Shaking It Up a Little

As a writer and semi-blogger I tend to spend my free hours scouring the internet for new things to read.  Oh, I have my standards for sure, and I will never give those up.  I read funny blogs, spiritual blogs, mommy blogs, and a ton of in between.  But lately I have been in search of something...different...I don't know exactly how to explain this mission exactly, but I know what I mean.  What's that you say?  You're not mind readers?  Man!  This would be so much easier if you were!  Could you get on that please?  Thank you.

In the meantime...I'll try to fumble my way through.  I've already discussed that my word for this year is awareness.  True to form, I have been working through things, delving deep into my psyche (a damn scary place) and uncovering bits and pieces that were more comfortable staying buried thankyouverymuch.  I have been leaning into Jesus in a way that I have not in a very long time.  I have been writing like a fiend, publishing a fraction of it here, and trying to finish a novel that has decided to take a completely different turn when I was oh, about 75% complete.  And somehow in the midst of all of that, I have been seeking something new to shake up my soul a little.  As if that wasn't enough, right?  But I am only going to push myself so far before I convince myself that I am good and it's time to be comfortable now.  So off I went in search of some new writers to keep pushing me forward, if that makes sense at all.

Enter Sarah Bessey.  Holy mother, her blog is rocking my world.  Since discovering it, I have been greedily reading every single free moment that I possibly have.  There are still so many archives that I have not quite managed to squeeze in and I can't wait to get my hands on them.  She has amazing insight and a style of writing that is easy to read, while touching you at the core.  Please, I urge you to go check her out.  I promise you will not be disappointed!

Cliffs

Once upon a time, in a very different season of my life, I wrote a post about cliffs.  Jumping off them and how painful it is when no net appears to break your fall.  Tonight as I was writing my daily words (more to come on that), I found that new perspective has woven it's way into my heart.  An excerpt from that entry is below.

Oh what a glorious feeling it is, the falling.  What a different feeling it is when there is a hand holding yours and you are jumping together and not alone.  What an amazing difference when there is no net that needs to appear because you're both tandem parachute jumping.  That is what falling in love feels like.  Jumping off a cliff together with a parachute.  The beginning is fast and furious, wind rushing, scary, hoping that the chute is going to open when you get to the right moment and pull the cord and even though you know it is definitely going to, you don't really KNOW that it is going to until you pull the cord.  And then when you finally do pull the cord, there's a jolt that knocks you back - there is a relief in that moment even though the movement is not exactly comfortable on your body - the chute opened.  You are both on the same page together.  And the rest of the way down is beautiful.  You can start breathing and relax a little and actually begin to take in the amazing scenery around you.  The majestic mountains in the distance with their snow covered peaks.  The beautiful sparkling crystal lakes and the green grassy plains joining with fields of wildflowers.  There is so much to take in and you lean into each other, silently, letting your hearts speak all the words that have not been created yet for the feelings that are flowing in those moments.  This is what cliff jumping is supposed to be.  When it's good, when it's right, this is what jumping and falling should feel like.

Take my hand darling, let's jump together...

My Side of the Street

In the interest of giving you a break from my rambling, I've invited some of my dear friends to guest post for me from time to time.  Below is the first from my dear, insightful friend, Christina.  Enjoy!

If given the choice, I will always choose heartache over troubled joys.  My heart can break and then break again, but my footing will always remain.  Slipping off this rock, is not an option.  Faltering during a moment of pain doesn't exist quite so much due to one's innate need to pillage on.  We fight to continue through pain, we search for the light at the end of the tunnel, we survive.  But to search for acceptance and praise for joy exhausts even the strongest willed individuals.  Rights and recognition for happiness, on aisle five right next to the canned regret, on sale today!  Nothing about happiness should seek out air to breathe.  At no point during celebration should hope be stamped out by evil and angst.  Rejoice in my amazement with all that you are or leave me alone to praise all things, with all that I am.  Rain on your own parade with your damaged goods sign and your defamed tongue.  

As for me, I will choose this side of the street, broken and painful, but numb and familiar, while defending the rights of those who find joy.  Squash you like the bugs you are for attempting to strip away the beautiful layers of paint on the glory of life's happy artwork.  Judge if you like, but my heart know's it's strengths, it's boundaries.  I am strong, I am fierce, I am here to rejoice in your light as I love you...And to protect you from those who try to stunt your glow. - All this watching from this, rather, my side of the street.

Freedom

It's time to let go.  It's time to purge.  It is time to release myself from the bonds that have held me in this place for far too long.  It is a scary thing to be bound by chains, to be held and stuck and unable to move.  It is a far scarier thing to find that the chains you thought held you were unlocked the whole time and that you are the one holding yourself in that place.  So often, we are the enemy.  You've heard the phrase, "you are your own worst enemy."  It is sheer TRUTH.  We bind and gag ourselves.  We hold ourselves still and remain silent, frozen in fear.  On the rare occasion that we actually find a way to move, most of us still pick up the chains and carry them with us - just in case we should ever need to remember that we were once bound by them.

How ridiculous we are.  How ridiculous I have been.

I am a writer.  Duh.  You know this already or you wouldn't be here reading this.  I have never thrown away anything I've written.  I have buried it in boxes, under the bed, in the attic.  I have mailed things to friends (and they to me) that are too painful to have under my roof with me, but I am not willing to part with because I might want it one day.  As I write this I realize that I am a hoarder. Not of things, though I do have my fair share of them, but of emotions.  And what is writing if not emotions poured out on paper?  By holding on to all of those things, I am allowing the feelings in them to continue to bind me to the past.  I speak of how grateful I am to be here.  To have been to the wars and fought and come out on the other side.  And yet, I hold on to the story of the wars so that I can re-live it if I have a whim to.  I cling tightly to them and hoard the feelings and words contained in them.  I tell you how much I have changed and how far I have come - look you can see it on paper!  I am not there anymore!  But how far have I really come if I can't release myself from the words that are chaining me to that place?

Perhaps not as far as I thought.

By holding on to those words, I am giving myself permission to beat myself up for mistakes made long ago.  I am allowing my heart to re-open wounds that have healed already.  I am an emotional cutter in these moments, self-inflicting pain that there is no need to cause.  And it has got to stop.  No one else is holding those mistakes against me.  No one else is screaming that I have done damage to those I love.  No one else is inflicting judgement.  No one.  It's all me.  Which is both freeing and humiliating in the same moment.

So I am letting go.  I am throwing away the chains that I have been secretly carrying around.  I will not allow them to hold me and weigh me down any longer.  The only way that I can do this is to throw them away. Literally.  This is frightening for me because I have never put in the garbage my own words before.  But they are no longer words on a page.  They are a battleground.  The scars of the battle are still with me and are continuing to heal with time.  But they cannot do that if I am living on the battleground.  It is harder than I thought it would be, to throw them away, and release them.  But the result is so, so, worth it.  Because there is beauty in the ashes.  And more importantly, perhaps most importantly...

There is freedom.

Being a Mommy

Motherhood is so complex.  It is the most wonderful, terrifying, rewarding & exhausting thing on the planet.  It is full of rock star moments and times where one more "why" will drive you to the brink of insanity; the line between those two things is wafer thin and can change in an instant.  It is adjusting to a child who has been like clockwork for nearly four years and has recently decided that 6 a.m. is a better hour to rise than 7 a.m. was.

And still the beautiful creature sitting in my lap this morning astounds me.  Overwhelming love flows through me and fills my heart with joy.  I know that this is one of those kairos moments where standard time stands still.  The clock telling me there are showers to be had, breakfast to be made and work to get to, slows to a stop.  I study every inch of her, trying to memorize exactly how she looks in this moment.

Tiny little perfect fingers intertwine with mine and I am struck by how olive her skin is up against my oh-so-pale color.  Big brown eyes stare back at me - sleep still clinging to the corners of her lashes.  Long brown hair falls on her face and she impatiently brushes it out of her way.  Ruby earrings peek out from the most perfect ears God ever made.  She yawns and snuggles into my chest proclaiming, "I like you mama."

My heart melts as I whisper back that I like her too.  In fact, she is the coolest kid in the world.  I want nothing more than to call a time-out and freeze in this moment for just a little longer.  It is these moments that are what mommies live for.  I held her a little tighter savoring each second.  And then I heard her sweet voice whisper, "Mama?  I just tooted on you" and then giggle hysterically in the way only a small child can do.  Reality snapped back into focus and time started slowly moving again. 

A perfect picture of motherhood indeed.