seeing the ugly idols

Bonnie asked us to share what we are learning about ourselves
at the same time Jennifer Dukes Lee is challenging us
to uncover and face our love idols then surrender them
during Lent and all the days that follow

it isn't easy to look at ugly
and particularly difficult
when the ugly is our own
fully rooted and thriving

I continue to discover how deep
my need to gain approval
of my heart, my thoughts
my words
when I look honestly
I see myself
leaning too hard on comments
virtual pats on the back
blog followers, social networking ego kisses

I think perhaps I write less than I could
or should, permitting fear
to block the flow

for if there is no output to be judged
I won't have to confront the possibility
that my words don't sing to the hearts of others
that my words have no weight, no power
no place to bear fruit

silly, that

for the words are not mine anyway
I have surrendered them
to Him, allowing Him to set the pace
the meter, message,
I am simply a pen
in His hand, the words
already pre-approved

I covet your prayers
as I take this time to soak in truth
allowing it to saturate my heart
silencing seductive lies
and together may we learn
how deep, how wide, how everlasting
is the love He lavishes freely upon us

And I ask him that with both feet planted firmly on love, you’ll be able to take in with all followers of Jesus the extravagant dimensions of Christ’s love. Reach out and experience the breadth! Test its length! Plumb the depths! Rise to the heights! Live full lives, full in the fullness of God. Ephesians 3:18 The Message




jamming with Bonnie
 

going home

been away
not long
but minutes stretch
to days
and my heart hungers for home
the maple leaf a magnetic pull
back to true north
cold, yes
but home
 

through the breaking

Authenticity, the journey to be

who ever I may be

at this moment

My mind as blank as

the screen, white before me

I have no words

as I begin

and yet in faith

begin I must

in fragmented lines

I listen, my poet's heart

willing to be willing

to scatter, shatter, open

raw and sharp

allowing what comes

to flow, to cleanse

like blood, fresh

I can not plan

or predict the shape

sharing what He allows

or commands

I follow and find my way

through the breaking

to find His words

in my voice

This is who I am

This is what I offer.

walking with the broken, redeemed beloved with Emily







jamming with Bonnie

 

mid-February morning

the sky is brilliant blue

sun looks strangely unfamiliar

there is is a sense of lightness

floating, something like relief

yet the long months of winter 

here are no where close 

to their time of ending

I will take what comfort

and ease I can and joy 

in the lengthening days

hanging out with the poets today

 

life blooms

Wilderness and desert will sing joyously,

    the badlands will celebrate and flower—

Like the crocus in spring, bursting into blossom,

    a symphony of song and color.

Isaiah 35:1-2 The Message

when all seems frozen

sleeping, near death

it is in the secret 

quiet place

that something fresh

waits to burst forth

in the quiet place with Sandy

and singing in the Sunday choir with Deidra

 

celebrate love

http://globaltableadventure.com/2012/02/09/recipe-sunrise-biscuits-mbatata/

celebrate love

the theme of my day

as I baked heart shaped sweet potato biscuits

representing Malawi known as

the warm heart of Africa

celebrate love

as I prepared a special dinner

as I took care dressing

as I smeared sweet fragrance behind my ears

celebrate love

as I chilled the wine

as I lit candles for the dinner table

celebrate love

as I met my man at the door

greeting him as always

after a hard days' work

I am full

to overflowing

stuffed and warm and blessed

I am most like my Lord

when I love

and I love 

yes, I love indeed

 

how do I love?

Valentines Day draws close.

A gift for my husband is hidden until tomorrow.

I will cook with extra attention.

Perhaps we will share a bottle of white zinfandel with dinner.

We will celebrate the one that God created out of two.

We will speak words of love.

What is this love?

For many schooled in literature or poetry

the words of Elizabeth Barrett Browning come to mind:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I can't get past this opening line.

How?  How do I love?

How do I love my husband

my family, my friends

how even do I love myself?

How do I participate in this most impossible and supernatural of acts?

How does a heart, once hard, terrified

shattered by pebbles, stones, boulders thrown

trust enough to risk?

How does such a heart

continue to crack, allowing light to spill in

and compassion to bleed out?

How does what was broken

still bend into the shape of love?

The questions swirl and rush

but a quiet voice trembles clear

louder than the noise.

Only because I Did.  

Only because I Will.

Only because I Am.

And in the freshening calm, I remember.

We, though, are going to love—love and be loved. 

First we were loved, now we love. 

He loved us first. 

John 4:19 The Message

 jamming with Bonnie





and at The Grove with Velvet Ashes

 

choices

More and more I have been reading the tales of those who live with the rumble and shouts of voices that grab their heart and mind with lie upon lie.  Words not of life, but condemnation, confusion and shame.

So I share below a snip of my novel-in-progress, Redeeming Silence.  
Learning to hear the One True Voice is the underlying theme.

“That was a big dinner” she thought “and I'm so full. But I still want to try to eat more of God.” She sank into the sofa and opened her bible, continuing to read where she had left off.

By their fruit you will know them. Grapes aren't gathered from thorns, or figs from thistles, are they? In the same way, every good tree produces good fruit, but a rotten tree produces bad fruit. A good tree cannot produce bad fruit, and a rotten tree cannot produce good fruit. Matthew 7:16-18

“You know what kind of tree you are” the voices sneered.

“Are you going to listen to them?” asked the calm One.

“No, I am not” thought Jessie. “Help me to not hear them.”

“Choose to not listen. Choose.”

“Okay” Jessie whispered aloud. “I only want to listen to you.”  She closed her eyes and breathing deeply, drifted.

She was in surrounded by trees. Everywhere she looked she saw lush green leaves and more types of fruit than she had ever seen before in one place. There were apples of every colour, peaches, pears and every sort of citrus fruit. She wandered from tree to tree and noticed that there was not a single blemish or spot on any of the fruits. Each one looked perfect. She couldn't resist tasting them, and found each rich and sweet, totally ripe and ready to eat. The juices dribbled down her chin.

The sound of a car starting in the street below woke her. She laughed when she realized she had been drooling. Not juice, just a dream, a very nice, bright dream.

“Thank you God” she said as she rose to prepare for bed. “Thank you for showing me the good trees and not the rotten trees.”

“You can choose what you want to see” she thought she heard Him answer.

“Choices?” she smiled. “I never thought I had any choices. Might take some getting used to.”



walking with Emily and the imperfect but beloved
 

lace and glory

this season of

the shortest days

the velvet dark deeper 

than memory 

recalls

a hole that pulls you in

fingers harsh, cold

muffled but not

silent

don't linger long

for there are gifts barely 

hidden

how He scatters snow 

like lace, the thick

and thin

creating space

for glory revealed

without apology

prompted by tweetspeak poetry

and hanging out at the pub
 

are you standing firm?

The smooth tricks of scoundrels are evil.

    They plot crooked schemes.

They lie to convict the poor,

    even when the cause of the poor is just.

But generous people plan to do what is generous,

    and they stand firm in their generosity.

Isaiah 32:7-8 NL

I am choosing to stand firm.

In what ways is the Lord asking you to do the same?

Have you followed the Compassion Bloggers?

The World Help Bloggers?

Do you feel called to go?

Or perhaps you're called to send?

Do you want to know more about the work Rick & I plan to do in Malawi?

Ask me!

singing in the Sunday chorus with Deidra

 

centre of the waltz

So the darkness shall be the light, 

and the stillness the dancing.

T. S. Eliot

in the quiet place

of abiding

I can find myself

held fast in His embrace

in the centre of 

the waltz

 

seeking the still place with Sandy

 

room for tears

This week Diana asks:

Is there room for my tears here? 

my younger self

was never known to cry

perhaps it was scolded out of me

having too often heard

"I'll give you something to cry about"

but my God gave me tears

when I surrendered to Him

my harsh and stoney heart

now I am known

as a woman who weeps

long and deep tears 

born of joy, pain, awe 

and intercession

the tears returned as a gift

to the Giver

the One Who fills

what I empty

I will not return

to the woman I was

no I would not

even if I could

so I answer 

a slightly angled version 

of Diana's question

there is no room here 

for the absence of tears

living into answers with Diana

 

when I ask

when I am silent and still

when I open myself enough to ask

He speaks

He does not leave me starving for His Word

I open my journal, reminded of my place

and His

In the storms and in the calm spaces

I Am

do not forget your need of Me

When you are tossed, rattled, you cry out

knowing where salvation waits

but like the Israelites

when the sailing is smooth and straight

you again begin to trust your own abilities

You are what you are

you are how you are

you are who you are

because I Am

I hold the wind, the sun, the stars

all things in My hand

the planets turn at My design

How much more do I care for you

created in My image, for My company 

and pleasure?

Just as day follows night follows day

My ways are structured and sure.

When you can not see the pattern

you must still trust it is there

broken but beloved with Emily




and jamming with Bonnie




 

sharp edges

cold leaves me

brittle, too close 

to the edge of 

breaking, when what I

seek is unity

wholeness, to be 

a welcoming place

not these fractures

splintered, sharp to the

touch, come near and 

you leave bleeding

if I claim

innocence, lack of

foul intent, the flow

of pain continues

unhindered, hot

and raw

so let me own this

and ask you now

for grace, forgiveness

patience, that you wait

with me for warmer days

hanging out at the pub with the poets
 

wise words

In my time of quiet, I felt urged to open my ears and let sound in.  

So much wisdom here.  And joy!

These are my favourite lines - but do listen to the whole of it!

Try this, take a breath. 

Isn't that amazing? 

It’s called breathing! 

You’re going to do it a lot. 

But nobody knows exactly how much. 

So enjoy it.

Pay attention. 

Take brain pictures, 

because amazing things will happen every day. 

You're going to do so much. 

But it’s not about what you do. 

It’s about who you are.

in the quiet with Sandy