Losing

My babes are sleeping, but I cannot

I feel as if I live in this place of constant frustration

Of constant wrestling between two polar opposites

Of constant emotional battle where I never win

I know the unconditional love of Father God, his forgiveness and blessings

Yet my Bible remains so often unread, its life-giving words shut off to my heart

I stare at my beautiful baby girl, eyes bright with wonder and joy, loving my time with her

But haunted repeatedly by news stories, fears and worries, that any moment the enemy could snatch her away from me

Enjoying the freedom of staying at home with my princess, wondering about serving in the community, training so I my photos would pay

Yet wondering if it is mere whimsy, an idyllic life far from my reach, and I need to grasp the financial stability of returning to the formal grind of my previous work

Having the low-key, no worries option of renting, and knowing that my home doesn’t define me

But plagued by seeing more and more friends on property ladder, and wondering if we will ever climb its rungs

My heart cries out to write and write, and dreams of a future, a career, inspiring with pen, bringing life with words

Yet it seems just that, a dream so far away, a joy that can’t rise to the surface on long busy days.

Buts and Yets stutter my growth

As an adult

As a wife

As a mother

They stop me from enjoying where I am

And the future looms its dark cloud over me

I remain restless

I feel exhausted

I wonder if it will change at all

Or am I resigned to a life that just feels this torn

In the losing middle of tug-of-war

Why can’t I be satisfied and just enjoy where I am, who I am?

When will I fully understand,

It is what it is?

When will I rest?

When will I win?

Holiday

Sometimes

We just need

To slow down

To walk for 2 hours

Conversation with a heart

Like yours

Meander streets

While seeking intentionality

For your life

To wander stores and look

At colours

For creativity

And inspiration

Patterns and brights

That speak and show

Of another way

To look

At this thing

Of earth

To watch the eyes

The doorway to souls

Of strangers passing

Laughing

Living

An existence so unlike

Yet so similar

To your own

To wait

And see

If the Lord will fight

The battles that bring panic

Into the heart

That desires the release

To wait

and see if stillness

Can really produce

Effectiveness

To wait

And see

The friends whose faces

Have slight wrinkles from

Months more life lived

But whose faces big smile

Have not forgotten yours

To wait

And see

And taste

And see

That God

You are so very very good

And as I take the time

To really see

Holiday can be found on a beach

But also in a city

A graduation

A store

Or a home

Because holiday

That rest

The peace

Is found

continually

unconditionally

constantly

In my Father.

Release

Completely wiped from travelling but decided that I have to really press in and push in my writing, regardless of what is happening and how I feel…

there is release in my writing, release from the jumbled thoughts that don’t get out during the day

words that others can’t hear, words that I haven’t fully processed

release from thinking that I am crazy and no one feels the same way about things as I do

release from shouting above the crowds to be heard

release to not put on constraints or align with someone else

release to speak out the things that Father is pressing on me

I feel pressed right now.

Pressed with so much, so many thoughts going on, so much planning

And planning leads to worry

Because as I plan

I place expectations

Expectations of how things are going to work out

Expectations of how I will be, you will be, others will be

Expectations

That when shattered

Shatter a part of me

5.9 Richter scale

reminiscent of time in Nicaragua

where all was fine

and then all was shaken

ending unknown

panic gripped

fear took over

and now I worry

what will I eat

what will I wear

what will be my home

what will my “career” be

and I know you Father God

take care of the birds in the air

and I am person

made from your image

you delight in me

love overwhelming

hold future that seems so unclear and distant

in tiny cell of steady hand palm

yet nothing lifts the worry

Do I really know you?

For you are love and perfect love casts out all fear and so in the knowing of you, I know love and therefore I know

No fear

Yet fear and I walk hand in hand

On-again, off-again lovers

Who cannot be prized apart

Do I really trust you?

Do I really take your word and implant it not just in my head, but within the steely depths of my heart and keep it there safe so that it isn’t just words, it is who I am, it is me, it is my belief?

I can see you in others

And bring words of comfort to them

And show them you

In your fullness of glory

But is it really your fullness

If I am not full of you?

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.

Wilderness

The cow is dragged across the barren field.

It tugs against the leash,

Constricted feelings

Frustrations of being stuck

Being forced

Overwhelming.

Heels dig into the ground

Mud flies up in silent protest

Resistance reigns:

“I will not go.”

The journey takes twice the time

but eventually the place is reached.

Glistening water for a parched soul

but the ugly horns of defiance are still intent on wreaking havoc.

The cow stands still.

Brought to the sanctuary of water

But still not drinking,

The sun sets on the lonely silhouette

Of the stubborn cow.

I am a cow.

Definitely metaphorically.

[Sometimes literally.]

The water, the refuge, the discipline of life is what I so harshly fight against.

I am a free, spontaneous spirit delighting in the joys of life.

I will

Not

Be

Tamed.

But in my resilience,

I miss out on what is good for me.

Thirsty in an Evian factory.

Dying barren inside.

A death of the good within me.

I love to write.

Since my toddler years, my childhood was littered with countless hours  spent creating stories with stylishly dressed protagnists.

I dreamt of being a librarian,

Drowning in books,

Delighting in the adventure of whimsy and folklore,

Of lessons learned and regrets embraced.

This little girl, wearing a Michael Jackson ‘Bad’ tshirt from 1988 looks up to me

And wonders why I have

Strayed so far

From what brought rhythm and life

To my aortic valves.

The busyness and hectic anxiety of May

Left me yesterday

But the residue clings bitterly dry and weakening.

I miss my words.

My dissection of society.

Exploration of the world my eyes can barely fathom.

Reaching out with dictations of hope.

This skill,

My gift,

Will be lost

If I don’t work on it.

Discipline.

She will save me

from the flabby arms of laziness.

So here come June.

Every weekday,

Yes five times a week,

I will be here.

Writing.

Musing.

Speaking into both of our lives.

This month I will haul my butt to the water,

Whatever my state, or frame of mind,

and say to my soul

“Drink.”

Deeply.

Richly.

Take what seems like pain

And realise the refreshment.

All May, as I read Isaiah 35 over and over again, You Father said:

“Strengthen the weak hands…the wilderness and dry land shall be glad.”

I won’t pull back.

I won’t resist.

For in the water,

I will see my true reflection.

Artistry

The Friday evening session had a short talk, a “artists panel” interviewing a photographer, filmmaker & musician and then a band played, with videos of various things, and stories of how they had engaged in the orphan crisis including mission trips and both domestic & international adoption. The next day, a panel of bloggers met who discussed writing.

// We need to be open to interruptions. These will take the form of other humans, who when their stories invade our lives, we will change.

// The broken invites us into our own brokenness – the conversations about Orphan Care will drive us into the arms & hearts of Father God

-------

ARTIST PANEL

Esther Havens – Humanitarian Photographer – http://estherhavens.com/

Jonathan Olinger – Founder and Executive Director of Discover the Journey - www.discoverthejourney.org

Aaron Levy - Musician - http://aaronivey.com/

// If I meet someone who has a story and it’s not being told, I feel compelled to tell it.

// There is a difference between being a voyeur and a storyteller

// Everything comes down to relationship. Every injustice in the world can be traced back to a broken relationship.

// Story helps relationship…transport someone…encountering someone who isn’t the same…story…entering into someone else’s suffering and pain…that how we absorb the weight of pain, by listening to their story.

// It’s always the visual that stirs verbs, nouns & phrases

// The real artist is getting invested in the soil…real art is created when you are engaging in the story. This is what Jesus did for us – met us where we were in our suffering.

// Art speaks on multiple levels but facts speak on just one.

// Not everything is for everyone to experience. Not everything is meant to become a song.

AARON LEVY BAND

// Art…to stir the heart of man towards God

// Adoption is the most tangible expression of salvation that we have

// We are all just broken people in need of God

// The need is great, but what we see with our eyes is what we are responsible for

WRITING

// Story is what makes our relationships

// People respond when they know (a) our story & (b) they are told the stories of those affected. Both of these stories are important.

// There is a real authenticity that people are craving. When you are authentic, people trust you enough to go with you on this journey

// Sometimes we give a boldness/intimacy on social media that we wouldn’t have in normal conversation. Keep it natural

// Value that you bring something because of the unique gifting that Father has given you. Everyone should be ok with whatever God has asked you to write. Stay true to your voice.

// Don’t try and tie everything up in a bow and “complete” it.

// Whose story am I telling?? It is one thing to tell what I am going through. It is a totally other thing to tell my husband’s/friend’s/families story

// It is important to always give hope.

// Timing is key. Tell a story when there’s a lesson to be learnt, not just for the sake of it.