mail

I have learned how to hide behind the written word. It may seem like I am pouring out my heart sometimes but in reality, I choose this form of communication because speaking words with my mouth as opposed to my fingers terrifies me. More than once I have written a letter to someone I love over an issue I should have spoken directly to them about. The problem is that because I am a slow processor I have great difficulty having hard conversations because the person will respond and I am too taken aback and get stuck. I then can’t formulate an appropriate response and get stuck. Then I begin to feel my slow processors shouting at me and I feel dumb. Why can’t I respond to this. Why am I so overwhelmed with my feelings about this that I can’t formulate a response to further growth and foster connection? It is incredibly frustrating. 

I recently wrote a note to someone I love because I couldn’t handle talking directly to them. In essence I hide behind the paper. I cop out of the responsibility of true, right, honest relationship. I am very blessed (and I know it) to have people in my life that understand this shortcoming and love me anyways. It is something I intend to work on. 

aware

I’m not sure that there is anything in my life that has taught me more about myself than having children. I used to think I was so self aware when I met Brad. I had come to a place of peace about who I was, or who I thought I knew I was, and felt confident in my abilities to adult. But since having kids I have become painfully aware of my lack of knowledge about myself and my ability to adult; how I would rather run and hide from grown-up responsibility, how selfish I am, how easily my emotions control me.

I had never previously known that I hate to feel like a failure. I hate it when I screw up. I suppose this feeling has always been there but in high school I never cared enough to try, never stretched myself beyond my perceived abilities. Well, there is no escaping that with children. You are stretched and pushed and pulled like taffy candy every single day. And heaven help your ego if you make one miss-step. 

Potty training is my kryptonite, my achilles heel, my one ring if you will. That may all sound extreme, but nothing else in my life has caused more temper flares and made me more aware of my “lack of” and my “need for” than anything else. Every time he does not have success with the toilet I have a failure. And it is becoming my undoing. 

sky

The day was as crisp and clear and as juicy as a fresh apple. The sunlight was practically liquid as it seemed to splash off the leaves and grass. It made the air sparkle. The fragrance was everything that is fall; the earth never smells more alive than when its flora is dying.  She laid on her back on the ground, the scattered leaves underneath her crunched from the weight of her. A deep sigh released and she looked up to the sky. A transparent blue gem of a sky it was. And it caught her breath once she noticed it. 

She played there, looking up to the sky, looking into the sky, looking through the sky. Wondering what was beyond it. She has seen the pictures from space but this wonderment goes deeper than space.

 “Where is He?” she thought to herself. “He ascended. Where exactly is it?” 

These thoughts that so many children have had since growing up in Sunday school, but she is no longer a child. She has lived a life so far, and has felt little deaths as she has put herself down to pick up something greater. Yet still. The question remains as she gazes into the heavens. 

“Where exactly are they?”

thank you

Dear Jesus,

Thank you for loving me, for dying for me, for forgiving me. 

Thank you for how you healed the sick and deaf and lame.

Thank you that you heal me from being deaf to your voice.

Thank you for healing the sickness in my heart.

Thank you for healing my lame spirit.

Thank you for showing us love.

I am sorry when I do not love as you have commanded.

I am sorry that sometimes I put myself first.

Thank you for loving me even though you know I will do those things wrong.

Sweet Jesus, thank you for fixing us. 

Thank you for restoring us.

Thank you for redeeming us.

When I see your face I will fall on mine.

Thank you for challenging me, for bringing me along on the journey.

You are the greatest adventure. I am so sorry when I don’t trust your compass.

Thank you for your words of hope and grace. 

Thank you for leaving your spirit here on earth until your work is done.

Thank you for seeing past my filth.

Thank you for seeing me.

I am known and loved.

I hope to know you and love you the same.

unknown

I am living in the unknown right now. I have deep abiding feelings about trust. I have been betrayed by a few people in my life so trust in God, even though he is “The Man” has been a consistent battle in my life. And sometimes, I just wanna know. You know?

I have talked about this before. I am living in a zone of mystery. Which, to be honest is God’s schtick right. I mean, come on. He is all up in the mystery, unanswered questions, take it all on faith kind of living. And for a mom of three boys, living on a pastor’s salary in a different town it puts you on the tip of the iceberg of trust requirements. But I wave them around like a banner of pride. Like “LOOK AT ME! I’M A MOM OF BOYS AND THEY DRIVE ME CRAZY AND WE ARE A MINISTRY FAMILY AND IT’S HARD AND YOU NEED TO PRAY FOR MY SANITY BECAUSE GOD IS ALL UP IN MY BUSINESS!!”

Really though. 

God has been twisting me into all sorts of pretzels and sometimes there is a sweet release, like he’s the great chiropractor and sometimes it hurts. It hurts hard. 

Right now I am neither here nor there. I am in a waiting, wanting, longing period. I have these very specific promises before me but I’m trying to not let them tangle my heart. They are not God. They have come from God and he is in the business of changing lives. And he is changing mine. He is awakening in me somethings that I didn’t even know where there. Do I sound cryptic? Good. So then, when I say I am living in the unknown, you now get an idea of how all at once terrifying and exciting it is. 

post-it

Do you know the hardest thing about writing? It isn’t the challenge of what to write about or when to write or even how I want to say it all (although, that can be pretty challenging) No. It is posting it. Putting it out there in the internet ether. Then asking you all to read it and care.

I maked this. Do you like it? Does it speak to you? Do you think it’s weird? Do you hate it? - please don’t tell me. Am I crazy for putting my thoughts and feelings out there? 

I have written millions of words and most of them stay locked away in my journal. Some I have laboured over for days and still they sit. Some I have sat and volcanoed out the words like the pressure was so bad I would explode were it not for the writing. But then comes the posting.

Posting it on the blog or on Facebook is most nerve wracking. This sort of thing is no big deal. This is a humours musing. But when I dig deep and click on that publish button, my heart skips a beat or ten. It is painful and releasing and glorious and heart wrenching all at the same time.   Partly because people I personally know read this. But also, because I am a private person - hello, irony - and so the idea of a complete stranger knowing my thoughts is, unsettling. But here I come still because I am compelled. I need to write, I need to say these things and ultimately it matters not if you read what I post. I just need to say it. 

muddle

I could write this great post about how we just muddle our way through life. And in fact I thought about doing it. I was positing the different ideas back and forth in my brain and trying to come up with a good starter. How we muddle and what muddling actually means. And then I got to thinking about the last time I was in Vancouver visiting family. So, just 6 weeks ago. And I was staying with my sister in Langley for a couple days and one of those days, I think the was feeling particularly “muddley” (haha) so she decided she wanted a drink and made herself a mojito. If you are not familiar with that drink you should be. Vodka, lime, sugar, mint - Excellent! She made one for herself then made me one. It was yummy. We were making dinner and I drank it quickly and before it kicked in I made myself another one and as I was muddling the mint I had a quickly passing thought, “should I make this?”. It was a double shot glass she was using for the vodka. I shrugged it off and decided that because we were having supper soon it would be ok. 

I suppose if you mean by “ok” that you have a buzz while you’re in the pool with your children and you’re supposed to be an alert adult. Then I was “ok”

Sometimes this is how we muddle through life.