Emotionally Inclined

     So. I have a confession to make. I want someone to ask me out. I want a guy in my life who's more than a friend. I want to be on cloud nine all over again. I'm a die hard romantic. I love being swept off my feet, going dancing, coming up with cute silly things to say, do, buy just for "my man" and being treated like a princess. I...kind of? sort of?..."have my eye" on a couple of guys I'm slowly getting to know. I've flirted. I've hinted. Grrr, I've even offered to spend time with one of them (just short of asking him out) and tried to get the other to open up to me. Basically, all the tricks. Except one. Asking either of them out. I have yet to be brave enough to cross that line simply because I'm afraid of both of them being the "traditional" type who wants to do the asking. That and I think one of them has a girlfriend (not sure on that one though because he had never mentioned a girlfriend before and it was kind of a passing joke rather than a statement about a current girlfriend but I may be wrong and he actually has a girlfriend aaaaaand I think I'm over thinking it. Gaaaaah!).
     Am I afraid of being rejected? Yes and no. I'm also in need of friends. Especially in the guy department. Bros I can just hang out with and not get romantically involved. And I worry that if I do get bold enough to do the asking that it would scare a guy away from even being friends. I don't want that. I don't want to ruin the potential of a future awesome friendship for the chance of the possibility of the maybe having a relationship later.
     See what I mean? I'm frustrated with myself. I've done "all the right stuff" and at the same time tried to prove that I also want to be friends. I'm the queen of mixed signals. Stuck going around and around, wondering this, hoping that, never really knowing for certain. Instead of trusting my gut with what I see in front of me I end up analyzing every little detail of every interaction and double guessing myself at every turn.
     I am inclined to dream, to hope, to believe. I am also inclined to fear, to worry, to doubt. I am inclined to trust, to accept, to welcome. I am also inclined to analyze, to question, to be cautious. Being human, I am emotionally inclined. It's my nature. And yet I cannot trust my emotions. They are far too dangerous. And at the same time, it has been my analytical logical side that has gotten me in more emotional trouble than my own emotions.
     I long to share my joy, my enjoyment of discovery and love of life. I want to share my passions and my gifts. But at a price that each who gets to know me, friend or relationship, must weigh for themselves and decide whether I am worth trusting, loving, keeping around. All must evaluate the sides of me that are incapable of serving others. All who see past the spunky smiling me that I show everyone must choose whether or not what they see is worth it. It is easy for people to love me for who I am - my joy, my serving attitude, my giving nature. It is hard for people to love me despite of who I am - my neediness, my emotional weaknesses, my wandering eyes.
     Time and again I have been rejected because of my flaws and blamed for other people's problems. That's why I'm so nervous to make the first move. I don't want to gain again, only to lose again. I want the guarantee that I can have that best friend who won't walk away from me. Whether he chooses me as his girl or ends up married to someone else but still stays great friends with me. As long as there is someone I can rely on. That's what I want in the end. There are people rely on me that I hope understand that I am imperfect but trust me still the same. Why can't I have someone that I can rely upon the same way?

Insecure

     December 1, 2015. I cut my hair off. All that's left is inch-long hair to cover my small female head. Why did I do it?
     Well, I had a good long length going and a while back I had decided that when it was long enough I would have it cut to donate (lookup Wigs for Kids if you're curious about that). For two reasons.
     The first being I hated having to take care of and style my hair all the time and dealing with tangles and static and all that jazz. Sure I also loved my hair. It had a delightful natural wave and highlights of which many girls were jealous. So I figured, I don't want it any more so why not give it to someone in need of hair?
     The other reason that during the time my hair was growing in from a previous (though not as drastic) cut, the man that I was engaged to left me and I had to learn from the pain of loss and the emotional turmoil of rejection after acceptance. I had to grow again, to figure out who I was seeing as how I had gotten lost in the relationship. Before I had become so wrapped up in me serving him and not serving alongside him. While the hair grew I had become someone new. I had been stabbed with a shard of ice and left to find my own way. But the Consuming Fire held me, let me cry and scream away the pain, then picked me back up to stand again.
     I don't think many would describe me as fearful. But for the longest time I was extremely insecure. I learned to hide it with a spunky, playful, helpful outward personality. I play the slightly naive, eager to please young woman. I smile, laugh, and make friends easily. Few do I actually let see my negatives: my moments of fear, worry, anger, sorrow. I still feel insecure from time to time and keep it hidden away, trusting little, even of myself. And I justified it with telling myself that those not-so-enjoyed-socially parts of my personality were best kept hidden because I could serve people best with optimistic extrovert me and not the reflective introspective me. But I struggled because both are me. Both need to surface. Both need to see the sun from time to time. Yet I forced part of me to the shadows where none save God alone could touch it.
     Yes, I was insecure. I still am from time to time. But not nearly as much anymore. God changed me, made me stronger. He reassured me that He still loves me even if everyone who matters to me who lead me to believe that I matter to them were to cut me down, cut me off, walk away, betray me. He would still be there for me. Even in the moments I feel so desperately alone and insecure that those I'm beginning to trust may or may not continue to be kind to me.
     Yes. When I cut my hair, it was a symbol of freedom. It is a daily reminder that I should not be afraid. That I CAN  cut away my personal barriers and force myself to step out and hold my head high and my hand out regardless of the outcome. I cannot hide my face behind my hair. I must not hide myself away from the world. God is my creator. He put me in this world for a reason. He made me beautiful and gave me gifts to serve others with. Rejection and betrayal have and will happen. But I am not afraid to drop my shield if that means someone else will and can be truly blessed by our connection. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, God is with me (Psalm 23:4). He is and always will be my strength to endure the pain that some will inflict on me out of hatred or even their own insecurity.
     My head is "vulnerable" now. You can see every angle. Every curve of my skull under what little hair I have left from the cutting (my hair has only been so short once before - when I was a tiny baby). Here I am. This is me. My new appearance says. And so I am as well. I present myself - a vulnerable, flawed human being. A child of God holding out the Light to all. Living a life that seeks after Him. I'm wearing it on my skin, on my head now. See me. See Him in me.
     In God, I am secure.

Only Part Of Me

This is a story.

It starts with a rock.

I am a many-faceted stone. A lumpy rock...of sorts. Anywho, this is my way of stating metaphorically that there are many parts to my personality.

I don't fit in anywhere.

The front half (meaning several facets/aspects of my personality) is clean, cut, smooth, polished. This half is what the world sees, what I show to everyone.

The sides of my personality that everyone sees are good: spunky, friendly, happy, giving, helpful. I laugh, I dance, I listen to people when they need to vent or want to talk about the trivial things. I offer advice when asked. I give. I lavish attention and assistance to friends and strangers alike. This is me. I have been called "a dear", "beautiful", "a gem."

But that is only part of me.

The other half lies in the dirt. The edges are sharp and the sides are rough.

Those sides are the "selfish" parts of me. I was trained to keep them away from others. Those who were strongest in my life were those who kept the "not so nice" parts of their personalities hidden away so that people would not see them.

Anger, resentment, loneliness, fear, worry, pain, loss.

I serve people best when I give an optimistic point of view. When I share happiness and joy. Even my penname Silver Line has the meaning of standing out bright against the darkness. (I've told the story of finding my name in one of my previous posts - don't remember which one at the moment.)

But the matter still remains that the "good side" is not all of me.

I keep it tucked away, hidden behind my better half.

I keep telling myself that it is better that way. Saying over and over "Caress the rose you will draw blood." I push people away with a wink and an embarrassed laugh though inside I am screaming for someone to see past my smile to the tears behind. I hold out my hand in the hopes that someone will take it but always have something in my hand for them to take instead and thus nullifying the action; "protecting" myself from being vulnerable yet again.

Time and again someone I trust walks away from me. They see my not-so-good sides and run. This has happened enough times that I have begun to distrust all and damage current and future relationships and friendships. Blaming myself and working all the harder to hide my sharp edges and thorns from the rest of humanity.

I smile and say I have moved on. But the truth is I cannot move on so long as I keep it all locked inside me and refuse to let it out. My healing is significantly slowed when I have few friends who I can rely on to listen to me and my selfish ranting and theorizing and obsessions. And even fewer I can trust to not run away from me or try to fix me. Not many understand that simply talking about it and crying it all out is my method of healing and moving on.

For a time I was completely alone. God alone was my strength and my solace as I lay on the hardwood floor of my home screaming in the agony of loss and torment of not receiving an answer to the "why." It took time for my extroverted sides to appear and for me to have the courage to seek a social life again. It took God's gentle nudge to remind me I'm not supposed to walk this earth without fellow followers of God to help me and I them.

But I am a sinful human living on a cursed world. I am rough and thorny. I have "issues" and problems. And they cannot be resolved overnight. But those who would call themselves my people time and again have not been able to move past my issues and see into my soul that yearns after God. They could not deal. They could not forgive and forget. They felt betrayed by my imperfections and so betrayed me by refusing to speak to me ever again, setting me like an outcast in their presence, lower than dirt and unworthy of love let alone attention.

I have not the courage to speak up, to tell people what is wrong with me, why I am broken but refusing to shatter. I can't bring myself to trust again. Ironically, it is my fear that keeps me from showing what I am afraid of. Time and again I have prayed and time and again God's answer remains the same: Serve them. Be with them. And I will provide. Let them in. It's what I made you for. To give, to love, to hold, to serve.

Still I struggle.

I have come to expect the hand I hold out to be bitten off, cut off, and smacked away. I flinch inside every time I think someone will come near. Still God gives me endurance to continue to hold out my hand.

Now if only I had the courage to look as I hold it out.

The Dandelion...A Pondering

     Ugh. There's that flower again. Grows where it's not wanted. A hundred tiny yellow petals on a tough stem and surrounded by large jagged leaves. The dandelion. Such a weird flower. Turns into a white puffball of parachute seeds when it gets old and blows away in the wind. Make a wish.
     Taraxacum, the edible wildflower. Endive, lion's-tooth, Irish daisy, milk-witch, cankerwort. That funny weed-thing that grows in your yard, on the side of the road, in the flower beds. Grows where it's not wanted. Animals eat it. People pick it and clean it and cook it into meals and brew it into tea and use it in wine. The entire plant is full of medicinal properties. Old religions claimed it was a gift from the sun - bright, cheerful, and healing.
     The weed of fortune. Such a weird flower. Believed that if you blew on the puffball, it could tell you how many years it would take for your "true love" to come by how many times you had to blow all the seeds off the head, and the direction the seeds caught on the wind would tell you where your fortune would come from. Make a wish.
     A survival flower. No matter how many times you pluck it, run it over, spray it with weed-killer, it grows back, nearly as resilient as grass. It can grow where you least expect it (wherever one of the fluffy seeds lands) and some species of it don't even need pollination to create seeds. And yet it has such an unassuming appearance with its soft, tiny petals and tasty leaves. But still it grows and spreads.
     I believe some people are dandelions. They show up when and where we least expect them. They seem unassuming and we treat them unfairly, even regard them as wastes of time and friendship. And yet those who do bother with the flower, are benefited by them and learn to appreciate them. Yes, perhaps some people are like dandelions.
     There's that flower again. Grows where it's not wanted. Such a weird flower. Make a wish.

Lonely Sorrow (A Verbal Painting)

A tear.
Traces a shining line down her cheek.
Drips off a quivering chin, drawing your eye to thin, trembling lips.
Her mouth opens, but no sound comes.
She looks up at you.
Eyes the color of rain clouds, stare right into you.
Soft locks swirl around her face, sticking to her wet cheeks.
Her hand is outstretched, fingers out and up, as is she can't decide if she's reaching out for you or telling you to stay away.
Her grey dress, marked with irregular white streaks, flows around her bare feet.
She stands in a shallow pool of water, growing ever deeper through the years as she weeps.
A tear.
Rippling through time.
A daughter seeking refuge, bereft of someone dear.
So grieved she can do nothing but mourn alone.
She is in you, she is in me.
Look around you.
It does not have to be this way.
Take Lonely Sorrow into your arms.
That's all she needs is to be comforted.
Will you not reach out?
Something as simple as sitting beside someone hurt and letting them cry for a while.
Give them the strength to simply be.
Do you know how much it means to just be held?
We can move on.
Problems can be solved, lessons can be learned.
But don't let us go through the aftershock of some of life's trials alone.
Who will be there for Lonely Sorrow?

Who Can I Trust? (A Poem)

Putting up a front.
Holding up the mask.
Smiling, making them all think I'm happy,
Wishing the smile matched the worried face within.
Laughing, hoping my body and mouth won't betray the tears behind my eyes.
Making small talk.
Fearful to share more.
Mingling, though my soul lingers near the wall.
Hoping. Praying.
Glancing back and forth.
All those faces of the small group that welcomed me.
Wanting to trust.
Yet wanting to escape.
Been crushed too many times.
Been hurt too many times.
My nature to give a helping, nurturing hand freely hindered.
My quick desire to trust and return kindness slowed.
I question the hearts of those around me,
Hesitant. Afraid.
What if they see my imperfections?
And pretend to care only to refuse me a later day?
What if they see the rough side of this strangely cut stone?
Gotten so good at only showing the polished side.
Happy, helpful, serving, giving, flirty, spunky me.
The facets that benefit those around me.
But what about the rest of me?
Hurting, crying, angry, sorrowful, worrying, mistake-laden me?
The facets that are so sharp they only serve to hurt those around me.
Every rose has its thorns.
Mine is a hedge.
Growing thicker and thicker.
To protect the tiny new bud of white from passersby.
My old bloom ripped from it's stem and trodden till it bled.
Scattered to the four winds.
Hope grew a new blossom.
The potential for an ever greater, more beautiful flower.
But it grows so slowly.
While my thorns grow longer and more dangerous.
It is wrong to keep half of me bottled inside.
But I cannot trust.
I must not seek to abuse the friendship of those around me.
I cannot burden them with my problems.
But if I keep it inside I will destroy myself.
And yet when I trusted, I was betrayed.
Is it not better to keep my friends at arms' length?
Only let them see the side I show the rest of the world?
But the pain does not cease.
And my old forms of escape fail me.
But I would not stoop lower.
I must endure.
But how many times must I break and renew?
How many times must I live and die?
And all in secret.
"Laugh, and world laughs with you; weep, and you weep alone"*
I am a servant, I cannot be a burden.
And yet whom can I rely on?
Why would God place inside in me a need for companionship?
When I walk a lonely walk?
This ache that refuses to be filled.
This hunger for someone to talk to and trust with all of me.
I tremble at the thought of gaining, only to lose once more.
Is not what I have now enough?
Is not the very few I trust sufficient?
No. The hunger stays.
If only someone would love me:
For who I am and in spite of who I am.
To see my faults, my weaknesses, my past.
To look inside into the depths and love me anyway.
To be able to handle my imperfections.
If only someone could pull me out of those waters,
And help me from succumbing and drowning in this sea.
And help me to stop fighting myself.
Just to protect everyone else,
I keep it standing behind my "good side."
Like a shadow.
Dreading that anyone would notice.
And silently pleading for somebody to do just that.
Falling in the black, standing in the depths.
Hoping that someone would hear my cries,
But they just seem to echo off walls of my own creation.
Clutching the Flame in my heart.
Begging God to take the pain away.
He quietly urges, "Seek.
Let Me bring them to you.
I AM your strength.
Let Me bring you more of My children to support and console you.
Let Me, with My Spirit, comfort you.
I will provide."
Still I tremble.
Still I fear.
Lord my spirit is willing.
But my resolve is weak.
I am filled with doubt.
Help my unbelief.
Still I sit in the center of my room.
In clear view.
But so far away.
Can anyone hear me,
when I am silent?
Can anyone reach me,
when I keep up my walls
and hide behind a mask that is still myself?
Oh irony.
I fight myself,
Clutching my knees,
Rocking back and forth,
Like a lonely child.
Oh Comforter, oh Redeemer,
Give me hope and strength.
Show me who You have chosen.
Show me who I can trust.









*Quote from the poem Solitude, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

A Young Woman's Mind

     Guys. Have you ever wondered how on earth a girl can have several conversations at once and keep track of them all? Or how she can remember something from a while back and talk to you about it, expecting you to remember it as well as she? Have you considered the fact that many young women can be happy one minute and furious the next? Or how she can be discussing something with you and abruptly change the subject to something that seems completely unrelated?
     Girls. Have you ever marveled at an older woman's ability to organize everything? Or to have a conversation with you about one thing and return to a different conversation with someone else days later as if there was never a break? Or how a mother can handle work, kids, and social life all at once?
     We live in a day and age of computers and everything internet. Even this blog of mine is electronic information. Data. We also live in a day and age of "connection." Everything is connected. Everything relates to everything else. One tiny piece of data leads to another and another.
     It is the same in the mind of the average female human. Her mind is a network. Not just a storage unit of information and functions (Ahem, not like a man's brain at all, no.). Everything within her is connected. The synapses firing in her "little grey cells" touch one portion, one thought centre, and another and another. No division. Even in sleep, when the mental activity slows, the connections are still occurring.
     A woman's mind is the internet. Yes, things have their place, but it is all related. Everything integral to everything else in her life. Miss Google will have an answer ready for you, or she will make up one. She will offer advice whether or not you want it. Tell you that such-and-such is recommended for so-and-so even when it seems a little far fetched. She will have what you want to hear and/or what you should actually listen to. She is a sponge, soaking up new thoughts, ideas, relationship lessons and tactics. She gathers. She relates. She receives. She reacts.
     What she chooses to do with that network of a mind, that's what sets her apart.

Fly

Fly on the wings of light.
Fly on the wings of hope.
Wing of courage on the wind.
Soar with strength high above it all.
Fly on the wings of love.
Fly on the wings of song.
Wing of worship on the wind.
Soar with joy high above it all.
See Him flying:
Flying over the water.
Let me rise on on You.
Never let me look back.
Have me breathe Your air.
You are my rest, my refuge, my song.
I'm not lonely when You're the one flying.
I'm not falling when it's Your wings.
The wings of the Savior.

It is not enough to walk.
For even then I sometimes crawl.
It is not enough to speak.
For even then I have no words.
Though my wings get stolen,
Though my feathers clipped.
Though I'm caged
And left to be little more than an ornament.
I will not be satisfied
With living less.
I am called to fly.
Made to fly.
Made to ride the wind.
I set my sights on eagles.
Befriend the albatross.
Still this little bird,
When beaten down,
She'll rise again.
Look up! See Him there:
Cutting though the shadowy clouds.
Let me feel Your wings.
Never let me be crushed by fear.
Have me cling to You.
You are my comfort, my home, my call.
I'm not dying when You're the one flying.
I'm not falling when it's Your wings.
The wings of the Savior.

Imaginary

     I've been caught up in the crud of the world as of late. Reality surrounds me with darkness, pain, loss, anger, hatred, fear, screams, depression, agony...on and on it goes: the mundane, laborious work of keeping a "normal" life but a deception, an attempt to blind me of every important detail and precious soul on this earth; the complexity of relationships and interactions with fellow humans causing stress and overwhelming me so that I cannot focus on simply living.
     Then why is it looked down upon to escape? To disappear into fantastical worlds only of imagining? To drown the pain and the noise with dreams of exploring untouched space or making friends with bizarre creatures? Why are children allowed to pretend and we adults are thought odd if we do the same?
     Is it because we "have no time"? Or perhaps we think of the idea that a fairytale's function is to entertain and/or teach a lesson to a small child? If that's so, ought we not write some for adults? To show them the wonder and beauty of exploration and discovery of the inner workings of humans' minds and lives once again?
     Take for example the classic story: young man meets young woman (or simply hears of her) and then a "bad guy" steals away the young woman (or threatens her), and young man does whatever to rescue young woman and defeat (usually by killing) bad guy, and thus winning young woman's heart. Do we adults turn from this idea because we believe that a "happily-ever-after" is next to impossible to achieve - or even disbelieve in the idea at all?
     Or how about the coming-of-age story, where a young man or woman sets out to prove his or herself, conquering hurdles, learning lessons, gaining friends? The adventure tale? And yet so many of the stories for adults today focus on the sexual and the power-seeking, the illogical pointless humor and the soap opera, the horrific nightmare and the battle.
     What did we lose? What is missing, that we go about day to day going to work, coming home, and watching a film that does nothing to grow you because it simply amuses, or reading a book that gives you a mental and emotional thrill but never moves you to be better or do better, never teaches you or inspires you?
     So what if I'm a little crazy and enjoy the fantastical worlds that even children know and love? In every fairy story there is an element of reality. I am not as far away as you think. I have not lost my mind, I am growing it. Shaping my understanding of the real world, by using the creative gift God has given me, and seeing the worlds others have made with the same gift. Within dreams, dreams come true. From ideas, more are born. You may not understand that the mouse I speak to, talks back and instructs me to fight with honor. You might not get that one moon another galaxy away is a base for the meetings of universal guardians who do not obey the rules of politics. That's okay.
     It's how I deal with even crazier reality.

My Oath

     Today, September 27th, 2015, I put down the words that I have been forming since spring. And words I plan to also back up with action in six months' time by cutting the hair which I have dutifully grown out and am giving it away.
     A little over a year ago I had made a promise to marry someone. In the spring I lost him. Today, after some time grieving the loss of the human I loved, I have gathered what I have learned and now understand the true nature of loving another. But I also understand another part of my God.
     I understand that I have a gift related to touch. When I allow contact with a fellow human, I am given a glimpse into their soul. This has happened numerous times and in different ways.
     I also understand that my body is a temple of the Holy Spirit as I have surrendered my soul to God. I am not my own. I was bought with the blood of Jesus. My life is to serve the Most High.
     And I understand now that when I touch others, whether in word or deed, with the Spirit guiding me, they too are touched. For as an ambassador of God and a temple of the Spirit, when people are with me when I am filled with HIS presence, they stand in the presence of God.
     Yes, I am a frail human being like everyone else. I mess up, I make terrible mistakes, and I often do as I don't wish to do. However, when I declare God in charge of my life, He takes over. His work on mankind is constant and mysterious to the point that even I, but a humble little vessel, cannot see. I am only to obey to glorify the Maker.
     And this is my oath:
     I know who is my King. I know who is my Friend. I know who gives me life. I know who is my Redeemer.
     I know the I AM who taught me who I am. To whom I now give all I am back.
     I release everything that I have kept inside of me - my anger, my pain, and my lonliness. I hand over my constant need to know why, my desire to keep what does not belong to me as I am not my own, and my inability to forgive those who betray me and therefore they betray the God who I am charged to represent.
     I understand that nothing happens to me that my Lord God does not know about. I understand that I am where I am today because God knows where I am needed - where He can touch others best through me.
     I do not know the details of the road ahead, but I am certain that it is the path that God has laid out for me before I was even formed in my mother's womb.
     And this do I promise: One Lord. One faith. One destiny. One King. One Protector. One true Friend.
     I take on the lightest, and yet the hardest, burden of being a servant of God and imitator of Jesus.
     And as the locks of hair fall from my head, they represent the chains that I myself built around me to tie me down. They represent the enemies that this world throws at me. And as my Savior takes my hand and pulls me above the crashing waves over and over again...
     They shall weigh me down no more.
     In God's Name,
     Amen.

Consuming Fire - part 3 - Wrath

I was renewed. I was inflamed.
I burned with passion.
But I strayed.
I took it too far.
Turned away from the Consuming Fire,
Toward a fellow human being.
Idolized another.
Then he was taken from me.
I was filled with anger. I was filled with rage.
My passion turned into fury over my betrayal.
How could he walk away?
When I had promised to serve him and love him?
How dare he?
Did he not understand I was a Child of the Fire?
Chosen? Beloved?
Did he not understand what he did to me, he did to the Consuming Fire?
And in the end of days he would have to account for every tear he caused me?
And then I understood:
When I looked at my life, I was looking at a reflection.
Mirroring the wrath of the Fire.
At last I understood His jealousy when we stray.
At last I knew Him when His wrath was turned towards us.
How dare we turn from Him?
When He does everything for us,
Even laying His own life down?
How could we?
How dare we idolize anyone else?
When He saved us and made us new?
How could we?
The fire within me burned bright, hot, yet heavy.
I grew wings of fury,
Declaring condemnation on all.
None deserve to live.
All have sinned.
Burn them.
End the misery.
And then I stopped.
I bowed my head and prayed for release.
I have not the power to rain down condemnation.
I am not the one to judge.
That is the task of the Consuming Fire, not mine.
He is both of wrath and justice.
But he is also of mercy and grace.
That is the sign of holiness.
Things that which seem to conflict, dwell side by side in Him.
He balances them, knowing which to give when.
I understood that I follow a Holy Fire.
Perfect. Sovereign.
We are dirty, destructive, deceitful.
But still He loves.
We deserve death.
His justice, His wrath calls for it when we stray.
But because He loves, He made a way for us.
His passion led to His glorious answer:
He died to fulfill justice, but allow mercy.
Died for us.
So we could burn away the dark.
So we could follow Him.
So we could pursue Him.
The Almighty Consuming Fire.

Consuming Fire - part 2 - Passion

Once a new creature, I sought a new path.
Life took a different form, a different meaning.
But life is a strange thing, so many twists and turns.
I was complete.
But still so many steps away from perfection.
I carried a fire inside me, a living fire.
Every day refining me, strengthening me.
There was still a great many things for me to learn.
I was eager to learn, to grow, to experience.
My bright eyes mirrored my youthful mind and heart.
I had tasted the greatest love on earth,
So it was time for me to share it.
And along the way I desired more answers.
So I was told to wait for someone.
Where I would be taught of more of Him, in a way I was not expecting.
I reached out to another being.
One as youthful as I.
As stranger as I to this newfound gift.
We fell madly in love and passion ran high;
Our discovery of the emotion and desire of one for another.
I glimpsed into his soul, his strengths, flaws, weaknesses.
All that he was.
And I understood.
My love for him, a dim reflection of the love of the Consuming Fire for us all.
I was overjoyed. A new comprehension of my true passion.
A greater adoration and worship of the Consuming Fire.
How could I not thank Him?
But a shadow lay on my fellow being's heart.
And the time came when I was forsaken.
For days I lay, screaming in anguish.
Why would what was given me be taken away?
Why did I learn to truly love, only to have it torn from me?
I begged Him to tell me why I lost my love.
And I received my answer:
To understand His passion.
When His people walk away from Him,
The agony, the betrayal He receives.
The tears of the Consuming Fire are a terrible sight.
For then it is as if all hope is lost.
I had received the fire, learned the smaller, human understanding of His passion:
He would go to the end's of the world for us.
And did.
Died so that we might have a chance.
How terrible for us to reject that love.
And still we do.
And still He loves.
Because of Him, could I follow Him.
And would I want to follow Him.
Because He is passionate for my soul, I pursue His fire.
The gloriously intricate Consuming Fire.

Consuming Fire - Part 1 - Mercy

When I met Him, I knew my life would never be the same.
I knew that I was unworthy of the gift being offered to me.
I knew I was a selfish monster of a human.
But still He held out His hand.
A hand made out of living fire.
Something inside me screamed in rage, in hate, in fear.
The same something that had been lying to me, telling me I was warm, I had no need for fire.
But I knew just how cold I was.
And the artificial warmth did not satisfy my need.
This fire was different. Alive.
I reached out with my spirit. Touched it.
I burned.
Something inside me screamed and died.
Tears flowed freely down my cheeks for days.
I was in such pain, but at the same time I was being freed.
There I was.
I was unworthy. But I was given clothing washed in supernatural blood - declaring me worthy.
I was dirty. But the fire burned it away until I was like a newborn child.
Loved. Saved.
Shown mercy. I was shown mercy.
I did not deserve what I received - a fresh start.
I did not deserve new life.
The fire had surrounded me, gone inside me, but did not truly harm me.
I was whole. Complete.
Before I was a shell with extra: garbage that clung to me and was me.
It was burned away.
It killed me and healed me all at once
I was a new creature.
The innocence I had lost was restored.
I deserved to die, but what I received instead was a miracle.
And though the road ahead would be long and difficult, I was ready.
Though I would stumble and wander away, looking back at who I once was and longing for it, I would return to the path.
Because of Him, could I follow Him.
Because He was merciful, I seek His fire.
The mysterious Consuming Fire.

Pain

     Today I received a reminder that the pain of loss has not gone away. I had forgotten it, become numb to it, put it aside to keep on going through the motions of life. But still it came, refreshed. It had never truly gone away. The scar torn just enough to bleed a little again.
     The man that I had been engaged to, who walked away from me about six months ago, accidentally (he claimed he had pocket dialed me) called me today.
     My first reaction to his text explaining what had happened was anger. Rough, uncut, spitting out venomous words furious anger. How dare he even keep my number when he said it was over. But I kept silent for a little bit and thought over what I would reply. I took me about an hour or two (and asking for some advice from someone I trusted) to decide to ask him to remove me from his contacts (something I thought he had already done).
     I didn't want to. Part of me leaped in happiness to realize that he had not "gotten rid of me" completely. But most of my being sank in dismay, anger, and sadness. Memories were refreshed. Emotions were aroused. And I wondered all over again why on earth he left me in the first place and just how much he still thought of me.
     I had moved on, yet because I still care (and I will continue to care so long as he lives because I care for all) I had to address the issue instead of brushing it off and forgetting it ever happened. I wondered if it hurt him for me to ask him to remove my number, but it had to be done. It was over and I didn't want anymore "accidental" contact.
     It was certain. If he were to reach me, it had to be deliberate. And he better be prepared to face me in case I have yet another immature moment and try to rage rant or overload him with questions. And if he wished to speak to me, it would be out of need (probably not from him though - matter of pride) or a desire to become friends with me. And if God's hand be upon me (should a time of my ex wanting to talk with me) I would indeed listen and be the gentle, caring woman who would reach out a hand to help.
     One thing remains the same though: I had looked into him once upon a time and loved him with all that I was. And the terrible pain that I experienced when he turned away from me I live again from time to time. It is not as severe, but it is still there, pulsing like a heartbeat, reminding me that I am alive.
     Perhaps I shouldn't get used to it. Maybe I should pursue healing. But not in his arms. Never again. God is my strength. God is my fortress, my desire, my Healer, my King. God is writing my love story. Not my lost love. That man has no control over me anymore. Yes, I still feel the sting, but it does not make me wish to die anymore.
     Micah, my love, you hurt me. But God allowed you to hurt me so that I could understand the depths of HIS love, and His design for my life.
     I may be in pain, but I am free.

Dancing From the Floor (a note of encouragement)

     I've started developing my own choreography to songs and, not being athletic, some of the hardest movements are the highest or the lowest. And having sensitive skin, I have a hard time when anything but my [covered] feet are on the floor.
     But there's a very good feeling when I'm stretching my whole body out on the floor, then sitting up and tucking my small feet underneath me as I move my arms and spread out my fingers to the sky. I guess you could compare it to a cat stretching. But for me, it's more of a sensation of smallness and vulnerability. Kneeling in older culture is a sign of submission (or respect, depending on the position and culture) and raising your arms up high is often a sign of freedom (or worship of God). So it is leaving yourself open.
     Then I curl my arms in or simply drop them to my lap and bow my head, closing my eyes. A symbol of rest, or peace.
     Dancing from the floor. An exercise in and of itself, but also an artistic expression. And for those without legs, a very appropriate way to dance. Generally listed under "freestyle" and often combined with other dance steps (because yes you can do a lot with your arms but people usually want to see more), I would offer to say that everyone should try it. It is a challenge yes, but I could argue easier to do if you're not worried about "stepping in time" to music. And when done to worship music, dancing from the floor is a graceful and beautiful way to do more than sing to God.
     So often in the American culture I live in, our proud and independent spirits refuse to bend, bow, or kneel. I am no less than anyone else, is the running thought. I am just as important. I am special. We rebel against the thought of being brought to our knees.
     But the strange thing is that those of us who have fallen down have a better understanding of when to stand and when to kneel. When to be firm and when to get down. When to speak and when to be silent. For we understand vulnerability. We understand weakness and strength. Tasted betrayal, heartbreak, loss. Our empathy for the hurting and the wanderers is greater than before we were brought down. But we also must rise again.
     That time comes and goes. Just remember, dear reader, that when there is no lower place to go, you can still dance from the floor.

A Thousand Times Over

     Not a day goes by that I don't think of the one that I once upon a time dared to call mine. As it is with my gift, I see into someone when I am most vulnerable - held. Over and over I sought his arms, received his hugs, felt his gentle but strong embrace, or clasped our hands together. Over and over when I least expected to, I was looking into him. And I saw something wondrous, but so very normal.
     A soul. The average human soul. The good and the bad. His faults, his weaknesses, his strengths, his beautiful inner qualities. I saw a human - broken, but seeking healing; bright, but foolish; so much experience, so very young. God allowed me to see his potential for good or evil - to stay on the path of pursuing God or to turn to his own corruption and hurt others before his own demise.
     And God said to me, "he is worth it. Just as you are worth it. I died for you and him. My Blood was shed for the world. Love him." So I did. I gave. I gave time, attention, effort, devotion, care, and trust to the man who claimed to love me. He promised he would always be there for me and would love me long after I was gone. In asking me to marry him, he promised that he would take care of me.
     I was betrayed.
     One day, he ended our relationship. And shortly after that, refused to speak to me again. Cut off all ties to me. I was devastated, left broken, feeling unwanted, unloved, and worthless. All the plans for "our" future down the drain. My looking forward to raising a family with him and us growing old together brought to dust. My dream of spending the rest of my days by the side of a young man who was my constant excitement (in so many different ways) and the one who I wished was my best friend (too late), shattered.
     I was his attraction, his crush, his girl, his bride-to-be. Until I was so lost in serving and loving him that I put aside everything else, including my relationship with God. I forgot my purpose. And then when my time of serving my love was over, I could not let go. I kept trying to hold onto a man who was not as committed as I. He would not make the sacrifice that is required for any good relationship to continue.
     And I refused to let go. Told the world I had "moved on" like that was the magic thing to do. But the harder I tried to move on, the harder I tried to forget, the worse I became. I returned to God and kept my passion for seeking His face alone. And as I did so, the pain did not go away, but rather became productive. A few faults and weaknesses of mine were being burned away. I was being refined. I slipped and sinned a couple of times but was reminded again just how merciful and forgiving God is. And the fire burned brighter.
     The pain, suffered spiritually and emotionally, took its toll on my body, but that was easier to hide than the rest. The pain became almost unbearable from time to time, but I would lift my hurting and problems and prayers up, and in return was given peace and strength for another day. A thousand times I cried over the loss of my love, a thousand times became angry over the betrayal, a thousand times was moved to forgive him, a thousand times attempted to forget him, a thousand times I prayed for his growth as a human and as a man of God, a thousand times I prayed for his well-being and safety. God does not like to see any one of us hurting, but because of the world we live in, we often must. Burning away the sinful nature is a painful process, but it must be done in order for God's light to shine. At least the answer is simple: He is the Flame, the Consuming Fire.
     And if I was given a thousand chances to relive my life a different way, I would live it as I did. Mistakes and everything. Because God is Sovereign. Who am I to question His Design from all of it? I am but a vessel. It was in God's plan for me to love. There was purpose there. And though I received pain because of it, I also learned a deeper level of God's love for us all.
     A thousand times over I would make the sacrifice of risking so much to give to another. A thousand times over I would still not try to pursue a man already gone because my time with him was over. A thousand times over I would forgive, but not forget. A thousand times over I would let God work through me. I am but a vessel. A human with baggage, but forgiven baggage. Living for the honour of serving God for His glory.

The Rainbow

The rainbow.
A strange phenomena of creation.
A promise.
"Never again."
Never again would God flood the Earth to destroy all of those who laughed in His face.
Never again would the waters of the deep rise above all land across the globe.
A promise.
A merciful promise.
But also a reminder.
The wrath of God is real.
You don't want God as your enemy.
What were they doing back then? What was it that was so horrible that He had to destroy them all apart from one family? Humans.
Liars.
Thieves.
Rapists.
Adulterers.
Swindlers.
Humans claiming they came in love.
But only looking out for themselves.
Following any and every desire, lust, and craving.
Pursuing everything that made them "feel good."
Huh.
Sounds like every age across history.
God allowed a nation, a people, to live as they chose.
Then when He sent some to tell them of their wrong and they laughed...
Yes, there were the Jews, but...
The Nazis?
They were vanquished.
The old Chinese empires?
They were destroyed.
The nations of Europe?
They were conquered.
The Romans?
They were attacked by plague and war.
The wrath of God is real.
You don't want God as your enemy.
But he always gave a way out.
He warned everyone, then saved a few.
The few who were, or became, faithful.
The few who made sure to not focus on themselves.
Who lived as servants, helping people.
Who told about the mercy of God.
And His promises.
Promises like the rainbow.
But now?
Now a new people have arisen.
Yet they are not any different than the past.
They still live for feeling.
The one difference is they carry the rainbow as an emblem of freedom, unity, and love.
Careful, oh people.
Careful.
You are still loved.
But do not be so foolish as to take a symbol from God and make it your own.
You are still precious humans as I.
But do not call me a hater.
When you laugh in my face,
When you point at those of us who say what you are doing is wrong,
You are laughing in the face of God's ambassador to you.
The time of the Flood is no more,
But the time of Fire is still to come.
Careful.
The wrath of God is real.
Hear my cry.
I beg you.
Turn back, oh New Nineveh.
You don't want God as your enemy.

Breathing Fire

Breathing fire
While the rain falls down
Breathing fire
Against the ghosts in town
Breathing fire
On this sacred ground
Breathing fire
Against the roaring sound
Breathing. Living. Breathing. Fire.
Light up the Night!

Lukewarm I must never be.
Hollow once more I must never be.
Lost soul I must never be.
Monster once more I must never be.

Breathing fire
Light exposing all
Breathing fire
Shadows doomed to fall
Breathing fire
Light all souls awake
Breathing fire
Hear the mountains quake
Breathing. Living. Breathing. Fire.
Light up the Night!

Traitor I must never be.
Villain once more I must never be.
Convict I must never be.
Lowlife once more I must never be.

So I cry to the Eternal One,
I hand over all that I am to the Maker.
And He puts me in the refining Fire,
Consumes me with His Spirit.
The darkness within me screams in pain,
Till only He remains.
I blossom, I grow.
The beauty is His, the fire is His.
Let it burn, and never die.

Breathing fire
Sing to His glory
Breathing fire
Burn with His story
Breathing fire
Sing now He arose
Breathing fire
Perfect Son He chose
Breathing. Living. Breathing. Fire.
Light up the Night!

Breathing. Living. Breathing. Fire.
Let it burn, and never die.

Compassion

     I have a "compassionate heart." I don't like to see anyone hurt. I would rather take the pain than see someone in that pain.
     I have a "giving heart." I live to serve. Nothing (on this earth anyway) satisfies me more than to see everyone around me well cared for, protected, content, and enjoying life.
     But we live on a planet that is full of evil, darkness, and cruelty.
     Which is against what I am.
     Now, I have several reactions -
     1: I could spend my days striving to protect - to develop skills of offensive tactics that would cause harm to those who would harm others. That is not who I am. Yes, I say it is good to be able to defend yourself and others, wonderful even. But I even have difficulty hurting people who would kill me. Why? Because I even care about my enemies.
     2: I could spend my days training myself not to care so much. Because what is the point? I'm just going to watch everyone suffer because I trusted my enemy? No. I said nothing of that. I still don't trust them. I don't trust easily. Rather, I "turn the other cheek." I give, I help, I serve. But I have been damaged, attacked, betrayed. The easy road would be to simply turn it off and become cruel myself. That is not who I am. It cuts me to pieces even when I accidentally say or do something that hurts someone. I tried shutting out my conscience. It made me spiritually, and therefore physically, sick. It was not the best of times.
     3: I could spend my days holding my hand out to everyone - in a sign of peace, healing, and servitude. Compassion. Regardless of the obstacles. Regardless of the evils in this world. The love of God. I give, because I have. It seems not much, but it is everything. Because God, the Infinite, the Omnipresent, the Lover of Souls, gave His life for all. I have received, so I give. That is who I am.

Shed a Tear

When the world pulls you down, shed a tear.
When trials come, shed a tear.
Who is hurting, let them cry.
Who is fighting so very hard to survive, let them cry.
When the pain returns after you thought it forever gone, shed a tear.
When you understand someone's loss, shed a tear.
Who is forced to let go, let them cry.
Who has had to stand against wrongs, let them cry.
It is not weakness
To shed a tear.
It is not a terrible thing
To cry.
Tears -
coming from the truly suffering,
from wounds of the flesh and spirit,
from loss,
or even for others,
are prayers.
Tears -
every last raindrop on your cheeks,
against your stinging eyelids,
are counted.
God sees them.
Feels them.
Knows them.
And He takes them in His hands,
and when you ask for strength,
He takes your tears,
and returns them to you.
As diamonds for your armor.
Armor that He gave you.
Spiritual bling.
Yep. Let them fall.
Let it go.
A wimp like me,
facing pain,
fear,
anger,
loss...
Well, I cry.
And it's O.K.
Because once the tears have stopped falling,
I can "start over."
Begin again.
Learn the lesson.
Strengthen my resolve.
Grow my faith in God.
He is always there.
Counting tears.
Let them fall.
It's O.K.
Let them glisten, let them shine.
Then get back up.
To shed a tear is not a weakness.
It is not a terrible thing to cry.
Just so long as you don't stay that way.
Let your tears fall so you can get back up.
Get down on your knees.
Let them fall.
Shed a tear.
So you can stand again.
Who is hurting, let them cry.
Who is suffering, let them cry.
When you feel the need to weep, let it out.
When you can't take the pressure, release it in tears.
Who is broken, let them cry.
Who is betrayed, let them cry.
When all seems lost, shed a tear.
When it feels like you have nothing left, shed a tear.
Then get back up.
And who is hurting for the lost,
Who is moved by God to cry for the deceived,
misguided,
hurting,
dying,
wandering...
Shed a tear.
And pray.
This is what we are called to do.
Every single diamond is not forgotten before God.
Never forget.
Use it.
It is not weakness to cry.
It is a reminder that we need the Lord.
You forget.
He too, time and again,
for you, for me,
has shed a tear.





John 11:35 "Jesus wept."
Luke 19:41 "...He saw the city and wept over it..."

Blood and Water (a poem)

Life.
Breathing. Pulsing.

The Cross.
A funny thing.
Thousands of them, long ago.
Spread out across countries.
A symbol of death.
A symbol of power.
The Roman Empire.
For all the world to see.
The worst way to die.
Slowly.
In agony.
Suffocating.
Bleeding.
Outside, in the elements.
Yes, a symbol of death.
Nowadays it's a symbol of hope.
See? A funny thing.

Life.
Flowing. Beating.

Blood. Water.
Water is part of blood.
Without water, blood is dust.
Some don't like blood.
Why not? Without it your body dies.
Everyone needs it.
And water.
Without it your body dies.
When you drink water
Do you imagine nourishing your blood?
Do you imagine your heart filling,
Pumping blood through your body?

Life.
Echoing. Feeling.

Long ago,
a man died.
On a cross.
While dying,
While suffering,
Water built up inside him.
Around his heart.
Pericardial effusion
A scientist would say.
And after he died,
A Roman soldier took a spear,
And stabbed his heart.
Blood and water came out.

He said he would die.
He said he was the Water of Life.
He said he would bleed.
For us.
Because we are dying.
We have been from the very start.

Life.
He breathed again.
A new body.
Walked this world once more.

He lost water.
He lost blood.
But he never needed it.
Because He is Life.
Jesus.

Inner Beauty "Makeup" - Steps to See You As Beautiful

     For all young ladies. Start your day (and end your day) focused, content, and beautiful.

Step 1: Cleanser
     Wash your face. While you do so, remember that God's forgiveness washed you clean in His eyes. You are God's creation. And though you were once a "monster" of sin, He declares you beautiful. Wipe off all the lies that you have to look a certain way to be beautiful.

Step 2: Moisturize
     If you have dry skin, soften it up with a moisturizer (my personal favorite for my face is Cetaphil. In regards to the heart, nothing better than a love song to God from Psalms). And remember that times are rough and it's tough from time to time not to bark or be grumpy towards others. If you have any grudges, offer them up in a little prayer to God and ask Him to take it away. God loves the whole world. Not just you. It's a new day, and it's just as beautiful as you.

Step 3: "Concealer"
     (Ok, this is where I get silly/serious, because I myself don't wear actual makeup so bear with me. Or we can just pretend this is the "brushing teeth step"). You are still human. In fact, you are a woman and you get emotional from time to time. But as I work in public, I know that no one wants to see my tears from personal problems. And I have flaws. No one wants to know about those. So I tell myself that God loves, so at least I can give a smile, right? Not a fake smile mind you, but a smile to say, hey God is good.

Step 4: Foundation
     "Match your skin tone." You are unique. God made you that way. So never, ever, ever pretend to be someone you are not. God has an equally unique calling for you. Don't waste it trying to be the girl with the most friends or with the nicest/hottest boyfriend. Close your eyes and pray that God will move through you today. Ask Him to guide you every moment of this new, beautiful day. Tell Him that you want only Him to change you to be the wonderful woman He wants you to be.

Step 5: Eyeliner
     Don't judge. That's God's job. And what I mean is that if you think someone is wearing something that looks like it desperately needs to be mended, don't tell them so. You can point out sin, but never forget to also point out God's forgiveness. You are not God. You do not know who will/won't end up in Heaven. Look through the eyes of God - everyone needs redemption.

Step 6: Mascara
     Time to take on a new view: Life, goes on. No matter how big or small this terrible something in your life is, God is still with you. You may want to shake your fist at Him from time to time or scream "WHY?!" (believe me, I know). You have been given a new day. How would God like you to spend it? Pray that He will lead you today. Tell Him, "Lord, I can't do this on my own. I need You and You alone." And remember, God just gave you another breath. Breathe it in, live it out.

Step 7: Blush
     You are human. You have wants, you have dreams. You prayed away your worries and pretensions. You prayed away lies and anger. Now, you can dream without your dreams being crushed. Why? Because you can pray a little prayer: "Lord, dream for me." Choose a goal, not just for today; but hold onto a goal for your life. Ask if this dream is what God wants. If you get neither a yes nor a no, strive for it and God will let you know if it's time to change. He will put up roadblocks, He will send you people to advise you. But dream, girl. Dream big. And work hard for that dream.

Step 8: Lips
     Remember that rude/hurtful/manipulative thing you said the other day? Reel it in girl! Gotta keep that mouth unda control! Keep it true, keep it noble, keep it right, keep it pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, praiseworthy. Don't just think it, speak it! (Philippians 4:8) Ask God to give you the grace to speak kindness.

One last thing, spritz all over with the fragrance of a gentle confidence:
You are beautiful.
That beauty is God-given.
You are not only free, you are B.E.A.U.T.I.F.U.L. !!!

Enjoy your wonderful day.
And when your day is done, wash your face one more time. Wash away all the bad you collected in your adventures today by praying it up to the One who made you beautiful. Rinse away yesterday, and fall asleep worshiping God for making you...well, how many times do I have to say it? Beautiful you!

God bless!
Silver Line

Greta Oto (Glasswing Butterfly)

     A little butterfly, its body and the edges of its wings dark yet thin, perches on a leaf. Being of the brush-foot family, it opens its wings in rest. The remarkable thing about this butterfly is the center scales of its wings are so transparent they seem like glass - you can see right through them.
     Most people know about the Monarch butterfly, with its bright orange and black wings and the time of the enormous migration that they all take. But those who don't really pay attention to butterflies of course would not take notice of the G. oto (species name).
     This little creature is but another miracle of creation. Its body is toxic to predators, the males compete for females (called lekking), and the tissue between the veins of the wings lack so much pigment you can see through them. This "transparent" phenomena is incredible. Mostly it is found in a couple of lizards and frogs and a handful of aquatic creatures and plants. But for a butterfly? Beautiful.

(If it is found that I have copied these from someone who does not wish to have his/her photo here: Don't leave it on the internet for the world to see. However, if you wish to not share, send me a complaint and I will remove it.)
 - Silver Line

I Will Never Give Up On You

To my lost love. A poem.

Numbness. Pain.
"I can't do it." Tears.
"I'm here." Soft touch.
"I can't do it anymore. It's over."
Silence.
And I let you go.
I believed that it was what you needed.
I keep my distance.
I speak so very little.
And still I am here.
Yes I stand. Yes my life goes on.
But so much I would give to hear your voice again.
To know that you have grown.
To know that you are stronger.
No longer afraid.
Able to face the pain you gave me.
Just as I.
This is my hope.
Would I like to be with you?
More than anything on this earth.
But must I have it?
Sigh. No, I don't.
All I pray is that you benefit.
All I pray is for you to be blessed.
Blessed in all things.
And grow closer to the Lord.
In that light, what I want doesn't matter.
But as for waiting, I will hold on.
Maybe I will never know,
Never be told.
The unfinished story.
Your soul M.I.A.
But I will never lose hope.
Hope that you will become greater.
And welcome God's plans for you.
So if you never return to me?
I will survive thought it's not what I want.
But it's not about what I want.
It's about you becoming a man of God.
And in that,
I will never give up on you.

You Are Beautiful (a note of encouragement)

     As some of you have read in a couple of previous posts, my fiance walked away from me. The amount of pain I have received from his decision is tremendous. And his only answer of not being able to handle "it" (whatever "it" is) anymore has plagued me over and over again. I'm sure most can understand just how cutting to a woman's dignity and pride and perspective of worth is the action of a loving man no longer choosing her can be.
     I stand in God's grace. I am a giver. The Lord gave me so much love and joy overflowing that I have to give. I hold out my hand in an offering of healing. I give my smile when the sky is dark in someone's life. I live to serve. That's how God made me. How damaged do you think I felt when I offered my future to a man who asked for it, and then rejected it? Agony. Crying on the floor to the point of screaming. Praying to God, begging to be taken home to Heaven. And then when the tears stop, anger and bitterness try to take over and the desire to crush his throat or convince the entire world to never trust him again rise to the surface. And I scream to God for answers, for love.
     And I do. I do receive answers and reassurance that God loves me. Over and over again.
     A peace, a calmness comes over me as I wash the salt from my face after the tears dried. I raise my hands to the sky and sing a song to the Lord. His hand rests on me and he speaks to me:
     "You are beautiful."
     And I understand. I understand that my gifts remain. I am still whole. I am a giver. One facet in the image of Jesus, but still a part of Him. Regardless of how much the world rejects the Savior, He loves them all - each and every person. Including you and me. And the love put within me overflows. Regardless of how many times I could trust someone as much as I did and then be rejected, I would rise again. I would fall to my knees and cry of heartbreak and despair in humanity for a time, but then I would get up again. I would stand and hold out my hand once more. No matter how many scars I receive for it. Because no scar could compare to the scars Jesus received from being on the Cross.
     I am but a reflection seen in a foggy mirror - reflecting the Lord. The fog is my own sin and imperfections. But the One holding the mirror knows that the reflection - no matter how dimly - is His reflection. He sees my gifts and continues to give and grow them - slowly cleaning the mirror. And He calls me beautiful.
     So no matter what happens to you, how many times you end up hurt and questioning everything - especially who you are and if you're worth anything - remember that God made you with special gifts and He has called you to use them. He loves you. And because He made you, you are beautiful.
     So let yourself cry from time to time when the hurts of life feel overwhelming. Then remember that Jesus bore it all when He died for you. And then get up again. He says you were worth dying for. Get up. He will provide everything you need and His timing is perfect.
     Get up.
     Stand with Jesus.
     Walk with Him to guide you.
     Get up.
     You are beautiful.

Silver Dragon (a poem of encouragement)

Heart of silver, refined in the fire.
Mind of mercury, cloaking living wire.
Voice unhindered, testimony to never tire.
Eyes of blue rain, looking up to the sky.
Shining gifted wings, strong enough to fly.
Dragon boldness, motherly eye.
Truth seeker, always questioning.
Given discernment, God fearing.
Soaking in His wisdom, Savior watching.
Love offering, kind hand out to all.
Prayer warrior, pained worshiping soul.
Weight of the world, causing her to crawl.
Pariah child, why stay you to cry?
Lift your soul to the Most High
And return to your calling Sky.
Darling you are wounded through
Bleeding heart, you still love true.
But your blood serves Him too.
Your lonely strength to stand is drained,
But your shining wings remain.
So fly, Treoris, fly in His Name.

Faith

     It is said that if you have faith as small as a mustard seed (which by the way is only about 3 millimeters wide) you could tell a mountain to move [1]. What most people take that to mean is that nobody has any faith because it's obviously a power - and nobody's moved a mountain just by saying so. But it's not. Others will say if you have that much faith, you'll trust God to move the mountain in His time and however He chooses to do it so you don't even have to tell the mountain to move. What I've grown to understand is that as a Christian I am a vessel, a messenger. I simply carry what I'm told and have faith that God is using me every step of the way.
     What I mean is this: my faith is such God tells the "mountains" - people - to move through me. I can take no credit. It is His great love to speak through me. When I try to take control I mess up. The message only gets through when He's in charge. Yes, He sometimes chooses to use my words. But alone my words mean nothing. The Spirit moves through minds and hearts. The words only take on new meaning when God's whisper is behind them.
     Faith comes through understanding the Word [2]. Faith comes when one believes in the Savior. Faith is small, but it is mighty. So I will hold out my hand to everyone who will listen and pray that God speaks through me. He will move the mountains. I believe it.
     That, dear reader, is faith.

Colossians 4:3-6 "And pray for us, too, that God may open a door for our message, so that we may proclaim the mystery of Christ, for which I am in chains. Pray that I may proclaim it clearly, as I should. Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone."





[1] Matthew 17.20
[2] Romans 10.17

Old and New (100th post)

     As I sit here in an old easy chair I am joined by my newest cat friend. She lays on me with her small head in my elbow and her backside and tail on my lap, occasionally stretching her long skinny legs up to dig her paws into my chest. I smile down at her and stroke her tiny nose with my finger.
     Her little but warm black body and purring is comforting as I mourn the loss of a loved one. Both memories of the past and thoughts of the future do battle in my mind as I try to begin again. Forced to move on without my darling. Some days all I can do is cry. Other days I walk about feeling like a ghost I am so numb. But move on I must. I can't sit idle for long. The pain won't go away so I will use it as energy for my days ahead. I must never forget the past. Leave it behind, yes, but forgetting would be a mistake. A coward's way out.
     Our lives are shaped by those around us, as we help shape others. I am who I am but my lessons of life and perspective of the world is greatly influenced because I loved a man who in the end could not love me back as I loved him and so he left me. Legally I am single again. But for the time being my heart is bound. Only he can release me. But by wrong ways. To see him sin like that would hurt me more than his leaving me. So for his sake I pray I remain alone so long as he continues to not choose me. If he returns, well I will only think that one through if it happens.
     Expect the worst, hope for the best, and you will never be disappointed, as I always say. So I prepare a life of solitude, pouring my overflowing love into helping people and writing stories and volunteering for those in need. I would have done the the same had I gotten to keep my darling, but I must walk a slightly different path now. At least I never walk alone. I have my God, my family, my friends. Would I prefer to have him back? Yes. Would I rather find out that the tiny ember of hope that he would return to me is not in vain? Yes. Is that my tomorrow? Maybe. But it is not today. Today, I am hurting. Today, I strive to not need him. I love him. I will always love him. But I cannot marry him while he be in such a state. Maybe he will never look at me again like he once did. Maybe he will never understand that love is sacrifice. But I must not think about that right now.
     This is my 100th blog post. And I must say with it come some changes for me personally. Yeah I suppose you could say I'm simply picking up the strings from my life before my lover came. I would agree with you but would also say not quite. I had a dream that I was working toward. It took him to come into my life for me to realize that it was a selfish dream. Now that he is gone does not mean I should pursue that dream again. Yes part of it will be as if he never came along: I am writing again and saving money. What future I'm saving for now, I'm not sure. But I trust in God. It will work out according to His design and glory. I just have to keep listening.
     Today I deal with the pain of loss. Today I move forward but I'm not tossing aside the memories. Today I paint the sad sky but not forgetting to put in the little splash of color. Today I tell the tale of hurting but not forgetting to weave in the glimmer of hope. That is my blessing, my strength from God. No matter how dark the world, how fearful, how hurt, how sad, I don't see just the darkness for long. I am a silver line of God's tapestry, and I see the Light of the World. I may hold but a tiny candle that one time and another can be blown out or snuffed out, but it never stays out for long. It relights. And when I burn, I burn bright. I let the Love of God shine through me, which enables me to stand in the deepest darkness. I may carry scars, I may be hurting, I may tremble with worry or fear, but my smile always returns. I can be beat down. I have been broken before. But like the mystical Phoenix I rise again because I belong to and love my God before all else. He is my source of all my good qualities. And keeps me breathing, keeps me going day after day no matter what is thrown at me.
     I am old and I am new. I die little deaths. I am always learning, always growing. It is not pleasant. It is painful. But because of God I still have my smile, my joy, my endurance. This little warrior that is me drops her sword and cries. Often. I face everything with tears. But in the eyes of God my tears are diamonds that harden my weapons against the enemy and I rise up to a new day. I may suffer great pains in this life. I may cry tears over thousands and thousands of wrongs done not just to me but everyone. But my tears are prayers to Jesus. He counts every one. My voice is heard.
     Just like yours dear reader.

Silver Line

Valentine

     Yesterday, Valentine's Day, February 14th 2015. I lost the love of my life. No, he's not dead. He broke our engagement.
     "I love you so much. Please don't cry. I don't want to lose you." The words echo in my mind. A month ago I was fighting with regrets over certain things said and done between us. I told him if I were to escape it would be by suicide. Something snapped in him and he was silent for an entire week. When we spoke again, I tried to prove to him I would never do such a thing, that what I had meant was that had things been different I would have ended it.
     But he didn't take it. Time progressed and he continued to shut me out, in pain and constantly worried about our future. I tried everything I could think of, eventually taking the long distance away and driving over to see him yesterday. It only made things worse.
     I told him that love gives. I had meant to finish that with "I will keep giving no matter what because I love you." But I never got around to it. He turned to me in tears and said, "I can't. I can't keep giving. It hurts too much and won't go away. I'm sorry. It's over."
     At that time I remained dignified and gentle and tried to offer words of comfort to let him know that even though he was walking away I would still be there for him.
     I stayed the night at the home with his family. The next morning I awoke so numb I felt nothing and thought little. I was a ghost of sorts. After breakfast I was sitting on the stairs staring into space, feeling nothing, but then he came behind me concerned and just barely touched my back. In that second all my thoughts, memories, and emotions came flooding back all at once. I burst into sobs and cried hard enough that everyone in the house heard. He walked away instead of comforting me while his father tried to convince me to come down from the stairs and sit on the couch so as not to hurt myself and listened to broken words that spilled from my lips while my heart finally shattered.
     Please dear reader, if you have a valentine this year, hold your love very close and praise God you have someone. Because the feeling of betrayal from your one and only after you give and sacrifice everything and you blame yourself for hurting your love is incredibly hard to the breaking point.
     As for me, I must count my blessings of my time with him and pray that God uses our time alone instead of together for the betterment of both of us. And on that happier note,
     Happy Valentine's Day.

This Ring

Just a symbol, a little band they say.
Just a piece of metal with meaning.
Would you say the same of a crown?
But many agree to marriage,
and accept a ring placed around that special finger.
But though many tell of the wonder of love,
Only those who made that step and kept their promises
Would tell you that the ring is heavy.
It is a promise, a burden, a sacrifice.
It is a symbol of one of the deepest of bonds.
And this ring he put here, on my finger,
Laden with so much meaning.
I feel its weight now.
Absentmindedly I play with it,
Slipping it on my ring finger
And off onto my thumb.
Marveling it felt so light and loose when he first put it there.
Now I have to pull to get it to come.
I said yes. I chose him.
But even as hesitation and pain grow,
And not from me,
It feels sticky to my skin and heart.
It was I who hurt him.
I try to make amends,
fearfully, lovingly attempting to heal the breach.
Now this ring reminds me what I've done,
And what I must never do
If he decides to trust me again
And to keep me.
I am bound.
This ring, a symbol.
Of sacrifice.
I gave, and still give, my heart to him.
If necessary, I will give all
To ensure his well being.
And I broke that trust.
I hurt him.
What will he do now?
This ring - 
Once a symbol of his loyalty,
Now a symbol of my love.
This ring bears the weight of life.
Our future together.
In his hands.
And regardless his decision,
The ring he gave to me.
Regardless if he keeps me
Or turns away,
I shall keep this ring.
Forever.
I am bound.

Praise Prayer

Lord Jesus,
My Strength, my Shield. Only when the darkness comes and I face struggles do I see how far I have fallen from You. And still You bring me back to Your Heart.
I stand here in Your Presence, hands raised in worship.
The shadow is gone. Only Love remains.
It is because of You my Savior.
You have renewed my vigor and love for you.
Again and again I prayed for guidance, for sight of what may be, and forgot my worship of You. I neglected Your praises when I ought to have clung to You. Instead I clung to a human, expected too much, loved too little.
You have reminded me what true Love is.
In this time of waiting, I shall put aside all worries and concerns and return to the basics - focusing on You.
I love You Lord.
Thank You for loving me first.
My King, my Comfort, my Friend.
My Salvation and Endurance.
I am Your Servant.
I lay down all I am at Your feet.
I ask for nothing for myself for You have given me everything. I fix my eyes on You.
My God.
My God.
You forsook Your Son to rescue me.
Hear my praises!
Shout it from the rooftops!
Jesus Most High be glorified!

How Much Longer?

A poem.
Also titled: I Carried Love. 


How much longer?
I am waiting on the promise.
How much longer?
I am looking for the hand of God.
Waiting for the time that is to come.
How much longer will we wait?
The choice was made.
The vows were said.
A new life began.
Days of joy.
Days of pain.
They ask me, if I had seen?
If I had known the future before I made my choice?
Would I still have made that choice,
If I knew then what I know now?
I faced the sanity and the madness.
I carried love.
I lived the life I chose.
Days of gladness.
Days of sorrow.
Would I still have taken this road?
Who wouldn't?
Who would not take the chance for adventure?
And yet be willing to settle for gentleness?
I watched our story unfold.
But I did not just watch it.
I lived it.
I carried love.
And looking back, yes,
I still would have taken that road,
Made that choice.

How much longer?
I am waiting on the promise.
Waiting for the time that is to come.
How much longer will we wait?

Breathe (A Poem - Discourse)

"Would it be that I were to know patience,
To face the world with courage,
To walk away from all the glitter and shine.
Would it be to never pace the room,
To never worry again.
Would it be that I were grown.

Would it be that I could truly understand love,
To be satisfied with being loved,
To keep myself from growing cold.
Would it be to never be alone,
To never let others be lonely.
Would it be that I were grown."

Breathe little bird,
Taste this good air.
Breathe little one,
Enjoy growing older and living and learning.
Is it not enough to be alive?
Becoming does not fix it all.
Breathe little bird,
Feel the breeze against your wings.
Breathe little one,
Soon enough you will fly.

"Can't I fly now?
Oh can't I fly now?
Why must I wait?"

Breathe little sparrow,
Breathe little mockingbird.
See the ground below?
See the sky beyond?
Only when you are ready will you see it all.
Breathe.
Understand that time has not yet come.
But that time will never come if you are too quick.
Rush, and you will never truly live.
Breathe little bird.
Becoming does not fix it all.

"It is not enough just living.
I grow tired of the wait.
Am I not ready?
Another day falls asleep
And so must I.
Must I die before I truly live?"

You forget little bird,
True life is beyond the grave.
This life
Facing the ground and sky
And sea and wind,
Is only a breath to God in time.
So breathe little one.
Is it not enough to be alive?
Breathe my child.
Soon enough you will fly.

Cut Away

Here I am Lord.
On my knees and palms open,
Sign that I am submitting to You.
When I forget
and sever myself from You
is when I stumble and realize I am lost.
I spent so much of my time
Focused on another
Until nearly every thought was turned
And I found myself cut away from You.
I forgot my worship.
I forgot my joy.
I forgot my song.
I divided my attention,
Gave too little of it to You.
I thought it was alright,
But I drank solely of the gift,
And forgot the Giver of the gift.
I grew impatient on the slow realization of a dream.
A dream You first gave to me.
How dare I cut You away from it?
How dare I push You out?
Here I am Lord.
On my knees, and praying.
To You be the glory.
Restore my love for You my God.
Restore my reverent adoration to You.
I desire to cherish what You have given me,
Rather than abuse it as I have done.
Here I am Lord.
Awake me once more.
I had cut myself from You.
No more.
Bring me to Your heart,
Fill me with Your Spirit again.
I cannot fix what needs fixing right now.
I cannot change them.
I cannot grow the soul.
Only You can.
Lead on.
Lead on Lord.
You have not forsaken me.
Do not forsake them.
Fill them too.
Not just me.
But give me the patience and strength to see it through.
To wait is hard.
How long Lord?
How much longer must I wait?
How much longer must we wait?
Return to us Lord Jesus.
And never let us be cut away again.
As the bride longs for her bridegroom,
As the thirsty souls long for the Water of Life,
So we long for Your return.
Never let us be cut away again.