I keep the warm in with tattered cuffs,
and a zipper that once knitted the teeth of a wind breaker.
I am an eyesore among blazers and self important suit coats,
Begrudgingly sobering amid fairy wings clutching after daydreams.
World worn, I gather firewood and drape the aching bones.
Beloved of broken hands, sweat starched and faded,
I am the everyday.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Sunday, August 14, 2011
The sun not scorch them
I can remember adults laughing and encouraging children to scream profanity at one another and "fight back". It was so ingrained in us that by the time we were teens it was a kill or be killed environment in our homes, at school, even in our friendships. I was a master at keeping everyone at arms length while finding their cracks so if ever the need arose, I could take them apart subtly, over time, with well placed, poison laced, barbs of humiliation aimed at their most personal, deeply hidden, insecurities.
I was a master at subterfuge but now I am changed, a God kind of changed, and had I even bothered to remember the names of all my conquests I would scarcely be able to make up for the level of emotional torture I caused in my sick quest for power and self importance. I am, frankly, aghast at the person I once was. God has changed me so much that it seems I only read about that villain in a twisted novel in which evil was written the leading role.
Today, I marveled at the fact that at a year and two months old my daughter can hug me and say "I love you". That she tells people "thank you" and my son is the most beautiful little man I've ever known, when he isn't hitting his sister. As my husband was tying up the trash bag, I bent down and picked up an empty bottle that had fallen and added it to the collection before the knot was finalized. 'Riah said "Thank you, Mommy." and I asked , "What?". He said, "You helped Daddy".
For a moment I was dumbstruck at the implications of his expression of gratitude. He was appreciating my kindness for someone other than himself?! at nearly 3?! I am overcome by thankfulness for the love in my life. God has changed me so efficiently that I am writing on these blank little slates He's given me and they, in turn, will show the world a love that my universe never knew growing up.
Just before bed I asked 'Riah, "Who made us?", thinking he would be baffled at the question but wasting no time he responded, "God". And here, between God, Cornerstone Family Church, and us at home is where my prayers are answered because David was a man after God's heart but many of his children fell away. The cry of my soul is that my life would be such an example and that God would see fit to put such a helping of His spirit in my babies that for generations my lineage would sing high the praises of the most high, that long after I am dust and gone even from memory my heritage know His love. I don't want to be famous or publish a testament to my own literary skill. I don't need fifteen minutes on TV or any personal luxury or glory.
Every fiber of my being aches to be an example of selfLESSness and love and to plant seeds that will bear fruit delectable to my Maker long after my name is not even a whisper on this earth. Today some of those seeds pushed up out of the ground and unfurled their tiny little leaves and I pray the sun not scorch them, teenage years not trample them, and I never tire of feeding them good example even when I am so tired I'd rather close the door and take a bath instead of teach my tantrum throwing kids how to be kind to each other with long suffering persistence.
I was a master at subterfuge but now I am changed, a God kind of changed, and had I even bothered to remember the names of all my conquests I would scarcely be able to make up for the level of emotional torture I caused in my sick quest for power and self importance. I am, frankly, aghast at the person I once was. God has changed me so much that it seems I only read about that villain in a twisted novel in which evil was written the leading role.
Today, I marveled at the fact that at a year and two months old my daughter can hug me and say "I love you". That she tells people "thank you" and my son is the most beautiful little man I've ever known, when he isn't hitting his sister. As my husband was tying up the trash bag, I bent down and picked up an empty bottle that had fallen and added it to the collection before the knot was finalized. 'Riah said "Thank you, Mommy." and I asked , "What?". He said, "You helped Daddy".
For a moment I was dumbstruck at the implications of his expression of gratitude. He was appreciating my kindness for someone other than himself?! at nearly 3?! I am overcome by thankfulness for the love in my life. God has changed me so efficiently that I am writing on these blank little slates He's given me and they, in turn, will show the world a love that my universe never knew growing up.
Just before bed I asked 'Riah, "Who made us?", thinking he would be baffled at the question but wasting no time he responded, "God". And here, between God, Cornerstone Family Church, and us at home is where my prayers are answered because David was a man after God's heart but many of his children fell away. The cry of my soul is that my life would be such an example and that God would see fit to put such a helping of His spirit in my babies that for generations my lineage would sing high the praises of the most high, that long after I am dust and gone even from memory my heritage know His love. I don't want to be famous or publish a testament to my own literary skill. I don't need fifteen minutes on TV or any personal luxury or glory.
Every fiber of my being aches to be an example of selfLESSness and love and to plant seeds that will bear fruit delectable to my Maker long after my name is not even a whisper on this earth. Today some of those seeds pushed up out of the ground and unfurled their tiny little leaves and I pray the sun not scorch them, teenage years not trample them, and I never tire of feeding them good example even when I am so tired I'd rather close the door and take a bath instead of teach my tantrum throwing kids how to be kind to each other with long suffering persistence.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
To wear a life that fits
I finally feel comfortable in my own skin. I was going to post this as a Facebook status but then, after pondering my disappointment at the lack of commitment the "like" button provides or friends' attempts at one liner empathy when they really had no clue what I was talking about, I decided that this statement held far too much gravity to be so blithely presented to the world. It's like the way we sometimes turn being born again into a Christian catch phrase that demands people jump on board even when they're on the fence because we've made them too ashamed to admit they really don't know.
I used to burn inside like my skin was a prison and I was meant to pierce a hole in it so the real me could fly out freely, invisibly, into the air. Like I was meant for more than disease and rotting flesh or the restrictions of femininity, age, intelligence or any other social boundary. Spiritually this was oh, so true but there, in that time, it came out wrong in translation. I felt tied to the pavement like a helium balloon tugging to be freed and doomed to lunge against my string until the day I would run out of strength, wrinkle, and sink.
I didn't know Christ. I heard God speak to me, urging me to seek His truth. But I felt I was abandoning "good" people to an eternity of suffering. I was their executioner and by believing in Jesus I was throwing the lever, dropping the floor out of the gallows. Even then, while half of me wanted to deny Him and all of me was running, I wanted to be like Him. I wanted to offer myself as the bridge, sacrifice my eternity for all of theirs but I didn't want to pledge allegiance to a God who would let them burn.
So in my teenage lusts I lost myself. I made up my own system of right and wrong and dove headlong into driving passions. I lived the street life, not to its extreme but close enough to cast my lot. I was set on fire inside, voracious, ever eating, never full. I was a pack animal and I fought my way to the front.
I have always been victorious on the paths I chose. Inside me lives a warrior who rarely tires. I'm the kind of fighter who will drag themselves up, down in the fourth round and bleeding freely, and fight like life itself was the prize.
These days my skin fits like it was made for me because God put me in my true purpose. Now I fight for a reason. The fate of other people isn't up to me. I am a light. I am a leader. I was meant for this life. It is the only one like it that I have. There is a mission to be fulfilled before eternity in this form. I am called and I will not wish it away.
I do not long after the rapture because it will come in God's time and I will be there. Were it to come now, there are those that would not stand and they are meant to be among us. So I will fight for them because God himself has called us to tug the arms of our brothers and sisters as they follow a tantalizing but deceitful scent. Some will jerk free and go their way, like I did for a time. Many will try to tug you along, but a few will wake, as though from a haze, blink the past out of their eyes and run with us.
Some days I am still afraid for others. Every day I want to jump in and take their place. I see their cages and watch them try to scratch free of their skin and I wish they could know how it feels to wear a life that fits.
I used to burn inside like my skin was a prison and I was meant to pierce a hole in it so the real me could fly out freely, invisibly, into the air. Like I was meant for more than disease and rotting flesh or the restrictions of femininity, age, intelligence or any other social boundary. Spiritually this was oh, so true but there, in that time, it came out wrong in translation. I felt tied to the pavement like a helium balloon tugging to be freed and doomed to lunge against my string until the day I would run out of strength, wrinkle, and sink.
I didn't know Christ. I heard God speak to me, urging me to seek His truth. But I felt I was abandoning "good" people to an eternity of suffering. I was their executioner and by believing in Jesus I was throwing the lever, dropping the floor out of the gallows. Even then, while half of me wanted to deny Him and all of me was running, I wanted to be like Him. I wanted to offer myself as the bridge, sacrifice my eternity for all of theirs but I didn't want to pledge allegiance to a God who would let them burn.
So in my teenage lusts I lost myself. I made up my own system of right and wrong and dove headlong into driving passions. I lived the street life, not to its extreme but close enough to cast my lot. I was set on fire inside, voracious, ever eating, never full. I was a pack animal and I fought my way to the front.
I have always been victorious on the paths I chose. Inside me lives a warrior who rarely tires. I'm the kind of fighter who will drag themselves up, down in the fourth round and bleeding freely, and fight like life itself was the prize.
These days my skin fits like it was made for me because God put me in my true purpose. Now I fight for a reason. The fate of other people isn't up to me. I am a light. I am a leader. I was meant for this life. It is the only one like it that I have. There is a mission to be fulfilled before eternity in this form. I am called and I will not wish it away.
I do not long after the rapture because it will come in God's time and I will be there. Were it to come now, there are those that would not stand and they are meant to be among us. So I will fight for them because God himself has called us to tug the arms of our brothers and sisters as they follow a tantalizing but deceitful scent. Some will jerk free and go their way, like I did for a time. Many will try to tug you along, but a few will wake, as though from a haze, blink the past out of their eyes and run with us.
Some days I am still afraid for others. Every day I want to jump in and take their place. I see their cages and watch them try to scratch free of their skin and I wish they could know how it feels to wear a life that fits.
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