Lost Somewhere In The Space Between

She sat there pouring her heart out to me; we were holding hands, I was amazed at the beauty of her honesty, as well as my lack of emotions in listening. Normally when you cry I cry, but not yesterday. The thing that sat on me sideways was her description of how she and God used to be together, how she longs for that again – not to go back, but to have now – because her then sounded like my now and I got scared the way I get scared watching a Hoarder’s episode and one of the kids tells of how clean and orderly the house used to be, I think, “Oh, crap! That could be me one day!” Like that. We sat and talked for an hour. Then, without missing a beat, I went to where he was; to talk, to listen, to encourage. The night before he had been lamenting and made a real and off-the-cuff comment that drove the point home that he and I are related – father and daughter – I laughed while holding back tears. Anytime it’s made obvious to me that I come from him I am overwhelmed with emotions.

I’m an encourager and a writer. Not that either one of those could be put on my resume but they are the things I think about as I walk through my day. After they left the house and I scrambled to get some breakfast all my lacking of emotions kind of fell apart and I was feeling like I’d been lifted above every word I’d ever thought, written, or said, and was at a loss. We try to speak niceities into someone’s shitty circumstance just to be left feeling like an asshole because all that really matters is that you show up. It’s like I looked back on the morning and could see myself sitting with each of them, respectively, and I was grasping for all the right and proper and godly and encouraging ways to lift them up above the dung heap they’d been thrown into because I didn’t want them leaving discouraged or empty or sad. And when I look even deeper, into my own self (it’s about to get real up in here), I see that I needed to speak those niceities over them, finding some Scripture that was appropriate for the moment, and preaching that God is either mighty or He is not, because I’m lost somewhere in the space between hope and fear and sitting in silence with them, which is something I just wrote about on facebook last week, would feel like I wasn’t as wise and transformed and wonderful as I like to think I am. Ahem.

There are no easy answers when you find yourself face-to-face with something you’ve never experienced. All that stuff you have been through, well, we like to think we’re wiser for having walked through the muck but sometimes the new thing comes from left field and our experiences haven’t come from there and we’re left groping and doubting and wanting it all to be different and better and not this.

Later I got the feeling that it was one of those days where when you’re living somewhere off in the distant future and look back it will be the day that separates the before from the after.

My prayer as I muddle through all this is that God will pull me from that space between hope and fear to Himself – all of us - to Himself. Amen.

Peace

The news came Monday and I was catapulted into fear and tears and the unknown. Isn’t it funny how we like to assume control until the ball comes out of left field reminding us that we’re not.

I wrote here Tuesday morning and have received beautiful and gracious comments – thank you all, I love you! I have not replied to them yet, but I will.

Tuesday afternoon I was sitting at the dining room table at my daughter and son-in-laws house, little man sound asleep in the other room. I’m eating my lunch and reading a book when a question is posed in my soul,

“What if this doesn’t take his life, but deepens it?”

Um. I hadn’t even considered that. Give me bad news and I’m off and running to the worst cast scenario. I’m sure you have no idea what I mean.

The question was both a surprise and a comfort - just like God.

Sometime yesterday (Wednesday) I realized I wasn’t freaking out, nor had I cried. Unbeknownst to me I had been covered in peace – which is still a new and awkward place to find myself in. Where you’re not running about mentally trying to dot all your “I’s” and cross all your “T’s”, as if there was anything you could do about it anyway. We do like to play God, don’t we? And we do such a splendid job of it too.

This morning I wrote out the beautiful words of Jesus from a few different translations. I will share them with you as I know I’m not the only one who needs reminding:

Peace I leave with you; My [own] peace I now give and bequeath to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. [Stop allowing yourselves to be agitated and disturbed; and do not permit yourselves to be fearful and intimidated and cowardly and unsettled.] Jesus, John 14, 27, Amplified

I’m leaving you well and whole. That’s my parting gift to you. Peace. I don’t leave you the way you’re used to being left—feeling abandoned, bereft. So don’t be upset. Don’t be distraught. Jesus, John 14:27, The Message

I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid. Jesus, John 14:27, New Living Translation

And then there was the ever popular Philippians 4:6-7

Do not fret or have any anxiety about anything, but in every circumstance and in everything, by prayer and petition (definite requests), with thanksgiving, continue to make your wants known to God. And God’s peace [shall be yours, that tranquil state of a soul assured of its salvation through Christ, and so fearing nothing from God and being content with its earthly lot of whatever sort that is, that peace] which transcends all understanding shall garrison and mount guard over your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. (Amplified)

Tell me that isn’t just superb…..? Whew! Thank You, Father, for Your Word this morning!

Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.

It IS wonderful when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life. In the last 24 hours or so it has felt like a warm blanket covering my soul. Thank You, sweet, sweet, Jesus!!!

Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.

Today my dad goes in for a cat and bone scan to check if the cancer has stayed or spread. We will know more Monday, hopefully tomorrow (Friday). Beloved, I do not know what is coming. But I am holding onto hope! Either we are in the care of His everlasting Arms, or we’re not. I may need reminding of this if I freak out again. Just sayin’!

Cancer. The New Four-Letter Word

You should probably be aware that strewn throughout this post will be some four-letter words that aren’t cancer.

Have you ever received news that seems to shift the earth on its axis and now everything you look at or think about is different?

We are so good at taking people for granted, aren’t we? Why is that? Is it because we deny death and the truth that not one single, solitary one of us gets out alive? Even the rich and successful and healthy. The only One who made it out alive was Jesus Christ and He had to die first.

It was a week ago that he called to tell me he had an appointment at the urologist, something about peeing a lot and his prostate. Then he called to tell me the appointment was over and how he never wanted to do THAT again. Then he called me to tell me the results…..

It’s cancer.

My dad has prostate cancer.

I was at my daughter and son-in-law’s house watching my grandson when the call came in – little man was playing in his exersaucer and he’s usually quite loud with his adorable baby noises, bouncing around in his seat making everything rattle and roll. But during the call that sweet baby sat very still, looking at his grandma intently. It was beautiful.

My dad is a man of strong faith, being a pastor and all. Although I believe he called me while still in shock, he was cool, calm, and collected. If I’d spoken with his wife the conversation would have been much more emotional. “My life is in the Lord’s hands,” he said with ease. And that very fact helped me receive the news with less devastation than if my dad believed his life was in anyone’s else’s hands. I, too, was cool, calm, and collected; asking him questions about this, that, and the other, but I couldn’t wait to get off the phone with him so I could call my husband. When I finally did, I cried.

Then I cried later, through laughter, dancing with my 6 months old grandson, while Anita O’Day crooned off the satellite. My dad loves her and has talked about her to me numerous times. It’s always been easy for me to laugh and cry in the same moment.

I’ve struggled in my relationship with my dad over the years. Responding to his absence in the home with anger (it will be why I cry today; why I’m crying now). One time a million years ago he was at the house I lived in with my mom, sitting in my room, telling me about his new place and how he wanted me to see it. In my 14 year old angst I replied, “I don’t give a fuck where you live.” Sigh.

In those days anytime he called the house and we would chat – you know pretending like you have a normal father/daughter relationship – he would end the call with, “I love you,” and I would reply by hanging up.

In 2007 when my life had gone to shit I spent six weeks at his house. I was 36 years old. It would be the time I finally got to know my dad. We spent many a night sitting out in my car that had satellite radio and crank the Frank Sinatra channel; I would smoke my cigarettes, he his cigar, and we would talk and laugh. Even in the midst of such raging turmoil in my life, something really miraculous was happening. When the time came for me to go back home, I wept like I’ve never cried before or since. For a dozen different reasons, but leaving this dad I was getting to know made the top of the list.

My dad doesn’t get cancer! At 74 years old he’s still preaching, playing basketball and last year he hiked a fourteener here in Colorado. The doctor told him yesterday that a good thing he has going for him is that he’s a healthy 74. Isn’t that ironic? “You have cancer,” followed by, “you’re healthy.”

I can tell you that I’m trusting God through my tears. But what I want to do (and have) is just sit down and say, “Fuck.” As much as that offends some, God knows me, and I’m okay with that.

All kinds of things have spun my heart back in time since receiving the news. I’m fine and then I cry. I text both my brothers on my way to bed last night, just to tell ‘em I love ‘em. I woke up and instantly the news flooded my reality and I laid in bed and wept, my husband reaching across to lay his hand on my arm.

Not one of us lives without the breath of God. Not one of us draws our last breath without His knowledge. He loves us. I think I’ll stick with the basics today.

 

Rougher Than Most

I’ve always felt a little different when I compare myself to other Christian women. Even as a little girl I felt like a fish out of water when surrounded by them. I know I’m not supposed to compare but some days the differences are so obvious and in my face that I can’t help but notice.

I love Jesus. He is my Lord and Savior by the grace of God and not by any means of my own doing or effort. But I’m rougher than most. My edges are frayed and I’d have to say I like it that way. I like others who are the same way. I’m drawn to the messy fray. But then someone points out how smooth my edges are supposed to be or how God will smooth me in time by trying to calm and quiet the edges because what I think, feel, or believe doesn’t jive with them and what they think, feel, or believe.

Sometimes life is hard as hell and I can’t make sense of it. Sometimes I’m asked to face something – in myself or someone else – that is super ugly and hard and not nice. Sometimes I hear stories of what people have gone through or are going through and it’s messy and shitty and I can’t wrap it all up with a nice Jesus bow on top. Sometimes I prefer to say the real thing than the fake Christianese thing because I want to offer those who, like me, are rougher than most something substantial; okay that one is most of the time. Sometimes I listen to Jesus music and weep and wail from my toes. And sometimes it just takes a good Metallica song to jump start my attitude adjustment. Sometimes we are trudging through and wondering how long we can make it another day; Jesus or not. Sometimes we do vent and cuss and ask big questions that have no answers. Sometimes we cry and don’t know why, or maybe we do, and we hope that doesn’t scare you away because we’re feeling something for the first time (or the millionth.) Sometimes we’ve made so many bad choices that our life is falling down around us and we reach out for a hand only to find that everyone has run away. And sometimes life just falls down around us with no particular reason at all and we ask even bigger questions that also have no answers and someone pops up with their Jesus and wants to polish it all up instead of just sit with us and let us move through what we’re going through. We’re not going to camp out there, all of us are aching for beauty to rise from the ashes. Sometimes people are so afraid of the undefined mess that they try to box it up all nice and tidy. To be quite honest, Jesus has not made anything neat and tidy in my life! He has done a lot of things that didn’t have anything to do with what I thought this life of faith was all about (I’m still surprised about that!) He has given me a freedom I never imagined was possible, but neat and tidy it is not.

But even in all of my roughness this ol’ rebel heart stands firmly on (okay it’s more like wobbly most days) the truth that in the end and the middle and strewn throughout this life transformation and forgiveness and redemption and love and hope are real and tangible and offered daily to the worst person you can think of (and yes, that even means yourself.) It is because of those things that I can bear the weight of the things I see and hear and know, otherwise I’m crushed beneath it and am on the hunt for my next drink.

A Living Parable

In my post from yesterday I shared an excerpt from Eugene Peterson’s intro to Hosea in The Message which included the idea that Hosea’s life was a living parable. As I wrote I listened to a song by The City Harmonic; take a listen. It all collided into an explosion of what I was writing and what I was hearing - I wept and then proceeded to listen over and over and over again, weeping all the way. I am listening to it again this morning. And Yes there are tears. Dang mascara!

I copied and pasted the post to my Facebook page, Grit & Grace, and received a huge response. I wept some more. One response included the “there is a time to confront sin” line. It hit me sideways. Someone who is far from God isn’t living in response to God’s way of living, so to confront their sin, especially from a place that doesn’t involve a foundation of a loving relationship, will do nothing but hinder them and push them further away. I don’t think I can find that in the Bible if you’re the kind to go look. This comes from my life. My default is running when love isn’t present. You might not be like me, but I am not the only one who holds that default position. In all humility and with all due respect, please listen to me. Please.

I’ve pondered the idea: a living parable. I want that!! I want my life to be a living parable. The visual of a much larger Reality. The story of a greater One.

I recall a couple years back having a random phone call with a person named, Patricia. Only Patricia was a guy. He was calling for something I was selling on craigslist and we connected (it happens). The call would last an hour. We talked about A LOT of stuff. He shared the rejection and shame he felt for the life he was living. I listened. The call was winding down when something happened that I had never experienced before, the weight and significance of God entered the room I was in. I know what you’re thinking, “This girl has lost her marbles.” No. I haven’t. I didn’t. And I’m not. You couldn’t escape it. It was real and heavy and beautiful. I told Patricia how much God loved him. I was crying; he was crying. He told me no one had ever been so kind to him or said such beautiful things to him; I cried some more. He called me a couple times after that. We chatted. He was the age of my girls. We laughed. He was moving out of the state soon after. His mom was coming to town for something. We wanted to meet up. We never did. He crosses my heart every so often.

If I were to die today, and even as I live and breathe, I want the message of my life to be of Hope; of Love. I want to leave the message behind of how so very much He loves you. Yes, you. Right there wherever you are. Outside the religious circus. Not sitting in a pew. Haven’t prayed in years (if ever). Would rather die than darken the door of a church. Not sure you believe God even exists because life can be such a crapshoot sometimes (seemingly). Addicted. Abandoned. Rejected. Poor. Outcast. Lost. Scared. Religious. Striving. Sick. Dying. I want those who look at my life to see His love; His absolute, whole, and scandalous love. Nothing else. As far as I’m concerned nothing else matters. Every good and eternal thing stems from that Love.

A Staying Kind Of Love

I was asked a question by a friend last night: “When you were far from God what could someone have done to show Him to you in more tangible ways?”

Instantly the slew of what-not-to-do’s bubbled up from my soul: Don’t lecture me. Don’t bash me with the Bible. Don’t reject me. Etc.

What I can’t seem to stop thinking about this morning is love. Yeah, love. We’ve all heard God is love, but with society having it all wound up and twisted we’re not even sure what love even means anymore. Do we….?

As I look in the rear-view mirror of my own life; which comes with my personality, experiences, and perspectives, I must start off by saying that all those years I was away from God was because I wasn’t ready for anything else. As important as it is for us to share the love and grace of God and the finished work of Christ, ultimately it is the Holy Spirit’s work to soften and prepare hearts. I am NOT of the belief that the sharing of His love and grace and finished work is only with words from our mouths, while our lives run amok. But rather with the unspoken words from the lives we live while abiding in Him.

God cares more for those who are far from Him than we do. I think we forget that. I think we’ve gotten so accustomed to living by what we see and calling it faith, that we forget there is a whole heckuvalot going on in the supernatural realm, where the Kingdom does its best work, and were we can’t see with human eyes. On the most ordinary day and in the most ordinary way, hearts are turning to Him. Trust His work.

Anything I write; ever actually, but certainly today, comes from a place of trusting God to work His love and grace; mercy and forgiveness; restoration and redemption, in the hardest and darkest of hearts that we with our finite vision would deem impossible. As we like to quote but rarely believe, anything is possible with God. My very life is proof that anything is possible. I continue to be amazed that I even care about God; that my desires have changed and shifted to include this Christ, and that this ol’ rebel loves Him so – yes imperfectly, but so imperfectly much.

Let’s go back to love. I’m not talking about enabling or tolerating dangerous or abusive behavior. I’m not talking hippie free love. I’m talking about a staying kind of love; a real earthy kind of love, eternal. The kind that stops us in our tracks because we’re not accustomed to it. The kind of love that shines a light in this dark world. To save space I’m not going to write it all out but I suggest that you read Eugene Peterson’s introduction to Hosea in The Message – holy beautiful! Here is an excerpt: “Hosea is the prophet of love, but not love as we imagine or fantasize it. He was a parable of God’s love for his people lived out as God revealed and enacted it – a lived parable. It’s an astonishing story; a prophet commanded to marry a common whore and have children with her. It is an even more astonishing message: God loves us in just this way – goes after us at our worst, keeps after us until he gets us, and makes lovers of men and women who know nothing of real love.”

I don’t know about others, though I might know more than I’m willing to admit. I do happen to know what it feels like to be far away from God and to be brought up front and center, in the throne room, where Christ has made it possible for sinners of all ranks to enter – boldly, fearlessly, gratefully.

* I had to take a break to weep after writing the above sentence*

Here is my answer; both to my friend and anyone else who has a heart asking the same question. But more importantly, to myself. Get close to Him yourself. So close that anyone who is in your presence finds themselves in His Presence (even when they aren’t able to see it at the time, they will look back one day and know it was God in you loving them.) Ask Him to reveal Himself to you. Please don’t ask from others what you yourself aren’t able to live. Love them; don’t turn away when their words are ugly and their lives have corpses of sin dangling from it. This will all look differently depending on who you are and who ‘they’ are. This isn’t an easy five-step plan that we can box up and make look neat and orderly.  Which is an unfortunate but beautiful thing.

I could write until I am blue in the fingers. Those who are far from God hold a very, very special place in my heart. But in order to reign it in and keep it simple I will share what I wrote on my Grit & Grace page just the other day. It should wrap this up and let you know where I stand:

“I was trying for the second time to watch this movie when the scene plays out. And I’m undone. A young girl and her new boyfriend; both have cancer. He comes to visit her during chemo when she starts to get sick. He doesn’t even flinch; he gets the tub and, staying at her side, holds it for her. When she finishes he hands her a towel and she says, “I’m sorry.” He responds, “It’s okay. It could be me tomorrow.” His humble and loving response comes from someone who has walked the path and knows full well what is possible.  No turning away. No shame. No lecture on all she could have done to keep it from happening. Because he knows.  Humility. Love. Compassion.
This should be us. When a family member, co-worker, friend, or neighbor comes to us with ____________ (fill in the blank.) No turning away. No shame. No lecture on all they could have done to keep it from happening. Because we know. Humble. Loving. Compassionate.”

Godspeed, Beloved. It is the by the strength of Christ that any of this written or lived is ever possible.

Birth Pains

For my blog readers who are not following my Facebook page of Grit & Grace, I wrote this on Tuesday (April 16) on that page and it seems my heart is longing to say it again after the tragedy in West, Texas.

I want to speak. I want to stay silent.

Times like these we are inundated with loud and chaotic voices clamoring for our attention; religious and otherwise. I don’t appreciate either. They do not comfort or bring peace, rather they make me feel shaky and anxious.

Investigations. Rumors. Fear. What’s next? … We are a living paradox! The one line I read this morning that has me breathing deeper is how all our days are filled with grief and hope. Yes.

Grief. Hope.

We are experiencing birth pains, tribe. Jesus said this would be the case. Using that analogy let us not forget that during labor there is sweating and crying out; lengthy hours and wondering how much more we can take. But then the birth comes and with it the new life we’ve hoped for; “the arrival of the Son of Man.”

Beloved, do not be alarmed! In the midst of all of this, and whatever is to come, Jesus is still the Truth; He is never changing; the same yesterday, today, and forever. Amen.

To steal some words from a friend, “Turn off the news today and go out and make a difference.”

And now a prayer for today (April 18)

Heavenly Father,  We lift up to Your loving and capable; merciful and Sovereign Hands, all those who are affected by the current tragedy in West, Texas. All the emergency personnel, the evacuees, the staff in the hospitals in Waco; the wounded and those grieving the loss of loved ones; those watching from afar with hearts full of anxiety at the scenes being played out on news channels across the nation. Father, we want to thank You for giving us Your Son, Jesus Christ, who will not crush those who are weak or quench the smallest hope (Isaiah 42:3.) In His Name we pray, Amen.

Light Vs. Darkness

I write to work things out. I write to put words to struggle and weave hope through them. For me. For you. I write to keep things outside of myself, for fear of exploding if they stay inside. I write to stay honest, because I know what secrets and hiddenness do to me. I write to stay vulnerable because these days I don’t know any other way to live. I write to keep the light on, like Tom Bodett and his infamous Motel 6 commercials.

When I decided to turn tail and run when I was a young girl I do not remember there being any kind of struggle. I just turned and walked away. Like the prodigal son; he asked for his inheritance, his father gave it to him, and he left. No fight, no lecture.

Within weeks of my giving my life back to Christ there was a period of time where I was flirting with disaster (for all you Molly Hatchet fans) and though there was no struggle it wouldn’t take long (days) before I was left asking myself, “What are you doing? Are you really going down this road again? AGAIN?” And I turned around.

But lately. Good gracious. I was told a few days ago that there must be some battle over the roof of my home; warrior angels and such. Not to sound weird or ‘out there’, not that I’m sure I care, but I’ve never experienced anything like this before. It has been absolutely insane the last few weeks; internal and fierce.

I can hear the darkness whispering in my ear, “You know you’re not cut out for this.” And I know they’re right; when I compare myself to the culture of Christianity in this country I wince at my inability to conform, still (always). One day I was in my kitchen, preparing dinner, and the battle was ensuing to the point of my trembling in total agreement with the dark side - ”I’m NOT cut out of this! I CAN’T conform. I SUCK at following.  I think it’s time for me to go.”

Writing that out makes my chest flutter with erratic heart beats.

But if that has been in my face (ear, heart, wherever) these last few weeks, so has the pull from my Heavenly Father. Do you recall my post from the other day where I had written: “It’s like He’s on my heels. Gentle but substantial. I can feel His breath on my neck.” I wasn’t kidding.

With each and every whisper from the dark side, I would constantly be reminded of something bigger and more powerful; through other people’s kind and timely words, as well as passages I would randomly (ahem) come across. I’ve wept at the insistency of Him. You’ve got to know that I’ve carried this ‘wrongness’ around with me since, well, as long as I can remember. And to get this larger-than-life-in-my-face-I’m-not-letting-you-go feeling from the Creator of all the Universe…..it’s kind of a big deal.

Living through this has worn me down on one side, in an exhausted kind of way. But it’s also lifted me up and strengthened me, in a ‘I’m pretty sure He’s got me and I’m safe with Him’ kind of way.

Reading these words yesterday morning I wept: “Temptation often comes upon a man with its strongest power when he is nearest to God……You never know that you have a grip on Christ, or that He has a grip on you, as well as when the Devil is using all his forces to attract you from Him; then you feel the pull of Christ’s right hand.”

Friend, I have felt the pull of Christ’s right hand.

I’ll never be the same.

Time And Grace

It doesn’t take long when I’m sitting in the quiet of the house listening to the sounds, smelling the smells, and feeling the tick of time passing, before words are bubbling up and out of me. So, here I am. I hadn’t planned to write today. Heck, I don’t plan to write anytime. I just write when the words come. It’s like eating when you’re hungry. Only different and with less crankiness.

There is nothing special about this day in history, for me. But the winds gusting outside and the clouds covering the sun and then moving again made me reminisce about days gone by.

One year ago little man was just a thought in my head and now he’s a reality in my heart.

Two years ago we were fearing the reality of losing our house and now we still call it home.

Three years ago I was helping my husband flip houses and now I’m caring for my grandson part-time.

Four years ago we were preparing for our youngest daughter to get married and now they are closing in on their fourth wedding anniversary with a baby in tow.

Five years ago I was new to Jesus and didn’t have a clue which end was up and now I’m beginning to see that it’s all upside down with Him.

Six years ago I was mere months away from having the rug yanked out from underneath my life and now I can say in all honesty that I’ve found freedom and peace because it happened.

Seven years ago I was mentally packing up to leave my marriage and now I love him more than I ever imagined was even possible.

I’m grateful for the passing of time and the showering of grace. Have a beautiful weekend!

Holes In The Floor Of Heaven

I have, more times than I’m willing to admit, whined and thrown tantrums before my Father in Heaven. These last five plus years have been Hard with a capital “H”! Especially those first months. My fists, white from knuckling all my gods, Him ripping them (that’s how it felt, I cannot lie) out of my hands and life. I ached. I cussed. To have the view I did of this Big Bad Man in the Sky, wielding His wrath at me for all my sins and my feeling raw, naked, and  beaten down. I would weep angry tears hollering at the ceiling,  “Why? Why? WHY? WHAT.  DO. YOU. WANT. FROM. ME?” It wasn’t pretty. After living in the darkness as long as I did the light hurts, burns; feels like it just might kill you.

My heart has journeyed many miles since those days. My whining and tantrum throwing hasn’t been eliminated, but they’ve changed for sure. Many of those gods I was white knuckling have lost their sheen. But not just that, they also lost their power to bind me in chains. I wanted to write about all the ways I’ve noticed that fact in the month of March alone. But I didn’t want to sound pious (God forbid).

All my sins lived out and proud, mistakes made, failures fueled by bad decisions, and shame that hid me behind masks that were not my true self, have been like rungs on a ladder. As I lived for myself and to myself those rungs led me down further and further into the darkness, unbeknownst to me. Once I walked over the threshold of forgiveness those rungs were redeemed and it feels, some days, that I’m still climbing up and out. But also He shines His light on the rungs when I’m up on my high horse, having forgotten what I’ve done and seeing the wrongness of others, and He invites me to climb down.

For the many times I’ve told Him, “Thank You,” it seems so lacking. Maybe that’s why I’m so determined to allow my gratitude to come out of the very life I live. Anything less seems like a slap in His face. I couldn’t possibly make sense of it all, I’m just a woman, but on days like today it feels like I get a glimpse through the holes in the floor of heaven and I am nudged by the very heart of God that it’s all been clothed in purpose. And I weep grateful tears.