Something Just Like This. #ThisIs30

Something Just Like This. #ThisIs30

She said, “Where’d You wanna go?”

“How much you wanna risk? I’m not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts, some Super Hero, some Fairy tale bliss. Just something I can turn to. Somebody I can kiss. I want something, just like this.” – The ChainSmokers & Coldplay, Something Just Like This

5AM.

I’ve been awake for a while and am just now hearing  / ignoring the sounds of my children animatedly chirping back and forth in their room. I already knew the day was going to be a long mental haul but this waking up before 6AM nonsense is what I should have been prepared to expect on a day where I am booked from the ass crack of dawn until late that night, but hoped. Oh how I hoped! I would get in some solid NON-Mommy Work Done before it was time to prepare everyone for the day. I have managed to impress upon my children, ages 2 and 7, that it is wiser to stay in their room until I am ready to alert and agree that the day has started. This works maybe 50% of my week. But hey, it used to be 1 in 10. Progress. I love busy days. Busyness used to intimidate the crap out of me. Now, I am pretty intentional when I am busy and with whom I will be in activity. I  refocus and dig back into my most recent Bible study and must confess, my favorite personal devotional I have done in a while. Whispers Of Hope by Beth Moore has become such a source of personal connection, intimate study and in-depth soulful prayer time. Today for whatever reason, I decided to start my worship hour off by masturbating; that was 30 minutes ago, and I thank God I had the foresight to switch it up today. I plug my headphones in and dive deeper with my Papa. I take the passage about doing ALL for the glory of God quite seriously. I offer him the first of everything and can’t imagine living another way. Normally, I like to save pleasuring myself until after my time in the Word, but for whatever reason today I decided to have dessert first. I do not regret that decision, as I turn the volume higher on my ear buds, blushing from my time of worship before reading His word and am overcome with how His word speaks to my heart.

6AM.

I alert my eldest child it time to get ready. During this next hour, I will dance, shower, get the sassy-pants two-year old fed, dressed, hair – all while getting myself prepped and ready as well. Every 15 minutes or so, I will check on the older child. 30 minutes in, I am not shocked that this child has not managed to get dressed or even found her clothes from the night before. She instead found every butterfly, sparking object and fairy friend. Which happened to bury her clothes in a heaping mess. I remind her the obstacle is the way, and to please, focus Child.

745AM.

As usual, this is the time my oldest daughter’s butt should be standing, nicely in line, waiting to be ushered into the courts of free learning, the dreaded common core and her day at school. The bell has rung and as usual, despite the fact that every night we ask her to put her clothes out so they are ready, despite the fact that every night we ask her to pack her lunch so that all this child literally needs to do is dress, brush her teeth, comb her hair and eat breakfast (I can manage to do these things in less than 3 minutes if need be); I can’t remember a time this child has eaten a bite of anything in less than 3 minutes let alone, dressed, groomed herself and been ready on my schedule. It doesn’t matter that I begin her morning between 6am to/by 6:30am, one hour is simply not enough time for this child. Even when she has two hours, I swear, it is somehow worse. I know I can literally kick and yell her butt into motivation, but I learned a long time ago, her school is not mine. Her education is not mine. Her motivation to be on time, is clearly opposed to mine. I can encourage all I want, but I will not allow myself to become a raving lunatic over getting to school, every day. From my own childhood, I remember the Beast that can literally emerge when a mama gets overwhelmed. I can become a screaming lunatic to motivate and that will work every time, but then I have lost the battle with my self-control, my love and my heart for my child. So, everyday… despite the headache and exhaustion of trying to get my oldest child to understand how time works, to please focus and stay on track, despite all the little reminders, this is the best we can do. So, 7:45, school started but I am laughing as we drive there, knowing she will be at least 2 minutes late today, but tell her I am proud of her for her focus this morning. She really is trying. It’s difficult. I love when my two-year old uses this phrase, because it sounds so sweet  the way it is translated through a toddler’s voice, the innocence in understanding how some things really are “Dif-FI-cult ma-ma”, the way each syllable is pronounced so carefully and the way her little mouth shifts creating little oo’s and U-shapes. She holds her mouth like a purse with a drawstring. We make it. I choose to bless my oldest every day with a few simple words: today I go with joy, good listening and wisdom as I hug her and send her off. Every day I have made it a habit to verbally confirm gifts the Father wants to give her, gifts she will learn how to use one of these days. The Joy is not difficult and so she skips off. Both our hearts have managed to make it through the morning, no tears and it is a good start.

8ish.

Coffee. Praise Jesus. It took me a year to learn to drink coffee. Yes, I need special creamer to enjoy it, shocking. But, I can finally drink coffee without an overpriced, over flavored Venti contraption. I still enjoy those Grande flavors, and today, indulge because it is Friday and God knows I will need the caffeine today. I make the short trip, from the Starbuck’s drive-thru to Dana Point’s Harbor; a safe haven and retreat for me and my Father, my God and my spirit. I packed Apple Sauce, a banana and a bar for the toddler. She also has a book, colors but today, no movie. It’s always a tricky balance.. coming to this place with a toddler, coming for peace, when Cheerios, sticky demands and the wiggles need to dance in our seat. I have a silent agreement with God over this. IF, for any reason or any time, I feel my peace and joy of this time distracted or robbed by the beautiful joyful Darling child in the backseat, then it is my issue, and God and I will connect at a later time when I am able to give him the focus and heart that He and I both desire. For how long I have been doing this, I have only ever driven away once in joyful exasperation… I was relieved knowing I would come back to my study later that day, but also grateful for my little system, because it allowed me to leave without becoming frustrated. Also, as it turned out, that one time allowed me to reflect on the earlier Word I had started, letting the message and prayer that turned later, to be a much more reflective and rewarding time. It also allowed my toddler’s child-like tendencies to be beautifully expressed and received without taking her mama out. I think as moms, we fight for that time, but when we relax into the peace, knowing he will always be there, and that he too, would want the little children to come first, it is easier to let go and simply enjoy His presence. I can’t get enough of Him. I always long for those quiet moments. It took me a few years to realize, I am someone who needs quiet, alone time.. But the quiet alone time I used to think I needed was at my house, confined to isolation. Now, I must retreat to my Father as often as I can for His energy, His instruction and His word. I do this daily in bed, relaxed and receiving Him first thing when I wake. But it’s different. It’s like talking to someone on a cell phone or email, versus going to meet their very human spirit. He revitalizes and refuels me like none other. This time, specifically at the beach, became important and crucial to my walk with the Father in 2012. I had always known I loved the beach, but for the first time, I heard God’s call, literally stirring my soul to come find Him and meet Him. So many hours have been spent, silently meditating, writing notes or simply sitting in His presence in worship. I hope you know what your retreat is, but if you don’t, look back in your history and find the times or places or activity that you happened to do, that restored you. Invite God into that space and your very own, heaven on earth.

845AM.

The hour is upon me. I do not fear or dread the next five hours. I keep telling myself this. I am very grateful for an authentic and surprisingly humbling trade and answer to prayer. I needed time in December, so I asked for it. God. Give me time to write this work if it is Your will. He Delivered. I consulted with a company for a minute a few months ago. That consultation alone provided, not salary, but free day care for the month of January in trade, which allowed me to get the greater part of my latest project, on the floor running. It’s not complete yet, hence my bold request for more time. Well, God provided again. But this time. The trade is with another mama, a woman of immense faith and a strong spirit for entrepreneurship. She has two Darling babies.. Ages 1 and 3. It started off as an “every other week” trade, and then worked so fabulously in the first two weeks, we decided we could “up” it. Every Tuesday, I drop my Darling 2-year-old off at her house and leave to write for 5 hours. Every Friday, I drive to her Darling house and she leaves to get her work done, while I hang with a 1, 2 and 3-year-old. I have great empathy for my mother, who this was her life. A Basket of Babies and a Basket of Groceries, aged, 1, 2 and three. It was a fruitful crop. This is only my life for 5 hours a week and OH MY LORD.

Mercy. Jesus. Words used often during this time.

The girls play very well together, both the three-year old and my two-year old are learning how to use their voices and “No!” is a very fun thing to yell back and forth at one another. My friend warned me, the three-year-old can get the safety gate open, and the 1-year-old is the tiniest, chunkiest little walker I have ever seen. As soon as she hears that gate, she will already be halfway up it. My friend also warned me this day, I could exercise my authority if time-outs were needed. I think these two pieces of information were all the little beasts needed to completely formulate a plan. At one point, as I am dealing with the three-year-old over a toy stolen, I happen to glance up and see my own beastly two-year-old has managed to get the damn gate open. And there, already halfway up, just as promised, is the one-year-old, on wooden stairs. Precariously perched on these chunky stilts with barely a bar of soap attached as feet.My response was cartoon as I gave a dramatic “AHHHHH” and rushed to correct the situation.

I like to stay busy.. it’s nice watching kids at a home that does not belong to you. Add Three active, busy little women to any home and you are sure to be terrorized slightly. I also know how I’d want my house left if this were mine, so I try to make it a point to find something to clean or wash. Three children are fun, but I am not that patient of a Saint and little children are not my full-time calling, thank Jesus. If I were at home, I would be actively watching, engaging and cleaning my own house. It helps the time pass and makes me feel good to be moving. So it’s what I do.  Around 11AM, I realize what a painful excursion it is going to be to keep my toddler up until 1:30 this afternoon. She’s been up since 5AM, thanks to her Big Sissie. But I commit to keeping her playing and up, because it is Friday. Friday’s are one of my favorite days of the week. It is the first night I know my husband won’t have to be up before 3AM and IF he can get a nap while the toddler is napping, I might just get lucky that night. It IS Always THE goal. So I try to help out where ever I can. Today, I realize, someone has to take the hit for the team. I can do it, because greater is in me, than this child’s ever-expanding will-power. I am not sure which child I am referring to by the end of the day. They have out done me.

140PM.

Four time-outs later.. both the two-year old and the three-year old have decided to test me today. Around 12ish, I texted my friend for her wi-fi username and password. Mama needed HER Jesus music playing. Mama needed Jesus. The Children needed Jesus. A few years ago, I was able to hear my pastor’s wife talk about a time in their marriage and in their family that was spiritually charged. Something, about playing christian music, whenever she or she felt her kids attitudes needed a check, literally changed the atmosphere and mood of the house, every time. Supernaturally charged and refocused. I’ve been following her lead for several years to the point, that it cracks me up when you turn on Christian music and watch as the negative feelings in the house grow to an explosive nature. It doesn’t matter. Even if the inner devil is drawn out, once the bomb has detonated, sweet peace is found. Every Time. So.. Mama needed back up. I spent the last hour of my time in a cleaning whirlwind, dancing with Jesus, singing and wrangling kids. Now, as I have loaded my emotionally exhausted and drained child into the car, waving goodbye to the now restored Darlings, 1 and three year-old both nestled into their mama’s embrace, reinvigorated by her own retreat this morning, I thank God we survived and thrived in another trade-day. Every day that we are both able to help one another is a beautiful thing. Today, her husband had the day off and so both escaped to a rare privilege of a morning date. Company and Time with an Adult you actually like is absolutely critical when you have children. Sometimes, you just need to runaway and adult. I am grateful God has given me an opportunity to serve someone while also being served in this same way. I wish the Church would have more programs and ways that could make connecting and serving one another’s needs, as it is written about the first Churches, Apostles and followers of the way. In my Home Church, Mountain View, it is the way I have learned. And for today, within our own communities, this is a start, because it is exactly as the Old Church came to be, thriving and living, loving and serving, meeting the needs. It’s what I dream of rebuilding, scaling up and restoring.

205PM.

Parked and have been for several minutes. The bell promptly rings and the children are released into the after-school monstrosity of child-pick-up. We’ve been at this a while, and it doesn’t matter, just like the morning routine, it will be several minutes before my Darling oldest finds her way out to the front. I am aware I have stretched the two-year-old past her nap, but if I don’t go to the grocery store and pick up dinner now, no one will be eating tonight. So, again, I ask the two-year-old to take one for the team, she’s been telling me she doesn’t want a nap since 12, yawning and bursting into tear at the slightest offense. But, A Mama Must Do, What a Mama’s gotta do. We zip to Trader Joe’s, grab the necessities and head back out to hopefully meet my husband. I am hoping he will be right on time, traffic rarely allows us such freedom, for me to change and head to my trade shift at Pure Barre. I don’t know if every studio does it, and there is usually a list, but I can’t afford the price. So a while ago, I began a trade-shift. For one shift a week, a 2.5 hour slot, I open, check in and can even join the class once the obligatory duties are performed. This allows me to work out there, unlimited. I’ve had a busy month here or a few weeks there, that working out just didn’t happen except for that once a week class, if that. But it was actually a trade that kept me accountable and at least staying active after a really difficult time. Others needed joy and it was a really fun way to clean, serve and reap the benefit of trading for something valuable to me. The two-year-old is yawning, crying and somehow managing to let me know, “Lainey NO nap. Lainey play and Sissie go nigh-nigh. Lainey play, yes me play, Mama.” I let her know she can choose between taking a nap with a soothie or taking a nap, no soothie when we get home(it’s her pacifier), the choice is always hers. Mama is just the reinforcer of her choices. I can’t stand it, this age and learning how to talk cracks me up. We’ve never done the “baby talk” with our kids, so they when they begin to talk, they skip the “hard” words and go straight to difficult. I sure went difficult with this move to stretch the day even further, but it all works out as my husband texts me that there must have been an accident. He will not be arriving home until 3:25 now. If he’s lucky. I arrive, expecting and hoping for help with groceries so I can zip and change. I gather what I can, gather the Darling troops to help me out, and in we go. The get the toddler put down, and manage to hit the dishes. Since he’s running later by the minute, changing is less important. I get to the tasks unleft. Change in less than 30 seconds when he does arrive and head out the door for my trader-shift at Pure Barre. I am supposed to be there… I glance at the clock, within the next five minutes. In a single word I pray. Jesus. Before again, finding my phone, to blast on my hope and inspiration, my joy and yet another opportunity to worship on the way, late.

530PM.

I am heading back home to change before heading back out, for the third time, for a women’s get-together with my church at Guapas Tapas And Wine Bar in San Juan Capistrano. I think I know the place, but secretly hope I have the wrong restaurant in mind. I arrive home about 5:50 and feel horrible the moment I walk in the door. My oldest Darling, is sitting, perfect as an angel entertaining herself. In this one confrontation, I realize, Daddy really did get to take a nap, and Lainey, really WAS TIRED, because she is still OUT cold. Crap. Well, I laugh outloud, and as I walk into our room, He is sitting up, confused-awake. “Why are you here early?” Babe… it’s nearly 6. It hits him. Fail. We both laugh as I exit our room to allow him a moment to dress and rise, heading to mistakenly wake up my Darling two-year-old. I should have let Daddy wake her up. She is VERY particular and once she is attached, it is nearly “imprinting” in its strength. I love her baby breath, the way her curls frame her face when she is asleep. In her own etheral nature, she is peace and joy. She radiates this gift from her every pore. So it is only natural, that in my go-go-go marathon for the day, this treasure was easily sought, not thinking of the repercussions that would follow, by mama leaving. I changed into jeans, knee high boots and a comfortable sweater reading my mood for the evening,“The Bags Under My Eyes Are Designer.” A quick five-minute application of make up and red lisptick and I was out of the house.

635PM.

It is clear, an EVENT of some kind is taking place in downtown San Juan. Parking is ridiculous. I stalk people into their space, by luck, not taking more than 5 minutes to accomplish the task before heading into the restaurant. It is the very restaurant I thought, and I remind myself the drinks are, thankfully, good. I don’t know who is coming from our church or what the night’s conversations will hold, but I am excited for the unknown.

Several of my absolute favorites show up, and the night relaxes into the beautiful flow of girl chat, with alcohol. The conversations range from children to jobs, to church, to sex to crazy mama’s to Jesus. I love these women. I love this time with them. I am so grateful that I began coming out of my self-imposed isolation years ago, to trust the unknown and trust that people can come through. People can fail, but where there is heart, there is love. Where there is love, nothing can truly divide. I watch as evidence of this very belief pokes its head through two of my personal favorites, in a conversation over Trump, politics and another woman’s “ULTRA-Conservative Son”. My Darling Conservative takes this opportunity to speak, widely into a what a wise young man this “adult” is, for the fact that he literally went out , his eighteenth birthday and bought a gun. Well Shit. See, I was actually all for my Darling Democrat’s view of this situation, but now I have to get on the gun wagon and support that. I find a way to back out of the battle as I watch these two, duke it out, over their personal and very private beliefs on politics, all while smiling, laughing and throwing in an “I LOVE YOU!” while hysterically going at it. I again, thank my creator for these women and am reminded how fiercely I adore each one. I would love to order another and stay and hang out all night, they are moving to Swallows Inn afterwards, but I have a husband, who got a very long nap today. Despite the fact that their normal bedtime was extended from 7pm to 8:30PM with Daddy oversleeping and on duty for the nights revelries, He will be awake and hopefully.. ready.

950PM

I arrive home. After changing into appropriately cozy yoga pants, Grab drinks from the fridge, head out to the patio and dive into my first real conversation I’ve had all day with my spouse. We spend the next hour, losing time in our mutual-glow of connecting. We laugh. We share. We joy. At some point, we make the agreement that dinner will HAVE to wait. Other hungers are growling with thirst and hunger, they must be tamed, fed, nurtured and released.

1150PM.

Lips find lips. A kiss becomes one flesh. I realize, in this moment, I would spend an eternity like this. Somehow, the exhaustion of the three children, ages 1, 2 and preciously-willed 3, a day that has not stopped, since it began, and a day spent focusing on thanksgiving, joy and blessings at hand, finding Jesus in the moments of weakness and powering through with an endurance and strength not my own, all for this moment, is entirely a life worth living. Just a few years ago, I couldn’t have imagined escaping the prison of my own mind for such an occupied day. Now, I can’t stop. His arms, become bands of steel, imprisoning me exactly where I am desired, and exactly how he wishes to draw the pleasure from my own intoxicated flesh; my spirit remains gloriously rooted in His love, bringing a sobriety and intensity to each movement. You would never know, just a year ago, we were in the talks of a very real divorce. His lips find mine, bringing life, peace and serenity. I ache to have him within me, though I can’t tell you where or what I want. Just that I want it to never stop. His move pulls pleasure from every inch he touches. I am panting, unabashedly claimed and putty in His expert craft. He finds every spot that aches, from kissing and nipping my hips to the flesh on my ass, he uses every inch of my skin for his pleasure. He takes his time, feasting within the perfume of my flesh. For some reason, between weight loss, to Pure Barre literally scuplting my abs from the inside out, I have such a fierce intensity on my orgasms. They are ripped, in wave after wave, from a body that more than succumbs, not noticing the ways, but only the pleasure at walking on water and being so near to heaven on earth. I can’t begin to describe the pleasure, not only in sex, but in every moment, of every day when you find this peace, this trust. This absolute freedom. I manage to scream my ecstasy into the pillow, over and over again. When no pillow is available due to my position, I mange to growl through it, shuddering with the strength it takes to remain silent. He could be touching a spot on my rib cage, known only to him as one of my greatest weaknesses when applied with a damning kiss. The kind of kiss that you see in Gone With The Wind. The kind of kiss that sends pleasure through every pore, and sucks you in, if only you could breathe but a minute more, to taste such heavenly delight. When his strength rises within me, finally connecting our bodies and our spirits in one united state of transcendence, I lose myself. There is only this pleasure. Only this moment. Only, his lips, hungrily seeking mine. I thank God for the deliverance of our marriage, the glory, yet to be revealed, as each year I can testify, to the glory of God’s faithfulness and goodness. In love, even when tested, even when we fail absolute, he redeems all, for those who remain in Him. When he says, the glory yet to be revealed and I have a day and night capped off with orgasmic bliss, spiritual connection and a true communion of souls, whether with my husband, helping a friend, a child, a conversation with a new friend, a drink with an old, Life has a way of continually giving the more we seek His glory, thanking Him, through all things, for all things, that ALL may be glorified through Him. I pray, God blesses our marriage to continue, renewing itself often, to fail early, fail often and fail cheap as we continue to test the boundaries of love. I have yet to discover a new kind of orgasm that has yet to stop me from saying.. OK, I’ve learned enough. We can stop exploring our bodies and limits with God by our side. Thanks to one of John Eldredge and Stasi Eldrege’s prayers about sexual restoration and healing (The back of Love And War, by John and Stasi Eldredge) and renewing that prayer when we have failed, coming together to again submit to our Author’s will and perfect restoration, He always delivers. Better than new. Every time. It doesn’t matter what we face, and the more we conquer, the less I think we’ve actually been through. It’s all sifted. All purified. That’s the power of Jesus Christ. I can only claim Him, because He is within me. But when two, come together in agreement, for the glory of the kingdom, through healing and restoration, through renewal and thanksgiving, it is done. Absolutely put to death, and remade into a new creation. I will always walk toward that fire. I have only found pleasure in its heat. Growth, in its long suffering flames and eternal peace for the joy of the One who has conquered the world. I relax in this space of knowing who I am, and yet taking each day for the joy and discovery, taking each invitation as it comes. When I look at life, and the things I pray for, I can look at a day like this day, and pray exactly for something, just like this. To get to the end of the day, let alone the end of the week, with joy and companionship for the mutaually shared journey, the community of faith and good spirit; to end it all, with passion, pleasure and God’s complete glory. I could wish for nothing more, than this. So I pray now, rather than my own, that His be done. Because it is already finished and it is already beautiful. I’ve had the privilege of viewing Venus, so bright and so transcendent, the last few nights on the horizon. From my porch, I dream of a world with such glory, pleasure, service, love and joy. I imagine it so fiercely, days like today, where experiencing all of those gifts within a single day used to be rare, and now, are just the thing… blessed and grateful, as He continues to lead me into His serenity. I don’t count how many orgasms I have.. I never stop. One waves into another. They remain as I remain connected and focused to him.  I love the parallels between sex and freedom with Christ. They are so often. Something like, every day struggle meets every opportunity. We have a choice to how we engage and how we react. It isn’t always easy to find sanity in moments of insanity. Having a few tricks and advanced strategies to deal with warfare in the moment will help you retain your joy and ease in the moment. We can all have heaven on earth now, because Christ already died and rose. We just have to choose to step out on that. I may not always get it right. But when I do, it feels, something just like this.

1AM.

Eat Dinner. So thankful I picked up Pita Pita Bowls.Pass out on completion of half, crawling under the covers as my eyelids have stopped obeying my commands to remain open.

6AM.

Time to run back to Papa. My father, and the beach, call me into the warmth and comfort of prayer, worship and bold praise. I dream of nothing more, than mornings exactly like this. The ecstasy of God’s glory is beyond compare, and that is saying quite alot after something, just like this.

 

 

As iron.

As iron.

Papa,

Thank you. You have continued to bring me people from your kingdom, people that need a word, healing, people to help build me and encourage me along. Your ways are indeed mysterious. I love enjoying this part of you, the mystery of your nature and yet how constant and faithful you remain, despite my unknowing.

Daddy are we there yet? You have made yourself, your very spirit and flesh known to me. I bask in the delight and pleasure your presence brings. I would wait a thousand years for the glory and pleasure of your time. Burn in me, a new fire, a new creation. Open the floodgates Daddy, flow from your heart and speak a word in my favor.

My God, My Author, The very creator of my Spirit, with all gifts and skills you have given me Lord. You made the heavens and the skies, the stars and every solar system with a word. You formed me, dirt, flesh and spirit to call me into your world, your throne and your heritage. You deny me nothing, but give all, so that in all, you may be glorified. There are no limits, no bounds and no end to your faithfulness, your glory and your restoration. Even for one alone, You are faithful. Even for one alone, You are a seeker and a finder. Even for one alone, You sent your son to die. Your ways are unfathomable, the way you continue to pursue us, in our unknowing. In our deceit, before we even recognize or know what we are doing, you reconcile us back to your glory. IF the entire world lost faith, you would surrender all again, for that one. Thank you Jesus, for fulfilling the vow, the promise and the crucifixion, the word, the letter and the law. Thank you for leaving us your love and asking us to remain in your love, above all else, remaining in you, in Your love and in Your understanding, you bring us life, when we were dead. You bring us hope, when all else fails. And When all Fails, You continue to love us. You remain in us, whether or not we choose to remain in you. You choose us, even when we choose not to remember You, your faithfulness and your goodness.

Who can stop THE Lord almighty?

Though it cost all I have, I will remember your goodness as I continue to seek you. I give all willingly and joyfully back to the Father for how gracious and how bountiful he has given to me, generously withholding nothing, generously redeeming all that I cannot see.

Jesus, would you take my cause? Would you plead my great cause with our father? You gave your life, to give me life. How much more will you give, when I come to you, thankful, worshipful and with all petition for your goodness to be fully revealed? Jesus would you free me to your side? Would you show me your glory? Would you remake me again? In death, let me rise to you. Through death, only You deliver me and break every chain. Jesus, any chain that you see affixed to my foothold, I give you all authority, all glory, all power to release, renew, redeem and remold me back to your thoughts, your ways and your glory. Would your beauty, the mystery of your time, impress a peace within my heart and a mark of favor through your flesh that draws me, ever to you?

You are my greatest treasure. My greatest Joy. My One True Kinsman Redeemer.

Don’t Kill My Vibe

Don’t Kill My Vibe

“You shut me down. You like the control. You speak to me, like I’m a child. Try to hold it, I know the answer. I can shake it off and you feel threatened by me. I tried to play it nice, but oh, don’t kill my vibe. Oh, don’t break my stride. You love to tear me down, you pick me apart, then build me up like I depend on you. But I throw myself from heights that used to scare me. Guess you’re surprised I’m the puzzle you can’t figure out. Say I’m young, I don’t care. I won’t quit. You’re acting like you hurt me, but I’m not even listening.”  – Sigrid, Don’t Kill My Vibe

It’s important to know who our enemies are. But never listen to their voices. Find the truth, renaming what was lost, stolen or destroyed. Find truth, though it cost all you have to find it; get wisdom, get understanding. My father tells me this over and over again. I begin to understand, his nuance at adjusting my hand a mere 1/100th of an angle, to understand his perfect love, and almost break posture,leaning my cheek into caress his hand, as I have grown to adore and greatly appreciate the instruction.

I relish not knowing it all. I relish knowing more than I have in my entire life and still feeling like I am in kindergarten.Thinking I had practiced every step, every thought for hope, every action in love, for his glory and can replay those memories over and over in full joy, despite the failure of missing perfection. The uncertainty in each step gives odd confidence in situations where you have no clue which step will sink you and which will blow you up.

I love how those failures become humbling patches. Somehow the pain of letting the enemy through our guard is replaced by a guard of truth, a patch with the lesson becoming the instruction manual to our very life and above all, love, of whatever remains thriving from the fire, left to uncover beneath the ashes.

I’ve played nice and walked away my entire life. Now, I stand firm, with shield ready, sword in hand, every manual from every fail strapped to the back of my shield for quick reference. Now, today, I allow my father to absolutely uncover me from the ashes. I love how his hands so securely polish, tinker and find spots to rub ever smoother in this process with him. I love the peace that comes from enduring the fire and walking back out alive, remade, renewed, redefined. When I breathe fire, I will roar with all the might and backing of my Father with me, in me and through me. In the whisper of his name, Jesus, I hear the chariots of fire running to my side, ready and prepared to battle with me.
Let no man or woman stand against me who also declares the name of Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord, for their war is not with me. I have learned more often than not, the battle I fight with my flesh and my mind is truly with me. Whatever I find in others is usually always a reflection of unfinished labor, in the unseen world, where the principalities, forces, and authorities play in a very real war, a battle for your soul. It’s heavy stuff, made light by Jesus’ yoke. Taking it up is my only relief, my true comfort and my joy as I continue to push through these labor pains.

***authors note: “My edges don’t look much like blades. But you learn when you try to hold me down with your bare hands.” – KJH, inspiration and photo credit to a fave! 

John Wick.

John Wick.

I am still upset about the damn dog. Tears, were pulled in the corners of both eyes threatening to spill over, but it wasn’t until *SPOILER ALERT, I saw the trail of blood from where the puppy had dragged its dying corpse to protect and be near its master that all concentrated effort of maintaining my composure gave in.

I Lost it.

I used to be offended by this word, sensitive. Now, I understand a depth behind its unknown character in today’s overtly sensitive world. I am not upset, by what others think of me. For too long I have lived from a shameless nature, one that leaps into the unknown for any and all sake of love, but also a nature that cannot be tamed, only fueled. I am sensitive in how aware I am of the feelings of others and always have been. To the heightened degree that movies like John Wick to Dead Pool to lighter films of action adventure, like Star Wars, used to be on an “impossible list”, I have managed to learn from this emotional connection and tune it out for when reality is not reality but in fact entertainment. As a child, my more literal brain had a difficulty discerning truth from reality, entertainment from the very real wicked world I believed existed. I would place myself so in depth with the characters and environments that I would internalize and mentally antagonize my sleep, creating an insomnia living nightmare. I hated the dark, hated the night. Hated the terror that lurked. Now, I actually enjoy going through my husband’s ever-growing list of “must see” films, classics, adventure titles, older movies, so many Marvel or DC Movies I can’t even keep track. My movi-ducation has been sorely lacking my entire life, but it wasn’t until the last year that we began making a solid effort to cross these movies off one by one. Finding the source and identifying how I need to receive this form of entertainment has been entertaining to say the least. His sincere effort to literally walk me ahead of the film, with patience only a Saint could boast of, has helped me overcome each movie, each time… but, even today, I am still upset about the damn dog. There is a phrase, “thick skin” for those who need to learn how to receive criticism. I have been by the grace of God receiving that education since I was a child. But there is a power behind being vulnerable, allowing yourself to be truly sensitive, even if it’s to a movie, the depth of exposing our feelings and letting them air on occasion has become a negative thing, when it is even more a powerful tool to exercise. Somehow transparency became a weakness, but it has remained one of my greatest strengths always. In this very movie, John Wick’s transparency of fighting for something, even if that thing was just a reminder that he wasn’t alone in his grief, was worth fighting for. Worth dying for. He wasn’t just an assassin, he was a human with depth and character. A man who couldn’t face grieving alone. In his wife’s foresight, a love greater than the human heart can comprehend, knew what her husband would need and so sent it. That hope alone, was the thing worth fighting for, living for, using talents forgotten, buried and dead. Raising them to new life through avenging his own heart, in fighting to hold onto his hope. I can usually handle the movie, even when I occasionally “lose it”, as long as I get my nerdy questions answered along the way, I enjoy it, especially when I know the end and my characters will be/ reign victorious. See, if this is what I do to an action movie, can you only imagine where my mind went for Harry Potter? Jurrasic Park? Gone With the Wind.. oi.

I think we forgot the art and truth of transparency. The gift in revealing oneself for nothing other than the testimony and love that we are not alone. It takes incredibly enduring skin to wear your heart on your sleeve, loving and living from a place that is raw, humble, but powerful in its own right. There is a sensitivity that engages from a place of heart and tender mercy.

I know, it’s a freaking puppy… but it was, even in it’s darkest hour, an example of love sent, faithful to it’s last breath. And that is what kills me. How something so small, can teach us over and over again the point. Love. We’re not alone. It’s worth engaging in a war to redeem, save, remember and hold onto.

I know.. a Puppy.

If you haven’t see the movie.. you should. It’s awesome. Much the same as the Kingdom, in the end, he wins. Worth the watch, darling friends.