To Be Honest...

I have been fed a fairly steady diet of pessimism throughout the years, especially when it comes to relationships. For example, I've never been that girl who says, "I just want happily ever after, like in the movies." No, I have always been the girl who walks away from any romance movie, rolling her eyes, saying "that was completely unrealistic." 

In the last few months, I decided to get a little rebellious. I decided to get a little scandalous, well, for me anyway. But I'm beginning to fear that it wasn't harmless like I thought it would be. What did I do? 

I gave myself permission to dream a little- without criticism. 

This is something I've been keeping to myself. I haven't told anyone that I've begun to allow myself to long to be loved. 

I've let myself daydream- just once or twice- about someday being married and actually liking it. With every dream, there's been risk. An idea will pop into my head, and the immediate response, of course is, "no, don't think that. That's unrealistic." But the last few weeks, I've been daring to shut down the cynicism, and open that door, just a bit. It's all in the form of questions. What if I marry someone I'm really attracted to, not just someone I'm settling for? What if he actually wants to understand what's going on inside this head of mine? What if he actually loves me and isn't just excited to be in love with just anyone decent? What if I could be in a relationship where it didn't feel like every compliment was a line? What if I could be with a man I respect?

Do I sometimes think, "oh wouldn't it be exciting to catch the eye of some famous musician or some really popular guy?" Yeah, I do, but it's easier to think of that type of thing. 

I don't know whether this is making any sense, but I've decided that it takes a lot more courage to allow myself to long for a healthy, romantic and loving marriage and a lot less courage to imagine a dramatic, dysfunctional, self-obsessed relationship. 

Now, all of my child-rearing tells me to abandon any and all hope for something healthy, something sacred and worth working for. It tells me that dysfunction is all I've ever know. Humanity is fallen and broken and there is no hope. But there's something small, with a small voice (and, just to note, it hasn't yet established any credibility with me) whispers to me, with an unusual boldness, to hold out for healthy and functional and beautiful. "Don't bother hoping for perfect," it says, "but for goodness sake, hope for more."

To Be the Body Electric: The Breakroom

Hum and drum of office noises. Taps of fingers of impatient customers. Tones of co-workers irritated by the same offenses day after day after day. And where am I? Am I possibly caught up in the fast-pace, the race to place, to get promoted, applauded, praised or just finished? Am I counting down the minutes until the shift ends? Am I fidgeting, fighting the urge to walk away from mediocrity? 

No. 

No, I am grounded. Like metal rod struck by brilliant stroke, surged to the earth- charged, electric, grounded. I am here and more here than probably anyone else. I am not slave to the stressors for I am responsive and competent, but not sedated. 

2:13 pm. Three minutes left of break in the backroom with the fridge and the couch. Time enough for one more of those songs that lately seem to drive me into this familiar train of thought- a train that never seems to arrive at its destination. The twelve previous minutes of break have resulted in the scrap paper filled with scribbles of the longings of a soul to be free, of an inner beauty wanting to be seen.


2:14 pm. One more glance through the large windows: grey rainclouds. They don't speak of inner turmoil this time. See, the old weather could be boiled down to this: self-centered living. Yesterday's barometric reading amounted to a pitiful result: self-glorifying atmosphere.


Today's clouds hold potential for something better. This potential might just turn kinetic. Instead of rolling that boulder of ideals, of perfect virtues, up the hill, only to have it fall back, it is being loaded into a catapult. The mechanisms call for tension, suspension. That's what the last months have been- suspense. There is a slow pull, a steady pull. It will stretch me more, pull on me more, then, in one moment, I will be launched, with whatever I have clung to- all the rest left behind for good- into one unchanging direction, one future. Now is the time to set the aim. I have the chance to keep it centered on myself and the glory of my own name. But when I land, that will be the end. No, I will shift the aim to glorify another's name.


2:15 pm. Back to work. Serving the community. They think I'm counting down the minutes until I get out. They cannot hear the beat of my heart. "There's more," it drones, "there's more; there's more; there's more." Each pulse drives purpose through my shoes to the ground- there's more, there's so much more. 

Our Souls Baptized by Holy Fire

Our Souls Baptized by Holy Fire

Hey friend, come through that broken door.
You don't belong there any more.
I never thought you did. 
I know you never did...


You watched that old place burn to ash.
There you stood with empty hands,
your head hung low, your heart exposed.

I stood on dry, cracked, thirsty land and 
watched the storm clouds come for miles.

It drenched the whole forsaken land.

You saw him right in front of you- a king,
worthy of a gift.
You reached down to find something
but at your feet was only ash.

I'd been running

running, running, running.

Running hard and running angry

Running hungry for love.

You fell to your knees before him, 
empty handed before his throne.
You bowed to ask him mercy.
You had nothing left to show.

I tried running as fast as lightning 

so I could start some flames

But every fire I managed to start died to show me shame.

The seconds took eternal time
ashes fell between your fingers
the trade was made
a king took ashes.

I was running so hard and as fast as I could,

but Love Himself caught up with me.

There You stood. The ashes gone.
Now standing in the open spaces of grace.
Radiating with beauty. Beaming with newness of life.

   
 I stood there, breathing tough. 
He lifted my dirt-and-tear-stained face to his,

                    and with no regard to my sweaty state, wrapped his arms around.

He looks at you admiringly
his eyes lost somewhere in your splendor
his grin from ear to ear
just watching you stand there.

He cleaned me up 

He looks in my eyes.
 His love for me burns in his chest and in mine.

Free Soul

Free Soul

Her soul takes wings

makes its home in the trees

the wind tells her story:

of a phoenix fire with phoenix ashes

of burning, burning, burning

Burning scars and burning skin

Burning everything within

Burning dead wood and dead sin.

To Be Untapped: Streetlamps

You know those late night drives, when the sky is all black and the 

street lamps cast their steady light, the whole scene 

slows the pace of things 

like uptight heart beats and over stressed breaths 

to a calmer state. 

This also happens early in the morning before the town wakes up. 

In these few precious moments, so short and so rare,

everything is quiet enough to sense that something stirs inside. 

It rumbles. Its greatness inside just waiting to be set loose.

     

Ten Facts About Me