broken

Bonnie asked us to write prompted by the word brokenness.
Here is another slice from my novel-in-progress --

Her mind was a fertile breeding ground for the voices of shame.  With no positive words to contradict them the voices grew, stronger, louder and more convincing.  They were the truth to Linda, the only truth she knew. 

By the time Linda was sixteen she had stopped going to school.  She followed a boy six years older than her to another city.  He treated her roughly, but that felt familiar, and at least he gave her a place to live.  She did whatever he asked of her, paid the price for her imperfections and swallowed the pain with the alcohol he had taught her to drink. 

When he grew tired of her, he passed her on to a friend who treated her just as badly.  She never questioned the abuse convinced it was what she deserved, all she had ever deserved. 

She didn't expect her baby son to love her, or the daughter she birthed four years later.  She didn't expect anything but trouble and trouble always found her.  On her twenty first birthday, with a four year old and an infant she drank herself to sleep after their father walked out for the last time. 

The voices sang a familiar song.  “No one will ever really care for you because you’ll never be good enough to care about.”  Linda believed them, of course.  Theirs was the only song she knew.  They were the songs she sang to her children like an inside out lullaby. 

Linda was broken and alone with both her heart and her body covered with scars.  Going home wasn't an option.  She had closed the door on that pain and couldn't imagine opening it again.  Her children were hungry, the rent would come due soon and she never learned how to do anything that someone would want to pay her for. 

She left the kids home alone at night, asking a neighbor to look in on them if she heard noises. She went to the bars down the street, offering herself to anyone who would buy her a drink, taking them back to her place as payment of sorts.  She thought herself lucky when one of them would choose to hang around for a month, or two. Some stayed longer, but she never expected that.  If they paid the bills she was willing to absorb whatever blows inevitably accompanied the favors.   

Linda was too hurt and too lost to think about what harm living that way was inflicting on her son and daughter.  She was in survival mode, doing whatever she thought she must.  Just like her own mother.  Just like always.  Day followed day, week after week, and the years piled up one after the other.

Brokenness. Shame. Pain.  All these abound in the lives of my main characters, just as they do in our own lives. But...

The is a God Who loves beyond measure.
The people in my novel learn that.
They teach each other truth as they learn it.
Just as we need to love and teach and encourage each other.
We are His.
Shaped in His image.
Givers of light and love and life.



jamming with Bonnie

 

no comparison

Jesus carried the instrument 

of His own destruction

weary beneath the weight

already bloody, beaten

willing to be willing

to bend to the will

of His Father

our Father

and I am asked

to carry my cross

yet what weight

is there that He did not

already bear

only what I allow

when I refuse to live 

in Him

through Him

for Him

so I pray

to be willing

to be willing

to bend to His will

it is surrender then 

that is my cross

weighing nothing

and everything

the only cost

my life entire

and even then

I can't compare

the price

to the gift

freely given

already received

it is thanksgiving then

that is my cross

may I carry it

with praise

jamming with Bonnie

 

wounded wounding

For today's Faith Jam Bonnie gave us the writing prompt wounded.  I am sharing a clip from my novel in progress. Here Jessie discovers that the wounded create more wounds.

Jessie closed her eyes and found herself walking down crowded city streets.  People looked straight ahead, not to the left or to the right, ignoring those beside them.  Often they would bump into each other or step on someone's feet.  Sometimes when people got hit, bumped or stepped on they tripped and fell, banging into more people before they hit the ground.  Those who created the original problem did not even seem to notice.  The pace on the streets quickened.  Everyone had somewhere to go.  Jessie tried to slow down or stop but was moved along by those surrounding her.

She walked the streets for what felt like days.  There were bruises on her arms from bodies pushing, shoving or falling into her.  Her legs were covered with cuts and scrapes.  People yelled and people cried.  There was a constant falling and rising, to stop would leave one even more vulnerable, an open target, ready to be trampled unnoticed.

Jessie's feet were burning with pains that shoot through with every step. In the crush of bodies it seemed like all space was occupied.  She managed to walk fast enough to find a tiny clearing of space around her so that she could look down and see lower than the waists of other people.  When she looked, she saw the sidewalk running with blood.  Her feet were bleeding, the feet around her were bleeding.  Hurt was everywhere like a river and all of them continued moving, swept into  the pain, downstream, not able to change direction.

Those that were the most damaged fell more often, and as they did, the ones around them received more injuries as well until there was no one on the street that was free from damage.  Broken and breaking the parade continued on.

Jessie shook herself awake, reaching to rub one of her feet before she realized it didn't really hurt.

“How many people did I hurt?” she thought about the dream.  “Every time I stumbled, every time I fell someone else was harmed.  Could I have stopped it?  If I would have just given up and stayed on the ground?  But then I would have been an obstacle for them to trip over and they would have fallen too.”

Jessie spoke aloud “How do we stop?” and then fell asleep again.

There was a man with a dagger like knife in his hand, lifting his arm, about to plunge the blade into the back of a person standing in front of him.  Behind him was another man with a dagger trying to stop him, and behind him another, and another, and another.  A loud voice shouted “STOP” and all who heard it froze.  Yet the one at the back of the line was too far away to hear.  He plunged his knife into the one before him.  As the stabbed one fell, his knife went into the one standing before him, and on and on and on like dominoes they fell.  The one at the back of the line who hadn't heard the call to stop was the only one left standing and listened to the moans of pain echoing back.  “This isn't what I meant to do” he cried, over and over again.  “This isn't what I meant at all.”

Jessie woke again.  She thought the two dreams were connected and was afraid to have another, so she rose quickly and walked around the apartment to fully wake herself.  She thought again about her mother.  She picked up her pen again.

You were hurt and so you hurt me
Did you ever even know
or were you caught up in the flow?
When I thought you didn't care
could you even see me there?
Did you ever try to stop
or did you never hear the shout
that might have saved us all.
Is it better to be the last one standing
or the first to fall?
Everyone that walks in pain
hurt and hurting, again and again
There has to be a way out
a way that we can see or hear
do we really have to share the pain
with all who would come near?

“So you are beginning to see” quietly came The Voice.  “You are letting me show you many things.”

“These things are hard to see” thought Jessie in reply.

“Will you continue to look?  If I ask?”




jamming with Bonnie

 

anchored

My prayer has long been

Lord help me be willing to be willing

to go when You say go

and I believe that pleases Him

but He reminds me

will you also be willing to stay

when I say stay?

I tune my ears to the Spirit

wanting the voice of my Shepherd

to ring louder

than any other

before sleep the other night

I saw a large metal anchor

I sensed God telling me to set my anchor in Him

if I set it in the ground, I am fixed in place

anchored in Him I can move where He moves

so this morning, pen in hand

I asked Him if He had more to share

Grounded in Me isn't static

but it is stable

the safest place

there is more freedom

more joy, more peace

When I move, you follow

and I remain your base of support

Yes, drop your anchor here

from your heart to Mine

What comfort this brings me

to know that even as I go, I can stay

in Him, and He in me

jamming with Bonnie

 

remembering a time before Him

Today, in the midst of planning and preparations for the mission field, I find myself remembering the time just months before I opened my eyes to see the Lord I never knew.

When you have nothing to believe in, life does not have a center.  All things are possible yet all things are meaningless. This is the void where I lived, in so deep I didn't even notice. My days as a personal trainer were filled with fitness clients, most of whom I saw in their homes. My evenings were scheduled full with exercise classes that I either taught or enjoyed as a participant. Nights were occupied with my true addiction, sexual affirmation.  All were gift wrapped in the smoke of three packs of menthol cigarettes a day.

“Life is good” I would tell my friends, “I'm having the time of my life.” I relished the feel of my body; lean and fit and sensitive to the slightest touch of a man's hand. If something did manage to creep in to upset me or cause me to feel anything unpleasant, I would run to the arms of a stranger, or the bed of a recreational friend. The overload of physical sensation would numb my emotions. It was a routine I had followed for so long it had worn deep grooves in my thought patterns, like a ball in a maze that always ran the same paths. Of course I seemed to feel good, for I was always in the process of taking the edges off my feelings.

I began to read books about living for the moment. “Be here now” was a motto that seem to fit my life. This sort of quasi Zen Buddhist philosophy became very attractive to me, someone who could hardly think past the end of the day. Being aware of each moment as I lived it seemed like something I could do.

I controlled my food intake. I controlled my clients exercise plans. I controlled my heart rate during  aerobic workouts. I controlled how close to me I would allow someone to come. I never consciously thought about how much I wanted to give up that control.

In God's perfect timing, He reached out in a way that captured me, and I relinquished the control I had fought so hard to maintain.  The days, months and years since have been a journey of surrender.

The life that awaits me is built around listening to and obeying His plans, trusting that He knows each curve in the road.  I pray that in my submission He will be glorified. 

jamming with Bonnie


 

journey

closer, ever closer

to the heart of God

this is where I journey

during these days of awe

these days of His sacrifice

with every breath He drew

He knew what lay ahead

and He knows still

for you, for me

for those He calls His own

He knows where we will step

and where we will fall

holds out a helping hand

to right us again

but we have to reach back

how often are we too proud

or too ashamed

to ask for and receive 

that assistance so freely given?

pride and shame

two sides of the same coin

that I have flipped, over and over 

for far too long

and I am weary of the weight

of carrying this idol

that turns my eyes away from

all I truly want to see

leading me to walk alone

in the illusion of my own strength

enough, my heart declares

enough, my spirit cries on its knees

allowing true repentance to fall

blending bitter into tears

strip me

let nothing come before You

as I journey to Your cross

that I may be forever Yours

when I behold the empty grave

Love God, your God, 

with your whole heart: 

love him with all that’s in you, 

love him with all you've got!

Deuteronomy 6:5 The Message

jamming with Bonnie

 

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
 

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

 

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

 

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




 

heart journey

This week Bonnie asked:

How has God been touching your heart this month? Share what you see.

I have been dwelling close to the fire

letting His life spark, flame and melt away the chains

the heart of flesh He created is learning

to beat in tune with His

and ache for those things that move Him

injustice, homelessness, lack

blogger friends have been telling the tales

writing from Africa

the continent that claimed me

as soon as the red soil settled on my skin

it was then that this journey began

the prayers, the waiting

and now the call to prepare, to leave 

the Canadian prairies I now call home

to return to Africa with His heart

and the feet He gave me

to share His story, His love, His truth

and as I go, continue to learn what it means

to abide, beneath the shelter of His wings

jamming with Bonnie
 

beautiful things

I see beauty fresh

wild

perfect in imperfection

 uniquely designed

by the hand 

of a Master

 intricate

impossibly fragile

yet strong

delicate depth 

to get lost in

silent space

to be still

and know

 Let be and be still, 

and know (recognize and understand) 

that I am God. 

I will be exalted among the nations! 

I will be exalted in the earth!

Psalm 46:10 NIV

jamming with Bonnie about beauty

 

beloved

Relax, My beloved

cease striving

I can not count how many times 

His voice has whispered

to my quivering ears

you are Mine

it is time to believe it

I chose you, case closed

you were the joy set before Me

the reason I could suffer the nails

it is time to believe it

breathe it

live it, give it away

love as I have loved

You didn’t choose me, remember; I chose you, and put you in the world to bear fruit, fruit that won’t spoil. John 15:16a The Message

fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
Hebrews 12:2 NIV



jamming with Bonnie about beloved