To My Beloved, whomever you may be....

I heard this read at a wedding this evening.  I found it profoundly beautiful.

It doesn’t interest me

what you do for a living.

I want to know

what you ache for

and if you dare to dream

of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me

how old you are.

I want to know 

if you will risk 

looking like a fool

for love

for your dream

for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me

what planets are 

squaring your moon...

I want to know

if you have touched

the centre of your own sorrow

if you have been opened

by life’s betrayals

or have become shrivelled and closed

from fear of further pain.

I want to know

if you can sit with pain

mine or your own

without moving to hide it

or fade it

or fix it.

I want to know

if you can be with joy

mine or your own

if you can dance with wildness

and let the ecstasy fill you 

to the tips of your fingers and toes

without cautioning us

to be careful

to be realistic

to remember the limitations

of being human.

It doesn’t interest me

if the story you are telling me

is true.

I want to know if you can

disappoint another

to be true to yourself.

If you can bear

the accusation of betrayal

and not betray your own soul.

If you can be faithless

and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty

even when it is not pretty

every day.

And if you can source your own life

from its presence.

I want to know

if you can live with failure

yours and mine

and still stand at the edge of the lake

and shout to the silver of the full moon,

“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me

to know where you live

or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up

after the night of grief and despair

weary and bruised to the bone

and do what needs to be done

to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me

who you know

or how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand

in the centre of the fire

with me

and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me

where or what or with whom

you have studied.

I want to know 

what sustains you

from the inside

when all else falls away.

I want to know

if you can be alone 

with yourself

and if you truly like

the company you keep

in the empty moments.

By Oriah © Mountain Dreaming,
from the book The Invitation
published by HarperONE, San Francisco,
1999 All rights reserved

What now?

I had the most incredibly vivid and real and terrifying dream I can ever recall. This morning.  My mom woke me up around 9:45 to make sure I wasn't missing my appointment.  It's NEXT Wednesday, so I promptly went back to sleep.

The first part I remember, I was in a house.  In a dining room.  Maybe sitting at a table.  There were parts of this dream that I remember only vaguely.  I was in this house with Lord Voldemort.  I think another person or two was also imprisoned.  Not with chains or anything tangible.  But we knew that we couldn't leave.  I recall feeling a very strong sense of what I can only describe as evil.  He was angry.  He hated us.  Despised us.  And I could feel it.

The last month has brought one of the worst tornado outbreaks in recorded history to the American South.  And the last year has seen earthquakes in Arkansas, which were previously a rare and at best, hardly perceptible occurrence, become rather frequent and noticeable.  My dream moved away from Lord Voldemort, I think.  Someone came to warn us that a great earthquake was only moments away.  I don't think that's something you can be warned of like that, but remember this was a dream.

I ran into a bedroom with two of my friends.  We hid under two blankets.  I don't remember now who the girl in the bed under the other blanket was, but she was defiinitely someone I knew.  The girl I shared a blanket with is a different matter.  Here, I'll call her Natalie.

I know it's a perfectly irrational thing, to hid under blankets when an earthquake is expected to hit.  But again, this was a dream.  And these were special blankets.  They were somehow protective.

So there's this earthquake gonna happen, we all know there are multiple, powerful tornadoes in the neighborhood, at this very moment, and we are petrified.  I don't remember any screaming though.

This is where it gets intense.  Many of the details are blurry, but I hope I never forget the way I felt.

We were lying on our backs as our blanket-covered world began to toss violently. A deafening roar filled the room, our ears, our thoughts.  Molten lava rolled in waves toward us, swallowing up roadways and power lines, adding the rumbling hiss of flames to the apocalyptic cacophony.  We were still under the blankets.

There came to me a realization without the faintest hint of uncertainty: the world was coming to an end.  Perhaps this wasn't quite the end, but it would be our end.

The roaring never went away, but I didn't need to shout for Natalie to hear me. For whatever reason, I was very comfortable that I knew the nameless girl's condition, but I had a question for Natalie.  "If we die right now, will I see you in heaven?"  She answered with a slightly delayed and weak, "yeah".  I was at first uncomfortable with that reply, but then I realized that the hesitation  in her voice was fear.  I felt that fear too.  She asked, "what about you?" and I said, "absolutely."

Her next words are what haunted me all day.  "What now?"  My response was actually a rather profound revelation.  I will use quotations only on the words I remember saying specifically, and I will do my best to accurately recreate the rest.  "My only prayer is that" I can stay to make sure someone else will be there (Heaven) too.

But at this point, we knew we were gone.  The magma was getting closer, the roaring becoming louder, or world was sloshing like an 'ocean-in-a-bottle' in the hands of a fascinated 8-yr old.  I recall questioning why I was afraid.  The answer was simple.  This death would inevitably be painful.

The heat pressed in closer and heavier.  It was so hard to breathe.  I had in my heart a prayer that never became words.  Please let this be quick.  I don't want to hurt long.  Yellow magma so hot it was almost white filled my vision.  The thunderous howling pushed most of my thoughts from my head.  I struggled for those last gulps of oxygen.

Just as I was about to die, I landed hard on my left knee and right hip.  My right elbow met with the floor and pain shot up to my shoulder.  I gasped for that first breath.

In movies, you see dramatizations of gasping for air.  A person nearly drowns, but by some miracle, the water is expelled and this person sputters and gasps for that first breath.  This was a gasp for that air, but also a gasp for the first breath of life.

A sharp and heavy blow met with the middle of my back and I groaned.  But I was grateful to feel Natalie beside me and to hear her first desperate gasp.  A few greedy pants later, I looked over to see the nameless girl flip her blanket off and stare around, bewildered.  We had all thought we would be dead.  No. We had known it.  The only word I have for what filled that bedroom in that moment is 'wonder'.

I was gasping on the floor and then I woke up to see that my mom was calling me.



---Wednesday, May 11, 2011

This dream bothered me deeply, disturbed me.  My only prayer was not for my own rescue.  In that last moment, I wanted only to have another chance to bring another soul to Christ.  This is the closest I've ever come to having a "near-death experience".  But it was enough to make me realize that if I don't seize every opportunity I have to share God with the people I encounter.... in my very last moments, I will regret it.

If I remembered who the nameless girl was, I would have spoken to her.  But in Natalie's very own words, she told me "Yes you will".  I had to ask.

This dream has made me ponder a great deal lately.  Question myself very critically.  What am I doing with my life?  Not just generally.  Not just a career. Not just my purpose on this planet.  But how am I using this moment to fulfill that purpose.  Will my next hour be wasted or will I use it in a way I won't regret?  Will my next breath be used to bring someone to God?  Am I taking up space, breathing in oxygen, accomplishing little to be proud of, forgetting that these things are not what will matter in the end?  The resounding yes has me feeling very ashamed.  And very determined to change that.  So, what now?

What will we do now?

Promise me something, okay?

Tonight I asked my little sister to promise never to be like me or her other big sister.  That is not something that should ever have to happen.

Big sisters should be people to look up to.
Big sisters should be role models.
Big sisters should be good examples.

So far, all we've been is good examples of how not to be.  How to be hateful. How to be disrespectful.  How to be rebellious.

I can't describe to you how it feels to realize that you contributed to the fall of a beloved sister.  Or the heart-wrenching fear that another may someday follow the same path.

Love, Mom

Dear Julie,

I am so proud of the young woman you are becoming.  You are smart and beautiful but more importantly you are a truly kind and caring person.  It is encouraging to see your love for the Lord and I pray you will always follow the path He lays before you, (wherever that path leads).
Things haven't always been easy for you.  I believe you will be a stronger person for having been through some of these things.  You have a kindness and compassion that can't be taught.  You need to make sure you don't allow that kindness to let people take advantage of you.
You have accomplished so many things already and have such high aspirations.  Just remember that you don't have to prove anything to anyone but yourself.
I hope you know that you can always talk to me about anything.  You will always have a home to run to when the world gets too cold.  And you will always have people who love you no matter how badly you screw up.
Keep your chin up and your eyes on the road.  Don't try too hard to be perfect!  find what makes you happy and grab hold of it with both hands.  And always remember how much I love you!

Love,
   Mom

This was part of our Girls' Retreat a few years ago.  It still speaks to me.  My mother is my best friend.  It's just weird that she signed it 'Mom'.  I call her Mama.  Or Mumsy.  Whichever suits me at the moment.

Love Walks Softly

Each moment together is but a breath. Each moment apart is eternity. In your arms, my heart beats with twice its strength. In your absence, my heart strains with each pulse... te echo de menos, mi amante, mi alma gemela, mi eternidad

I wrote this at 18.  I was completely out of my brain at the time.  In love with the idea of love.  I'm actually fairly impressed with myself for writing something so poetic.

But somehow, I think the poetry of love itself is something less flowery.  Not so showy.  Not nearly as dramatic.

Because love is loud.  And quiet at the same time.  It calls attention to itself.  And it walks softly in the background.

My understanding of love is still evolving.  And every sunrise I find it to be more beautiful than I'd thought it to be the last sunset.

How to Write a Taylor Swift Song

From a live chat with Taylor Swift


Q: What is your advice for first-time songwriters?

Swift: My advice for first-time songwriters would be to know the person you're writing the song about. First, know that. And then write a letter to him, like what you would say if you could. That's why I listen to music, because it says how I feel better than I could, and it says what I wish I'd said when that moment was there. I would say, be as direct as you possibly can. If you need to dial it back later, then I guess do that, but for me, the more details, the better. The more it seems like a journal entry, the better. The more it seems like an open letter, the better -- the more real and true and honest it gets, where you're naming the places you were and the time it happened, all the things about a relationship.

So, I have a song that needs to be written.  One of those, this-is-what-I-might-have-said songs.  Not that I write songs.  This is as close as it gets.  I wrote this in August of 2010.


In every scene we've ever played, laughter has always been our accompaniment.

Now, I never really liked her; she wasn't right for you.  But she never really had a chance, the only girl I'd like with you is me.

ha! and that time you told Dr. Bailey you would love to fight the California wildfires!

Amazonian princess? really?

Funny how I can't recall how we started.  I just seems like it always was there.  No explanation of how we met. No deliberate introduction.  All the others, the came because of us.  But we were there from the start.

You and your percussion tendencies.

There were moments, like sitting on that huge rock, I wondered what we'd be... if only we'd let ourselves be...

I always loved the things your shirts said.

and all the times you laid your head in my lap and I played with your hair...

looking back now, I said we were just friends, and it's true.  I never let myself feel anything more.

I remember sitting in a corner of the hallway, talking on the phone until we both had to go.  I never talked on the phone.

and when we ran for Student Government together... I swear I had that shirt on my wall for a year!

You had no clue, but I watched you once.  From my window.  And I wrote my very first love song about you.

But you always seem SO happy to see  me.  I always get the biggest hug.  One time you were running so fast, I was sure you'd run me over.  You slowed down just enough to pick me up and spin me around.



http://www.cmt.com/news/country-music/1644185/taylor-swift-elaborates-on-new-music-songwriting-and-tour-memories.jhtml

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LnfkyEA2vkM

Not My Time

It is not my time to shine.  It is not my turn to stand in front.  It is not my moment to call attention to myself.  This is my time to build.  My time find myself. My time to become.  Who I'm meant to be.  Who I want to be.  Not just to know who she is, but to become who she is.

It is not my time to shine, but I will.  It is not my turn to stand in front, though I may some day.  Now is not the moment to draw everyone's eyes to myself. But that moment may come.

This chapter doesn't involve school.  It doesn't have a place for a Prince Charming.  It's not glamorous.  In any way.  This chapter will reveal much about who I am.  It will take me to a place where I will glimpse who I was intended to be.  And should I accept the challenge, my next chapter begins the transformation.

Humility.  Surrender.  Responsibility.  I have so many lessons to learn.  I have so much work to do.

It is not my time to shine, but I'll be brilliant some day.  It is not my turn to stand in front, and maybe that's not my place.  Now is not my moment to call attention to myself, but I hope to call attention to the God Who works in me.

It is not my time to shine.  But when that day comes, I'll be ready.

Second Chances

I've been cheated on.  Twice.

The second guy, I haven't spoken to him since I found out.  If I saw him in Wal-Mart, I would pretend like I hadn't.  Because he lied to me.  Deliberately.  Elaborately.  I'm through with him. 

The first guy, I've kept in touch with.  I honestly chalk it up to the fact that he was young and stupid.  Put himself in a situation and in a mindset that allowed something to happen.  Stupid.  Didn't really have a concept of what it was really supposed to mean when he said, "I love you."  Because love means I would have at least crossed his mind.  And I never did.  Young and stupid.  What he did to me wasn't decent.  But I believe that he is still a decent person.  So a friendship of some kind has managed to survive.

Some betrayals are just too deep to allow for any kind of second chance.  Some betrayals mean certain opportunities are lost forever.

I failed out of school.  Twice.

The first time was in high school.  I was at a residential high school for the academically gifted.  Juniors and Seniors only.  There were a lot of factors that contributed to the situation.  I had mono while I was there.  I had roommate problems that really had me messed up.  My dad was getting ready to go back to Iraq.  I wasn't taking good care of myself.  Every day I battled Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder that wasn't diagnosed or treated.

The second time was in college.  I had graduated early, and was incredibly blessed to receive a phenomenal scholarship.  Again, there were a lot of contributing factors.

I went into both situations with something of a handicap.  I had been given second chances all throughout my schooling.  I was a good student.  I was smart.  I was something of a teacher's pet.  I was given second chances I didn't deserve.  Teachers forgave late assignments.  They accepted those assignments even though they never should have.  I was given the benefit of the doubt countless times.

Not that I blame these educators for showing me mercy.  But I wonder how things would have turned out, had they not been so lenient.  Would I have learned to study at an earlier age?  Would I have appreciated my scholarship more if I had felt as though I had really worked to earn it?

Sometimes second chances make as work twice as hard.  Sometimes second chances just enable us to slide by.

I don't think there's a hard and fast rule that dictates whether a person deserves another opportunity.  And really, there's no way to know if that opportunity will produce a different outcome.  I suppose we just have to weigh it for ourselves.  Can we afford to be disappointed again?

Laundromat

For best results use 6 quarters

gaping mouths

ravenous appetites

blue chairs

blue tables

posted rate increase of 25¢

wall-mounted fans

(stole my $4.25)

WAITING

everyone's waiting...

rolling baskets that only spin about

half lights - but not intentional

commercial washers like rocket ships!!!!

Once, for National Merit

Written in the fall of 2008, as part of the National Merit Scholarship application process.


I was always an ambitious, confident young girl and very precocious.  Early on I set standards and goals that far exceeded those of my peers.  I aimed high, moving from dream to dream, one day set on being the first female president, the next a Supreme Court Justice or the first female four-star general in the Army.  It came as no surprise then, that I desired to attend the most prestigious high school in my state, the Arkansas School for Mathematics, Science, and the Arts (ASMSA).  I was easily accepted and loved the atmosphere and the challenge the institution offered me.  The shock came when I struggled with my academics.  I was not among the least gifted at the school so it made no sense why I should be floundering.  My grades declined and finally, around Spring Break, I was asked to leave after having had a fair opportunity to raise my poor marks.

After leaving ASMSA to homeschool, I sank into a deep depression.  I blamed myself for my procrastination and laziness and gave up every dream I had ever created, not believing I had the ability or the motivation to bring a single aspiration to fulfillment.  But my journey was not over.  Jeremiah 29:11 is my favorite verse.  The NIV phrases it this way:  "For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  Referring to the exile of the nation of Israel, this passage goes on to say that when called upon, the Lord will listen and carry them out of exile, into the place prepared for them.  I have made the same journey.

Within a month of leaving ASMSA, I had fallen into the darkest period of my life.  I was transformed into a puddle of hopelessness and misery with no confidence in my own abilities.  You can imagine my relief when I was diagnosed with ADHD.  It was as if all my life had been leading up to that point. Everything fell into place and seemed to have a meaning.  I feel now as if I have discovered my very personal purposed in this world.

I have learned what it means to truly study.  I have learned that I can fall flat on my face and still move on.  I have acquainted myself with failure, believed I was the word incarnate, and realized that failure is an occurrence, not a person.  I have contemplated self-harm.  I have known what it is to cry for a solid day, to sit inert with no will to live.  I have recognized that perfection is impossible to achieve, and taught myself that to love humanity, one must begin by loving oneself.

My struggles with school, my depression, my intense self-loathing have all taken me to places I hope to never see again.  But they have also opened my eyes to a world of pain.  I intend to one day help other young lives push through their obstacles and find the peace and purpose that my difficulties have brought me to realize.  Once again, I have plans to change the world.

Have you ever wondered why we keep pet fish?

Have you ever wondered why we keep pet fish?  

Ever wondered why we put plants in our houses?  

We put skylights in our building.  

Every nice hotel has a beautiful fountain in the lobby.  

Take a poll and you'll find that high thread-count cotton sheets are far superior to those made of satin.  

Why do kids put glow-in-the-darks stars on their bedroom ceilings?  

We make boutineers and corsages and bouquets and wreaths. Weddings, funerals, proms, special occasions. What is so special about flowers?

Obesity is linked to inactivity.  But I'd like to take that a step further.  How many unhealthy people sit and watch tv in their back yard?  How many kids sit under a tree to play hand-held video games?  

Why are bay windows so envied?  

What is the point of having a terrarium?  

Ever looked at the artwork of a young child?  How many pictures DON't portray a bright yellow sun with angular rays?  

Why is a sunset considered to be a romantic event?  

Allow me to list fragrances we use to scent ourselves.  Gardenia.  Vanilla. Sandalwood.  Cucumber.  Almond.

Why is it such an awesome thing to be given flowers?  Be it congratulations or thinking of you, why do flowers bring such joy?

Why do we like to collect seashells on the beach?

We even use pearl and coral and mother-of-pearl in our jewelry.

As a hypoglycemic, I can tell you that honey trumps corn syrup any day.  

Naturally occurring foods are the best sources of vitamins and minerals.

Why do we have this push for organic foods and mineral makeup?

Why does our military still use wool in cold weather?

How many people consider "all leather interior" to mean "nice car"?

Why do we like wind chimes?

Why does everyone's dream home have a swimming pool?

What is the purpose of a large porch?

What is so great about a hammock?

Why do we find the stars so fascinating?

Why do we work so hard to create and maintain gardens?

What is the purpose of a zoo?

Think about all the children's cartoons that aren't fairytales.  Why are there so many animals?

How many kids, at some point, want a pony for Christmas?

Why do people go hiking?  Or camping? 

What is the most spectacular thing about the coming of fall?  The changing colors of the leaves.  Why?

Know anybody who decorates with pine cones?

Did you know that salt has sugar in it?  Yeah.  Check your container.  The only stuff that doesn't contain dextrose or the like is the stuff taken straight out of nature.  What's up with that?

Why are whole grains so much better for us?

Ever heard of SAD?  Seasonal Affective Disorder.  Basically you get depressed when there's less sunshine.  This is common during the winter months, but staying indoors for any lengthy period can have the same effect any time of the year.

Why are there so many sports-related injuries?  Is that not how we're supposed to get our exercise?

Ever seen a movie that showed a breath-taking waterfall?

Why do we make cars that have holes in the roofs?  

For that matter, why do we make convertibles?

Who doesn't love their fleece pajamas?

A lot of people sleep with a fan on year 'round.  Either they have to have some noise, or they don't like the stillness.

Take a look around your living room.  How many earthy colors do you find? Any copper?  Wood?  Pictures of scenery?  Decorations that bear tree-like qualities?  Iron?  Stone?  Suede?  Leather?  Glass?

What is it about a firefly that has a child stalking about like a lioness?

Why do we like fireworks?

Why are open fireplaces considered beautiful?

I once read in a fashion magazine about how to create a look that was 'dewy'. Why would a 'dewy' look be appealing?

Growing up, I would cut pine boughs and bring them inside in early winter.  I loved the smell.

My mother used to press flowers.  Why do people preserve flowers?

What is it about the ocean that captivates?

Why does Hawaii sound exciting?  Ever seen pictures?

Why do we feed finches?  

Why do we put out sugar to draw the hummingbirds?

Why do we strategically plant bushes that will attract butterflies?

Why is it such a magical thing to have a butterfly land on a person?

Have you ever thought it would be cool to reach out and have a bird perch on your hand?

Have you ever wondered why we cage songbirds in our homes?

I have.

And it all comes down to this.

We were made for nature.

Dare to Care

I directed the youth Christmas play at my church in 2008.  I wrote this monologue and added it on the the end of the program.

Narrator
The last line in the play was, "there's only so much anyone can do."  This is a true statement, but how many times do we use it as an excuse?  I think the more important question is, are we doing as much as we can?  Are we set apart?  Are we living our lives solely for God?  Are we bringing Jesus to every person we can?  Do we love people the way He would?  Do we stop to look around?  do we take time to see?  Do we focus on our pain or on bringing God's healing to the wounds of the people right beside us?

Mourning
I am the father of two precious girls.  They know I love them more than the world.  But I cant give them everything their mother did... it's been nearly a year now... since she was killed by a reckless driver.  It was so unfair!  I know I'm bitter and girls see my anger.  It's not helping them move on.  But I don't know how to let go, to forgive.  I really want to have peace.  But I can't seem to find it.

Narrator
This man is mourning.  Who will help him find solace?

Solace
I lost my wife after eight years of marriage.  I understand your pain.  I've experienced your anger, bitterness, your loss.  I know you feel wronged, helpless forsaken.  But I will tell you there is hope.  I will show you how you are loved.  I will help you see that it is not your place to carry out justice.  I will point you back to the One who can carry out justice.  I will point you back to the One who can carry your burdens and fill the hole that you can't make go away.

Narrator
He is willing to share his pain to heal another's.  Are you?

Lonely
I've always been a pretty social person, but these days I just feel so alone.  My husband has been gone for three years now, and my health has been bad for a while... so I don't get out much.  I feel unappreciated and out of touch with the rest of my church.  Sometimes, I wonder why god won't just let me come home.  I find no joy in living.  I know that my heavenly Father should be enough for me, so why do I feel like this?

Narrator
This woman is lonely.  Who will be her conversation?

Conversation
I may be small.  And very young, but I can help you.  I can stop to give you a hug, sit down and ask how you are.  I can tell you how much you mean to me, smile, and make you laugh.  I'll tell you God's not done with you.  I'll be the one who cares.  I don't know as much as you, but I'm still young enough to want to learn.  When no else has time, I will be your friend.

Narrator
This child stopped to take the time.  Would you?

Haunted
I'm your neighbor's daughter.  You see me all the time.  I smile and I wave, but inside I feel like I'm dying.  You see, I have this secret, something I want nobody to know.  My boyfriend and I, well, we made a mistake.  He told me we could fix it, that it would all go away.  So I went through with the abortion.  But it didn't go away.  I feel empty here.  I cry myself to sleep most nights.  It feels so wrong.  I'm so ashamed.  and I can't get rid of it.

Narrator
This girl is haunted.  Who will be her reassurance?

Reassurance
I see you every Sunday at church.  You always seem just fine.  I never knew about your secret.  But... you never knew about mine either.  I was young once too.  I made the same mistakes.  I did it so my boyfriend would stay.  But he left me anyway.  Left me with a big, gaping hole.  I cried until I felt numb.  and then I cried some more. And I couldn't keep the guilt and shame out.  One day, I was desperate and I cried out to a God I had ignored.  I begged for peace and I opened up His Word.  It told me I was forgiven, if I could only forgive myself.  god doesn't try to guild us.  He loves us in spite of our sins.  You're still His daughter, His precious child.  He's taking care of yours now.  And He still has a plan for you.  Go to Him for peace.

Narrator
She wasn't afraid to admit her mistakes and allowed God to use her.  Are you afraid?

Cold
My Daddy isn't home much.  And Momma doesn't pay attention to me.  We live in an old trailer.  It's so dirty and run-down, I'm embarrassed when the bus come to pick me up.  I don't know why, but we don't have water anymore.  I know it has something to do with why Daddy's always gone.  Momma yelled at him when we lost it.  I hate to go to school without having a bath, but I don't have a choice.  I catch the other kids in my class making faces.  I know I must smell awful.  A boy in my class calls me "stink-face".  I know he's just being stupid, but it still hurts.  Now, it's Christmas time and I won't be getting any presents.  I don't even have a warm coat.

Narrator
This girl is cold.  Physically, emotionally, spiritually.  Who will bring her the Warmth she needs?

Coat
I drive by your trailer park every day, taking my kids to school.  I've seen you shivering at the bus stop.  I feel so bad in my warm SUV.  So one day, I dug out my daughter's old jacket.  And today, I'm going to stop and give it to you.  Maybe now I can drive by and not feel so guilty.

Narrator
She gave the girl a coat.  But she didn't bring her Warmth.  She didn't listen to her story.  She didn't tell her about Jesus.  That little girl is still cold... inside, where it really maters.

Discouraged
I'm home for the holidays.  I say I love college, and I really do.  But this year has been a struggle.  I've had a hard time, but I'm not going to tell you that when you ask how I am.  I'm going to smile and say, "just fine, how about you?"  but the truth is, I've fallen in a pit.  I've made mistakes.  I've made BIG mistakes.  I can't seem to forgive myself and I feel like there's no hope.  My relationship with God is strained, but I don't know how to fix it.  Will this ever get better?  Will I ever find that peace again?  I've lost my faith.  I just want it back.

Narrator
This young woman is discouraged.  Who will bring words of encouragement?

Homeless
I'm a senior this year.  It was supposed to be the best year of high school.  I wish.  I never considered that I would have to live like this.  I know I'm almost 18, but I'm not ready to be an adult.  I wanted to play football so bad this year.  It meant a lot to me.  But I was too busy working.  It was never supposed to be like this.  At least my parents let me keep my truck.  Because otherwise, I would have nowhere to sleep at night.  I'm on my own now and whether I like it or not, I have to be an adult now.  I always knew life wasn't fair, but I' never expected to be on my own at 17.  What kind of God would let this happen?

Narrator
He is homeless.  Who will bring him shelter?

Hungry
I can't wait til we go eat!  I am so hungry.  Mama tries hard, but I never feel like I get enough to eat.  I'm old enough now to see that she's doing everything she can, and to help out.  As the oldest of three, I have to watch my sisters while she works.  Usually, I'm left to fix dinner.  Lately, I've been giving most of my food to my youngest sister.  I don't want her to be hungry.  She's so young.  Don't tell Mama that though.  I don't want her to worry.  She already tells me I'm getting too skinny.  I eat as much as I can at school so she won't know I'm going without dinner.  But the weekends are hard.  I hate being hungry all the time, but Mama works hard.  And I'm the oldest, so I try to be tough for her.

Narrator
This boy is hungry.  Who will feed him?

Lost
I've lived in this community my whole life.  I've known most of you for years.  You're good people and I like you, but you've never been able to convince me to do this whole church thing.  I don't see a difference between you and me.  Half the time you complain about your church members anyway.  Why would I want in on that?  If going to church doesn't make me a better person, why should I do it?  You don't even act like you enjoy it.  You're not passionate about your life.  And it hasn't changed you.  I can do without.

Narrator
This man is lost.  Who will show him the Way to salvation?



When no one else dares to care, will you?

My Greatest Fear

Intensely private.  That's how I've come to describe myself.  I've been disappointed and betrayed; I'm so jaded. So I keep to myself.  Keep my most sacred, vulnerable parts locked in a high tower with no doors, surrounded by layers and layers of walls.  This, I have known.

What I didn't quite realize, though, is how very afraid I am of ever letting anyone scale the walls of that tower.  It scares me to death.  Like, heart pounding, hands shaking, forgetting to breathe, approaching panic-stage fear.  I didn't realize.  And I'm not quite sure I understand.

I've come a long way.  I know that I am lovable.  I am most willing to let someone see me as I am.  But it frightens me exceedingly.  Haven't decided yet if I'm afraid of that vulnerability, if the wounds I've accumulated have made me shy.  Perhaps it's that I've naively allowed uncaring people access to places in my heart they never deserved.  Because of the pain those people have caused, I understand the gravity of the idea.

There will come a day in which I decide it's time.  There will come a man who has earned entrance to that inner sanctum.  There is One who knows me already.  Knows my every flaw, knows every intimate detail of my past, has sat with me in every time of hurt and need, has seen my moments that bring glory, and witnessed those that bring shame.  Yet He loves me just the same.  He has a day written in my calendar.  He has cast a man for that role.  It will come.  But for now, I am a princess in a tower.

fading...

fading... would you notice if I were gone? didn't throw a big party, didn't give you any notice... just gone... i'm fading... piece by piece i'm drifting away... maybe we met after it started but i'm fading still... and when i'm gone will you wonder what happened? ask yourself what might have prevented... my fading... all you saw was a mess, she's too much to handle... never thought for a second i was fading... so quickly unraveling, too busy ruining, her life, her relationships, her self... fading... and now looking back do you see, somehow, a girl who was crying... when no one could hear... but fading more with every tear... given another chance would you reach out... beyond what you saw as insanity... to find a soul too afraid to scream... because screaming is what made you turn away... so, quietly she fades... but no one hears a silent cry for help... fading... it happened slow... maybe you never noticed... fading... but thinking back, in some way you knew... yet you chose not to see... my fading... and now look for me, but i've faded...

I wrote this on April 25, 2010.  The weekend I slept for 3 days.  Darkened my windows and slept.  And then I woke up that Sunday and went to church. Because I know there was something in that darkness that had caught hold of something inside me.  It would bring me down if I let it.  I was already fading...

See Me Now

I found this while sorting through some old journals.  Written July 22, 2010

I've been bruised and used.  Ripped apart and abused.  I'm a little tattered. I've been cut to the heart.  And not a clean, piercing jab, but the kind of soul-wrenching wound an emotional butter knife would make as it forced its way through one's chest.  I've hit bottom.  The very bottom.  So low that I now call it the scariest point of my life.  But in that moment, I couldn't feel fear; I felt NOTHING.  I've hurt.  I've suffered abuse at my own hands.  I've been broken. Many times in many ways.  Never quite shattered.  Almost, once.  But only broken.  Each wound has healed.  And all are stronger.  Oh, but you should see me now.

Fairytales and Adventures

A book.  A story.  A dual ending.  Our choice.  God is the original author of the fairytale.  (That's the story with the happy ending.)

We choose whether we listen to His work, or write over the plot He's mapped out.  As in all the famous ones, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Cinderella, Rapunzel, there are happy moments.  But so very often, I find my story filled with hardship.  Making that hardship bearable, is my belief in that ending. Every good love story has a happy ending.

I find my efforts to create that ending so ironic.  I take off with an idea, or a thought, or a feeling, and start writing my own next chapter.  Or ten chapters. Those pages reflect what I like. What I want.  With no thought as to whether my Author, who sees all the characters in ways I never will, has written the same thing, I launch myself into this fantasy, this imagined future.  And then it hits me.  I don't know if this is anywhere in my storybook.  It might be.  Maybe a few chapters later. Maybe now.  But I don't know.  I can't know.  Because I forged my own path.

All along I should have been paying close attention to my Guide.  Avoiding every cleverly set snare.  Skirting around deep ravines where I could easily slip and fall.  Keeping watch for predators, and fleeing from the before they can harm me.

My Guide knows the trail better than any.  So I rely on His expertise.  The signs and roadways and fellow travelers can be so persuasive.  When I am afraid, I just keep my eyes on Him.  He walks ahead of me, and I watch Him. Crossing a narrow bridge, my eyes are on Him.  Whatever lies below us, I trust my Guide.  When I have walked, and climbed, been scratched and bruised, I'm sore and tired, and cannot move, I call out to Him.  He turns back for me and lifts me up.  He carries me, gives me strength and healing.

At times I've walked a different way.  Being my own guide sounds exciting.  At times I quickly return to Him.  Other times I am gone much longer.  There is always a point at which I realize that I'm getting nowhere.

I have to bag up the pride I've collected, hoarded like dirty dishes on the counter, leftovers still stuck on and growing strange fuzzy things... the pride can't be separated from the plates and bowls and goblets I've acquired.  All of them must go out.  I throw them out with the garbage.  I can't carry these things with me.  There simply isn't room for them in my pack.

When I've done away with the treasures of the unguided path, I set out to look for Him.  I need no map.  I know exactly where I went wrong.  I seek out my Pathfinder, only the closer I get, the more I realize He's been looking for me too.  He's sent people after me: messengers, comforters, encouragers.  He has been fervently calling for me, trying to woo me back to Him, to rest in His shadow.  Out in the wilderness, I didn't have His judgment to follow.  I hadn't been looking to Him; I'd stumbled, I'd fallen.  Without His true leadership, I was easily distracted, carried along with some others, down paths leading nowhere.

God wrote my fairytale.  It's a beautiful story.  I realize this once I sit down and listen to Him read it.  You can't try to flip ahead.  It doesn't work that way. You just have to listen.  You don't tell a great storyteller that His story should take a different turn. You enjoy it.  Revel in the wonder of what the next page brings, not worrying about the plotline.  There's no sense in fretting about little things.  They're already written in the story.  Let each chapter end how it will.  And don't be bitter for it.  There are things He has included in your story that you are anxious for.  He wants to surprise you with them.  You see, He's a hopeless romantic too.