beauty-ache

i want

to be awake in the chai

to swim   hot and sweet

and      kiss cardamom

wander the breadth of deep milky waters,

steep my soul

drown

and come out alive.

worship

aware

    of beauty

and how it leads to longing

the one slow exotic sip

brings glory     and ache

for what is not yet.

what has only been imagined

    glimpsed

rich                 and lovely

and fully sating.

hope unhidden

to write beauty and

poetry sweeping unsilent across white space.          

                          space.

gorge of white, waiting for meaning poured into crevice,

branches dangling for the climb to what is.

with the wind and the wings to dive into canyon

and

pray

and come out more alive again.

pouring, dancing the ink,

underlining what is there, what is seen,

what was previously discovered or undiscovered.

uncovered.

naked words a vision of vulnerable want

and doubt and pulsing delight.

the deepest of wells, life-giving water, drawing for the thirsty.

because there is hope.  

in may, the art journaler community took flight together

nest

space

created

    purposeful

repurposed

   strands

found, gathered

woven

shimmering

ein gedi

cradled

         gently

fragile shell deserted

fragile bones under sopping feathers

waiting for time

   gaining courage

     nurturing dreams

     of flight

we're taking flight over at the art journaler this month; linking up with other winged lovelies.

where's jamey?

yesterday, i took a long nap. and when i awoke, i had been dreaming. this dream was also a movie i was watching. (this is very common in my dreams… does anyone else have cinematic dreams?). it was about a little family. the scenes i remember are: the dad is taking the two little boys, the older maybe four years old, the younger a one-year-old in a rear-facing carseat, on a short roadtrip. they are going to meet up with mommy. they make a pit stop and are running wild in a beautiful golden light-filled field, playing together, letting the dogs stretch their legs. then, they pack up and head off for the last leg of their trip. the camera pans out and then zooms in on the empty 4-year-old’s carseat. and the little gray curly-haired dog runs off into the field toward the boy, who got left behind, out on his own adventure.

Where’s Jamey? is the film’s name in the dream (you may have noticed this is my name, at least it would be, had I been consulted on its spelling); and, still asleep, i think how unlikely the leaving behind was, and why would the camera zoom in on the empty carseat again when they got to their destination? The audience already knows the boy is missing – it should be focused on the adults’ faces as they see it…

i’m sure the rest of the movie would be parents and baby rushing back to where they last saw him, and him long gone, trekking, finding his way home, dog at his side… until credits roll. (really. sometimes my movie-dreams end with rolling credits. strange, but true.) 

so i awaken and tell my love this dream, and he asks: “are you feeling abandoned by someone?” sort of an obvious interpretation of this dream, but a nonetheless insightful question.

and yes.

well, i think it’s more a fear of being abandoned. i have these deep questionings and desires swirling around in my life and spirit, and i’m afraid if i voice them, i will be left alone. the real me, at least, if i were to be discovered.

maybe my thoughts will be discussed with affirmation or critique.

maybe my actions will be criticized or applauded.

but what about me, the person…will i be loved?

when i say i need to take a break, how will people respond?

and DOES IT EVEN MATTER?? 

it’s when i realize that it doesn’t that i feel most free to say what the Spirit is moving in my life. and i say THAT, and feel like a poser, as if i’ve spent hours on end in prayer and meditation and had some special revelatory word from the Lord. but this life gets lived in its moments, and my spirit intertwines with The Spirit moment-by-moment as i turn my face to the light. so. i am not a poser. i do not claim special revelation from God (this time). but this seems to be the journey i’m on, and he has been asking me to take courage and jump to the next step. i’ve never really taken many “leaps of faith”… i want it to all get figured out beforehand.

before I tell anyone.

before I tell you.

before you tell me exactly what you think. 

I’m thinking about taking a break from going to church. 

there – I said it.



in unrelated news: this morning when I woke, I was dreaming of a writing career. 

unpracticed

what is the gesture of a woman's hand covering her mouth?

what is the gesture of a woman's hand covering her mouth with eyes wide open?

-Terry Tempest Williams, When Women Were Birds

i haven't been speaking. i have been afraid, doubting. that my words don't matter. that i am wrong. that people {i love} will criticize, ostracize. that i should just forget it. that learning to write and make art and be present are selfish, and i have two babies and a man that need me. need my time and attention. and there isn't enough of it.

at least not if i want to get any sleep.

i cannot do what I want, because I am doing what i must. 

Must I forever walk away from what is real and true and hard? 

When it comes to words, rather than using our own voice, 

authentic and unpracticed, 

we steal someone else's to shield our fear. 

 (also from When Women Were Birds)

a superiorly ironic quote, yet it was what finally propelled me into acting. into sharing my writing again in this space. i think it was how she paired the adjectives "authentic and unpracticed". that sometimes the unpracticed can be the most authentic. i am taking this amazing, life-changing ecourse on story and its telling. and since the day it started, i have not composed a single blog post. (what i have posted in that time were prewritten poems or just my list of #dobravethings on saturdays) 

because the current state of my "voice" is: unsure. 

not just unsure of how to tell the story, but i still find myself in the throes of how to live the story.

and if i am so unsuccessful at stepping into freedom, leaning into the light, 

how can i believe i have anything to offer anyone? 

but maybe what needs to be offered is me. right now. on this blogspot altar. maybe me - in process and all - is where i am supposed to be. and where i am supposed to invite you into.

so come in. have your third cup of coffee with me, too much sugar and all, and let's talk.

do brave things saturday

this weeks braveries:

*penned an idea for a novel i want to write (eek!)

*stayed silent

*ranted

*sent my husband to a men's retreat for 4 days (one with no phones or internet and two boys with croup at home!)

*continued to engage in a relationship in conflict

*went to valu plus top valu market - the most stressful grocery store ever.

*shared a vulnerable idea

*dreamed a whole bunch

*housed backyarded a stray dog and searched for its owner (when my normal course of action would have been to let it fend for itself in the dark streets - heartless, i know... i may have been forced into this by my bleeding-animal-heart sister... but i still feel brave, feeding him meat scraps and all while jason is gone on his trip), even trying to take two boys out walking with him during a break in the rain yesterday... we made it halfway down the street before i realized the impossibility of the task sans sidewalks or the double stroller, which was soaked... and it started hailing as soon as we got back into the house. c'est la vie.

*put myself out there, risking rejection and loss

*jumped in mud puddles

*bought a writing desk (feels like it makes this "writer" stuff real... scary to say) and allowed it to decorate itself (seriously. these pieces all just flew here in the span of 5 minutes) in the temporary space we put it...

i know jess is speaking bravely this week... anyone else? braveries?

the vision

Her hair is thin, mostly gone now

I gaze at her in search of hope

Of a moment’s breath that might open

Eyes and heart to heaven

Sitting in the recliner matching hers

Suddenly I see her for the first time

The way he sees her, loves her

It seems actual light has fallen on her.

The way he longs to hold his little girl

Tuck that one long strand behind her ear

Spend every moment with her

Be with her forever

Be with her forever

linking up with emily today

#dobravethings saturday

this week, i:

*started an ecourse on story and writing (and told my story & wrote ;)

*made goals (yikes!)

*went to see a movie by myself (on purpose - i wanted to experience it, just me & God - i am so prone to worrying about how other people are experiencing something that i sabotage my own experience)

*went to the doctor

*cut and dyed my hair - i am no longer a blonde, for the first time in my life!

*posted this

*believed God

*skyped

*risked giving the heart-answer over the expected answer

what brave things are YOU doing?

shame uninvited

little girl, don’t you see?

that bully can’t hurt you;

you needn’t hide

she forced you, threatened you

but you are still lovely

so lovely

don’t make shame your friend

that dirty feeling is a lie

you are as free as you ever were

to run through open fields

full of light-flare and insects buzzing

and jesus

waking to quantum leap and alone in your misery

on the car ride home

you see your reflection for the first time

and look away to avoid seeing for fear

that she’ll tell. that you’ll tell

or remember

but you don’t have to live in those walls

those ones you built because you were too young to know any other way

rip them down, brick by brick

your hands will certainly bleed

but it will be worth it for the glory of the other side

you’ll see

my husband pointed out that this makes it sound like i experienced some sexual abuse. while this is not the case for me, it is part of all too many little girls' stories, and i believe some of the same emotions and changes in identity occur at its hands. let's all uninvite shame wherever it has made its home within us.

#dobravethings saturday

i've been enjoying my last week as a blonde for a while...
and i also:

*painted my nails minty seafoamy green with polish i didn't steal ;)

*laughed at myself

*signed up for elora's ecourse

*helped edit a book

*began a weeklong fast from "social media on my phone" in order to be more present with real life (oh, instagram, i miss you so)

*made my own chicken broth  (people. you have to touch bones to do this. it's brave. ;)

*accepted an invitation

*asked a hard question

*ran out the door to an impromptu dinner with friends - without makeup

*embraced my inner dragon-slayer

we were out at panera when i decided to do a little art-journaling... using a broken pencil from jason's bag, a pen i found in one of my books, and then nail polish, since i didn't have any other paint - it was perfect for "blue-green dragon" scales :)

shoplifting and other exemplary behaviors

i stole something tonight. 

(don't worry, that's not the brave part - i know some of you were a little concerned when "cursed" was on my last list of brave accomplishments - i'm not that far gone ;) 

a little two-dollar-and-sixty-nine-cents bottle of minty green nail polish goodness. 

i had picked it out as a reward for myself for waiting in line to return stuff that's been sitting in my car since november. 

getting it was premeditated -

i dreamed of it as i waited in the line that took much longer than it should've since a woman was explaining to anyone who would listen why she didn't have a receipt - i only overheard part, but it involved her mother dying unexpectedly. my heart ached for her in her need to share her brokenness with complete strangers, even as i completed the task at hand... 

but stealing it was a complete accident. 

as i was unloading my (legitimately bought) groceries into my car, i saw it. 

resting on two bars where joey would usually sit 

(i got to go out without the boys - and all the mothers joined me in a hallelujah?!), 

it waited patiently for me to notice it. not until the celery and sunflower seeds, bananas and bubble mailers were completely loaded, and i was driving away did my heart realize

i'd left it in the cart all the way through the checkout line.

now. ten years ago, i would have turned and marched that polish right back inside and paid for it. because it was the right thing to do.

tonight, i wrestled even as i continued to drive through the parking lot and all the way up beach boulevard to my turn.

 i thought through it all: it was only two bucks. no one will know, no one will miss it... how much could it affect their revenue anyways? but...what ripples might be spreading as far back as the workers who put it together who-knows-where? what about my boys... i want to teach them right... 

{which reminded me of an incident that took place at dinner tonight. joey jumped up from the table, left the room, and we heard a flush just before his return, announcing "i peed!", which we know is code for "i didn't wash my hands afterwards". he's been having a hard time with that part of the process lately, protesting resolutely until the worst is threatened and he succumbs. so we told him to go wash them. to which he replied, "but i want to do it like you, mommy!" meaning, of course, not consistently washing my hands afterwards. uhhh... i mean, i always do. every time. my sister, husband, and i laughed belly laughs with tears, while he looked on, curious what could have caused such an uproar.

but there it is right there. they watch. all day, and even in the middle of the night when he stirs as i go to the bathroom after feeding the baby, he hears and takes note. no wonder it's been so hard for him to do lately! he doesn't have a good role model.} 

so all that flashed through my mind as i considered what to do about the nail polish.

and then, this whisper: 

go back. pay for it. but NOT out of guilt. NOT because it's "the rule". 

but because it's the best thing for your heart. 

the healthiest thing. 

truth in the innermost being. 

that is how to thrive, how to live the truly abundant life.

and i listened to spirit-movements in me and went back in complete freedom and joy. that he has done so much in my heart these past years that i am not just a conditioned legalist-robot "do - the - right - thing" (said in an 80s robot voice, complete with awkward arm motions - superbook club? anyone with me??), 

but that he has truly been transforming me. my desires, my ability to hear his voice, even my impulses are slowly being made whole and like his own heart's as i draw near. 

so grateful.

and you should've seen the look on the same employee's face that rang me up the first time, as i waited patiently behind a family that spent $342.84 to buy my two-dollar bottle of nail polish. 

she eyed me curiously as i explained, and thanked me for coming back. 

oh, no worries - it was the right thing to do, and i'm really good at behavior self-modification. 

uh, nope.

more like: my redeemer lives and is truly transforming my heart from stone to flesh.

 and it took a silly little bottle of nail polish for me to see. 

if i could do anything: my life-vision {which becomes brave as it gets feet and hands and wings put to it}

if i could do anything.

i’d write poetry and sing to the hearts of broken women.

dancing where my words and the melody of my life touch yours.

opening something that was closed.

touching to heal something that was broken.

freeing what was held captive.

drawing on his life, I long to breathe life.

speaking light in dark places.

painting beauty for ashes.

my uniquely designed life-flesh set to music and nearness.

i penned that vision tonight, thinking these were new things that i was just realizing i desired...
then i looked back at this journal page from a couple weeks ago and saw an echo of almost everything in it...
and THEN... echoes of the prophet isaiah as he foreshadows the deliverer
(jesus claims this as his life-vision-purpose)

the spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor;
he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives
and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor,
and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all who mourn;
to grant those who mourn in zion --
to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the Lord
that he may be glorified.
isaiah 61:1-3

this is my desire, and #iaccept my desires.

this art journal page spread was created based on prompts from the art journaler community <3

linking up with emily

my brave friends

my dear friend jessica talked about jesus and bared her heart thursday morning. she poured herself out as a liquid love offering to his heart for our sake. it was beautiful (and so was her power point with all its damask and artfulnesses) and brave. it got me to thinking about other women i know (or know of) that have bravely written or spoken or loved.

as i began to make a mental list, immediately prudy and elora came to mind. they are new online acquaintances of mine, and i have enjoyed getting to know them via instagram, a facebook art journaling community, and their respective blogs (and a skype story-coaching session with elora)... they write, and it's good, and they are warrioresses who fight back darkness with the light.

prudy got on a plane to moldova yesterday, to work with girls rescued out of human trafficking. she is going to be loving on these girls, and even doing an art journal workshop with them! i can't wait to see what comes out of her time there.

i thought elora was brave when i saw her blogging and story-coaching and healing in her own life and offering that light to others, and initiating an ecourse after publishing her first book this year. but then i read her book. oh. em. gee. you have to read it. it's called come alive, and it's about the evil of human trafficking and the truth of rescue. i read most of it in one sitting, largely because i didn't want to be left with the more disturbing scenes, where she paints a realistic picture of the underbelly of humanity... (going to bed husbandless as he is out camping, my fears have their way with me more often... especially given fodder of just how dark the world can look - before the light enters! and oh, he does...) but also being captivated by the story and the internal world of the characters, resonating deeply. read. it.

do you notice a theme here? i did. and remembered last week's post by emily. and the book i read over the summer that forced me to stop long enough to remember that my choices impact this world, for good or evil (eg. buying fair trade, instead of continuing the demand for enslaved workers and trafficking), and i went to the author's blog today, and what is her last post titled, but "brave moms raise brave kids"
and erika's fist bump to the freeing of enslaved workers in india while writing about loving and justice in a world rife with hellishness... and my friend kelsey, who is one of the top experts on sex trafficking in australia (and elsewhere). she has been in the trenches, folks. working to free women in every way possible these last years. she has opened my eyes to much, and she has been a light.

i finished reading elora's book around midnight, and had to write now because i can't seem to extinguish this fire in my bones. a passion for justice. for the unloved to know their belovedness. for healing and light and truth in the innermost being. here. there. here...

#dobravethings saturday

this week i:

*asked for help

*spoke hard truth

*bought a brave-inspired bracelet on etsy

*exercised

*let jason go camping in the desert with the guys after this week

*gave a good long hug (touch is my "love language" and i'm always afraid people will not want to receive in the way i want to give. to hell with that kind of thinking - if it's awkward, so what?! you're getting hugged!)

*cursed

*encouraged somebody

*linked up for imperfect prose

*volunteered to write a guest post

*wrote a book review

*prayed

*danced with my husband

*announced my weight-loss goal on instagram (fitting into my wedding ring ;)

some of my friends have started telling me their braveries, and they. are. so. brave.

 tell me about yours...?