The Woman on the Right

i watch not knowing what's coming
the words foreshadow the end
but don't give it completely away
i'm curious
and yet i know somewhere inside me
where this is going

then it hits me
out of nowhere
reaches in and grabs the very deepest parts of me
tears are inevitable
mixed with understanding and relating
of knowing and sadness
they come from the very deepest parts of my soul
that sees like they do...
the ones on the left

i am moved to my core
the images and words speak right to that lie
that lie i've believed
that lie most of us have believed
i see myself as the woman on the left
don't most of us?
but they see us as we are
not as the parts we are conditioned to see

we are taught to see flaws
we are taught to see what needs fixing
we are taught that perfection is beauty
and that imperfection is just that ... imperfect
but not beautiful
the eyes that should be like hers
the lips that should be like hers
those cheekbones and perfect eyebrows
that nose
so perfectly proportioned
but look back to the childhood photo
most of the time it's just the nose someone else imagined
and then sculpted for a price

hair color, skin color, freckles or not
i wish i could be
like her
or her
maybe parts of her
definitely her skin color
my hair isn't straight enough
or curly enough
or long enough
or young enough ... anymore

i see every wrinkle
you see laugh lines
i see tired eyes
you see the sparkle within them
i see age spots
you see character
i see gray
you see wisdom
i see who i am not
but you see who i am...

the woman on the right

Visiting: Grief

About a month ago a FreedomFriend gave my OtherOne and I some hard-to-come-by, one-on-one time as we sat in three chairs located in the corner of our church during a Sunday morning service. We had been reeling from November's 'day of disconnection' and were labored by so many questions. During this hour, the topic of grief came up (among so many others) and I was told that I didn't know how to grieve. This was not said with any malice or judgment, just a loving challenge to go learn how to grieve the losses of my life. I know his revelation was accurate because my soul does this funny, grumbly, uneasy thing when words touch the soft spots of unhealed wounds.

That was over a month ago, and his words have been left dangling in front of my heart, untouched but not ignored. It's just that every time I think about that word ... grief ... I get a little apprehensive, like I'm standing on the above pathway look straight into a black hole into which I must choose to walk.

I'm on a journey to discover who I am and who I am not; learning the importance of grieving is part of this process. In this, I am reading the hearts of a few people I am particularly drawn to for one or all of these reasons: 1) their transparency, 2) their unique gift of using words to share stories, and 3) their wisdom and ability to make me think.

I found my way to a post written by a favorite Wordie and was gripped by the below passage. She wrote my heart. So instead of trying to say it better, I just borrowed it.

"I guess that's the thing: I don't want to visit the places I left behind. But maybe if I do, the Way to Freedom and grace will be made a little clearer. Maybe. Maybe it doesn't have to be perfect. Maybe if I write about what happened and what was, who I am will be made clear." Amber Louthan, Maybe, December 2, 2011 

Right now, grief feels like the above pathway--dark and foreboding--but maybe ... just maybe ... the process of walking through grief will not be as daunting as the thought of walking into the unknown. Who knows? I may even come out of it calling grief my friend. If health and wholeness are what I'm after, then the tools to get there may be more forgiving than I think standing on this side of doorway.

But how to enter?

"So I got out my journal and I began to write about losses. Less than a paragraph in my heart connected. If Jesus wept, so could I. And weep I did. Loss is a normal part of life ... Grief is the normal way God allows us to purge the pain of loss and keep a healthy balance in our souls." Bob Hamp, Good Grief, December 3, 2011

Journal: that I know how to do. Cry? I've done my fair share even though I wouldn't consider myself a "crier". Weep? Um, yeah ... we're not on as familiar ground with each other. I've wept, truly wept, only a handful of times in my life. I can recall each incident intimately.

But this journey is one of digging, excavating, discovering and purging. Tunnels may be dark, but there's always a point where light leads you out.

2013: i will BEcoME

I will seek God's truth to dethrone the enemy's lies.

I will pursue healing and remember my wounds no more.

I will know and be known, without walls and without fear.

I will learn to live with a heart fully transformed by vulnerability.

I will get to know that little girl again and see the world through her eyes.

I will learn to overcome and not succumb.

I will smile on purpose and laugh without restraint.

I will write not only out of inspiration but more often out of pursuit.

I will read beautiful words every day. 

I will choose connection over isolation.

I will press in instead of shrink away.

I will lay down regret and take hold of redemption.

I will walk in authority and let go of blame.

I will make the choice to forgive when offense wants to tighten its grip.

I will use my words to bless and not to curse, to build and not break down.

I will pray for those I have labeled my "enemies".

I will hold onto hope in the face of adversity and turn towards love when faced with fear.

I will rest each night under a blanket of peace.

... i will BEcoME.

*A special shout out THANK YOU to Mary Jo for her sweet inspiration to emphasize BE right along with ME. I love it! {January 15}

Beauty Redefined

Source: sundayinbed.tumblr.com via Babs on Pinterest

"I am weathered but still elegant ..." Song of Solomon 1:5 {TheMessage}

Awkward Acceptance

“Do I want my husband to stop seeing me and calling me beautiful? Is that really a question I need to be asked? Apparently.”

i sometimes think you write from the perspective of a fly on the wall of my heart. sometimes i read your words and they [too eerily] tell my story. it is almost unsettling at times. unsettling because you make me face me by surprise. maybe we share heart similarities without even knowing it. hearts that have been used, i’m discovering, are hearts that don’t want to believe in being seen, and adored, and loved … just for who we are. GOD is whispering…

the paragraph that starts with “my husband tells me” was like a page from the story of my life. i understand your discomfort in accepting. and your transparency has caused me to flinch a little. now i know i have to ask the question “why?”. why do i? why don’t i? and then i have to let GOD work out of me to work in me. to let freedom replace awkward acceptance. GOD is whispering…

thank you for your [heart]words.