I'm sending out mixed signals
bottom line
I'm scared to death
to truly let you see what's real
so I sabotage myself
Anxiety rises quietly
then spins me toward despair
my confident exterior
belies deep-seated fear
So cavernous the pain
my past has wrought
I question then compare
undoubtably you won't choose me
so I take that seat back there
My wounded heart is healing
the gift is now I see
and understand the decision mine
to let Him set me free
tear down the walls I've built
bring soul restoration with Your Light, Your Love
root these feet profoundly in the soil of Your Foundation
open these palms to receive Your good provision
thank You for guiding me to close that other door
Lovingly I conclude this time
to place my heart in the way of harm
my only hope is He holds it tight
as I rest in lieu of commanding flight.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Sunday, February 19, 2012
My History Keepers
They are my History Keepers
fellow travelers who have chosen
to tag along
on this path I am on
celebrating my highest of heights
holding me in my lowest of lows
with an intent gaze transfer
strength
hope
belief
that something better is to come
These are my Dear Ones who
stand in my many gaps
listen with more than their ears
quiet me with kind words through my tears
tell me the truth when it's the last thing I want to hear
They are my Stalwarts
upon whom I depend
those who desire to know me
so I show them the places I hate to go
the wrecked
the ugly
the hopeless
the faithless
pieces of my soul
These are my True Friends
they who remember what was and what is
see me and take note of the differences
smile at me from the "I know you" lens
You dear History Keepers
so safe and courageous
thank you for offering me unmerited favor.
fellow travelers who have chosen
to tag along
on this path I am on
celebrating my highest of heights
holding me in my lowest of lows
with an intent gaze transfer
strength
hope
belief
that something better is to come
These are my Dear Ones who
stand in my many gaps
listen with more than their ears
quiet me with kind words through my tears
tell me the truth when it's the last thing I want to hear
They are my Stalwarts
upon whom I depend
those who desire to know me
so I show them the places I hate to go
the wrecked
the ugly
the hopeless
the faithless
pieces of my soul
These are my True Friends
they who remember what was and what is
see me and take note of the differences
smile at me from the "I know you" lens
You dear History Keepers
so safe and courageous
thank you for offering me unmerited favor.
Monday, February 13, 2012
February
It's winter and it feels like fall outside. Thankfully. I'm reveling in the experience of the change of season and in the same moment, grateful that there is no snow. Part of me wants it to feel like winter today though--I'm even wearing a bright sunshiney-yellow sweater to combat the 'cold' and 'grey' in my imagination. My mind has been occupied with many thoughts this past week and I feel weary in them. I've been working on a poem to describe it all and haven't found the vocabulary to finish the account yet. And, somehow bare branches and the frozen Charles (if it has indeed crystalized this year) seem the most appealing thing in the world to me right now. To witness something that outwardly reflects the inner soil of my heart in this day would feel refreshing.
Jumping on a plane and stepping outside that familiar airport, inhaling that frigid, exhaust-filled air and hugging myself into the arms of safe friends who know me is all I want right now. Those people who have walked so much of my history with me and understand where much of what's going on in my head comes from at present. The familiar pink mug and coffee in the morning--the solace of their living room and green couches--the ability to just be and know I'm cared for by them. The gift of knowing I'm strong, but not needing to be strong there. And, the irony is thick as I think of the way we always talked about my need to leave in February because the winter became too much. I now want the reverse somehow? Strange.
So, you know who you are--I'm just missing you today. Wishing I only lived that 15 minute drive away and could come over and just be there. Thankful that I know if I ran away to the Hub, I could do all of that. Just knowing it would be okay means a lot today.
And our friends, The Autumn Film, offer these sweet words to my soul today:
Jumping on a plane and stepping outside that familiar airport, inhaling that frigid, exhaust-filled air and hugging myself into the arms of safe friends who know me is all I want right now. Those people who have walked so much of my history with me and understand where much of what's going on in my head comes from at present. The familiar pink mug and coffee in the morning--the solace of their living room and green couches--the ability to just be and know I'm cared for by them. The gift of knowing I'm strong, but not needing to be strong there. And, the irony is thick as I think of the way we always talked about my need to leave in February because the winter became too much. I now want the reverse somehow? Strange.
So, you know who you are--I'm just missing you today. Wishing I only lived that 15 minute drive away and could come over and just be there. Thankful that I know if I ran away to the Hub, I could do all of that. Just knowing it would be okay means a lot today.
And our friends, The Autumn Film, offer these sweet words to my soul today:
"May your heart hold on, when it gets hard
May your pulse stay strong, when you're falling apart
And so I'll row, row..."
--The Autumn Film, 8 Track Tape, "Row", 2012
Monday, February 06, 2012
Firmly Plant Such Wayward Feet
Tonight was the second time in the past few months that the Lord brought to mind the words of a poem He'd given me last year. Still in process toward the belief that I am an actual writer, it feels odd to have vocabulary that you've carefully arranged come to you in moments of prayer. Four hours ago, I sat with my left leg crossed over the right, bent forward, head down, palms up and tears surfacing. The band played and the music enveloped me, but my mouth was like the desert and my vocal chords refused to utter a singing sound. All I could hear were my own words from months ago reaching out from a distant place and planting themselves upon my mind, then my lips, finally taking root in my heart. These words became my prayer:
"Firmly plant such wayward feet
prone to run
escape before I'd come undone..."
The message tonight was on relationships and for me, like most, they are the source of my greatest pain and woundings. God has spoken new life into me over years that now mark my past; my present life holds such a different perspective and hope. Yet, even as I live that truth and reality, my old habits try to resurface--I'm just thankful when I notice them before I choose to give way and flee. Yes, flee--I'm a runner.
I never thought of myself in this way, but about this time last year I actually started to run. This had to do with exercise and not relationships, mind you. I remember telling my physical therapist (I had been injured in an accident) that I was not a runner. Shortly thereafter, she had me on the treadmill running sprints of all things. Sprints! I gave my best and oldest excuse of shin splints and stress fractures from days gone by, but she wouldn't have it. She and my chiropractor provided me with exercises and icing strategies and sent me on my way. The funny thing is, all of that stuff worked and before long, I was running sprints with no pain. Even more astounding, I loved it. I still do.
Becoming a runner of sprints has taught me something about the other kind of running I do; namely, I now see my choice in the matter. Intentionally choosing to run has produced a new confidence inside me, I've felt empowered, my body has grown stronger and more capable of other physical activity, I've toned up and I rest more easily. The changes are significant and I miss it when I'm not consistent.
My other form of running has largely been marked by running away from anything that looks risky or scary relationally.* I tend to witness myself opening up by letting someone in and before they or I know what hit us, shut it down. Danger! The warning sirens are shrill, loud voices, announcing all of the bad things that could happen and I'm on my way--running away--toward 'safer' shores. And my rewards are depletion, feeling a deep sense of rejection, anxiousness and restlessness.
In the quietness of my heart tonight, I took deep physical breaths and spoke these words to God. I asked Him to firmly plant these wayward feet that are prone to run, to escape before I come undone. You see, in December He asked me to begin praying for something very specific. It was a very challenging thing for me to pray for because I wanted to put conditions on it... I wanted to say, "But, God, if this doesn't happen, it's okay--Because THY will be done!..."
I wanted to manage my disappointment before the prayer was uttered. I wanted to choose how I would feel when He didn't answer it. And, because He knows me well, He was extremely clear that I was not to caveat this particular prayer with those words that are so true ("Thy will be done..."). He could see my motive because He knew my heart. God was inviting me to trust Him--not only with the prayer itself, but with the disappointment I anticipated I'd step into given my belief that He wouldn't answer it anyway. Sad, yes?
Yes.
"Firmly plant such wayward feet..." I kept repeating the line over and over and over again. Tears crossed the wall of my lashes and I took deep breaths as I wrestled with them. I don't really want to run away this time. I mean, I do, but I don't. Everything around me seems to point to the reality that these are empty words, meaningless in the big scheme of things. I continue to want to give Him a way out--"Maybe you meant this instead..." I'm grasping at straws for a formula that will make my heart feel better in the waiting. No formula is capable of it.
I once read in a book that: "...a relational wound requires a relational solution." How true. And, how difficult. And so, I keep praying. I continue living in the tension of what He has asked of me, having no idea what the outcome will be of the asking. Finding that I'm looking for clues as to its meaning everywhere lately, I reminded myself tonight, "You are deeply loved, totally known, pursued. HE is your Home, your place of Safety, your Refuge."
One day, and I hope it's much sooner than later, I pray the only running I do is at the gym.
*Don't get me wrong, there have been some unhealthy relationships along the way and I've established healthy boundaries and put distance between myself and those individuals in appropriate ways.
"Firmly plant such wayward feet
prone to run
escape before I'd come undone..."
The message tonight was on relationships and for me, like most, they are the source of my greatest pain and woundings. God has spoken new life into me over years that now mark my past; my present life holds such a different perspective and hope. Yet, even as I live that truth and reality, my old habits try to resurface--I'm just thankful when I notice them before I choose to give way and flee. Yes, flee--I'm a runner.
I never thought of myself in this way, but about this time last year I actually started to run. This had to do with exercise and not relationships, mind you. I remember telling my physical therapist (I had been injured in an accident) that I was not a runner. Shortly thereafter, she had me on the treadmill running sprints of all things. Sprints! I gave my best and oldest excuse of shin splints and stress fractures from days gone by, but she wouldn't have it. She and my chiropractor provided me with exercises and icing strategies and sent me on my way. The funny thing is, all of that stuff worked and before long, I was running sprints with no pain. Even more astounding, I loved it. I still do.
Becoming a runner of sprints has taught me something about the other kind of running I do; namely, I now see my choice in the matter. Intentionally choosing to run has produced a new confidence inside me, I've felt empowered, my body has grown stronger and more capable of other physical activity, I've toned up and I rest more easily. The changes are significant and I miss it when I'm not consistent.
My other form of running has largely been marked by running away from anything that looks risky or scary relationally.* I tend to witness myself opening up by letting someone in and before they or I know what hit us, shut it down. Danger! The warning sirens are shrill, loud voices, announcing all of the bad things that could happen and I'm on my way--running away--toward 'safer' shores. And my rewards are depletion, feeling a deep sense of rejection, anxiousness and restlessness.
In the quietness of my heart tonight, I took deep physical breaths and spoke these words to God. I asked Him to firmly plant these wayward feet that are prone to run, to escape before I come undone. You see, in December He asked me to begin praying for something very specific. It was a very challenging thing for me to pray for because I wanted to put conditions on it... I wanted to say, "But, God, if this doesn't happen, it's okay--Because THY will be done!..."
I wanted to manage my disappointment before the prayer was uttered. I wanted to choose how I would feel when He didn't answer it. And, because He knows me well, He was extremely clear that I was not to caveat this particular prayer with those words that are so true ("Thy will be done..."). He could see my motive because He knew my heart. God was inviting me to trust Him--not only with the prayer itself, but with the disappointment I anticipated I'd step into given my belief that He wouldn't answer it anyway. Sad, yes?
Yes.
"Firmly plant such wayward feet..." I kept repeating the line over and over and over again. Tears crossed the wall of my lashes and I took deep breaths as I wrestled with them. I don't really want to run away this time. I mean, I do, but I don't. Everything around me seems to point to the reality that these are empty words, meaningless in the big scheme of things. I continue to want to give Him a way out--"Maybe you meant this instead..." I'm grasping at straws for a formula that will make my heart feel better in the waiting. No formula is capable of it.
I once read in a book that: "...a relational wound requires a relational solution." How true. And, how difficult. And so, I keep praying. I continue living in the tension of what He has asked of me, having no idea what the outcome will be of the asking. Finding that I'm looking for clues as to its meaning everywhere lately, I reminded myself tonight, "You are deeply loved, totally known, pursued. HE is your Home, your place of Safety, your Refuge."
One day, and I hope it's much sooner than later, I pray the only running I do is at the gym.
*Don't get me wrong, there have been some unhealthy relationships along the way and I've established healthy boundaries and put distance between myself and those individuals in appropriate ways.
Seven Days
A week passes and life changes dramatically. Seven days ago I was a "PC person"--I'm writing tonight from a Mac. Seven days ago I sent out letters to my ministry partners announcing a major shift in life--close to twelve years with a wonderful organization comes to a end. Seven days ago, my Grandmother was just advancing in years; today, she has an Aortic Aneurysm.
Long before any of these things became realities in my life, the Lord knew about each of them. I breathe deeply as I consider that truth. He knew. Not only did He possess the knowledge of the events and circumstances, but He also knew how I would feel about each of them from least to greatest. The significance of this is not lost on me tonight.
There were other happenings these past seven days, of course. God opened doors for me to step into something I'm insanely excited about related to my new adventure, but indirectly. Someone I hadn't talked to in a long time reached out for reconciliation and I wondered, "Didn't we?" Diving into that feels like swimming in tar at the moment as I go back and try to recall why this might still be undone; perhaps that will change and closure will finally be achieved. In the midst of transition, I remembered that choosing to have boundaries is healthy and decided to take some time to downshift, maintain some tasks that can't be overlooked, spend time with Jesus in an extremely intentional fashion and maybe take some time to finally hang the artwork in my bedroom (shooting for the stars there!...) instead of jumping right in to the new stuff.
All of these things only add fuel to the fire of my worship and love for Him because I know He's in every part of it. Talking with my Mom this week, I recounted multiple ways that God has made Himself known to me these past few weeks. I told story after story about His provision and the ways I've been able to experience healing and love. One friend spent a few minutes sharing the growth that he has seen in a particular area of my spiritual life since the last time we worked closely together--he was so encouraged that he went home and told his wife about it! As I shared that particular moment with my Mom, she took the opportunity to tell me how she and my Dad had noticed major changes in me when I was home for Christmas. I was in awe of God's movement and the transformation He has caused in me.
Perhaps some of this is why, in the midst of such change and hard news, I can take joy. I see the fingerprints of God all over my life right now and I cannot help but express my supreme delight in His goodness--in every part of it. Somehow, I know that it all really will turn out for good--I'm in a place where I can believe God's intentions are to bring blessing into my life no matter what shape the course takes. And, although I've found that I'm not sleeping too well these days, I am uncovering what it means to enter His rest.
Long before any of these things became realities in my life, the Lord knew about each of them. I breathe deeply as I consider that truth. He knew. Not only did He possess the knowledge of the events and circumstances, but He also knew how I would feel about each of them from least to greatest. The significance of this is not lost on me tonight.
There were other happenings these past seven days, of course. God opened doors for me to step into something I'm insanely excited about related to my new adventure, but indirectly. Someone I hadn't talked to in a long time reached out for reconciliation and I wondered, "Didn't we?" Diving into that feels like swimming in tar at the moment as I go back and try to recall why this might still be undone; perhaps that will change and closure will finally be achieved. In the midst of transition, I remembered that choosing to have boundaries is healthy and decided to take some time to downshift, maintain some tasks that can't be overlooked, spend time with Jesus in an extremely intentional fashion and maybe take some time to finally hang the artwork in my bedroom (shooting for the stars there!...) instead of jumping right in to the new stuff.
All of these things only add fuel to the fire of my worship and love for Him because I know He's in every part of it. Talking with my Mom this week, I recounted multiple ways that God has made Himself known to me these past few weeks. I told story after story about His provision and the ways I've been able to experience healing and love. One friend spent a few minutes sharing the growth that he has seen in a particular area of my spiritual life since the last time we worked closely together--he was so encouraged that he went home and told his wife about it! As I shared that particular moment with my Mom, she took the opportunity to tell me how she and my Dad had noticed major changes in me when I was home for Christmas. I was in awe of God's movement and the transformation He has caused in me.
Perhaps some of this is why, in the midst of such change and hard news, I can take joy. I see the fingerprints of God all over my life right now and I cannot help but express my supreme delight in His goodness--in every part of it. Somehow, I know that it all really will turn out for good--I'm in a place where I can believe God's intentions are to bring blessing into my life no matter what shape the course takes. And, although I've found that I'm not sleeping too well these days, I am uncovering what it means to enter His rest.
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