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I don’t know when my charm started

Maybe it was the fact that I got so much attention when I was young

People in the palm of my hand

Toddlers at story time gathered round as 4 year old me read aloud in passionate voice

I know it got triggered one day

Concert in oxford park

Wanting to get near the bands

And mummy slips off

Alone

Into VIP area

Smoozes with the band Blue.

It was at that point

I realised

Charm

And a little bit of ignorance

Can get you anywhere

Fast forward to watching daytime tv

Resulting in X factor audition tickets

Turns out watching Maury (US version of Jeremy Kyle) can be valuable

Sweating hot in line

Seeing cameras in places

Hands on hips

Knowing eyes making contact

Cheeky Dallas morning news interview in place

pushing through crowds inside

mad dash for seat

close

but not close enough

push past the adolescent boys in Sperry’s and polo shirts

fire in my eyes

down the stairs to

Joanne

Just your average usher

Now

My new best friend

English charm

Patience my child

Center seats nearer the front

the hilarity of auditions

so much more vibrant than tv

the cutting yet true jabs of Simon

compliment Paula’s sweet sincerity

taping ends

crowd disperse

catch Simon heading towards audience

cat-like body traverses crowd

body in place

to shake hand

make brief polite conversation

“It’s nice to hear a familiar accent”

Charm

And a little bit of ignorance

(cheeky English accent)

Can get you anywhere

If you are willing to step out.

Imagine if I used my powers for good.

Risk

The flimsy fabric hung out to dry

Hung out on the line

Out in the open

The stark sun shines straight through

The drizzle of rain dampens and wrinkles

Transparent.

On the stage for all to see

Stepping out to who knows what response

Belting out ‘Delta Dawn,’

revealing what’s beneath

Exposed.

Like gold refined

I am burnt in the fire

Destroyed by agonies

Purified into something more

Laid out bare.

Vulnerable.

There must have been a day

When I stepped out from behind the curtain

When my hand raised up

I decided to speak bold

And once I started

Rollercoaster never ending

Looped and looped

Country to country

City and towns

Camps and fields

To speak aloud

this generation screams

loud from the rooftops

seeking authenticity

search party sent out

running hectic from street to street

desperate for truth

desiring the real

And I said,

“Here I am Lord

Speak for your servant is listening

Send me

To proclaim good news to your people.”

Cut open eyes

That you may see the beauty around

See through the pain that blinds.

Tear through limbs

For as you stumble

I seek to uplift, to carry.

Dissect the heart

In the hope others will hear the beat of life

Once again.

Transplant me Father into the lives of others

May I not live

For myself alone

For greater love has no man than this

That he would lay down his life for another

So I lay down my pen

Fingers to print

And lay it bare

So we may all be healed.

“Thank you for your honesty, it inspires me”

“Your honesty is powerful”

“I love reading your notes, because you are so transparent”

“Thanks for sharing this”

“Just what I needed to hear”

“In the middle of all this, you can still write that”

“Your vulnerability and honesty has healing power in it to bring release & wholeness to others!”

my words are yours, dear reader

my thoughts are shared with you

“Yes we all have bumps and scars, but you make it beautiful to have them all”

“Beautiful indeed”

as we lay ourselves bare.

There is no reward

Without a risk.

----------

All quotes in “italics” are comments I have received for my writing.

Thank you for your continual encouragement as I seek to serve you all, and serve Father God through my writing.

I pray everyday that I would be some sort of blessing to you.

Fragile

You hate to be the “fun sucker”

The one who sits on the other side of the fence head in hands

Sulky face

While others run circus style

With joy and laughter

And hope

And point at you wondering why you

Insist on being so dull

Not joining the party

But you sulk and whine

Attempting to disguise

Sadness at the fact

The tear-stained cheeks

At the party’s strict guest list

And you’re can’t possibly be on it

Because you don’t have a dad.

In family portrait where biological father should be

Stands shadow of a man

I do not know

Cannot know

Will never know

Would not delight to know

For what would a coward of a man

Defiantly and flippantly

turning back on responsibility

Possible have

To offer me

I am not his daughter.

Mother does what mother should

Arms wide, full of love

Shopping trips with bargains

Late night gossips over hot chocolate

At home relaxer mishaps and remedies on scarred skin

Cooks well enough to feed both stomach

And heart

But mother cannot do what father should

For that is not her role

That is not her portion

That is not her blame

For she held the bike as I nervously stumbled

Traipsed to parent teacher meetings alone

Taught half-naked toddler to read and write

And took my arm and gave it away

Entrusting into arms of a man she deemed fit enough

 A man who wouldn’t leave me behind.

You see,

The fatherless heart is a precious thing

Broken so early on

Barely even functional

Stone walls surround

Yet bribes are taken

For despite how much I know I can’t trust

And don’t want to be vulnerable

A smile and promise can lead you in

But cement lines show

New layers added

As promises are proven to be empty

I am blessed for in the gap

So many have stepped into

Willing to take the place where one wouldn’t go

For years or for seasons

They have shaped me

And weaved me

Mended me

Resuscitated me

Blank field on birth certificate proves a painful reminder

But I choose

To twist it around

Words of a teacher

Etched in my heart:

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

For I am a joy

A princess

A jewel

Worthy of so many crowns

A fighter back in the ring

For “fatherless” will not be my definition

Not my crutch

Nor my excuse

For phoenix rises from ashes

Of statistics and stereotypes

To prove I am more than enough

And though earthly situations

Led to spiritual deformations

And I struggled to trust

In a Father who cared

Who would stick around long-term

Fulfilling his word

Oh Father God you have shown yourself strong.

My past has shaped,

But it will not dictate.

So today, will you not

Dry the tear

And be around 

And sit and support

The ones just like me.

For we are a fragile kind,

In need of a unshakeable Father.

------ 

Happy Father's Day

Father's, Step-dad's, Adoptive Fathers, Papa's, Grandpa's, Pops', G-Pa's, Uncle's, Foster dad's, Cousin's, Mentors, big brother's, men of the community....never forget what a difference you make in the life of a child, just by simply being there...

...without you, they would be fatherless. 

Sleep

Last night my eyes hit the pillow at 4am.

Facedown into my billowing down clouds they went

Only to be abruptly awoken at 8:50am by a husbands kisses goodbye,

and a glance to the clock to see that I was being picked up

in 15 minutes time.

Car horn honks at 9:05 to which a reply is sent:

Just got out of the bathroom. Be down in 2 mins.

Tiredly I climb into the car emotionally but not physically ready for 8 hours of writing, conversations, birthday brownies delivery, emails and Facebook polling.

Followed by dinner and talks, celebrating the life of an 8 year old.

Cosied in pyjama’s, at nearly midnight, I cuddle with husband as he continues his Fifa ‘Battle of Glory.’

Oh how I wish this day wasn’t typical.

But such is the life when you believe.

That your skills and gifts are not for your sake.

People are valuable.

There is much to be learned from those older than you.

That children desire and love your attention.

That even brief moments together can make an impact.

That Father God is doing great things

And you are desperate to be a part of them.

My feet drag when faced with enforced task

Knowing there is an impact, and I need to be a good steward,

I will continue to work hard

By my heart knows it tastes dissatisfaction

And it longs for more

But when you love

Oh how your butt can haul

And work

Feverishly

Feverently

Tirelessly

Relentlessly

Tired eyes continued to type, edit and examine

With the arrival of the dawn

For the heart believed in the work

Of the hands.

How long can my soulless body

Sit at bring desk

And look outside at open field

Desperate for exploration?

When I stepped out of Pais almost a year ago,

Several wondered if this was a turn wrong

I stretched and pressed in

To hear Father God’s voice speak to me

Yearning for the noise in the whisper

And I stand now

Awed

Amazed

At how wonderfully hard

How beautiful an adventure

Into who I am

And who I am in Him

And how this changes

the world around me

Exposing where my heart lies

by what my actions have done

time spent on strange, and new, and ordinary

made sweet lemonade

when given oranges

The wandering 

has been the most honest thing I have ever truly done.

deep calls to deep

soul cries loud

"Wouldn’t take nothing for my journey now"

Mary

“God has a surprise for you: You will become pregnant and give birth to a son and call his name Jesus. He will be great, be called ‘Son of the Highest.’ The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David; He will rule Jacob’s house forever—no end, ever, to his kingdom.”

She knew the beginning

and the end of sorts…

…and that was it.

No other recorded details

Not fully knowing the impact child would make

No guidelines

No instructions

Just a random angel’s words:

“God’s getting you up the duff, and the baby’s going to be a superstar.”

When curveballs rage

Dark tunnel ahead

Where do you go?

Where do you head?

How do you parent the Son of God??

Do you make Him do chores??

Do you make Him do homework??

If He falls over and bangs his head on the coffee table,

do you just let Him heal Himself??

Starting line up

End point in sight

But what of the hurdles that lay inbetween?

Bread on both sides

Filling unsure

But we can rely

That sandwich taste will be sweet

Trust divine

Complete reliance

Clichéd words that must be found true in this

Stress

Spirit guiding through the mud

Bring my heart to carefully notice

The things that would remain unobserved otherwise.

For nothing is by chance.

We live by faith, not by fate.

Taking heart of smallest and largest

All building from a ponder

To pave a way through

Born is certain for you read these words.

Death awaits us all,

Our time of judgment will come.

But what of the center?

What of this life?

What of my daily grind?

Which steps do I take?

I know so little

But of this I am sure

Of the hand of Father

Providence upon our lives

Plans to prosper

Plans of grace

Plans of trouble

Struggle of a journey

Destination in the daily

Embracing right now

None of us have arrived,

Desperate striving to untangle

the messy strings

that make up our

this so called life.

Take care of each thread between

The dawn and the dark

For who knows what a pull

A tug of string

Will unravel. 

Food

Dozens of children called up to show

Their answer to the question:

“What does your family look like?”

With mums and dads and siblings galore

Some from far flung across the globe

Others conceived in the same womb side by side

Smiley faces

With arms open wide

Stood by trees

And houses

Dogs in tow

Grandmas in the back

All saying the same thing:

“This is my family, whom I love.”

Amidst arguments and tantrums,

play fights and the real,

forced meals at the table,

laundry lining the hallways,

dishwasher on repeat,

and angry music vibrating floorboards,

There can still be love.

The time I wrestled him up,

‘Sharpshooter’ strain to pee.

Three months grounding,

for late night sojourn.

Sangria driven buggy,

meanders through Tenerife streets.

Accidental stumble,

onto nudist beach.

Late night jokes,

watching Madea.

Despite mother’s hand shielding from camera,

moments between us still beautifully captured:

“This is my family, whom I love”

Politicians argue

over civilisation’s demise

Homeless & runaways

Prisons overflowing

Abuse and violence

Rape and suicide

Addictions extensive

And remedies are sought

But the source isn’t prevented

The brokenness of our land’s foundation

Houses constructed on sand

ignored.

From the windows young faces

Peer from tattered curtains

Tear-stained eyes

because they could not

and cannot say:

“This is my family, whom I love”

Above the water

And the land

the crowning of creation

“it is good”

we as people

heart and bones

two flesh become one

establishing a legacy

for days to come.

Eternal vows

broken in a brief minute.

Promises shattered,

single eyes cry,

over bulging bumps

isolated grief.

“Where is my family, who I love?”

The cry of too many.

Do you have room 

at your table

to feed the family-less?

When they need not just 

the edible food prepared

But the restoration

And nourishment

and their hearts?

CV

Who are you?

What have you done?

What have you achieved?

What characteristics do you model?

What box would you put yourself into?

Thus begins the writing of my Resume

My Curriculum Vitae

One to Two pages of

Words

Describing

Me.

The five years on Pais and elaborate experience

The youth groups worked with

Educational achievements at Keele and Cheney

Progression through the ranks of Dorothy Perkins

Summer camps, mentoring, dance classes

All

On one to two pages of

Words

Describing

What I have done

How do I portray myself?

Motivated?

Hard-working?

Proficient?

Team Player?

Time Manager?

Organised?

Trite and clichéd word after word

On one to two pages

Of adjectives

Describing

Who I am.

Who I am?

On one to two pages?

26 years crammed into two slices of A4

longer letters written to grandma

bigger emails sent in passing to friends

but yet

this is what you give me

for my words

to describe

me.

Angst and stress

Over prepositions and tenses

Am I writing it well enough?

They will judge me as an English student

Am I fully explaining but

Keeping it short

On my one to two pages

Describing

little old me

I have to be honest

Toot my own horn

And lay it out straight

I can’t be confined

To your little mind

Wrapping itself around

One to two pages

I am more

than one to two pages

and even if you get me for interview there
and I sit business-dressed

with a little bit of stylish flair

and we talk for an hour and then you say

yes or

no

I still can’t be confined

To that little bit of time

For I am worth more than one to two minutes

Of talk of pretence

So I have money to pay my rent

And you say yes and hire me

And I work tirelessly

For several years

Before going back to get another degree

Or I move back along

To pick a different path

At the end of it all

The words you will say

Are still not enough to describe

Who I am

You are more than a CV two pages of word

You are more than an interview, two hours of talk

You are more than your job, two years in the making

You are more

You are more

You are more

You will always be more than the job that you have

You will always be more than a yes or a no

You will always be more than an advert in newsprint

So we’ll jump through the hoops

And we’ll say the right things

And we’ll talk a good talk

Have them nodding their heads

And we’ll sometimes feel failed

As if we aren’t enough

Come home from hard days

Thinking it’s just too tough

And feel in a box, in a bind

Misunderstood

Not gotten, not appreciated

Not fully

Who you are.

Because who you are is a person

Intricately made

Worked on, expanded,

Day after day

Father knit you, and made you,

Worked tirelessly

To produce the very best

You or me.

Part time or full

Contracted or temporary

Job centre trawler or permanent lawyer

We are more

Than the titles

We are more than the pages

Don’t find your worth in those places

Or the wages you are paid

Don’t find your worth in their affirmation

Or the commission you have gained

Don’t find your worth in the failures

In the painful traipse across town

For you are more

You are more

You

Are

More.