You ran my dreams once again last night, you haunted my memories and danced through my morning thoughts like a child refusing to empty the room of noise.
kicking and screaming against the wind, I beg the stars to end my nightmares.
Don’t think I didn’t notice waves that flooded my barriers.
You destroyed each shadow with one whispering kiss, if only I had known you would be the death of me.
I am never really quite sure the appropriate words to portray the emotion. It’s just there Buried deep inside, woven in like the intricate workings a hand crafted knit scarf. In fact it wraps around my neck near suffocation the way a winter scarf guards you from the crisp air. But my shield sets me apart; it’s far from a fashion statement or a purchase from a near by boutique. Your grace is sufficient. I can’t wash the words from my mind nor can I wipe them from my way so that I may finish my journal entry.
If only I could unwrap the hidden secret, the gift that’s been itching my skin, comforting my aches, healing the mourn and keeping me awake. Oh how I wish there were words worthy. I cannot explain.
It’s not an emotion nor a feeling. It’s not a subject or a noun. It’s what allows my lungs to rise and fall. The cold the enters each inhale and cools the burning storm inside my body. No vision whether 20/20 or x-ray could puncture the surface to reveal the sense of teeth gritting passion. The purpose to the sun that rises and the movement that’s given to the oceans white caps. It’s what flows through our veins, what feels warm in our chest and what makes life taste so great when The storm wreaks havoc. He is life.
It’s faith and the realization in the morning when you can’t peal your eyes from the sunrise because your gaze is caught in the sight of a love so true. Your gasp will express the gratitude for the relationship our God longs for. He longs for it. Like a child longs to be held, like a grandpa wishes for one last hug, like a father wants to know his daughter and everything heart desires. His heart aches to hold us. Our creator which we cannot grasp an accurate count of how mighty in size and how vast his love, he craves. We are his treasures.
I felt him near me today in a moment of my own longing for something greater than the misery I was drowning in. Surrounded by thirsty sharks and angry serpents I was craving something of my own. But a feeling was overwhelming and took over me the way a tidal wave would carry someone to their death. I am delighted in you. That’s what I felt spoken to me heart. Not as words or text that is legible, but force like the one that floods your heart and causes it to race. A movement in my chest foreign yet more than welcome warmed me it spoke I am delighted in you. my grace, remember. My grace is sufficient.
I have diluted you, your grace your truth, the pure essence of my purpose and how you created my heart. True love. I’ve begged for days God for you to teach me how to love again because I feared I failed you. True failure was in the moment I diluted you. We did, the world. Now I am begging to be shown how to wring the last few drops of joy out of this dirty rag of a wretched world. I want truth. I thirst for water this world cannot supply; for beauty that only lies in you God. You are truth. Your love for me and my name is ever so true. So I’m begging to taste truth everyday till the end.
Thief
All that’s in view now is your back, your feet that are kicking up the dirt behind you, this path is so unclear I can barely follow. I am fighting to keep up but your pace is determined and threatening to all that may be in your way. In the steps that lead to your final resting place there lay a trail of tears. Please don’t let this be the ending of what you leave behind.
I see you in distress. All the signs direct me to a simple conclusion with messy consequences. After all, your back is to me, your hands haven’t dried yet and your knees are blocking your view to the world. My heart aches for you now that I’m aware you are broken completely in two. We are abused and abandoned, misused and corrupt. They lie and cheat and tell us we are not what we see. Do not let their lies alter the truths buried within. See yourself as you are in God, Not the reflection of a missing stranger.
If you would take it, I have advice to share with you, I see you shivering, I see your hurt. Can’t you see you’re shriveling up the love inside? Let go of the mistakes you have made, no matter what ripples progress torment. Pray that God will take the pain from you. The bourdons weigh down your shoulders, your dragging your heart in the path behind you. This is what the Cross was and is for. Let go and let God in. I can see you store the memories of the pain, the decisions you made and each beast of misery in the corners where they rot. My heart is torn when I feel the cold you project because the warmth in your soul could melt glaciers.
God is changing your identity, your potter is molding and shaping you, now let him control. I wish you could see the beauty inside, wish you could see there truly are fields of flowers. If my promise had the power to puncture through, I would swear on it all that love exists; there is righteous life to discover. I wish you had the strength to stand and walk, to quiet your heart and shut your eyes so that you may allow the Lord to speak right to you.
Young soul, you are far beyond this. You no longer have to hide inside; you are in your father’s arms. Let God show you exactly who he wants you to become. See yourself as you are in God, not the reflection they paint for you. There is no pain you could feel that God promises he won’t heal.
I still cannot see your eyes but the silhouette with weapon in hand is enough. I am on my knees with you now and I am begging for your hand. Is there any way my words are reaching you? Hold on, wait. I promise I am here with you, doesn’t make that two on the frontline? I am here for the battle.
You are more than a friend to me and a piece of my soul. You must have expected I would follow and find you here. The grip you held on my heart has cradled me for days. Now let me hold your hand and lead you away.
For countless days the suffering was apparent. While broken and hanging on by fingertips your pain was obvious to me. For days no one did a thing, for hours they sat back while allowing it to burry itself alive and sting. What if they never made you sad, what if you could have learned to pray, what if they would have shared more love then maybe you would have stayed. Would you still be here today if they would have brought you to your knees in praise instead of to your knees in pain?
We’d been ready and waiting all summer to hear what she had to say this time around. Sometimes it was planned, organized and even coordinated to have a particular audience. Other years, it was spontaneous, influenced by circumstance and passionate. This year we had our alarms set to blastoff. We made sure not to make any plans that particular day, no beach trip, no date night and definitely not time for questioning her authority. We were eager and waiting for we knew she would begin once her work shoes were kicked off and her diet coke was in hand. Patience is key; one of her many lessons I hold near and dear, but have yet to conquer.
It’s the first week in September, our school clothing still has all the original tags attached; as directed by her. The smell of new sweatshirts, winter jackets, hot cocoa and school books filled the air. This night in particular I remember the sound of ice cubes hitting the edge of the martini glass as it floated in her ready poured diet coke. We wanted everything to go perfectly, so we made sure presentations were in order. My sister and I sitting anxious in our seat would stare at each other addressing the necessities. She started with (first most important) mom’s martini glass with coke, check. Living room spotless like we were preparing for a magazine to photograph our house, check. Dogs walked, check. By this point we had called her cell phone and work phone then texted her cell phone again to see whether she was on her way home. She couldn’t pull into that drive way fast enough, our nerves were about to burst. Finally, time to begin our back to school preparations. Mom was home, let the lessons begin.
Now let’s back up a few years to explain the root of all the excitement. It began as an attempt to get our attention with intensity and ended as a humorous joke that we carried each year as tradition. School was about to begin and my mom was taking into account what her daughters had put her through the previous year. One of us sisters had skipped school one too many times, another had taken too long to get ready and missed the bus every day and the other failed her P.E class, twice. (This was just the beginning of it, I must leave out the rest if I want my sisters to ever speak to me again) Any ways Mother was fed up and ready to implant a lesson she wanted us to never forget. So she sat us all down, took a deep breath and began by saying, “this year is going to be very different for us. No more tardy slips, no more drama, and no more boys. You are all going to show up to class early and sit in front with a sharpened pencil. Got it?”
She had scarred us half to death, with her serious tone she told us we must all sit down she had something she wanted to talk about. We waited with baited breath, but exhaled in relief when it became evident she couldn’t be serious. No more boys, doesn’t she know she is talking to her four single daughters here? We all began to chuckle with witnessing her first ever beginning of the school year speech.
She persisted, “I want you girls to stay away from the boys with facial hair, and don’t be aggressive with the boys either! I am serious girls, you need to make a list. List your goals for the year, but more importantly list the makeup and beauty supplies that we need to get, oh and we will get some school supplies on the way. All you need is a sharpened pencil, colored pens to make note taking fun, and some cute spiral notebooks to keep things interesting.” Then she would smile, suggesting she might give us a chance to pipe in with our own ideas, however, she ended it quickly after standing up really straight, lowering her glasses on her nose like a librarian and in a serious accent, “that is all ladies, you may be dismissed now, my lesson is over with.” This of course was all for the dramatic affect to not only get the point across but at this point she must have realized this performance contained more than what was on the surface. She had brought us together with a concern of hers. Out of love she wanted to share with us what she had brain stormed with what little free time she acquired; she was listing how to make our lives better even if she had to sacrifice her own nap time. She had brought us all together and in a few moments turned our worlds around.
For the next few years her speech evolved, and developed into a soulful blessing. God must be humorous. I know for a fact he was speaking through my mother in the lessons she brought to my sisters and I. My mom had the most creative ways to present these lessons, to show them as examples and to get them to stick no matter what she had to do. For the years to come we would recite her lessons to each other trying to mimic her tone and remember the way she would say it.
“You know that big yellow thing with all those windows? That is a school bus!” my mom was putter her feet up to rest and taking a long sip from her diet coke. “This right here is the cure for everything” she would say under her breath as she stared at her iced drink. “That big yellow bus, it takes you to a building with all the other hooligans your age….no, not the fashion show. School. Remember, it’s the building you go to where you get an education. Your father and I put a lot of money towards yours schools so you better show up with a sharpened pencil ready to learn this year….”
My sister and I were sitting so close (on the couch meant for six) that our knees were over lapping. We started laughing so hard we had to catch each other from tumbling off our seat. Now, whether or not we sat that way for comfort or protection in this situation may be safer not to be noted. We were laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe and we were whipping the tears from our eyes.
”Are you even listening to me?… That is it, from now on any time you girls try to have a conversation with me, I don’t care how important, I am going to burry my nose into my phone and start texting the way you do.”
Then with a change of tone and a loving touch to my hand she leaned forward, amazed at the speed we were texting she softly said, “can you show me how to text like that… wait, no don’t distract me I am trying to share something with you that you can carry for the rest of your lives.”
Sissy looked at me, I smirked, and the uncontrollable laughter rolled on. I began in a sassy tone “What a school bus looks like? Or that school isn’t a fashion show and we should try and learn something?” I was crossing a line giving her an attitude but her response was a loving and understanding of my playful intentions.
“You know what little pipsqueak” she couldn’t even finish the first sentence without interruptions of giggling, “I don’t know what I am trying to say, but I know it’s good for your soul, I just don’t have a name for it yet.”
Our restless minds found comfort in her voice and direction, we replaced our phones to the coffee table and nestled back into the couch cushion we shared.
“This is a new chapter in your lives. Danielle you’re about to be a mother, and Paulina, Junior year in high school is a big deal. This is a new season in our lives with God leading the way and his grace providing us our home. Let God lead your life and trust him. Girls prayer is key here unless you want to make God laugh tell Him the plan you have for your own life.” Lessons from love proceeded to pour, she explained this was cheaper than therapy and we must listen, we have no excuse to miss school, only if we were deaf dumb and blind then that might be acceptable. We were instructed not to complain that we didn’t have friends or didn’t like the ones we already met. If we feel that way, go find the one kid everyone picks on or the one who sits alone at lunch and be there friend. Stick up for the kids that are left our and share your brand new supplies with the students who used their lunch box from the previous year. Last but not least she expressed, “if you need help with homework remember to ask your father not me, but if you need help matching your clothing or picking out the right accessories then we can talk.” In our younger days when our parents were together she would look to my dad and acquire that he submit his wisdom, “do you have anything to add Tom?” We would laugh it was so typical he would respond slowly with something similar to give me a few days I need to think about it.
This time she stood alone concluding from her throne of wisdom that her princess’s must go forth seeking strength from the Lord. I couldn’t hold back the tears; I was resting my head on sissy’s belly to feel baby Rhianna kicking inside. She must have been spying on the conversation little legs were moving like crazy I was sure her dancing was a sign. I couldn’t wait for her to be born, none of us had the patience for this yet to be born bundle of love. Mom always had a way to move hearts with a radiating energy and simple but significant words. In these moments our precious mom had made us laugh, cry, smile, wonder, pray and feel a joining of our hearts.
She taught us how to organize, to do our best, to be honest and wise with decisions, to laugh at life when it hands us bad apples, how to enjoy good food, what to do when our sisters cry, creative ways to keep a baby from crying, the power of prayer, the strength in friendship and the worth of life. My sisters and I have always wanted to write a book or somehow document all the creative witty and playful things my mom used to say, this doesn’t even cover it. However I couldn’t help but write this down after hours of thinking and praying about my mom in my homesick state of emotions. For those of you who didn’t know my mother and can’t hear her voice in my writing, you may not laugh as hard as those who knew my mother and her character. Neither my words nor anyone else’s could paint the picture even close to similar of the extravagant woman she is. Nor can anyone’s words explain what happened in those moments of my mother’s “beginning of the year speech.”
My mind is spinning, as it chases my heavy heart around.
This soul only finds rest when you wrestle it to the ground.
I find myself through long distance discovery while you’re putting my broken heart through recovery
In all things unclear that I’m fighting for, I search just to feel you near.
This ancient pain is still involved and all I’m gasping for is a clean breath of air,
My prayer for hope is that when I let go you will dissolve the pain.
I am surrounded by illusions and there continues to be a fear that’s weighing heavy on my back.
This shadow that rides along wears down on strength and brings out the panic in me.
I’ve bottled it up so long and now that the dread is my release, what else do I know except it frees.
It’s the shadow on my back that brings fear so unfailing
What its helped me discover is continuing to be my soul unveiling
If I am still waiting on these steps when the wind doesn’t come clear,
I’ll still try to take deep breaths and filter out my fear.
Zero to Zen 