinking about it and It literally makes me gag... What should I do?
Lee: Don't tell me about it...
-----------------------------------------

[The sounds of Lee playing Fifa in the background....Cheers from the tv]
Lee:....Fucker.

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

Maggie: knock knock
Lia and I: Who's there?
Maggie: Orange
L&J: Orange Who?
Maggie: Orange you gunna eat?

---------------------------------------
Maggie: knock knock
Lia and I: Who's there?
Maggie: Grape
L&J: Grape Who?
Maggie: Orange you gunna eat?

---------------------------------------------------
Maggie: knock knock
Lia and I: Who's there?
Maggie: Bee blop doobie da da blah
L&J: Bee blop doobie da da blah Who?
Maggie: Orange you gunna eat?

A Reader: 1968

You never got past page 115. I know because you never got around to lifting the dog-eared page you used to keep your place. Now 46 years later, the page is so precisely creased that I'm certain attempting to straighten it will only result in its tearing completely off.  You wrote a small prose In the back that I'm certain was Salinger induced, inspired, and impersonated. Although, I must admit that your small anecdote scribbled in the back empty pages of a long-forgotten, never read volume has been more successfully delivered than any such writing i've composed.

Douglas, May 1968. I also don't think I've ever seen a book so old yet so perfectly preserved – almost as if it's owner never fully opened any of the pages but gingerly manipulated open the book only as far as needed to uncomfortably read all the words.

One thing I know is that this book cost $.75 in 1968. I bought it for $.50 in 2014.  I probably would've paid $.75.

It's that good.

My Yellow Wallpaper is a 47" Smart TV

Slowly consuming all of my attention
And my sanity.
The images that peer through its screen
Entrap me.
I had my reservations
My protests
My vehement opposition
But I resigned
And now it's got hold of me.

glances

Long yet subtle--
Your glances show
A passion underneath,
Which no one knows.

Just a little bit

I've heard thousands sermons over the course of my life. Each one life-giving and spiritually fulfilling, but every now and again, a sermon will change my life--or at least my perspective on life, a behavior, or a mindset.  But in this particular instance, it took years for the message to fully saturate and for me to understand how truly wise it was.

Several years ago, probably over 5 years, I attended a sermon preached by Mike Haman of Healing Place Church in Baton Rouge. 

He was talking of his pre-teen daughter wanting to go to the movies with her girlfriends. The issue was not that she wanted to go to the movies but about the particular movie she wanted to see. When her father objected that the movie had foul language, violence, and racy material, her defense was that there was "only a little bit." There were only a few bad words, and a little bit of violence, and only a few racy scenes. Nothing to flip out about.

That's when Mike painted this picture:

Imagine I'm baking you cookies to enjoy when you get back from the movies. I spend a lot of time gathering the best ingredients: Ghiradelli milk chocolate chips, brown sugar, butter, flour, etc.. I'm stirring up my batter, but before I finish, I go to the backyard, scoop up a little bit of one our dog's turds, come back in, and mix it into the batter with the rest of the ingredients.

Now you and your girlfriends come back from the movies, and you smell the delicious, freshly baked cookies. Y'all are ready to eat, but before you dig in, I let you know all the care and delicious ingredients that went into making these cookies. I mention the chocolate chips, the sugar, and butter, and oh yea, a little bit of dog poo. 

You're disgusted. You refuse to eat these cookies. Even though they are made with choice ingredients, the dog poo has contaminated and ruined something that could have been so good. No matter how much I reassure you that I only put  A LITTLE TINY BIT of poo in them, you still refuse...

You see, this is how sin corrupts.  It only takes a little bit to contaminate the whole--in your marriage with lust or temptation, in your workspace with regard to ethics or honor, at your church with dissension and slander... Just a little bit, can ruin the whole.

Why did it take me so long to understand this message, I've no idea.

when I'm down

My biggest dream was to build you up
To be a pillar
To be a start
To something huge
And to be a guide
With all the wisdom
we gained through our lives.
That we could help you
And stand beside,
But through it all
We were wholly denied
Not a word was heeded
Not a request was granted
But instead the complete opposite happened.
We were pushed aside and overlooked
We were kept away while you chose a new look.
We were used for your service and taken for granted
And with each passing day of being unwanted
We saw more and more who you had become
And learned that we were no longer one
But divided and torn and fading and waning
And now you're history and our future is waiting

Yesterday

Looking back
And I like what I see.
A time of perfect anger and animosity
A time of perfect passion and never ending love
A time of perfect wondering and perfect giving-up.

Looking back
And I like what I see
Two people going somewhere together
But walking on different streets.

Looking back
And I like what I see
A young woman trying to find herself
With a cigarette, a beer, and short cut-off jeans.

Looking back
And I like what I see...

All Over

It's the gentle way you move your hands

The roughness of your beard

The strength in your back and arms

That keep my eyes glued here.

It's the smirk and straight white teeth

It's the dark, full head of  wavy hair

It's the way you think and speak 

That's got me going nowhere.

I let it wash all over me

I let it flow inside

I listen it to it when it speaks

And let it blow my mind.

My late night wandering

My heavy lids and frowning brow--

I'm still awake but don't know how,

Or better yet I don't know why.

Just a few more words and then I'll lie.

Jill Sweetie

You called me "Jill Sweetie"
Probably one of the only people in the world
Who has ever called me Jill.
It never sounded right when anyone said it.
But from you, it's pretty perfect.
Jill Sweetie...
After I said good bye
Because I knew you were drunk
And I couldn't take another minute of your rambling
I couldn't stand another second of thinking about
How stagnant you are.
It hurts me.
It pisses me off.
Remember when we were young?
Playing Marvel vs Capcom
Eating Mexican food
Skateboarding
Driving around in that old beat up car of yours.
That was before your DUI's
Before your drug addictions
Before your suspended license
Before your suspended life
Jill Sweetie...
It made me smile
It really did
Reminded me of how important we were to each other
Once.
It made me wonder if I were still that important to you
Now.

where are all the words?

On continuing the theme of thanksgiving

To my fellow story church'ers:

I stumbled this Sunday, but you held me aloft and prevented my fall.

Thank you.

Thank you Mr. Driver....

You waited for me to run across the intersection, before finally turning the corner behind me and driving off.

What you didn't know about the female runner pushing the jogging stroller with a sleeping 2 year old on this overcast morning was that I'm a quitter. Or I was gunna be a quitter. I had been planning on giving up once I reached that intersection and just turning back and going home. I had been thinking about quitting even before I started my run. I kept wondering how far I would go before I gave up.

See my intention when I set out today was to run all the way to Target. I needed to buy a helmet for my daughter, and since I don't have a car, I'm walking/running everywhere I go. But Target is about 2.5 miles away from home, and I knew once I ran all the way to Target, I'd eventually have to run all the way back home. It was too much for me to think about, and when my mind did settle on that daunting task it would imagine my inevitable failure.

I had run about a mile and half by the time I reached that intersection-- by the time you sat patiently waiting for me to cross, not knowing the battle within my mind. That small, simple, patient act inspired me to keep on running, which I did. I ran the 2.5 miles to Target. I bought the helmet, and then made the painful trek back home. Granted, the run back was like taking a ride on the pain train, and I again entertained thoughts of quitting and walking back  (which if you look at my pace, I'm sure you would think I had walked!) But I didn't. I kept my legs moving. I kept on pushing. I made it home and wrote this thank you note to you.

FWF--1682

My FWF prompt:

You find yourself in the lower level of an old ship. A calendar on the wall says  1682. There is a small window, and the view is nothing but open sea and a setting sun. There is a staircase and you can see daylight at the top…

Why am I so damn uncomfortable?

She thought as she woke from a fretful sleep--

As if she were being tossed side to side and back and forth while she dreamt.

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the unusual darkness in her room.

This isn't my room!! Where the hell am I???!

The smell of salt water and wet wood overwhelmed her.

She heard the loud creaking sound of boards under extreme pressure.

The sloshing of water against a large blunt object.

The shouts of men above her--

Orders, she didn't understand.

And suddenly the distinct shuffling of rats scurrying below her feet.

Panicked she flung herself around the room,

Flinging and breaking small bottles off a small table near her bed.

She stretched high enough to glimpse outside the small round window.

Nothing but water and bright sunlight.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't think straight.

And suddenly words started coursing through her mind.

A mantra. Almost a prayer. Like she'd done it a million times:

My name is Annie Hidalgo. I'm from Harvey, Louisiana. I was born on February 4th, 1985.

My name is Annie Hidalgo. I'm from Harvey, Louisiana. I was born on February 4th, 1985.

My name is Annie Hidalgo. I'm from Harvey, Louisiana. I was born on February 4th, 1985.

I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy.

She saw a staircase on the far end of the room.

She slowly made her way up and peaked ever so carefully at the scene before her.

Men pulling at ropes on sails, mopping the deck, keeping watch high on the ship's masts.

They noticed her at once-- even though her large, frightened eyes were level with the deck.

She overheard a man whispering. 

Der she be. Wee lass touched in the head, she is.

Affecting an air of confidence, she popped her head and shoulders out quickly.

Trying to control her breathing and straightening her shoulders, 

She called out to the man nearest her.

"Hey you! Is this real?"

He paused before answering with a simple "Aye."

"What day is it?"

"...not this again. It is the 21st of March."

"And the year?"

"1682."

Just then a young handsome man came over to her.

"Ah Lady Elaine, you've awaken."

Lady Elaine? Does he think I'm Lady Elaine?

She responded quickly, but the tremble in her voice betrayed her terror,

"I think you must be mistaken, whoever you are. My name is Annie Hidal..."

"Yes, Yes of course you are." the man interrupted. 

"Have you had your syrups yet, m'lady?

You'll feel much better once you've taken your syrups."

Poor Financial Decision

We bought a tv. 47" tv. with money that I'd saved up. We paid cash. No debt. No hassle. No wondering how I'm gunna pay it off.... so why do i feel like throwing up?

Is it because I was proud of our little 25" tv? "we're not TV people I would say."

Six Hundred Dollars. gone.

Money I could have used to open an IRA for myself.

Or for 5 months membership at the YMCA

Or to pay for Lia to take piano lessons.

Or to buy sports equipment

Or....

Toward a new car.

Firestone called me today after checking on a "rubbing sound" Lee was concerned about.

$2000 to repair.

Two Thousand Dollars to repair a 2002 Nissan Altima.

A 2002 Nissan Altima that I spent $1200 in car maintenance last year.

Actually I've spent over $500 in repairs on that car every year that I've had it, if you can imagine that.


The catalytic converter. Alternator. Spark plugs. Breaks. Calipers. Tie Rods. Computer chips. yadda yadda yadda

We decided not to do the repairs.

We will be  a 1 car family.

A one car family with a 47" tv.

Stuck by the Woods on a Snowy Afternoon

The woods are but a narrow shield.

Concrete and metal and mess concealed

I look about me through the snow

Because I have been forced to yield

There's chaos on the streets today
The snow and ice kept most at bay
But we, on the road, thought better
And now we've learned there's no clear way

Cars and snow are all around.

But despite the crowd, I hear no sounds.

I stare out my car windows and see

Lone trees stoically standing ground

I sit and stare upon the wood
Still and Peaceful it all stood
Against the noise and fervent crowds
It bore the storm as only a tree could

The Walk

By that ancient river
Side by side
Me hiding and you pining
While the water flowed by.

Cannolis by the dozen
I was so hot that they felt frozen
I ate them just for you
And you bought them without knowin'.

I'm not one for sweets.
And being that close made me freak
I was sweatin' up a storm
And you were as cool as could be.

Remember the walk by the river?
Years ago and yet never clearer
Ages and lives have come and gone
And yet that memory still lives on.

Google is trying to take over my life

It's like I'm trapped in Orwell's 1984 and Google is big brother!

Everything I search

Everything I write

Is funneled through the all seeing eye that is google.

So when I started this blog a gazillion and a half years ago it was blogger. Just blogger. Then it was google's blogger. Then they forced me to join google+ through my gmail account. It got to the point where I couldn't opt out anymore. Then they linked my blogger to my google+ profile. Then they changed the commenting system so that people had to use their google+ profiles in order to comment. And that's all well and good, but I started noticing less people commenting and more people clicking the little check boxes by the comment section. So I just figured out how to turn off the google+ commenting, but then it freaking deleted all the comments that were posted through that system.

It's like the most frustrating thing in the universe. aaaAAAAARrRRRggggGGhhhHHh!

Here's the thing:

I'm a writer. 

I'm not famous.

No one knows me

Most people are accidentally reading this. 

For years #1 reason people were directed to this blog was because they googled "Is Ina Garten a Bitch?"

I just wanna share my writing.

When I was 19 this blog was like a journal chronicling every immature and retarded thing I wanted to do or say. Now at 28, it's the same thing, except that I've learned some self control and have become more guarded. I realize now more than ever that people can use my blog against me, professionally and personally. It makes me nervous and self-conscious.  So when I do post something, I don't want to feel like its a formal process. And I don't want my readers to have to jump through hoops to communicate with me. I also don't want them to feel like they need to register with Big Brother in order to do so.

I envy wordpressers. 

FWF

It pours on me
sometimes.
The skies open...
on purpose, I'm convinced.
And I'm gasping for a single breath
without choking on it all.
And the drops pelt every inch of me.
Until I can not bear another sensation
On my skin.
I feel like clawing at my body with the very
maddening nature of it all.
Then with an almost audible snap,
it shuts.
I dry slowly with time,
Then just to be cruel--
am not given a single drop more--
till my dryness is slightly uncomfortable.
Then nearly unbearable.
Where all my skin feels chapped.
And I imagine that all of it will chip away.
And I'm completely stagnant
Not wanting to move for fear of drying out further.
It's then that I think of you.

First published 11/20/2010

The Feeling

The later in the day
The stronger the feeling gets.
And my thoughts are filled with dancing girls
With sexy silhouettes.

And all at once I'm in the scene,
No longer in year two thousand fourteen,
But transported to a time long unseen
In New Orleans the summer I turned nineteen.

I see the bar through the haze of smoke
A group of friends laughing at some joke
And there I am so young and free--
'Smart and pretty,' like my momma taught me.

The night is hot, and the air hardly moves,
But we dance anyway in the crowded room.
We hug and we kiss and we drink and we play--
Confident that it would always be this way.

We were young, and we were dumb.
We played hard; we had fun.
We loved deeply and gave freely.
We slept long and studied measly.

I see all the faces when I close my eyes
And hearing them all singing makes me wanna cry
Just remembering and feeling it all over again
Me not knowing so not caring that this was the end

Early Christianity--Letters of Paul; Done

So for the last month I have been consumed with the letters of Paul. I signed up for Early Christinity course through HarvardX for free! It was definitely a unique learning experience for me, as I was taught by watching videos and annotating texts on rap genius.com and participating in discussions as part of my assignments.  I learned so much about Paul and of the time in which he was writing, but the most unexpected part of this class was how many ancient/ historical and contemporary texts outside of the NT writings we had to read. It was incredible! (I even shared some excerpts of those texts here and here). It enabled me to gain an understanding of the new testament that I probably would not have gained on my own study.

I mean I read 1 Corinthians at least 5 times in a 10 day span. Talk about delving deep. I read it searching for meaning for freedom and slavery. I reread it searching for the role of women. I read it yet again to gain an understanding of the value for wisdom in the 1st and 2nd century. I read its prescript. I read to evaluate Paul's use of rhetoric. I'm telling ya, I have read it in NIV, NABRV, NAB, and NRSV translations.

I would devote 6-8 hours of reading for a single class. Knowing that in 2 days, another 8 hours of reading would be assigned to me. I read from the deuterocanon. I read from disputed texts. I read from heretical texts. I read from Jewish histories. I read from Aristotle, Polybius, MLK Jr., and Josephus. I read and read and read.

And what did I gain from all this endless reading?

A deeper understanding of life in the 1st and 2nd centuries CE.
A respect for Paul and at the same time a disillusionment, in his teachings and in his message.

But most of all, I developed a yearning for the Word.

I'm telling ya, when the course started, I was overwhelmed with reading of all these letters. I was pushing through them-- carelessly annotating them with generalities and obvious observations from the texts. But as the weeks went on, I became used to the reading of these difficult ancient and biblical texts. Then toward the end, I couldn't wait for my next assignment. It was as if I were left empty until the next wave of readings were announced.

Now that the class is done, I'm searching my shelves for what to read next, but nothing jumps out at me. I know I want to read something spiritual, but I miss the community, and the discussions, and the forums, and the debates. I miss gaining knowledge not just from the professor but from the teaching fellows, from my peers, and from the research i did outside the class.

I want more.

Real Strong Women

Real strong women,

Independent

Liberated

Smart

Bold

Empowered

and

Enlightened,

Value Life. 

Polybius Histories--Insight to the darkness within

Spendius and his men then led out from the camp Gesco and the other prisoners, in all about seven hundred. Taking them a short distance away, they first of all cut off their hands, 12 beginning with Gesco, that very Gesco whom a short time previously they had selected from all the Carthaginians, proclaiming him their benefactor and referring the points in dispute to him. 13 After cutting off the hands they cut off the wretched men's other extremities too, and after thus mutilating them and breaking their legs, threw them still alive into a trench.

81 1 The Carthaginians, when news came of this unhappy event, could take no action, but their indignation was extreme, and in the heat of it they sent messengers to Hamilcar and their other general Hanno imploring them to come and avenge the unfortunate victims. 2 To the assassins they sent heralds begging that the bodies might be given up to them. 3 Not only was this request refused but the messengers were told to send neither herald nor envoy again, as any who came would meet with the same punishment that had just befallen Gesco. 4 With regard to treatment of prisoners in the future, the mutineers passed a resolution and engaged each other to torture and kill every Carthaginian and send back to the capital with his hands cut off every ally of Carthage, and this practice they continued to observe carefully. 5 No one looking at this would have any hesitation in saying that not only do men's bodies and certain of the ulcers and tumours afflicting them become so to speak savage and brutalized and quite incurable, but that this is true in a much higher degree of their souls. 6 In the case of ulcers, if we treat them, they are sometimes inflamed by the treatment itself and spread more rapidly, while again if we neglect them they continue, in virtue of their own nature, to eat into the flesh and never rest until they have utterly destroyed the tissues beneath. 7 Similarly such malignant lividities and putrid ulcers often grow in the human soul, that no beast becomes at the end more wicked or cruel than man. 8 In the case of men in such a state, if we treat the disease by pardon and kindness, they think we are scheming to betray them or deceive them, and become more mistrustful and hostile to their would‑be benefactors, 9 but if, on the contrary, we attempt to cure the evil by retaliation they work up their passions to outrival ours, until there is nothing so abominable or so atrocious that they will not consent to do it, imagining all the while that they are displaying a fine courage.10 Thus at the end they are utterly brutalized and no longer can be called human beings. Of such a condition the origin and most potent cause lies in bad manners and customs and wrong training from childhood, but there are several contributory ones, the chief of which is habitual violence and unscrupulousness on the part of those in authority over them. 11 All these conditions were present in this mercenary force as a whole and especially in their chiefs.

Eucharist-- at the very heart of the Catholic Faith

"Many ecclesiastics want to make me known through sophisticated arguments and complex reasonings,  forgetting the Eucharist, which is my very substance, and the sublime simplicity of the Gospels, which I proclaim. This is like throwing mud at simple people." (Cf. Message to Julia Kim, September 22, 1995)

"My feets is tired, but my soul is at rest."

I've been reading the Martin Luther King's letter from Birmingham jail for the course on Early Christianity.

The exercise was to compare Paul's letters from the 1st century with that of MLK in the 20th.

But so many profound statements were made during MLK's letter that I found myself crying many times before I finished my reading, which took me two days to complete.

I have been feeling in my heart that God has more in store for me--that he made me capable of more than what I've done thus far. I have been so unsettled recently with just the need to make something happen.

So coming across this quote of an older black women during a very dark period of civil unrest in the south, "My feets is tired, but my soul is at rest." I was instantly inspired. 

My God!  I want to feel that. I want my soul to be at rest with the peace of knowing that I worked tirelessly for the Lord.

Get Motivated! 

St. Catherine of Sienna said, "We we become who were are called to be, we will set the world ABLAZE!"

I've written it before, but I write it again!

Be Motivated!

where am i

I've a few friends who have posted what they read in 2013.But for the life of me I can't figure out which books I read last year or didn't read last year. It's like every book I've read is so fresh in my mind it feels like just yesterday that I last laid it down. 

Anyway I feel inclined to at least mention what I'm doing now and why I'm doing it. 

I'm currently reading: 

David Copperfield 

Stiff--the curious life of human cadavers

The Peacemaker--a biblical guide to resolving personal conflict

I'm reading david Copperfield because it's a classic and every so often I like to sharpen my classic reading skills. It's slower and sadder than books today , and I love it for that. 

Stiff, because it's interesting and morbid. I find it irresistible. 

The peacemaker, I'm reading because I have to figure out what I want more--respect or peace. 

I'm also taking a course online. It's called Early Christianity: letters of Paul. I'm doing this because I want to get my master's degree or a graduate certificate and I feel like I need to start getting used to academia. This is a certificate course not one for credit, but it's only to get me going. 

I can't just keep reading for no reason and storing knowledge with no outlet and no respect. Who cares if you're smart? It's all about what your stupid linked in profile says you are.