When the gift is yours {collaborating with Heaven}

You have a special gift.

All rolled into your wholly unique style

and He's placed it right there in you.

I see it now.

How we deny His gift because

after all,

we're flawed and this gift has to flow

through us, somehow.

And somehow we think because it's me

the gift must not be enough

or good at all.

So we doubt.

As if our gift doesn't measure up because

it's you and yours and maybe it was all

just one big misunderstanding.

I've been convicted.

How our gifts are Heaven-sent

and not one of them a mistake.

He writes the gifts in us and

you. have. one.
I've seen it.

The way I need yours is just the way He shows my need,

spurred by the very unfurling of your gift,

you open mine.

And I need you like an interlocking puzzle

connecting us to the Master designer.

It's the bare, raw thing of pure Glory
displaying Himself in this parchment of skin and
I need to see you in all His incredible-ness, gifts flowing
right to a heart.
This is why your gift is special.
The way only you can do it like you and
no one else.
And if you've hidden yours {like me}
then we all miss this Heaven-sent thing which only
makes each gift different because you are.

I shared this at Em's place..."Imperfect Prose".

Dreams, are for daring them true--SheSpeaks

I wrote poetry and prose and hid them for no one to see but me. Braving only a few eyes other than mine to read one or two, my face would flush hot about mid-way through those words.

Between rhyming lines I was afraid. As if another's opinion of my verse somehow valued me. Labeled me good or bad, a success or failure. It was difficult to breathe when sharing, so I saved myself the agony.

Then I quit. Destroyed my piles of poems, prose, short stories and became a blank slate of living life and leaving words out of it.

No words, no risk.

And for a season, I needed safety to live and rebuild and risk my heart with Him. Not my words.

But things change and some take years. It's been a rebuilding of who I am, of how I'm a Bride and how He calls us each to this, and I was wooed back. His words drawing me to edge of all I knew safe.

To risk again.

I'm terrified. But isn't this what dreams are: for daring them true?

Don't we all have something God has birthed right there, deep down in the dark recess? How we are all different parts of this Body and I need your gift too. This is why it's worth risk. Why we need to pull out these God-dreams and have courage to share them. Because holding back means your hidden gift also hides the blessing.

My passion for words has been rebirthed and only He could've resurrected this thing once dead. And holding them back is like a dam needing a spillway and I only want to pour Him over.

So I risk. To be faithful however He calls, knowing I need yours as much I need mine.

The way He restores life after devastation and I clung to this Hem which heals, these are the words I want to tell. It's the way childhood trauma defined me in so many ways, until I dropped labels, hurts and was refined by a Word.

The way in which a past was cleansed by saving Grace and I continue to search it's depths. How others showed me this, many someone's with their words revealing His and I want to repay them with mine.

It's how beauty from ashes isn't just scripture, but Truth-in-action and I want you to honestly know it. My own prodigal waste returned me to my Father's house (more than 13 years back), to only be--servant. It's all I counted my worth in His kingdom, eating crumbs from His table and not much else.

But He values us more than we value ourselves. It takes looking into His mirror to really see how we truly are and I want to hold the mirror for you.

We need eachother to spur us on toward the race set before us and this is why SheSpeaks. This is why I risk and you do too. God birthing something, not for boasting self, not for worldly gain, not for just one lonely us, but for the One and only.

As scary as it is to admit to the world-wide blogsphere, I'm entering a scholarship and I might "lose", here I am.  All those old labels want to list off why I shouldn't. And succeeding has it's own host of fear.

But we're all winners in Christ. It's why risk is worth anything at all.

Although flesh knows failure, my spirit knows Him and there's the prize. And this is why SheSpeaks, speaks to me. To know the Prize.

And speak.

"She Speaks Conference is about women connecting the hearts of women to the heart of our Father God and that your heart is to serve Him and His daughters, as He leads."  --Ann Voskamp 

For more scholarship info click SheSpeaks at Ann's. (so I hit "publish" and feel a bit queasy --ack!--)

When we miss big things

I'm learning how great small really is. The first time I gathered in a small group I remembered how it felt not big enough. Not connected enough. Not enough somehow.

Small seemed like it needed to grow and widen. And I, being the people person, wanted more people.

Big in a way of less intimacy and I'd lived that way far too long.

I'd grown to only know the big way of things. Of church. Of life lived for something bigger, better, and {un}small.

But small has a way of fine-tuning my focus and how I'm woven in Spirit with friends and I see how big, small really is.

Jesus had twelve and three even closer and this is how they really knew Him.

Because it's not the way the world builds, this upside down way His kingdom brings Heaven to earth. How relationships can bring Grace and how it only needs a few.

And the enticing bigness reminds me of all previous ways I was swallowed by it's large swath. How I felt connected but never truly connected to any one part, or member.

Yet small is how I'm reminded we all really are. Small and connected and big. And the missing part was my looking for big treasure, when I had a gold nugget all along.


Gratitude's at Ann's:

--long rides and day trips which make us grateful for little farm houses
--good food and rare treats
--traveling familiar roads which I haven't seen in over 10 years....seeing their sameness, yet different
--listening to boys, both grown and young, play monopoly
--eating out for my birthday with my Mom and shopping for summer clothes, just because
--sunshine and warm breezes and flip-flop days
--friends, family, and those closest who encourage each toward the goal

Earthly Lisps

Unless you know him, the way he lisps words into sounds and makes them sound all different, you may not understand him. As many times as I've tried to be the one to make it better, researching all the ways a tongue is used to make words, he still talks this way. And "fix"ing seems an arduous task.

He's my ten year old.

And his speech is an exercise in the dynamics of that muscle, that rudder which steers the ship of how we talk. The flaming part we also seek to tame. To make proper sounds. Clearing a way for them to roll off and make an exit for good speech.

I'm like him. In need of speech therapy and I have this stumbling tongue. James says we all do.

Yet I also have a tool, a rudder to steer me Heavenward.

It's the taming of tongue, of allowing my sounds to be shaped by the Word. And oh how I love this Word. How I want this flaming part to set all my word-y forests ablaze in worship.

And spiritual vocal cords are the heart. It's overflow vibrates the beating sounds of His life in us.

Or not.

So I pour in the heart and ask, do I speak with earthly lisps? Do I reach beyond all I know so that Heaven pales everything I know?

We constantly live in the shadow of Eternity and life is but a vapor.

Why do I hold back, stay safe, make things comfortable as if to life-support me from harm? Does it not keep me in that vegetative state of status-quo?

We're meant to take risks with love and Him and go all out, because it's all just a vapor, quick, and then Eternity.

Eternity.

Isn't this what all our speech is framed for?

The letting go of earthly lisps, to shape my mouth and rudder all my speech to this One who brought Heaven on earth. Because we're all briefly here moving to our forever beginning.

I also shared this at Ann's "Walk with Him Wednesday".

Writing isn't about how good I am

Just another one of those "before" pictures was all I was taking. A few shots to reminds us, years later, how scruffy things used to look 'round here. And they're still scruffy because we're still cleaning, clearing, and redeeming this farm.

On digital "film", I captured our back pond.

That's when I saw it.

At first, spring colors held my attention in the backdrop, until I noticed the water. Calm, smooth, like glass.

Like a mirror.

Regal trees silhouetted against water in perfectly reflected form.

The same way my heart is mirrored in me.

And I struggle with it. The reflection which is rippled by those things I'd tell myself or those imperfections of who I am.

Lies, or words spoken over me, or things I've believed for so long, me continually giving back to Him, all of me. And I struggle. Wrestling to come back again and again to Truth.

We are trees standing on the banks of life.

And if you see me, you'll see my fault lines. 

Most I know well, others hold ground under surface and these need a quaking to know their depths.

Writing quakes all my fault lines, shakes my foundations and it's a struggle for words to find a way out. For you to know me by them, because I don't measure up to them. Most time, I aspire to them. Or encourage others to run the race by them.

And my fault lines fall along a few: the good, bad and the ugly. It's those last two.

My goals of homeschooling, parenting, being a good friend, good wife, and some days I end up on those last two. And writing is really my expression of always coming back to the first.

Good.

Many times I've considered to stop words, writing. But then I probably wouldn't write anything at all and I need reminding. Because my goal is remembering Good and how it's more than me, or failures, or success, or even writing.

Creation reflecting Creator and we're created in His image. And if nothing else we cling to His reflection, find the mirror of His truth, and stare.

It is Good.

And my goal right now, is just remembering that one thing.

I shared this at Peter Pollock's "One word" --Goals.

 

If you need to start over and remember

Maybe you're not like me. Needing to hear how I've been rescued from this world, from myself, from a past. How I've been redeemed and am able to embrace this Bride identity.

Because there was a time when I didn't feel pure enough to be this white and righteous Bride. And how relationship with a Bridegroom means I know Him more than some "pie in a sky" God. It means really knowing Him, in all my mess and all of me knowing Him like a Bride betrothed.

But if you are {like me}...

Then you need to remember too.

You are good enough.

You are worth it.

You are a mess He's made beautiful.

You don't need perfection, just faith and redemption. Sometimes daily.

Of all the ways we live life, there's some secret sabotage afoot because deep down, cornered away in our heart, we lack the purpose of deserving. Of goodness. Of success. Of pureness. Of whatever blessed thing we're given, the inner workings slipping them out of our grasp because, really? Failure seems easier because it's familiar.

But there's more. There's today. The daily starting over. And humbling ourselves like a bowed over limb touching dirt, so Life can blow against dry bones. False humility would have us believe no Life can breathe alive this dust {to much of any worth}, but it only takes reading to remember...

"'For the LORD has called you, like a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit, like a youthful wife when you were refused,' Says your God." Isaiah 54:6

"I will betroth you to Me forever; yes, I will betroth you to Me.." Hosea 2:19

"He brought them out of darkness and the shadow of death and broke their chains in pieces." Psalm 107:14

"I will deliver you from all your uncleannesses." Ezekiel 36:29

"The desolate land shall be tilled instead of lying desolate in the sight of all who pass by." Ezekiel 36:34

"He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler." Psalm 91:4

"I will put My Spirit in you, and you shall live..." Ezekiel 37:14

"See, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands.." Isaiah 49:16

He: "Who forgives all your iniquities, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from destruction, who crowns you with lovingkindness and tender mercies.." Psalm 103:3,4

"He will comfort all her waste places; He will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the LORD; joy and gladness will be found in it, thanksgiving and the voice of melody." Isaiah 51:3

and many more...


And now's a good time to start remembering.

I thought I'd left this past but here I was, again--{I'm sharing at Mary Demuth's}

I’d been here before but they didn’t know. A lifetime ago I lived here. One young year spent on this campus, playing tennis, and spending a rare snow-laden day sledding on trash can lids. I had walked sidewalks, hallway passages and even a dark tunnel punched under the road. It was kind of creepy dark ’bout the middle way and I’m not sure it remained open all these years since.


During the forty-minute drive I remembered the college campus of before. A life dropped behind me like yesterday’s news. A city we moved away from. I hadn’t planned on coming back, but here we were driving toward it, just a homeschool field trip with friends. Why were butterflies flipping my stomach?....{click here to read the rest}


....today I'm over at Mary Demuth's "Thin Place" as I post my own on her blog. {...If you don't know Mary Demuth, then please stay a long while when over there. She has authored 9 books and has a wealth of information at her place as she shares her journey and encourages others.}

Prickly-barbed Lines

Many stretches of the 'thorny fence' have been made crooked over the years. Small trees have become neighbors with prickly barbs to the demise of good straight lines.

Last fall, my Hubby went to task on a barbed-wire section in need.

It required a complete tear down.

Rotten fence posts, encroaching trees, and rusty wire left my Hubby no better choice but to take it up and start over.

And I too have chosen ways of the crooked by choices that encroached their consequences.

And I have leaned and rotted and rusted. I've dulled my edges with neglect.


 I have rotted with worldly ruins.

Up with new posts, he wrestled with that razor wire to line them up in rows. At least the rust of the old, dulled their edges for easier handling.

But the new wire has sharper edges, slicing skin with mishandling of fleshy hands.

And I know how letting go of the crooked ways sometimes feels like bloodletting on razor edges of these new strings of life.

But there is reward in fencing our life in His goodness.

And securing fences requires a good amount of tension and good straight lines. But with hard work, those strands are subdued and uprighted for strong fencing.

This is just one of many small steps to restoring our farm.

Of how He restores life...

And on our place, a heap of old rust and wire was wrangled up for it's departure from where it once stood. The old leaning lines have been straightened. At least on this section.

What was lame was restored. Old and rotten was exchanged for clearer, cleaner lines. Leaning replaced with uprightness.

And He straightens our feeble lines and clears a path. Our weakened and old ways reparied. Our hanging hands of despair, strengthened. And our leaning uprighted so "that what is lame may may not be dislocated, but rather healed." Hebrews 12:13

And restoration requires letting go of the old and rebuilding. Of looking beyond our mangled mess and getting to the business of how He's making all things better. And sometimes it feels more like work than glory but He turns up the stones and replaces the old with something new.

"I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh." Ezekiel 36:26

(edited post from the archives)

I shared this at Ann's place.

when all else is swept away by life's tsunami

Oceans somehow makes us think of others like a world away, as if in our own galaxy and I'm like a detached alien watching.
 
And television or Internet news assails us with images and we can hardly comprehend devastation's wreaked a whole nation away.

This weekend, we watched black sludge eerily move across and devour towns, highways, and we barely realize or believe how death is swallowing up it's path. Where boats awkwardly ride on strange waves which carries them inland to places never before, floating with houses, cars, and cities. 
 
The land is ripped from it's surface in a world turned upside down. I imagine being on the shore of Japan and watching incredulously as a black wave rolls in as far as the eye could see. Or walk destroyed streets like a blind person because I don't recognize one thing about it. Or speeding in a car from disappearing highways and what do you say in a race against the tide? 
 
In all of earth where is the safe harbor which shelters us from destruction? 
 
Is there a firm foundation which withstands the sweeping arm of life's tsunami? Where is the strong rock which stands up under shaken pillars? When we become a piece of the scattered and broken around us, how do we put it back together?

And sometimes our breathing is hard and tainted in our own wordly meltdowns.
 
Of all things, we need to know this kind of foundation, that although our life is swept out to sea, anything built on this Rock still stands: 

"He is like a man building a house, who dug deep and laid the foundation on the rock. And when the flood arose, the stream beat vehemently against that house, and could not shake it, for it was founded on the rock." Luke 6:48

This is the Cornerstone, which keeps us solid when the earth shakes and trembles and seas bellow death. Of all that taints and chases us down and the world crumbles around us, this foundation never does.

When all else fails and the earth turns inside out, we have a Comforter who not only saves but rebuilds on the only foundation no disaster can sweep away.


Joining Ann with gratitude:

--there's a Person who seeks the lost, the wounded, and is near the broken hearted
--Hope. We have a surpassing hope which is able to redeem all that's lost.
--technology which reveals things we wouldn't otherwise know or have seen and how it makes it all real in the heart
--prayer for a people we know nothing of but we know He does

where the eyes are, there I am {when prodigal haunts}

It's those eyes, the internal ones, which see the waves

and sink with other things all ready under

and remorseful water waits like

a big fish to swallow me whole.
It's those things I put my slippery hand to grasp
of holding on to things of past
the submerging, murky depths which needs my rescue.
Those stormy winds, blowing against me, which cause me pause

and these bare feet stepping out unknown

and more than treading, but walking an ocean with Him until

 doubt breezes in, blows me over.

It's leaving behind those things behind me and knowing

they've already sank and I need only walk

on Grace and forgive myself

even if no one will but One.

It's leaving a perfectly fit vessel, safeguarded in a float of people,

to step over the side of all that's sane

because if it's you, if it's You......

I'm out.

It's the way to move forward, eyes looking rightly ahead

not to nothing, not to waves or winds or swallowing fish

or eyes on ashes of which I have nothing left to burn

because it's a life already lived

But to this bid "Come!".

It's more than water walking feats, this feet above oceans,

that I need, it's the next thing, of anchoring my self-made boat ashore

and running

parting a sea of people, coming unclean and sick

to touch the cloak.

It's letting go of drowning, of treading water,

of thinking our life is a less than

of letting our past blow defeating waves that pull us under.
It's an ocean of life I can't walk without this One who bid me on the surface
of skimming the top of all my stormy gales
by the impossible way He makes all things good.

It's knowing our condition and our sinking, we're able to cry "Lord, save me!",
eyes fixed on the Healer's Hand,
that He grabs our little faith, pulls it up and says

"....Why do you doubt?"

Living fully is keeping my eyes on Him (at {in}courage) and
also the way of letting go. When all else would hold me, He saves me out of it (at Ann's place).
And of course, this is me-- Imperfect Prose of my life at Emily's place.

Tucked Away--Gratitudes

It's the place I keep most of mine. Savoring a moment when my child's eyes light up when understanding a new concept. Or hearing my two boys laugh, together. Together, enjoying our family. Having a friend hundreds of miles away who prays with me and also ones right here who do the same. It's the way my Husband makes me laugh, all. the. time. There a thousand gratitudes waiting to be pulled out, dusted off my heart and put here. So we continue.....

Join us at Ann's place as we leave ours there. This week {just us three} focused on--our body. Eeek. I think I could use more gratitudes on this....


Mine:
1. A healthy throat for laughter
2. Small feet
3. Healthy nails that grow long and strong (if I let'em)
4. A body that moves pain-free
5. Have all my senses in good working order too
6. Teeth! I didn't get a cavity until I was in my 30's.
7. Fast typing fingers
8. My mouth because I like to use it alot. (either talking or smiling)




My sis, Michelle--
1. Strong legs
2. Thick hair with lots of body
3. Nice toes
4. Good skin complexion
5. Agile fingers for typing


Kim:
1. that my body is healthy and strong
2. that I am able to get out of bed each day and see, hear, and enjoy the beauty of God's creation
3. that I was able to bear two beautiful and healthy children
4. for able hands with which I serve my family

The language of Heaven

This week I needed to hear. To open my heart drums and listen to Deep speak. And so I took time off from here {the blog} to sort through and fight. Which didn't feel like fighting, but rather a silent time of wrestling with myself, learning my heart, about moving on and Grace.

Moving on. That's a hard one sometimes.

I've read all things blogger's should do and a writing fast isn't one of them. The word-y itch was there but I needed to clear my word closet for listening.

When my eyes see things one way, I want to think, it's my fault, really. My mess. I caused it. I'm to blame.

It's all true.

And it can't be "fixed" by me.

And moving on? It's the beauty-for-ashes-thing. He can't make beauty if I don't get off the ashes.

I'm a talker and listening is a skill I must practice because practice makes perfect, right? But perfect isn't in our DNA. It's not how we are created to be. So I practice to learn, to hear and just let Perfection abide in me. It's the only way to breathe.

Grace. It's been the theme. Recognizing how little or much of it, our need vs. our giving. How I get lopsided in it. How we seek more from others while giving them less of it. How we expect heaping cups-full for ourselves, while doling out teaspoons.

I've been squinting the Truth in Light of His heart and mine. How can I truly speak the Love language of Heaven? I can try but I'll fail without this single ingredient, the recipe for Heaven's speech:

Jesus. Just Jesus. Because we can't grit down grace, or squeeze it through, or siphon it out, or fully receive it or give it away if He's taken out of cue. We can see eachother, face-to-face but we'll speak earthly language. I need a mediator to allow you to see me through Him and me see you the same.

Through Blood. And I keep coming back to this....

Jesus.

A relationship which saves me for more than myself, but betters me for you.

The way He was for us.

And we have these seasons of faith, of Spirit, of staying or moving on. Times for ashes and then times to embrace the crown. Keeping us renewed to speak the language I want spoken over me.
This speech which restores devastation and replaces shame with double portion-ed rejoicing.  And taking it through a Man by loving this One which makes all of Heaven's language clear to those who hear and practice.

This is my "In, On and Around Monday" ...after my week away. Join LL Barkat's place for more.

A fast {of blogging}--5 minute interlude

A five-minute challenge to write unedited....and slap that bad boy to "publish". Join us at Lisa-Jo's with your 300 seconds.....here's mine:

{begin}

I've been gone. But who really knows how long except the person gone. And how many times has it been like "Oh yeah? It's been a week? Really?...I didn't notice."

And this week is full of reflection and voice and mine being quiet.

Except for these five minutes....

In absence of blogging {but in prayer}, I've seen:

All the ways in which I miss Grace. For eachother, for myself, giving as much as I'd like to receive and maybe balancing them off-balance. "Seeing" how I talk is not really how I write, but it's how I think sometimes. Seeing all the ways in which I need to come fully unclothed of my sin to be clothed in Him. Of humbling myself to admit wrongs but not staying there. Allowing Him to pick me up and move on.

Of how I write one-on-one to someone differently than a post and how does anyone really talk (in real life) like poetry anyway? Because I like poetry but I don't talk it well.

This week's been about seeing all the ways I fail and He succeeds and how I continue to keep my eyes up and trying to keep them wide open and not squint. Because I like squinting. Alot.

{end}