On Guns and Bullets

The words shot out at the screen. BAM! BAM! BAM! They weren't focused on the quality of the script or the cinematography efforts of the film being watched, but instead aimed at one of the characters within the story. Like bullets being shot out of a gun pointed directly at the female lead, each sentence was pulling the trigger at her assumed affiliation with a world view that didn't match the gun holder's. And the gun holder was letting her (and us) know it.

what? why?

I love a good story, whether I get the opportunity to read it in a book or see it on the big screen or rent it from Redbox ... I love a good story. I love well written characters and plot lines and intentional pacing. And I most love stories that make me think--that cause me to question where I currently stand on a life matter or even shake the foundation of the easy, American-styled life I live.

But that gun ... and those bullets? They were filled with a personal disgust for the fictional character's decisions, and they made me immediately question why?

What causes a soul to become so rankled by a fictional movie?
How can a fabricated character crawl under skin so easily?
What does she represent that provokes judgment?
Why does there seem to be an air of satisfaction at her suffering?

The human character is complex. As I walk through this season of life, I am even more aware of that fact. And I believe we are so complex, in part, because glory highlights flaws. And one can't see truth without recognizing the lie. And words are always revealing.

This is not judgment, but perspective. Those words could have come from me. Those kinds of words have come from me.

I've heard it said that the way we judge others is really just a [re]presentation of the way we judge ourselves--the way not being the particulars, but the heart attitude. When judgment towards others is harsh, does that mean we are just as harsh with ourselves, or even more so?

As I journey deeper into my relationship with Jesus, my spirit is becoming more and more sensitive to words. I find myself listening not to just what's being said, but becoming actively attentive to hear what is being revealed by what's being said. Scripture states that anything that proceeds from the mouth proceeds from the heart (Matthew 15:18). Trust me when I declare that my words have betrayed my heart too many times in the past and still do to this day ... and the cleansing of the foul muck in my heart is a huge part of my Jesus journey here on earth. I am not innocent in this area and I do not take pride in it either; I'm just choosing not to hide from it.

I want to hear others with an openness to origination and revelation. I want to hear myself the way I want to hear others--to know my words' origins and to be changed at the core by their revelation. I want to hear, not so I can judge, but grow.

Rachel's Child: Response

Kate is one of handful of writers whom I've never met, yet I have followed her life and her heart for years now. She wrote something yesterday--Rachel's Child, Part 1-- which I read this morning that left me with such a discomforting feeling, a rawness exposed without a band-aid. She recounted the story of a little girl who was her "client's child" when she was a social worker, yet she left this particular post dangling with a sense of hopelessness and despair. It is only Part 1, but my soul is already yearning to see what comes next. I'm not comfortable with this sense of dark wonder ... with the ability to only read chapter 1.

This story left its mark. I was compelled to leave a lengthy comment on her blog, and I wanted to save it here (for me) because I believe it's the catalyst to something else ... a something else I just can't quite put my finger on just yet.

Kate,

I’ve read everything you’ve written since I became aware of your blog years ago, and when I became aware, I took months going back and reading everything that came before. I rarely leave you comments, maybe a couple over the span of a few years, not because I’m not “a commenter” because I am; I love to leave words that describe what your–the writer’s–effort and time has done to and for my heart, or how you have caused me to think about something I would have never considered or been exposed to. But rarely do I leave comments here, even though I would with pretty much everything you post, because … well, we’ve never met, and I often wonder if it would seem “weird” to you to have someone “that verbal” on your blog who you don’t know from Adam.

But this post … I couldn’t keep my fingers from the keyboard. This story reached inside me and grabbed, uncomfortably, at a piece of my heart that is not used to coming face-to-face with these kinds of stories–the ones that are far more prevalent than my daily life would ever allow me to assume, with too many outcomes that scream for both justice (towards the predator) and also mercy (for the child).

I know and love a little girl who is almost three and lives in circumstances so very familiar to those you have described. A housing complex replaces the hotel, but its conditions are just as dreary. Drug dealers, abusers of all kinds, and a mother who couldn’t care less that her daughter even exists–she just won’t release her to a family who would love to adopt her because she’s a part of this mother’s monthly check from the government. Instead of a daughter, she is income that can be spent on men and alcohol and drugs.

I read this line and understood it more than I’d wished: “I hugged the little girl, hating the system and its boundaries which were keeping me from taking her somewhere safe.”

My niece has had access to “our” little girl since she was a year old, originating from contact with a relative of this mom at church. And the mom has allowed her into this little one’s life because extended visits with my niece means she is free to do more of what she wants without the girl being in the way. There was even a time a year ago where she decided to allow my niece and her husband to adopt her daughter, to give her a home she knew she couldn’t and knew she couldn’t care less about trying to give her. But money and pressure from those around her got in the way and a month later she retracted her offer for adoption.

A year-and-a-half have passed and we’ve watched this little girl grow up some, and we’ve watched her change. When she’s with our family, she flourishes: talking, laughing, interacting and receiving love that is foreign to her in her home. But when she is returned to her “mom”, she retreats emotionally. They believe she is autistic because they’ve never heard her speak a word. When she’s with us she uses full sentences, and at three her vocabulary and level of communication is astounding. She’s potty trained with us; she’s in diapers at “home”. She is fully alive with us, yet they say she looks dead behind the eyes when she’s with them (little girl’s mom and grandma). It’s heartbreaking and leaves a sense of emptiness and hopelessness for the future of this little life. Will she ever become who God intended her to be when the life that surrounds her is one she knows (even at three) to retreat from?

I was so hoping that your words wouldn’t leave me dangling, but they have. I’m not sure what to do with what I’ve read … except pray for that little girl, oh that God would provide a way out of despair and into healing and love and a home where she would be surrounded by safety and not danger … and also the ones (and so many like them) who were in that hotel room, drowning in the darkness of sin and their life choices and the choices that were probably made against them too when they were younger.

But, in the end, I am left (for now) not knowing what to do with these words of yours except to wait for Part 2 and see if any light of redemption is shed into this darkness. Oh, please say that light is coming?

Unstoppable

Being as I seem to have a lot on my mind, I shall continue the blurging (blogging+purging) that is today's fourth ... and counting ... blog post since early this morning.

A sentiment shared at a friend's birthday dinner last night was tweeted and posted on Facebook by a couple people who attended said gathering. I was not there. I have only seen the tweets/posts.

"A man that loves a woman makes her unstoppable."

While I wholeheartedly agree that a man's love can propel a woman towards her destiny and cause her feel to unstoppable, I would like to offer some additional thoughts.

First, let me reiterate that I was not there to hear the full context of this sentence (what came before or after it), but it got me thinking, and I would like to graciously expand on this further--not out of malice or judgment toward's my friend's heart and intention, but out of a place of trying to understand what it stirred in me when I read it. I am someone who loves to dig deep into thoughts, so this is just me doing that, not attempting to discredit a very honoring and loving affirmation.

Love is a very broad word in our English language, and our society in general, and is interpreted and expressed in countless ways. What is love to one person is not love to another.

Let me come at that thought from this perspective: I heard a statement made at my women's group that goes like this...

Love [and pain] are defined by the receiver.

The essential meaning behind these words is that we may think we are giving love to someone but because s/he defines how love is received, it may not look like love at all when it reaches him/her.

This thought process corresponds with the theme behind the book "The Five Love Languages": we all receive love differently, therefore, knowing who we are giving love to is imperative in order to speak their language so they can receive wholly, the way they are "designed" (and I use that term somewhat loosely here, but that's a rabbit trail thought too long for this post) to receive.

Personal Example: I am not an overly affectionate person, but one of my husband's top love languages is physical touch. He could stop every time he walks by me and touch me in some manner--a hug, a kiss, a pat on the bum--all the while thinking he is loving on me, but by the 50th time that day I am not going to be feeling loved on but exasperated.

In comparison, I could keep a spotless home, make awesome meals, and make sure he never runs out of clean underwear and socks and think "BAM! He should feel like the most loved husband in the world!" ... because my top love language is acts of service. But to my husband, my work is akin to ignoring him because physical touch, not service, communicates love to him.

The same understanding is applied to pain, but in reverse: we may not think we are causing pain to someone when we say or do certain things, but because pain is defined by the receiver and not the giver, we may be hurting someone and not even be aware of it.

Here's the catch: I would include that in our world of broken souls and the abundance of life experiences that often inaccurately filters our perspectives, love and pain are often times just as much defined by the giver as the receiver, and then held out to the receiver all wrapped up in the giver's interpretation. Therefore, when a man loves a woman out of his filter and definition, she could very well receive those same actions as being unloved and ignored, quite possibly resulting in her feeling disconnected and discouraged instead of unstoppable.

So, may I add on to the Unstoppable quote in such a manner?...

A man who takes the time to invest in a woman and makes the effort to get to know her deeply, and loves her not only the way she receives love but, more importantly, as Christ loves the church, makes her unstoppable. (And for the record, a woman has the very same ability to make her man unstoppable too.)

Thanks for "listening". Please feel free to leave a comment and know that my heart's intent is not to offend but to unpack thoughts on something I read.

The Perfect Distraction

When I look at my blog and see that it's been almost six months since I last posted anything new, my brain immediately begins flipping through my mind files to determine which event is most relevant to write about, and my heart feels the burden of realizing I've allowed a lot of life to go unrecorded and, possibly, unprocessed.

It's not that I haven't sat here -- at my laptop with the thought to write -- in six months; it's that I haven't sat here with a true desire to forever keep the words rattling around my head and heart. But today ... today I read a portion of scripture posted on a friend's Facebook wall and knew that I would have to ignore that urge to write in order to not write. Yes, I've done this enough times to know that's Holy Spirit nudging me, because when I write, He often speaks.

So, here I go!

"Don’t worry about the wicked or envy those who do wrong. For like grass, they soon fade away. Like spring flowers, they soon wither. Trust in the Lord and do good. Then you will live safely in the land and prosper. Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you your heart’s desires. Commit everything you do to the Lord. Trust him, and he will help you. He will make your innocence radiate like the dawn, and the justice of your cause will shine like the noonday sun. Be still in the presence of the Lord, and wait patiently for him to act. Don’t worry about evil people who prosper or fret about their wicked schemes. Stop being angry! Turn from your rage! Do not lose your temper—it only leads to harm. For the wicked will be destroyed, but those who trust in the Lord will possess the land." [Psalm 37:1-9]

These words immediately pulled [her] to the surface of my thoughts and the deep pit of deception that was both created and taught. This passage poked at some of the questions that have been roaming around in my spirit for a couple weeks now and brought about an (almost) immediate release of the anger and confusion that's been resident in my soul just as long. That's the power of the Word of God.

After "the night of discovery and disconnection" a few weeks ago, I have been wandering like a nomad in a desert of anger, regret, questions and blame. I've asked more questions than I have answers to, but, on the flip side, some important puzzle pieces were uncovered and a fractured picture is a bit more whole. Things that haven't made sense for years are now understandable, not justifiable, but understandable.

"Don't worry about evil people who prosper or fret about their wicked schemes." [vs. 7]

A simple statement. A straightforward instruction. My vagabond heart was instantly settled. 

The word scheming has rolled off my tongue numerous times lately when joined with her name, and I've struggled to wrap my mind around her purposeful plotting of a desired outcome that I couldn't help but label as "corrupt". But God's simple instruction of "don't worry" dropped this peace into my spirit that has escaped me since that night. I've been asking a lot "why's?", but in that moment I knew that He was asking me that same question. 

"Why is it so important to you to have the actions and intentions of another person with whom you have little to no relationship explained?"

Hmmm. His question stopped me in my tracks and got me thinking. Asking "why did she ...?" or even "how could she ...?" has been this impenetrable obstacle in my mind. I know one answer is "hurt people hurt people"--I've heard it multiple times and even used it myself in conversation with others--but that wasn't good enough for me, probably because it was now me and not someone else. I thought I needed to reconcile the how and why in order to move forward, but God was challenging me, kind of like a Freedom Pastor. ;) 

"So, how's that working for you?" 

The emotional realty I've surrendered to figuring her out--with no productive results--is pointless, and I see that now. Even if I were to somehow have the why and how revealed, I'm not sure they would bring the peace I've longed for; they would probably just bring more questions.

So I'm laying this part of this journey down. I recognize the futility of my obsession to identify with or influence someone with whom I have zero relational equity, and by choice of my will, I am letting it go ... letting her go ... letting this battle go. Five-and-a-half years later I realize I may have been duped all along anyway. She was never my battlefield, just my enemy's perfect distraction.

*this is just one train of thought regarding this scripture passage, and there are more remaining, but I needed to focus this blog on this one point for sake of clarity and length.

Summer Battle Grounds

 
My blog has a familiar cycle of writing, whether in fullness or lack. When days are brimming with laughter and I'm living with a smile on my face because it's reaching outward from my heart, I find myself more apt to write. When seasons are ripe with learning and I'm pressing into God for the treasures buried deep, I find myself more apt to write. But when storms come and the rain falls and thunder rattles the windows of my soul, I tend to turn inward to process, and I'm far less apt to write.

Battles have a way of disarming my words and my desire to hold onto those memories. I live each and every one of those hard moments, after all, and if I was really honest I'd confess my belief that living through them is enough for me. Keeping them forever through the written word never sounds appetizing.

Plus, in the past year I've become determined to absorb the wisdom of choosing correctly between "speak now" and its fraternal twin "forever hold your peace". Speak now seems to come quite naturally, but it's in the holding I find my strongest opponent. So I waffle between writing or not, wondering if I'll look back and wish I had not sounded like such a complainer or see a journey of perspective that leaves me grateful? Choices. It's always about choices.

These past few months have felt like a constant competition between joy and sorrow, faith and doubt, courage and fear, firm foundations and slippery slopes. It's been a Jekyll and Hyde kind of emotional ride for me, and I really have no one to blame except myself. The daily choice is mine, always mine. Look up and fill up and believe in the inherent goodness of God or focus on the circumstances in front of me and listen to their taunting "what if's?". There are days I choose wisely. And there are days I ... do not.

This week has been an uphill struggle for me. Normally the sunshine season represents freedom and playing and lazy days to read for hours and the opportunity to enjoy endless summer days. It's about vacations and lakes and laughter. But with finances already pulled tight and no new freelance jobs on the foreseeable horizon, the weight of lean resources coupled with an abundance of free time does not make for a breezy summertime equation.

My soul is desperate for an escape route--one that will provide time beyond these four walls. I want to tack some memories to a vacation wall in my heart and label it "Summer 2012". But that hope is dim. Money does not solve all problems and is not the key to all happiness, but the reality is that doing and going and experiencing almost always have a price tag tied to them. Not always, but almost always.

I am surrounded by tweets and wall posts of movie and amusement park excursions, season passes to water parks, family dinners to fun restaurants, trips to sandy beaches and airline flights to out-of-state destinations. Family after family is filling their summertime scrapbooks, and if I'm 1000% honest, I'm envious ... heartbroken really. It's not the same brokenness of losing love or a loved-one, but of losing something you love.

While most look to indoor activities when the mercury rises, I bask in the heat. I am a lover of all things sunshine and summertime and the potential this season holds; it's this potential that my heart is losing grip of and mourning more with each passing day. Instead of looking forward to the long hours of daytime, I find myself wondering how we're going to pass them.

September, school and schedules will be here before I know it and my fear is that I'll look back to this season and it will not have been marked with any sort of family getaway, big or small ... not even snapshots of one day on the lake, with memories of adrenaline filled screams and the hysterical laughter that comes with trying to stay on the tube as it flies out past the wake of the boat.

More importantly, I'm longing for a breakthrough in my heart and in my soul; the kind that turns me around in a second and effortlessly abolishes the discouragement that clings to me. I've experienced it often, that powerful touch from my Creator that changes my perspective even when circumstances remain intact, especially in this current season of life. But I'm still waiting and in that waiting I'm left to wonder if breakthrough isn't sometimes just a matter of choice--of turning away from the world and turning towards God? If this silence is not my teacher of discipline through discretion? If breakthrough is not so much a matter of what I see but of how I look, of authority and not affect?

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.

Am I Willing?

Coincidence? I don't believe in coincidence.

"This line soaked deep into me. It made me wonder how many moments we experience on a day-to-day basis are arranged by God - for us - for our refreshment and strengthening. How many do we miss? Surely He is bigger than just one interaction. We praise Him for the one. But if we were willing, would we be more overwhelmed by His care for us than our concerns?" [coli jones]

One comment to what was already written stirs a continuation of thought. Causes me to pause and ponder.

If we were habitually obedient to write for the naked eye what HolySpirit purposes to write on the flesh of our hearts, how would our sight be refocused and refined? How much more would we find ourselves in the state of partnering with the Source of Inspiration to inspire the same in others?

... if we were willing - not just to see - but to ask to be shown.

And then He stirs again. "Define. Wholly understand. Don't assume you've mastered the words I chose to whisper. Knowing will both help you recognize their worth and affect your appreciation of the 'why' behind them."

Inspire: to affect, guide or arouse by divine influence.

Habit: a recurrent, often unconscious pattern of behavior that is acquired through frequent repetition; an established disposition (tendency) of the mind or character.

Obey: to fulfill or carry out the command, order or instruction of.

(re)Focus: a condition in which something can be clearly seen … (re) again.

Refine: to reduce to a pure state; purify.

Can you see it? The common thread woven from the first word to the last? [divine influence. unconscious pattern. fulfill. see clearly. purify.]

Not everyone would define themselves a writer; one who writes. A lover of the written word, both to take in and pour out. I write because I listen with my fingers. But don't allow the verb to trip you up. Communication into us and out of us is the focal point; not the specific way in which it is expressed. 

HolySpirit chose 'write' for me because words are, to me, like the time signature to the composer; the empty canvas to the painter; the lens to the photographer; the musical key to the singer. 

Too artsy? 

How about the baseball grip to the pitcher? The syllabus to the teacher? The soil to the gardener? The fabric to the designer? The wood to the carpenter? 

The verb is the action of what we do naturally. The way in which we see. The language used to inspire and drive and compel. The essence of desire. The push and pull of purpose. The beginning of vision and the motivation of fruition.

It is how we communicate because it is the way in which communication was first spoken into us, creating who we are and the way we see, hear, feel, touch and sense. 

"How many moments ... do we miss?", she wonders. I wonder, too. 

Maybe the real question is: Am I willing?

Ann's Gifts

This page is inspired by One Thousand Gifts written by Ann Voskamp. I was introduced to the existence of this book through an article on Destiny In Bloom and purchased it to read at the end of August 2011. Every sentence is worth soaking in. The loveliness of language worth languishing over. And the idea of seeing beauty in the routine and often harsh moments of life caught my attention. That of choosing a different perspective allows our eyes to see God in everything. And looking long enough to behold the gift in the tiniest moment captured my heart. This is "my life story in freeze frames of gifts" (pg. 82).

Walking below, man's laughter echos. {9.5.11}

Morning's cool breeze. Balcony's solitude. Coffee, warm and welcoming. Words of One Thousand Gifts beckoning my heart. {9.5.11}

NRH2O chimes ... ding, ding, ding, diiiing. A sound I will miss when this balcony is no longer mine. {9.5.11}

Wind's breath rustling leaves. Crackling sounds of summer's drought. {9.5.11}

Autumn debuting with a 70 degree morning sun. Crickets still chirp. Birds sing joyful. Tires whir on black asphalt. Wind whistles through branches swaying. Leaves crackle, racing along blades of grass burned brown, parched for cloud's gift of rain tears. I soak in every sound. Treasuring each one, unique in its language of life ... God given. {9.6.11}

Two sisters, about 4 and 2, hopping madly with excitement in the parking lot, waiting for mom to lead the way into NRH2O. {9.6.11}

The scent of fresh air touched by the incoming swell of Autumn's arrival. {9.6.11}

A family of oak trees with white picket boards marking home boundaries rise out of sunlit covered expansive fields of green. A gift of wide-open peacefulness now anticipated with our early morning school journeys. {9.8.11}

Tricolor peppercorn found in the mix of spice jars when pepper mill was running low. {9.9.11}

Watching from my balcony, mom and son clipping yellow wild flowers on a cool and quiet 9/11 morning. Seeing beauty in a weed most others would pass by. I believe this is how God sees. While others see a wild weed, He sees a radiantly golden bloom with faces always upturned. Flower or Weed ... it's all in the perspective. See Differently. {9.11.11}

Streaming rays of morning sunshine filling the expanse of field and sky. {9.14.11}

Falling drops of quench-thirsting, long-awaited rain. {9.14.11}

Picking her [Ann's] gift of words up again and being reminded of what is so easily forgotten. {6.12.12}

A hawk soars in the same sky as a plane. From this distance they visually appear to be traveling at the same speed. Dynamic Perspective. {6.24.12}

Social Media Melancholy

Social Media is both a blessing and a curse ... in my book, anyway. I love the fact that it allows me to keep family and friends updated on the happenings here [my family life] and that it allows me to keep up-to-date on those I call family and friends. Without Facebook and Twitter, time would win the game of life's-details-lost.

But then there's the days, like today, when the same sources that keep me 'connected' also make me feel horribly disconnected. I look at the gatherings that take place, the photos of smiling friends enjoying each other, and the connections that so many people have with 'so many people' ... and I realize just how tiny my circle of connections is.

While there is something in me that yearns to have the volume of friends that so many women I know have, there is that other side of me that realizes I will never have that. And then I wonder if I want it because they have something I don't, or I want it because I really want it.

The word friend is a perplexing one to me, and maybe that's where this all falls apart for me. I tweeted one day last week this very statement:

"Random Realization: I'm really good at being a deep, intimate friend, but I'm lousy at being an acquaintance. Surface is hard for me."

Having a large group of friends requires either (1) a lot of time to commit to getting to know them, or (2) being able to commit to knowing a little bit about each person but not really knowing any of them deeply. Knowing how I'm wired, option 2 does nothing for me and option 1 is just not an option for me right now.

My day time is committed to being a mom, home school teacher and care taker of our home; and always allows for flexibility for my SisNBff. My nights are committed to being a mom, cook, chauffer and wife. Can anyone carve out time if 'something' is a priority? Absolutely. But if I stack too many priorities on my plate, nothing is a priority anymore.

So, therein lies my conundrum. The desire to be connected but not the time (option 1) or heart (option 2) to possess it.

These is [my] question

What do I do [then] when I'm doing what I love [now]?

I Blame It All on Valentine's Day

If there's one thing people who know me know about me, it's that I am vigilant when it comes to expressing my dislike for Valentine's Day.

My reason #1: It's a holiday made up by corporate America (and Hallmark and flower companies and all businesses involved in chocolate making) to milk the snot out of all the romantics' wallets. Commercialism at its finest, I say.

My reason #2: I don't want to participate in a holiday where people are obligated to show love.

But over the past few days there have been unfamiliar thoughts and questions roaming around my head and heart regarding 'love'. Some of them I blogged just to keep 'em from taking up realty in my brain. (Love Really)

Today, as I was discussing the L word with my BFF, another thought rolled out of my mouth without giving my brain any fore-warning, and I had to stop and take notice:

"Do I really detest Valentine's Day because it's all about commercialism and obligation, or is there a deeper-seeded reason that's not centered around either of these two answers?"

Ahhh, another thought-provoking question to add to the others I blogged. What's up??? I told her (my BFF) that "I blame it all on Valentine's Day." Love, or what we make of it, is everywhere you look. Obviously I've fallen prey to the vast array of commercials on TV and aisles devoted to V.D. in every store. I'm sure this will pass when Monday turns into Tuesday. Phew!

Love Really

Sometimes I wonder if I had the chance to sit with the wisest person on earth who is alive today, if he or she would be able to tell me what love really is?

What does it really look like?
What does it really sound like?
What does it really feel like?
What does it really behave like?

Do we really have the choice of who gets to be a part of our lives, or is that one choice man made up to form the never-seen document The Doctrine of Relationships in order to ignore the chaos of the heart that accompanies people ... like religiosity allows us to ignore the chaos of the heart that accompanies knowing Jesus?

As far as that goes, if Jesus brings someone into our lives, do we fool ourselves into believing whether or not they stay is really our choice, not His, simply because we can't handle the emotions or circumstances that come with that person?

Since 70x7 is Biblical, do we really have a choice to side-step that verse and set our own number that determines I've loved you enough but will no more?

Love is one thing to me and something different to you. Doesn't that mean that in reality we all make up our own definitions of what love is ... and isn't?

"Grace" Challenged

"Grace is what I crave most when my guilt is exposed. The very thing I am hesitant to extend when confronted with the guilt of others - especially when their guilt has robbed me of something I consider valuable. When we are on the receiving end, grace is refreshing. When it is required of us, it is often disturbing. But when correctly applied, it seems to solve just about everything." 
-Andy Stanley [The Grace of God]

When confronted with unexpected moments that seem to seize my emotions without warning, I become fully aware - after the moment has waned - of my inability to dispense grace with the same intensity which I cry out for.

Just the other night I inadvertently followed some links and threads to a twitter account that I haven't read in many months. A recent tweet on this page brought my emotions speeding back to a time when I was so burdened over an offer and all that it meant. Anger over what had changed because of a decision that was out my hands boiled over in me. I realized - in that moment - that more had been lost than I had realized or imagined. Maybe lost isn't the right word. Seized without forethought may actually describe it more accurately. I was angry over 'territory' that no longer belonged to us, and I allowed that emotion to spill out to my husband. (not AT my husband, but TO my husband)

Now, two days after the initial assault on my emotions, I am pleading with God to help me see through grace-filled eyes what I cannot come close to surrendering to in my humanity. This was our piece of provision and it still hurts to know that because of circumstances that - again - were out my control, I am placed in a position of choosing. And I'm stomping my feet like a two-year old as I state, "But, that isn't fair!"

And then I read on the (invisible) sign posted on the (invisible) wall in front me, "Does the person you choose not to forgive walk around with the burden of you not forgiving them? Or do you? Just the same ... does the person you choose not to extend grace to walk around with the burden of you being placed in a situation where grace will need to be extended? Or do you?"

I can read it intellectually with understanding, and yet I still say, "But, that isn't fair!"

This is one of those blogs where the end is obviously not the end. It's just a story in progress...

"But He gives us more and more grace (power of the Holy spirit, to meet this evil tendency and all others fully). That is why He says, God sets Himself against the proud and haughty, but gives grace [continually] to the lowly (those who are humble enough to receive it)." James 4:6

If It Is What I Wanted...

It's almost 8am, but I've actually been awake since 6am. My bladder initially woke me up, so instead of trying to go back to sleep knowing that I'd just be kidding myself that I'd be able to ignore the calling of the bathroom, I got up with sleepy eyes and allowed the walls to direct me to my intended destination. Crawling back into bed, my first thought was that in the few minutes it took me to get to the bathroom and back, I was now awake. Not just oh-it-may-take-me-a-few-minutes-to-go-back-to-sleep awake, but WIDE awake. What?!?

After turning off the TV at midnight and then listening to a Gateway message on my iPod, I knew that I had not clocked nearly enough hours to satisfy the nightly requirement for rest, let alone catch up on any of the sleep I'd missed out on the past two nights since the AC broke.

So there I laid. Awake. In a dark, 75 degree, cool room. My eyes wide open. My instinct telling me that no matter how hard I wished for it, I wasn't going back to sleep. [Maybe now that my bedroom has the ability to stave off the heat of the summer day, I'll find an hour or so to curl up in bed and take a nap ... maybe.]

Not wanting to forfeit the cool of the AC for the heat of the rest of the house, I grabbed my iPod and opened Tweetdeck to see who else was awake - and had twittered any thoughts of their morning. I came across a new tweet from Kate McDonald with photos of her house remodeling, and since I follow her blog as closely as I follow my best friend's, I clicked the link and took a tour of her yet-to-be-finished home. From that blog I ended up bouncing to various other blogs of hers and came across an old one titled Jesus Tell Me What I Want #1 and then read Thoughts On Feminism, another oldie.

Both intrigued and stirred me, but the Jesus blog really got me thinking, especially two of the opening passage quotes she used:

“If it is what I wanted, why am I so disappointed when I get it? If what a man really wanted was food, how could he be disappointed when the food arrived?” ~ C.S. Lewis, The Pilgrim’s Regress

“Take a good, hard look at your life. Think it over.
You have spent a lot of money, but you haven’t much to show for it.
You keep filling up your plates, but you never get filled up.
You keep drinking, and drinking and drinking, but you’re always thirsty.
You put on a layer of clothes, but you can’t get warm...
[That is why the God-of-the-Angel-Armies said:]
Take a good, hard look at your life. Think it over.”
~ Haggai 1:5-7, The Message Bible

Lying in bed after reading this blog, I began to think about how yesterday changed the course of our lives; how 24 hours earlier I was so unsettled about signing another lease for this house and the next day the decision was made to move ... just like "that". I wasn't awake because the reality of it all had finally settled on me and now my brain was alert and in panic mode. Actually, my mind began to wonder about the ebb and flow of life itself and how we never really wake up one day expecting our lives to be much different than the day before. There's a lot of thought behind that one sentence, but my intent for this blog is not centered on that thought, so I'll walk past that rabbit trail for now.


If it is what I wanted...

Those six words really intrigued me, really resonated with me, really stopped me in my reading tracks and made me go, "Hmmm". [Things That Make You Go Hmmm. Can you hear the 80's dance song playing in your head? I can ... unfortunately.]

Do we really ever know what we want? Or is what we want consistently in flux like the seasons of the year? Is what we want supposed to change as we grow? Or is what we want just a fickle selfishness? Is what we want really tied into what we need? Or is what we want just that carrot on the end of the string that we'll constantly chase but never really obtain?

I'm not sure I have any answers to my philosophical questions. Waking up this morning, I fully realized that I won't be waking up in this house for much more than another 30 days or so. With that thought in mind, I took a picture from where I sit on my bed when blogging, looking out the window to the scene I've watched change with the seasons of this past year.

Right now the trees are still green and full of leaves. When I initially moved in, they were turning brown and getting ready for autumn. I've watched as the trees lost all their leaves, being left with nothing but a winter nakedness. I've watched rain fall and saturate the bark until it couldn't hold any more water. I've watched snow pile up and tree limbs break under the weight of it all. I've watched as the leaf buds began to appear, whispering promises of new life as spring arrived. And soon, as we close the doors on this house to move on to something different, the leaves will once again be preparing for autumn; another year of life saying its good-byes.

All that to ask, "If this house is what we thought we wanted a year ago, even to the point where we kicked ourselves for not locking in a two-year lease, how can our wants be so different just 365 days later?" Did our wants change or did the reality of what we thought we wanted shift so as not to really satisfy the unspoken wants? Those wants we settled on because 'right now' worked...

Again, philosophical questions without a desire to really dig in and answer them. Maybe the answers aren't necessary right now. Maybe the questions themselves are the first, big hurdle to cross and the answers will be revealed in due time.

Due time. What is 'due time' anyway, and how do we ever know if now is 'due' or somewhere down the road is 'due'? Ahhh ... questions.

Holy Spirit minus THE

After reading several blogs by Coli yesterday, I left this comment on one of them but then decided I needed to keep it because it spoke to a significant shift in the...well, read:

"There is one thing I have noticed about your recent blogs as I catch up on blog reading...you no longer use the word "the" in front of Holy Spirit. At first I thought you had typo'd, then I read another blog and then I read this blog and saw the same thing. You have personalized Him, our Holy Spirit, the same way we so easily personalize God and Jesus. We've never been taught to put "the" in front of God or Jesus, yet I realize how naturally it comes before Holy Spirit. I'm wondering about this change in you and if it originated from chasing wild geese? It so moved my heart more than anything else in your recent writings, and that's saying a lot because your recent writings are chock full of good stuff.

I am convicted in such a good way. Do I lack a certain depth of relationship with "the" Holy Spirit because I have unknowingly put an article of our human language in front of his name? This is revelatory for me, friend! Truly revelatory! My God is God. My Jesus is Jesus! And my Holy Spirit is Holy Spirit...not "the" Holy Spirit.

I so love, love, love the fact that Holy Spirit [embracing the change already!] has awakened me to a small change in wording that will greatly impact my relationship with Him, and He did it by simply revealing a change in you and highlighting that change in my spirit.

Thank you, friend, for teaching me without purposing to teach me. I am smiling like a kid in a candy store right now!"

Looking forward to reading Wild Goose Chase, by Mark Batterson, very soon. Odd point, after talking to Anthony about this book tonight, I found out that Anthony knows him personally; even showed me a photo taken with Mark several years ago. How weird is that???

Conquering Joy

My personal blog has been focused on "the testimony of One" for the past few years. It has reflected my heart and the purpose in why I write. Whether anyone else reads it or not, I want what I write to reflect what God is doing in my life ... and remember it all when time has stolen the details.

Sometimes my writings simply reflect a heart that is brutally honest, without yet reflecting God's tender interference in moving me forward. Sometimes my writings document what I've learned in any given moment, on any given day. And sometimes my writings are nothing more than a reminder to me of a particular experience that I don't want to forget.

So here I am, changing it all up. I'm not leaving my testimonies behind, I am simply moving forward with a changed perspective and focus ... Conquering Joy. A change in blog title wasn't really on my radar, but I found myself having to make a change based on the complexities of having too many Google account names. Instead of trying to rise above the minutia of too many details to fix, I simply wiped the slate clean and decided to re-create, start from scratch. And then this title came to me; one of those moments where God whispers in my ear.

At first I thought conquering joy was kind of an oxy-moronic title. Did they really go together? But then I looked up the word conquer and this is what I found:

Conquer: to take possession of by force or authority; to overcome by conquest.

I liked the whole thought of taking possession of joy by authority. JOY is a fruit of the Spirit, but it is also a feeling. I have to choose to live in it, just as I would choose to be content...or not. Yes, the Holy Spirit deposits joy in my life, but He'll never force feed it to me.

And then I had this thought: God knows that taking possession of joy in every situation in my life has the potential to bring about unspeakable change. My testimonies will continue to be recorded, but think about the glory [of God] they will reflect if written through a filter of joy?

JOY.PEACE.HOPE.GLORY (see blog I wrote at the beginning of the year: Moving Forward)

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Romans 15:13

Conquering JOY is necessary in moving forward to PEACE. HOPE. & GLORY.!

Thank you, Lord, for continuing to show me why you purposed my focus for 2010 on these things. You are so incredibly faithful and I love the way you surprise me with revelatory moments such as these.

Going [back] To Yesterday

It's okay for "no going backwards to yesterday" to be a part of your vocabulary.

When [you] speak these words they hold
[significance]
[sincerity]
[authority]

BUT...

Let the words come from a different [mouth]
and these same words hold
[no value]
[no worth]
[no power]

What's the difference between [yesterday] and [today]
when one day they can be separated and defined by character
and the next they are blended by apathy and hypocrisy?

[No Regrets] Because I'm Who I AM?

If I had the chance
To go back again
Take a different road
Bear a lighter load
Tell an easy story
I would walk away
With my yesterdays
And I would not trade what is broken for beauty only
[Nichole Nordeman]-[Sunrise]

Listening to this song just now prompted a question in me?

"IF i COULD go back and do my life again (the adult part), would I do it?"

There's an old cliche (paraphrased loosely) that says: "I wouldn't change my life and I don't regret anything that's happened because I wouldn't be who I am today or know what I know without it all".

The lyrics to this song say essentially the same thing; restate the same basic principal.

I get it. I really do. Because I am wiser as a result of my life - all of the good and the not-so-good events along the way. BUT, my Spirit just doesn't agree with that perspective.

I know I have Teighlor and Alec - my beloved children - because of my marriage to Kevin, and I really can't imagine my life without them because they consume a place of my heart that no one else holds. BUT, had I married differently - say... actually consulted God on the choice - my Teighlor and Alec of today wouldn't exist, but I would have been given another Teighlor and Alec... or Emma and John... or Samantha and Nathan. I wouldn't miss the Teighlor and Alec I know today because God would have created different children within a different marriage. [Feels like I'm talking in circles but in my mind it all makes sense.]

Which leads me to answer the question "Would I?" with a resounding YES!

i DO have regrets in my life. i DO have choices that i would give ANYTHING to go back and change. i HAVE children that have lived through crap they shouldn't have because of my choices. i HAVE a regrettable past that was birthed from one tragic night when i was 19, followed by years of stupid, selfish and nearly insane choices.

i am who i am today because I cannot go back and change anything. and i embrace who i am and the life i live because I cannot go back and change anything. but i am NOT who God originally intended for me to be had i walked His perfect path; had i consulted Him before moving forward to the next stepping stone in my life.

I am not lamenting. I am simply considering the question... WOULD I?

And now I ask... WOULD YOU? If God came and told you that He would give you another chance to do it again (starting at 18), with no knowledge of the life you live currently, would you take Him up on His offer?