January 15, 2010
This is my declaration of who I am.
I am a woman of faith. It resonates deep within me, in the most secret places of my being. The One in Whom I place my faith is eternal. Powerful. Mighty. Strength personified.
He sits on a throne of righteousness and justice, surrounded by an immeasurable amount of praise that resonates with my spirit. I understand adoration of the King of Kings. I, too, declare Him as Sovereign and delight in serving Him all of my days.
I dwell in the shadow of His wings, for I declare continuously that He is my fortress, my strongtower, my God in Whom I trust. He is my shelter. Faithful, steady, and true, He has never and will never fail me, whatever my circumstances prompt me to believe.
He has not forgotten or forsaken me in the hard times.
No, it is there—where I am weakest—that His authority in my life has freest reign. When I am too tired to buffet the touch of His hand on my brow. When I am weary of rejecting His advances toward my heart. When I am confident that He has left me to die in the barren wilderness.
It is there that He shows Himself in full glory.
Praise God, I am a saint who sins, He knows me fully and loves me deeply anyway.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
My New Year's Resolutions, a bit early
I dreamed about the accident last night.
More, it was the aftermath I dreamed of. There were these stairs that loomed high above, and a building--like you would find on a university campus--and I just knew I had to be there. Being wasn't the problem, getting was. The climb up the steps was excruciating. I found myself frequently out of breath, often crying, constantly in pain.
I felt the pain in my dreaming.
The throbbing, aching, burning...you know that list the doctor says to check "which one" matches your symptoms? I could check them all in my dream. The hurting was extensive.
But I pressed onward and upward.
At the top, there was a waiting room and I happily sat and waited. I saw others with illnesses clamoring to go first, and I let them while I caught my breath. I waited and I watched.
And then it was my turn, and I stood, determined, and told my story. I wanted to see a doctor. I remember saying these exact words in response to the question: why are you here today?
I said:
I do not want to be in pain for every second of every day for the rest of my life.
I will not give up.
I need to move on.
With just two days until the first anniversary of "The Big Day", I find myself growing more resolute in some things. I have decided, too, that I am growing up in my faith. I can't comment too far on that. Some things are simply too much to describe. But I know that I am growing, and up seems like a better direction than where I have felt these many months.
One other thing from the dream that is noteworthy, then I am off to do something pressing.
I was alone.
Yes, there were people everywhere around me--in fact, quite busy like a campus.
But it was up to me to move in the direction I felt led. And up to me to choose to stand or sit. No one to consult, to cajole, to caution, to condemn. It was to me that the growing up was left, and even in my dream, I wasn't laying down to die. I was resolved to continue walking in His will.
More, it was the aftermath I dreamed of. There were these stairs that loomed high above, and a building--like you would find on a university campus--and I just knew I had to be there. Being wasn't the problem, getting was. The climb up the steps was excruciating. I found myself frequently out of breath, often crying, constantly in pain.
I felt the pain in my dreaming.
The throbbing, aching, burning...you know that list the doctor says to check "which one" matches your symptoms? I could check them all in my dream. The hurting was extensive.
But I pressed onward and upward.
At the top, there was a waiting room and I happily sat and waited. I saw others with illnesses clamoring to go first, and I let them while I caught my breath. I waited and I watched.
And then it was my turn, and I stood, determined, and told my story. I wanted to see a doctor. I remember saying these exact words in response to the question: why are you here today?
I said:
I do not want to be in pain for every second of every day for the rest of my life.
I will not give up.
I need to move on.
With just two days until the first anniversary of "The Big Day", I find myself growing more resolute in some things. I have decided, too, that I am growing up in my faith. I can't comment too far on that. Some things are simply too much to describe. But I know that I am growing, and up seems like a better direction than where I have felt these many months.
One other thing from the dream that is noteworthy, then I am off to do something pressing.
I was alone.
Yes, there were people everywhere around me--in fact, quite busy like a campus.
But it was up to me to move in the direction I felt led. And up to me to choose to stand or sit. No one to consult, to cajole, to caution, to condemn. It was to me that the growing up was left, and even in my dream, I wasn't laying down to die. I was resolved to continue walking in His will.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Just Call Me Sparrow
I have only a few moments to write this morning, but have had this song echoing through me and I must respond.
Why do I feel discouraged? Why do the shadows come?
And why does my heart feel lonely and long for Heaven untold?
When Jesus is my portion, a constant friend is He.
His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me.
His eye is on the sparrow! And I know He watches me!
So I sing because I'm happy!!
And I sing because I'm free!!
His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me.
So I sing because I'm HAPPY!!
And I sing because I'm FREE!!
His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches...
and I know He watches....
and I KNOW He watches...
ME.
So, Lord, I know that you are with me, that you have never left me. That while I sat, crushed and trapped, in that car, you sat not even beside me, but wrapped around me.
I know that, while I was confused, you were steady and true.
I know that, while I cried, you cried too, even as you dried my tears.
I know that, while I felt fear, you spoke of your everlasting love, directly to my heart.
I know that, while the EMTS and doctors did their work, you guided their hands and hearts and minds.
Iknow that, while my family worried and prayed, you listened and responded to the cries of their hearts.
I know that, just like with the sparrow, your eye never left me. Not one minute. Not during one second of my discouragement. Not when the shadows seemed to surround me. Not when I cried out with the loneliness of one who feels broken. Not when I forgot that Jesus is my portion. Not when I angrily rejected your friendship.
Your eye never left me.
So I write, because I'm happy.
And I write, because I'm free.
And just like the sparrow, I will always be comforted to know
that your love is ever watching me.
Why do I feel discouraged? Why do the shadows come?
And why does my heart feel lonely and long for Heaven untold?
When Jesus is my portion, a constant friend is He.
His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me.
His eye is on the sparrow! And I know He watches me!
So I sing because I'm happy!!
And I sing because I'm free!!
His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me.
So I sing because I'm HAPPY!!
And I sing because I'm FREE!!
His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches...
and I know He watches....
and I KNOW He watches...
ME.
So, Lord, I know that you are with me, that you have never left me. That while I sat, crushed and trapped, in that car, you sat not even beside me, but wrapped around me.
I know that, while I was confused, you were steady and true.
I know that, while I cried, you cried too, even as you dried my tears.
I know that, while I felt fear, you spoke of your everlasting love, directly to my heart.
I know that, while the EMTS and doctors did their work, you guided their hands and hearts and minds.
Iknow that, while my family worried and prayed, you listened and responded to the cries of their hearts.
I know that, just like with the sparrow, your eye never left me. Not one minute. Not during one second of my discouragement. Not when the shadows seemed to surround me. Not when I cried out with the loneliness of one who feels broken. Not when I forgot that Jesus is my portion. Not when I angrily rejected your friendship.
Your eye never left me.
So I write, because I'm happy.
And I write, because I'm free.
And just like the sparrow, I will always be comforted to know
that your love is ever watching me.
Friday, November 7, 2008
They say it's best to start at the beginning...
I have tried many times over the last months to begin this sentence. Until this moment, I have failed miserably 100 percent of the time. I crave the release that comes with sharing the words in my heart, yet dread the process of restoring order in what is an unfortunate, jumbled mess.
One thought meshes with another, and I try to disentangle them. One memory competes to be first, yet I cannot say that it is the key to unlock my Muse. One story demands to be told, but from a thousand different angles, and a thousand different emotions. There is a sadness and a joy that are each speaking with increasing fervor, commanding my attention. Shall I begin with the Hope I have found again, or with the dreams laying like shards of glass at my feet, shattered in the space of a moment?
One moment. That is all that it took for so much of my life to change. The course altered, my faith tried and tested, my heart broken and my body bruised, battered, scarred. All in a single moment.
If I seem disjointed in my thoughts, I can only say: welcome to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Fluidity is not a hallmark of this troubling and frustrating state of being. Where I once was smooth and the Whisper of the Holy Spirit was a balm to my soul, I now find jagged edges screaming for help. My pains frequently drown out His Voice. My emotions continually attempt to control my thought process.
All from the events of one single moment.
And today, I write, for the first time in many months. I force the pain to submit to the Truth that is in me. I remind myself that I am a child of the Most High God, and that His Love is what gives my life purpose. If I stay in the darkness of a difficult time, if I refuse to press on, if I stop trying to touch the sky with my feet, I will choke on the sadness of being separated from His heart.
This, above all else, I cannot bear.
So...I hold on to the swing chains, settle my bottom in to the seat, take a few long strides back, breathe deeply....kick, and release.
I have work to do--there is a sky to be touched.
One thought meshes with another, and I try to disentangle them. One memory competes to be first, yet I cannot say that it is the key to unlock my Muse. One story demands to be told, but from a thousand different angles, and a thousand different emotions. There is a sadness and a joy that are each speaking with increasing fervor, commanding my attention. Shall I begin with the Hope I have found again, or with the dreams laying like shards of glass at my feet, shattered in the space of a moment?
One moment. That is all that it took for so much of my life to change. The course altered, my faith tried and tested, my heart broken and my body bruised, battered, scarred. All in a single moment.
If I seem disjointed in my thoughts, I can only say: welcome to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Fluidity is not a hallmark of this troubling and frustrating state of being. Where I once was smooth and the Whisper of the Holy Spirit was a balm to my soul, I now find jagged edges screaming for help. My pains frequently drown out His Voice. My emotions continually attempt to control my thought process.
All from the events of one single moment.
And today, I write, for the first time in many months. I force the pain to submit to the Truth that is in me. I remind myself that I am a child of the Most High God, and that His Love is what gives my life purpose. If I stay in the darkness of a difficult time, if I refuse to press on, if I stop trying to touch the sky with my feet, I will choke on the sadness of being separated from His heart.
This, above all else, I cannot bear.
So...I hold on to the swing chains, settle my bottom in to the seat, take a few long strides back, breathe deeply....kick, and release.
I have work to do--there is a sky to be touched.
Part Two: Waking up Broken where I once was Whole
It's dark. Dark, but noisy.
The feel of rain on my head disorients.
Why is my sunroof open at 5:30 in the morning?
5:30.
Oh God, please, I'm late for work! Don't let me be late...I hate being late.
I jolt, my eyes open, the rain continues to fall.
Where am I?
What has happened?
Why does my body hurt like this??
Why can't I move?
What happened?
I cry out, open and close my eyes dozens of times, hear the noises but can't connect them.
Loud machines. Bright lights. Voices unrecognizeable. Questions I cannot understand.
Where am I?
What happened?
Am I late for work?
I am crying. It is so cold, the rain drips and drips.
Fear is thick in my throat. Or is that blood?
Later, I would learn details. I entered an intersection with a green light. He entered the intersection and hit my car, broadside, hard. His truck was virtually undamaged; my beloved Saturn, totaled.
He had no injuries. I was now a mass of lacerations and bruises and brokenness.
The EMTs want to send me by helicopter, they are that worried over my injuries.
But the rain continues to fall. It is a cold, wintry rain.
Where am I?
What happened?
God, please don't leave me here alone to die.
I am certain I will die, and I say as much.
Please, I don't want to die.
to this point, all is unfocused and ungraspable.
Then, a face in mine, a confidence, a certainty.
Joy, look at me--are you listening? You're not going to die, okay, you're going to be alright. Just let us take care of you. Okay?
Okay.
Someone is in control.
Okay.
Don't know what happened.
Don't know what's next.
But
Someone
Is
In
Control.
The feel of rain on my head disorients.
Why is my sunroof open at 5:30 in the morning?
5:30.
Oh God, please, I'm late for work! Don't let me be late...I hate being late.
I jolt, my eyes open, the rain continues to fall.
Where am I?
What has happened?
Why does my body hurt like this??
Why can't I move?
What happened?
I cry out, open and close my eyes dozens of times, hear the noises but can't connect them.
Loud machines. Bright lights. Voices unrecognizeable. Questions I cannot understand.
Where am I?
What happened?
Am I late for work?
I am crying. It is so cold, the rain drips and drips.
Fear is thick in my throat. Or is that blood?
Later, I would learn details. I entered an intersection with a green light. He entered the intersection and hit my car, broadside, hard. His truck was virtually undamaged; my beloved Saturn, totaled.
He had no injuries. I was now a mass of lacerations and bruises and brokenness.
The EMTs want to send me by helicopter, they are that worried over my injuries.
But the rain continues to fall. It is a cold, wintry rain.
Where am I?
What happened?
God, please don't leave me here alone to die.
I am certain I will die, and I say as much.
Please, I don't want to die.
to this point, all is unfocused and ungraspable.
Then, a face in mine, a confidence, a certainty.
Joy, look at me--are you listening? You're not going to die, okay, you're going to be alright. Just let us take care of you. Okay?
Okay.
Someone is in control.
Okay.
Don't know what happened.
Don't know what's next.
But
Someone
Is
In
Control.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
After My Feet Touched the Sky: Part One
Like a child swinging higher,
ever higher,
my goal was just
to
touch
the
sky.
Head tilted back to get the fullness of SonShine
on my face,
eyes closed to experience the whizzing whir of air
as it came rushing past,
mind focused only on reaching that treasured goal.
Even when my toes pressed past the clouds
and my heels bumped against the sky,
I didn't think
of what would come next.
I tumbled, and I tumbled, and I tumbled.
Back and back, I slid toward start, and then on past, to the place where I had once built momentum for a great and glorious climb up, a place not meant for failure but for the buildup to success.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't--wouldn't!!--start the up, up, UP again
only to fall back so far without any control
So the very feet that had only moments ago touched the sky
dug in
and STOPPED all motion.
So I sat.
And I cried.
And I mourned the moment after
my feet touched the sky.
ever higher,
my goal was just
to
touch
the
sky.
Head tilted back to get the fullness of SonShine
on my face,
eyes closed to experience the whizzing whir of air
as it came rushing past,
mind focused only on reaching that treasured goal.
Even when my toes pressed past the clouds
and my heels bumped against the sky,
I didn't think
of what would come next.
And next, I tumbled back.
sliding backwards
past the very things I had only just rejoiced at leaving behind
falling in reverse
to a start that taunted, certainly not welcoming, certainly not a trip wanted
I tumbled, and I tumbled, and I tumbled.
My eyes opened.
My heart pounded.
My joy turned to sorrow, my dancing into mourning, my peace into chaos.
My hope into despair.
Back and back, I slid toward start, and then on past, to the place where I had once built momentum for a great and glorious climb up, a place not meant for failure but for the buildup to success.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't--wouldn't!!--start the up, up, UP again
only to fall back so far without any control
or choice.
So the very feet that had only moments ago touched the sky
dug in
and STOPPED all motion.
If I can't stay in the clouds,
I can't....I won't...do anything.
So I sat.
And I cried.
And I mourned the moment after
my feet touched the sky.
It was a very long moment...
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