Saturday, February 14, 2015
New blogs for new purposes:
Queenheroical thenandagain -- a new perspectives of the journey thus far
Chase the Glowing Hours - an awkward working out of my journey in poetry and such
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
In the context of my current days and the rhythms found therein:
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
I believe, that like water, you can drown in just 2 inches of grief. I am caught wondering about how much of my sadness is the result of a welling up of true grief, the indulgence of a weak heart, or from guilt because days do pass when I don’t think about them anymore. The calendar does spark a moment of guilt as I remember that I missed the 8th without it occurring to me that it has been 15 years since I lay on a cold table in an ER room being prepped for a D&C as a result of my/our “spontaneous aborted” baby. The words cut – I loath them. All things spontaneous should be fun – should be gleeful and jolly – not heart sickening. Stupid words – so inadequate, so thoughtlessly shared with a grief stricken young woman, her heart sore husband. Hard enough to bear the loss but to have to navigate the hollow walls of a hospital, echoing steps on hard linoleum, the “whoosh” of operating doors flying open – counting backward, leaving it behind to awaken on a bed, alone … hopelessly and desperately alone. My mind doesn’t forget as much as gets carried away in the daily workings out of life. But alone at night, when I can’t sleep, or because it is October and some part of me can’t let it pass without calling it forth – I remember, I remember and I am caught up in it – but I worry I am becoming an emotional cutter looking to draw out blood – to let the ailing inside of me bloom red and raw on the surface. Have I started using the pains of my life as a blade … to taste the metallic tang of blood upon my tongue again, to feel alive in it – to have my heart feel so acutely again. Or do I do it to drown out the other hurts, the smaller ones which cut only like paper cuts, insignificant and superficial and yet troublesome and sore.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Today is my birthday, I am 42 years old and I really don’t mind. I like my age, I have struggled through years of being self-conscious and awkward, I am still awkward occasionally but I am coming to terms with even that. I don’t know everything, I sometimes make mountains out of mole hills, I have insecurities, and anxieties but I am learning to bounce faster, to laugh lighter and enjoy the weird.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
God never fails to answer. Never. Fails.
In the wake of my previous post; in the wake of my admittance that I was lacking in my walk with God, a confidence, an unshakeable reliance upon His vision of me and my worth, I felt humbled and vulnerable. Out of this feeling grew a need to seek Him where he is to be found, in His word.
He found me there. More likely, He was waiting there and I found him.
Today, these words:
"Don't you know that you,
yourselves are God's temple,
and that God's Spirit lives in you
If anyone destroys God's temple
God will destroy him
For God's temple is sacred
and you are that temple."
1 Corinthians 3:16-17
This scripture may not resonate with others the way it did with me today, but for me in this moment of time, it is overwhelming to hear that I am His temple and he jeolously protects that which is his. I know there are bigger explanations of this scripture reaching out to the church body and such but today it speaks in a volume which drowns out all other thoughts. My tears are true and can not be restained at the realization that my God treasurers me with a fierceness I can only equate to the love I hold for my own children.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Today I read two very true, very helpful things both written by friends, both speaking to the need to be authentic and true to ourselves, our lives, and by proxy to those around us. I admire both of these friends and feel their words deeply at a time in my life when I am struggling to like myself.
Please don't start jumping up and down telling me all the wonderful things you believe to be true about me - you are right. Hear me, you are right and I want to feel as strongly as you do - but I struggle. I have believed and still believe many of the lies by which I measure myself. I don't know what it is to feel truly beautiful. This is no ones fault - it certainly isn't his fault, because he looks at me in a way I can't describe and I should see it there but I don't - I get uncomfortable and shy and giggle like he is nuts. I throw it back at him and dive under the closest figurative rock. I see the hurt in his eyes, but I cower in my hole. I don't know when I swallowed this lie, it goes that far back. I could try to analyse the mixed up files of Krina's upbringing and probably find some "good" reasons why I feel like I do but it would never fully answer the question. It certainly wouldn't solve anything.
It is THE lie - the one which loops back on itself pulling me back into self-deprecating conversations with myself. The conversation I wake up to in the morning, the one that chases me to bed at night. It is my constant companion and my dreaded visitor. It was planted and left to grow unchecked - it is the fundamental lie of my life. It is exists by design - it's sole purpose is to drain the life from me. And I am prey to it's venom. I acknowledge that its current strength comes from my own lack of steadfastness to the truth, I am not accustom to seeing myself in the light of the father's eyes, mostly because I find myself jumping into holes when I feel his eyes on me as well. Standing in such light dazzles my eyes and leaves me a little startled and confused. I want him to hear my words, to listen to the cry of my heart, to answer my prayers and lift up my family but I flinch at his gaze.
If I am to honour the words of my friends, I,too, need to make an authentic statement about my life. I am struggling to live out the truth of my life - I am not so spiritually mature as to walk confidently in my father's presence. I don't live enough for the glory of God, I live mostly to be happy and comfortable. I still live in the dark even though I have been given the gift of light.
This is my authentic struggle, the one I quake at sharing. Be gentle with me, patient and kind too. I am a small voice amid a din, desperately calling. "Please, come along side and stand and hear the words of this broken vessel."