Turkeysplosion. Delicious.

What an awesome couple days it's been! I am here, celebrating Thanksgiving with the Langs- who are absolutely incredible. (I can't say I am surprised. I mean, they had a Beth! And she totally rocks!) Today is Bruce's 50th birthday extravaganza, so it's been a mad house of excitement- what with all the black friday grocery shopping, photo hunting and cooking goings on. :)

And while all of this has been fabulous- I GOT TO SEE PEGGY!!!! Finally- and it's definitely been at least five years since I have seen any of them, let alone Peg and Tim together, along with the new arrival of Claire Bear, my new baby sister. (She's about six months.) They live in my dream house. Tristan and I actually missed the turn in to the house because I was gawking and swooning- it's so stunning. These huge victorian window panels, a tall strong front door- a gorgeous porch, high ceilings, beautiful wood banisters- I could go on for days. It may even be three stories? We are planning on returning home Sunday afternoon, working Monday (and of course visiting with kittens) and then shooting right back up here a few days with Peg and Tim. I am planning on bringing some art supplies! Lots of creative flow in that venue- good place to work on jewelry.

I am feeling so wonderfully tranquil about so many things. What a glorious season of healing God has bestowed me. I am going to begin delegating a few minutes each day to trying to capture the essence of how to heal with God- I feel as if that is a very depthful subject, that often becomes shallow and hollow in one's writing, with many terms that get thrown about which are left with the reader, ultimately unexplained. It's difficult to explain how to "give your troubles to the Lord", but I am planning on letting God's voice breathe in to me. I am praying for the best! (If it's from Him, that's really what it is.)

So long!

Endorphin

There is no more precious an experience in life than deep healing in the heart. :)

Waterfall Dreams

God showed up in my dreams two weeks ago and sat down across from me, a large scalpel and a bucket of water in his hands. Nervously, I glanced over Him, searching his will, trying to understand. "Who is that for? Not me, right? You must be looking for someone else." I feared he was here to punish me, to bury me once and for all- the sinner that I am. He tilted his head and grinned sweetly, all the patience in the world exuding from within his eyes. He looked so wise, and I remember feeling so very much like a child.

"No, these are for you." He said, " You have so much I never meant for you to carry- that I died to take from you. But you have hidden those things from me- you have kept it all away in the darkest corners you can find. But you forgot that everywhere I go is light, and there is no corner in the world in which you walk that I did not create.
I wanted to do this differently, but, the time is NOW. I give you the choice. This scalpel is meant to take you apart- piece by piece, muscle by muscle- until all you are is bone and sweat. A skeleton in my hands. I am going to get to your heart and heal it- and this is the way you've left me. The water is to wash you, down to the very atoms that make up your cells, the very cells that make up every part of your body, and YOU- who makes up a part of my church. I offer you peace if you trust me. I offer you a life that you could never have outside of this acquiescence. I have no anesthesia- but I will give you peace that stands in the way of everything."

We locked eyes for quite some time.

"Do you want to know me better?" He asked gently.

"Of course." I said quickly, so small in comparison to his whisper.

"Do you love me?" He asked, taking a step closer. I drew away.

"Yes! Of course, I do." Even quicker.

"Do you believe that I can heal you- the same way I healed the others?" He knelt beside me now, down on one knee.

"Well-I ... I do believe- but you shouldn't heal me..." Sheepish and ashamed.

"Come to me, and believe no more lies." He opened his arms, wide and proud. "Will you let me love you now?"

I dropped my head and sighed a heavy tear, and crawled in to His lap, like a beaten child. Like exactly who I am- naked and burned up by a world of hatred. A world so ugly outside of Him. He lowered his voice- the scalpel ever there, the bucket of water sloshing to and fro as his arms wrapped around me. He rocked me like a child as I wailed a broken cry in to the air. Again, he cooed in to my ear, no louder than a pin drop,

"Will you let me love you?"

And for the first time in my life, through a bundle of chains and scars, with all of my heart- not just the pretty parts- I said yes.

And I will never be the same.

Thoughts over Coffee

I am working hard on realigning how I think of myself. Previously, I was seeing myself as attacked, a falling down of self, a partial crumbling- a shell of what I could have been if things had worked out differently; better, healthier, calmer. But now I am starting to TRUST that this is really in God's hands and this is heavy duty cleansingI am going through, not a breakdown. I have to be cleansed to make it to my destination. I have to drop the baggage to have the strength to carry the responsibilities I must carry as part of the body. I have a purpose, and my purpose is not to be bogged down by so much suffering. I need a forceful hand to dunk me under the river's peak and keep me there until I stop struggling and become lit aflame with life, just in time to remind me of how valuable I really am; to God.

I am trying not to be like this cat! (Yes, I am using this picture to make a point.) But also...

It's freakin' hilarious.

Anyway, so the acts of realigning my old views are going to be difficult. I am sure there will be times when I am beside myself with frustration, sorrow; who knows what else. As people it's totally easy to fall in to that "this is just how I am" mode... quickly forgetting that who we are, greatly depends on WHAT we are- and we have the power to change all of that. We always have options.

I have always embraced the theology and ideology that it is in the valleys that we grow, but I didn't realize, in any way shape or form, just how much I fought that growth process- and how often I stopped it with my choices; my need to be in control of myself, to be working out the kinks with my own hand. I told myself that God had the wheel- and a lot of the time he did, but not enough of the time to keep me on the tracks. One wheel would slide down and over, grinding in to the rocks and against the metal- and I thought that was as good as it got, that I was doing just fine. I neglected to realize that God also wants to work miracles in MY life- not just everyone elses'. He doesn't want me to be just a "survivor". He wants to give me a huge loving family, a perfect husband (well, as perfect as they can get!) a joyful, gorgeous existence- but it's not a gift he can give blindly. I have to LET him give that to me- and give up the idea that I am the world's whipping post. I never believed I was destined for anything more than that. It had to be true, that's the only way things had ever been. I've got to believe the dream.

Said

Its hard for me not too wonder why "it seems" as if things break around me more than other people. Why the people who have left me here, have left me at all, and especially when they did. Why certain people do, and did, certain things.... I don't ask why of any higher power, I ask why of myself. And possibly of you. Possibly of everyone.

Memories are eating my brain. I can't shut them off, I can't turn them down. I am having the hardest time comprehending regular things- where I was, where I am. If the sensations are real- or if they even were once. I think the problem is you can't out think pain when it's out of your head but buried in your heart. Bizarre.

Struggling.

But then that means I am still afloat- at least a bit. Otherwise, I'd just be sinking all together.

I'm asking why NOW. I am safe for the first time in my life- and here, in this sanctuary, is where I am beginning to unravel. Maybe that's it... maybe that's why. Because I am safe. I have everything I have been asking for, praying for- and I am too much of a shadow to hold it.

Even so, there are demons in my blood- and I am all but sick and tired of listening to them howl, of hearing them whisper to each other. I am more than this. I am more than these things that have befallen me. I must be. I am.

Just being around people is getting unpredictable. Things are not what they should be. Or, is there really such a thing?

I don't know much of anything anymore. My mind goes off like an alarm over the strangest things- colors, sights, sounds, things that begin to draw out this deeper enigma of myself, this past of mine I cannot recall. And that is likely best- considering the memories I do keep. This is a new haunting, from the darker depths that are hidden and masked, but those things which are naked on the surface have been chasing me for my entire life.

I am hunted.

This is who I am.

Running the Mile

I had a ritual when I was a child. Every time there was a thunderstorm, I would dart out of the house and run through the sheets of water, until I could hardly breathe, and I could only stop and turn my face up to the stormy clouds. I was free to be myself there- because I knew that no one else would be on the streets with me- on account of the dangerous weather. The heavy rain was baptism- this beautiful putting on of God, and washing away of all other things. Thunder pulled up all of the heavy burdens I carried, like the roots of deep grown weeds. I was invincible here, and loved- as the lightning always chose to hit a different place than where I stood. She never had any intention of sinking my ship. We were like sisters, the rain and I.

For years, in the hot summers when things often seemed their worst in our house, this was my only saving grace. This is the act that kept me safe, that kept me balanced and ordinary- that gave me the most enveloping peace. I was nothing and everything, somewhere and nowhere, all at once and not at all... I felt like a creature in the woods, always taken care of and given a land of plenty.

My grandfather often left me alone to go to his favorite bar while my mother was hours away at work, sometimes for days at a time. He knew I was used to being alone- and that I was self sufficient in most things, even at nine and a half. I was tough, and if I wasn't tough enough, he was determined to get me there. This afternoon in mid July was no different really. I had been alone all day and up until the last hour, had managed to keep myself busy. Now, both my dog and I were bored- so we had resorted to a backyard game of fetch, throwing smoldering, cloudy dirt up on to each other during our ridiculous zig-zag play fights. I threw the ball hard, and awkwardly, in to the fence- and as it bounced back we could race each other to see who was first to the catch. He preferred my company, and I preferred his, above anyone else's. He never bit me, and I never bit him. We did not have that with anyone else.

On likely the 300th throw, I lobbed my arm back and hurled it down the length of the fence, aiming for the corner. It always made for an interesting bounce-back, as you were never quite sure where physics would send it. Well, today, physics sent that ball back over the fence so fast I could hardly understand where it went- and neither could my dog. Over the fence he went, only looking back for a moment to see if I was going to follow. Panic struck in- there was no way I was going to get him back, and I couldn't blame him if he ran away. He wouldn't have blamed me if I had, but then again, I would have taken him with me. Really, I wasn't upset that he was over the fence, but that I wasn't over the fence with him.

"Jake!" I yelled hoarsely over and over, reaching the fence and climbing over just in time to hear his paws taking him away. "Jake!" I yelled again- this time a long drawn out scream in to the front yard, where there was no dog to be seen. My heart sank. Maybe I would never see him again.

Jake came hauling around the corner toward me, and he stopped short on his front paws. He stood up tall on his haunches and whined for me to drop myself over. Thunder clapped out- and he gave me that playful puppy face which suggested some strange understanding between he and I. He knew my ritual, and he wanted to be part of it. He barked and I smiled fully.

Over the fence I went, and we ran, and ran, and ran- well through the neighborhood, through the woods, down the creek. He jumped this way and that, sometimes doubling back for a moment with a great expulsion of energy and mud. No doors opened. No one asked questions. We both grew tired and flopped down in to a great puddle in the street, wrestling this way and that, his wet curly fur smearing across my arms and legs. In our abandonment we had the most enjoyment. In our desire for freedom we won it.

I am almost certain that is the closest to heaven that he or I have ever been.








What I need in my life is more of this. Don't we all?