Crunching Numbers

I hate math.  Always have.  From simple functions to complicated algebraic equations and geometric abstractions – I despise it all.  And in this fact lies the mother of all irony:  I’m obsessed with numbers.  I calculate and recalculate daily.  I constantly review the figures that sum up my life. 

1 husband + 3 children = my whole world

24 hours – being pulled 100 different directions = not enough time in the day

1,600 calories a day – 400 burned off at the gym = you’re still fat

1 bank account – roughly 25 obligations = maybe you’re not really hearing God (get a JOB!!)

And so it goes, day after day, week after week, month after month.  Figures pile in my head, digit upon painful digit, numeral upon cruel numeral, and I wonder when the totals will ever match the statistics I created long ago.  When will I be 100% okay with who I am, regardless of the fluctuating, square-shaped integers Satan uses to box me in?  Slowly, timidly I raise my hand, ready to answer my own question:  never. 

And then I am reminded of His math – the math that is easy, the math that doesn’t require Einstein intelligence to figure, the math that turns my never into always.

1 Me + all of you (good, bad, warts and all) = I’ve got it under control

3 nails + 1 cross – Satan’s upper hand = Eternal salvation, security, and victory

60 seconds a minute, 60 minutes an hour, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year = I will never leave you

Me 1^st in all things = all these things will be added to you

1 you trusting in 1 Me = all things are possible                

               

Courage

It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are. – E.E. Cummings

It takes courage to remove plastered smiles, years-old armor crusted over a bruised heart, dark glasses that hide soul-mirroring eyes, masks that cover genuine expression, and hardened exterior that affords no entry. People often prefer the forged rather than authentic – it’s less messy, not as complicated.  I used to be afraid of myself, but the older I get the more I realize that such vast fabrication is an injustice.  God made me the way I am.  He actually created this on purpose.  He looked at His creation and called it good. 

Shy

Afraid

Self-conscious

Inhibited

Intimidated

Inadequate

Introverted

These are the things I am.The very qualities I despise most are the ones He is using to teach me that in spite of myself, and regardless of what others think, I am His and that’s all the qualification I will ever need.

The Trunk

Dark, tired and worn from long years of use, it is now a conversation piece that sits in my home.  It belonged to my grandmother and although I can find no date inscribed within, I know it is at least a century old.  I have only been in possession of this trunk for a few days, and already I sense its power.  I find myself staring at it, thinking about the places it’s been, the things it’s seen, the words it’s heard, the contents it once held dear. 

The trunk is now filled with morbid reminders of times past.  Cards and letters of condolence upon the deaths of my great-grandfather and grandfather, pictures that my now-deceased father drew as a child, newspaper clippings of death announcements, funeral registries signed by grieving friends and family members, faded pictures of people I barely knew.  While these items are morose, even bordering on the macabre, I find myself unable to remove them.  I have no use for the objects of this trunk, but it seems somehow iniquitous to discard them.

The melancholy papers, pictures and items forlorn are all that remain of that trio of posterity.   They are the only manuscripts that retell the stories of those lives now abandoned.  And I wonder if any of these men ever considered that their memories would be reduced to the contents of a trunk, the only physical reminders of their days the announcements of their deaths. 

In Matthew we are taught to store up treasures in heaven because there they are incorruptible (6:19-21), and in James we are reminded that our lives are but a vapor (4:14).  With these thoughts in mind, I have more heavily considered the life I lead and the choices I make.  I want my years to count for eternal use so when I am gone mere papers will be unable to do justice to my story.  I want to live a life that leaves a legacy on hearts instead of on documents. 

It is my prayer this week that we will all be reminded of the eternal value of our actions and choices. What we do in these moments – big or small, profound or mundane, hidden or exposed - is pregnant with consequence.  May we not only focus on ourselves in the here and now, but on the lasting impact of our heritage, both spiritual and physical.

Ebb and Flow

The beautiful coastline with sunny horizon is bright and inviting.  Hammock-filled trees offer unobstructed views of clear blue waters splashing white sandy beaches.  Each wave brings refreshing cool.  Warm rest, peaceful skies, and hopeful depths offer reprieve from storms past.  Rays shine strong, cloudless skies deprive shadows; spirits soar on sweet tropical breezes.

But circumstances change quickly and with full force from the ocean’s tide, each wave erodes the sands of hope, peace, and strength.  With each pull of the current joy ebbs away.  Salty spray spits wet, cold, saturating concerns from the mighty sea; white caps topple each attempt to stand. No plan, no will to fight, no calm is afforded in its wake.  Lungs fill with spume. Confidence is coughed out; foamy doubt inhaled. Despair’s thick fog sets in; all visibility is gone.

Such is the ebb and flow of life.  Good and bad, up and down, weariness and rest, faith and doubt.  I’ve navigated these waters long enough to know there is constant change and what is here today may be washed out with the morning’s tide.  Bright azure skies turn grey in an instant. Clear waters suddenly fill with entangling weeds.  Warm rays give way to soaking rain.  That which is seemingly predictable becomes erratic and uncontrollable.

The Bible reminds us in Ecclesiastes 3 that life is filled with seasons.  Such a contradiction, this constant change, yet it is the very foundation of our days.  We hold no power over the laws of existence.  The rules of nature prevail whether we like them or not.  And while it is sometimes difficult to sail across the stormy deep, we can cross with the confidence that He is the constant in our times of change.  Even if He doesn’t alter the course of our ships or speak calm into our seas, He declares peace over us. In the midst of the reeling, overwhelming tempest He whispers in tranquil tone, “Be still and know that I am God.”

Progress

Temptation
Instigation
Aggravation
Manipulation
Frustration
Desperation
Fluctuation
Trepidation
Devastation
Resignation
Interrogation
Communication
Salvation
Emancipation
Justification
Restoration
Illumination
Impartation
Validation
Captivation
Cultivation
Permeation
Dedication
Anticipation
Determination
Expectation

Judgment

Cold iron box with teeth that spike flesh, spirit, bone

Draining life, slashing strength, cutting soul 

Suspecting no fight, expecting to claim 

Opening wide jaws that crush, devour

Digests every part that could have been whole.

Serrated, deflated, emaciated in loneliness now sits 

Last victim with painful memory 

Hope crushed, dreams dashed, knowledge of every fault

Pitted deep into mind, seared into heart.

Iron jaws laugh, condemn, grin wide as

Crushed, mangled, trembling waits for steel storm to pass

Prays forgiveness, strength once more.

Unrecognizable, scarred, gutted, stripped clean is

Built new, grace marrow infused

Skin grafted, bones plastered

Piercings allow healing flow.

Its lies recognized with truth now seen

Sits alone in jaw's shadow, life redeemed.

My Simple Prayer

Illuminate my path
Activate my faith
Cultivate my heart
Permeate my being
Captivate my soul
Eradicate my sins
Validate my life
Elucidate my mind
Radiate Your love

On Conquering

As you already know, I’m a big, fat, scaredy-cat. I’m frightened of everything - the future, being wrong, public restrooms, failure, the big dog next door, being permanently unemployed, heights, driving in heavy traffic –you get the point, and yes, I’m pretty much neurotic. So if Christ has said that I am more than a conqueror through Him (Rom. 8:37), why can’t I overcome these things?  When I think of a conqueror, I imagine someone who carries heavy weapons, is covered in armor, and is able to defeat any foe.  Um, yeah, that’s so not me.  I’m a mess of tangled hair in shorts and a t-shirt wielding a cup of coffee.  I’m barely ready to face the day much less the enemy of my soul.

But as I think about this verse and the ones surrounding it, I realize that the word conqueror isn’t the emphasis here.  The words through Him are the ones that matter.  And then the light bulb comes on: I’ve been placing emphasis on the wrong thing. I don’t have to conquer anything.  It’s not my job.  He loves me and makes it possible for me to do all things through Him.  He’s already defeated every enemy I will ever encounter because He loves me and on top of that, nothing can ever separate me from that love (Rom. 8:38-39).

As I understand this, it is possible for me to address my idiosyncrasies. I recognize that He has not given me the spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind (2 Tim. 1:7).  I don’t have to be timid or distressed because I am moving forward in His great love (that nothing can ever separate me from) and I am progressing through Him.

There are so many things we don’t have control over.  People and circumstances are always available to help us forget that God is on our side.  But, life becomes much less intimidating when I remember He’s already gone ahead and I’m just traveling across with Him.  Let’s focus on Him instead of the conquering. He’s already won the battle and is here wayfaring with us; all we have to do is trust.

Journeys

My trip of more than a thousand miles starts this morning. I'm going back to my Georgia roots - my home for more than thirty years.  I sometimes become sentimental upon making these bi-annual journeys. Today is one of those days. 
I think of loved ones now departed, of fun with cousins and childhood dreams. Some memories are good, some are bad, and some are downright painful.  I grew up there,  married there, had my children there. But, I also almost died there. 

Nearly every time we visit, we drive by our first house. We were so proud when we bought it and lived there for  almost eight years. Its walls hold so many good memories, especially ones of our children. It was the first place each of them called home, and I fondly remember crossing the threshold with them in my arms.   But as much as there was beauty in that place, there was darkness. 

My friend B (bulimia) began tormenting me there, and deep, suffocating depression took hold. Even after I began my recovery from the eating disorder, depression lingered, its icy grip choking the life out of my soul. Even though I was unable to receive in-patient treatment for bulimia due to issues with insurance, I was able to get a certain amount of psychiatric treatment and counseling.  Medication did not afford much relief and had hideous side effects; I continued to spiral downward. 

I was trapped, suicidal, sometimes incoherent and barely functioning. I operated on auto-pilot, but my mind was long gone. After a period of care with no improvement, my psychiatrist made a suggestion:  let something go or be admitted to the psych ward. I was devastated but knew he was right. Inpatient treatment just wasn't an option. I would be out of work and have a huge hospital bill to go with it. We were living hand to mouth as it was, and it seemed like there was no way out. There seemed to be nothing to give up. I couldn't stop being a parent, so there was only one thing left to concede- my job.  After much prayer and consideration, we decided that it was best for me to stay home and try to recover. 

That decision made a huge impact on our lives.  This was the change I needed but while my recovery was going well, our finances took a hard hit. We could no longer pay our bills and after about a year were forced to file bankruptcy. The choice between health and money was a hard one. It was embarrassing and painful to go through that process, but unfortunately there were no other options. 

We lost our house; we lost a car; we lost our pride. But, I was better and as always, God had a plan. John took a job in Oklahoma and now, over six years later, we are doing well. I struggle with depression every now and then, but I no longer battle the heavy, insidious, clinical darkness that had once taken over. 

As I make the journey back home, it feels like I've come full circle. I walk the perimeter of those prisons which once were my home. I look at that house, those memories and let out a sigh. I made it. He kept me. He keeps me now. 

Voices

I hear laughs and taunting voices in the back of my mind all the time:  Aw, good for you, so sweet that you’re writing a cute little blog since you don’t have a job. That’s a good way to waste the day. Nobody cares what you have to say anyway.  What makes you qualified to preach all this stuff? The degrees you are still paying for but don’t use? Oh, wait, I know, it’s your vast spirituality and wealth of Bible knowledge - Ha! You can’t help others. Come on, who’s going to take you seriously?  Do you honestly think you’ve got a future in this?  Really? Um, hello, do you remember where you live, and have you looked at yourself lately?  Half of your own family doesn’t even like you, so what makes you think anybody else is going to?  Wake up, Stupid! You are nobody, NOBODY!!!

Do you ever hear them, these voices?  As much as I hope your answer is no because of the confusion and doubt they bring, I want you to say yes, because otherwise I should probably be doing hard time in the nearest psychiatric facility.  Your voices may not say the same things mine do, but they all have the same message:  you can’t do it, you’re not good enough, you need to quit right now.  Further, they are all sent from the same person and have the same purpose.

I’m scared to death of failure and rejection, and I am simply mortified at the thought of sounding stupid.  I’m a perfectionist at heart.  I want to be all things to all people all the time.  I want to do everything flawlessly with the smarts of Albert Einstein, while looking like Reese Witherspoon and smelling like Betty Crocker.  But, as shocking as this may be (big, hearty laugh), my IQ is nowhere near that of Mr. Einstein; sadly, I look NOTHING like Reese Witherspoon; I couldn’t bake if my life depended on it; and I mess up all the time.  Because he knows this about me, Satan tries to keep me from doing everything by highlighting my enormous potential to make mistakes.

Satan loves to attack our minds.  He likes to plant thoughts contrary to God’s word in order to take our focus off the things we should be doing.  He knows that if he can make us afraid, he can shut us down.  Fear is a trap the enemy sets in an effort to keep us from doing what we were made to do.  So, the very things I’m most afraid of –writing, exposing my hurts, being vulnerable, admitting my faults – I will pursue. 

Jesus doesn’t think I’m stupid, He doesn’t tell me I can’t, He doesn’t make me afraid, and He doesn’t beat me up when I fall down.  He loves me unconditionally and gave me the power to overcome. Greater is He who is in me than He who is in the world (1 John 4:4).  On top of that, His strength is made perfect in my weakness (2 Cor. 12:9) and I’ve definitely got that covered. 

Why are we always so willing to listen to and believe the negative first and why does it take us such a long time to accept the positives? We do have a choice. We will probably always hear Satan talking to us, but we don’t have to listen to what he says.  He is after all, the father of all lies and there is no truth in him (John 8:44).  Being reminded of this fact, we need to move forward, knowing that the rule of opposites applies.  If he says we can’t, that really means we can and he’s actually afraid of us, because he knows when we believe the truth of God’s word and have Jesus to help us accomplish our goals, there’s no possible way he can win. 

Home

Hewn out of the rock once surrounding my heart, it is a perfect space.  The fireplace glows with the warmth and light of His love, an invitation to come in.  Peace floats thick in the air, each breath engulfing my soul.  Plush sofas offer rest; the aroma of freshly baked bread promises sustenance.  Each chamber is carefully appointed with my favorite things; every element is personally significant.  Upon touring the rooms I realize, this place was built just for me. 

As I enter the last room, I see it – the reason I am here.  Absorbing golden rays from a nearby window, the little desk sits in a nook.  Beside it stands a tall bookcase, shelves sagging under volumes unread. Some titles catch my attention:  Bulimia, Depression, Family Secrets, You’re Fired.  Each heading a reminder of painful journeys; each manuscript a fresh set of tears.

 “I knew you would need to use these,” He says, now appearing at my side. “Don’t be afraid to open them, or to share the accounts they contain. These books are also My stories and I want you to tell others.”  As I lift my head to respond to His words, He is nowhere to be found.  I am left with the desk and our stories; I am left with new purpose in life.

Buried

Written at the request of a friend, CS, this is for you.

Buried beneath the weight of the world, of herself, of her obligations; she feels trapped.  Imprisoned in a body that betrays, in a world that doesn’t accept, in a family that doesn’t understand, she wonders if she will ever be happy with herself.  Having struggled for years with slow metabolism, genetic predisposition, and society’s mandate to be thin, she is tired.  Needing to let go, yet fighting to hold on she finds herself in this place once again.

This time will be different.  She’s leaving security and comfort and her old friend, Self-Hate.  She’s taking off the costume that hides her aching heart. She’s parting ways with the judgments of others and separating herself from the family’s conclusions. She’s ready to be healthy, alive and free. But not in the old way, the I can only have 1,000 calories a day way; the I’ve got to work out an extra hour to make up for those cookies way.  This time really is different – she’s been talking to God. And He listens.

He showed her she can be healthy and made her recognize that comfort isn’t found in a Pringles can, a Chips-A-Hoy sleeve, or a dress size.  Worth isn’t discovered in a new pair of shoes, the hollow compliments of friends, or the neighborhood she lives in. Happiness and self-acceptance come through Him.  Many don’t understand her journey.  Others can’t comprehend her fear.  But each day she strives to be healthy – in her mind, body, and spirit, letting go of what others think and expect.  Each day He is there.

Thoughts to Ponder: 

We so often judge others based on appearance, not knowing the demons they battle.  Exteriors can be deceiving; each of us struggles with something.  Her battle is weight, mine is depression and yours is _______ (fill in the blank), but we all need His strength and grace to overcome.  Healthy living is not only physical, but is also spiritual, mental, and emotional. Physical size isn’t the true measure of health.  Real wellbeing begins in the soul.  

From reading my story (My Friend B) you will remember that my battle with bulimia was deeply rooted in depression.  I lied to myself and to everyone else for a long time, refusing to admit I had a problem.  My journey of healing began the moment I confessed that I had a serious problem.  I began praying and seeking God for the help I so desperately needed and admitted to God, to myself, and to others that I was sick.  Once my spirit was in the right place, God started working on my emotions, and once my emotions were stable, my thought patterns began to change.  When I began to think clearly and rationally, I was able to address the physical aspects of the disease. Although it was a long process, healing did come.

So what I am saying is this:  Physical manifestations such as binge eating, not eating, drinking, gossiping, gambling, excessive spending, manipulating, or any of the other myriad of forms in which they appear are not isolated actions.  They have a source deep within; there is a root cause for them. If the root is left unchecked it will continue to grow, eventually producing a plant that bears fruit.  And we all know that to get rid of a plant, we have to kill its roots. If we only clear out the fruit or chop down the plant without weeding out the root system, it will eventually come back. It is imperative that we learn to work on our issues from the inside out. With God’s help, we can find the roots and kill them, clearing the way for new life to spring forth.

Periphery

Have you ever felt like an outsider?  There have been many times I have felt ostracized, cut-off from the group, or sensed that I was not wanted in certain circles.  Quite frankly, it’s often painful to watch from the sideline.  Rejection, loneliness, and feelings of low self-worth generally accompany the knowledge that I haven’t met the stringent requirements imposed by a group, or that I have fallen hopelessly short of a standard levied by the elites who make the rules.  But, through a recent black sheep experience, God showed me several benefits of living on the fringe. 

Being on the margin implies that there is a definitive boundary set between me and the members of a group.  Its function is not only to keep me out, but to keep those within the clique inside.  Herein lies the first lesson.  When in the circle, it is necessary to carefully maintain borders to promote exclusivity.  But on the outside there are no borders, no carefully set double standards, and no hypocritical notions of exceptionality.  On the outside, freedom reigns. 

Secondly, life on the edge offers a vantage point unattainable to those on the inside.  Existence within the circle offers no insight into the inner workings or true motives expressed therein.  Restricted movement and near-sighted views make no allowances for a true picture of the secret interior.  But from the outside, one has a clear vision of the standards imposed within and can more fully understand what really goes on in the belly of the beast.

Finally, those who are encompassed in the circle of superiority rarely find their way out.  Circles have no doors.  Circles have no corners to hide in or angles to break up the continuous line.  Circles have no beginning and no end.  In place of freedom there is boundary, instead of clear vision there is restricted view, and in place of an exit there is a wall that ceaselessly feeds into itself.

So, why do I need to be concerned about fitting into a circle that offers no freedom, no clear view, and no way of escape?  The outside now seems infinitely better.  I have freedom to be myself and to live fully with no constraints.  I have a clear view of God and His good plans for my life.  I have no need of escape from a set of impossible criteria by which I would be measured. 

My pastor has recently exhorted us to live full-throttle for God.  I realize I can’t do that in a confined area, whether created by myself or others.  On the outside I am free to live, to chase down my dreams, and to run hard after God.  I’m not interested in fitting a mold; I’m interested in setting a standard.  Jesus wasn’t concerned about fitting in; He was concerned about setting free and opening the gate for all those who will to follow Him into the vast expanses of His grace and love. I have purposed to go with Him.  Will you join us?

Life Lessons from Adverbs

 

For those of us who are grammar geeks, adverbs are special.  As readers and writers we love them because they modify, giving description and character to otherwise lackluster verbs, adjectives, or other adverbs and their phrases.  They give oomph and flair by describing the where, when, how, how often, to what extent, or why of the verb.   Further, the words where, when, how, and why often function as adverbs themselves. 

Why this grammar tutorial, you ask?  Because God used my nerdy love of grammar to teach me a lesson.  I pondered the cute little adverbs why and how for a while and realized that those two pintsized words, along with when and where, often dominate my conversations with God.  A brief sample:  Why is this happening to me?  Why is there so much pain in the world?  Why do children die? How are You going to work this out? How am I supposed to know what to do?  When is my ship going to come in?  When will this problem be over?  Where are You?  Where I am supposed to go from here? 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized first of all, God doesn’t owe me explanations.  Occasionally He allows my finite brain to understand life’s circumstances, but there are many unanswered questions that will accompany me to my grave.  Most of them start with the word why.  

Secondly, if God chose to tell me why He allows some things to happen, would I accept His answer?  Painfully but truthfully, the answer is probably not.  I simply cannot understand that which is beyond my capacity.  And generally, what I don’t understand, I reject.  I know God doesn’t make bad things happen; I also know that His thoughts are not my thoughts, His ways are not my ways, and in fact, His ways and thoughts are so superior to mine that the distance between heaven and earth lies between them (Isaiah 55: 8-9).

Finally, within the words where, when, how, and why lies that small issue of faith that apparently God thinks is really important.   He never promised me an easy road and He never promised that I would live without sorrow, but He did promise He would always be with me, that He will never leave me, and that He is my helper (Hebrews 13:5-6).  Did you notice that verb – is?  It’s present tense - right now. 

God showed me that I need to stop placing emphasis on the unknown and start focusing on what I do know.  I will never understand why suffering is allowed; I don’t have a clue when things will get better; I don’t see how things could ever change; and I haven’t the foggiest idea where He is taking me.  But, I do know that He is, and His present tense is infinitely more powerful than any of my speculative adverbs.

Conversation of Questions

Me:  What if I don’t make it?

         What if people don’t like me?

         What if I’m not good enough?

         What if I get rejected?

         What if I don’t get more followers?

         What if I never make the right connections?

         What if this isn’t Your will?

         What if my writing isn’t really good, but
         people feel sorry for me and tell me they
         like it?

         What if they don’t get what I’m trying to
         say?

         What if I’m just wasting time?

         What if I never get anything published?

God:  Who are these questions really about, Me or
          you?

          Why won’t you just trust Me?

          Why would I give you the desire and ability
          if I didn’t want you to do it?

          What if you don’t fail?

          What if I make a way where there doesn’t
          seem to be one?

          What if you stop asking silly questions and
          start listening?

          What if I’ve got a plan?

          What if I gave you a story just so you could
          tell others?

           What if the person I had planned to
           read your story never does because you
           were too afraid to write it?

           What if you stop trying to control
           everything and let Me be God?

           What if it’s not all about you?

Me:    Awkward silence.

God:  Trust in Me with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways
          submit to Me, and I will make your paths straight. (Prov. 3:5-6 NIV)

Guard Your Heart

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it. – Proverbs 4:23 (NIV)

As I was reading this morning, this verse hit me like a sucker-punch to the gut.  Of all the times I’ve read the wisdom and advice in the book of Proverbs, this verse has never stood out to me.  But I know why it did today – God is trying to tell me something regarding certain situations in my life, and I need to listen.

The word guard has several different meanings, but three of them in particular have great application within the context of this verse.  First of all, to guard means to protect against danger or loss by being vigilant and taking defensive measures. It is my job to defend myself and be actively looking out for danger. Satan would like nothing more than to succeed in a sneak attack.  If I’m not looking for him, I won’t recognize it when he tries to use the everyday to steal or kill the things God has placed in my heart.

Secondly, to guard means to watch over and control passage.  It is my job to patrol the passageways into my heart so Satan cannot gain access to the treasures God has hidden there.  I control the gate that provides entry and therefore, I must be aware that he will use people, situations, and emotions to gain admission. I recognize that once he makes it in, he will set up shop and it will be more difficult to get him out. Thus, I should be more observant and give him no possible way to gain entry.

Finally, to guard means to prevent an opponent from scoring or playing effectively.  If I already know that Satan is trying to access my heart and control the flow of things coming to and from it, I need to be prepared with a strategy.  In this game of life, he will always try to play with me.  But, I can study his maneuvers, understand how he works, and cut him off before he has a chance to score.  Satan likes to play one-on-one, but I play on a team with Jesus.  When I use team strategies and rely on my partner, Satan can’t win.

Be alert and of sober mind.  Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.  – I Peter 5:8 (NIV)

Old Home Place

As much as nothing stays the same, nothing changes.
Tall pines reach the sky showering their needles;
Centurion oaks stand apathetic with ghosts hidden in their beards.
Secrets shroud in fancy church dresses;
Memories haunt behind white-washed walls.
Southern charms veil black interiors;
Heavy drawls conceal malignant schemes.
Satan himself inhabits, but he is buried so completely that holiness is perceived upon first glance.
This South, beautifully treacherous, is both the bane and origin of existence.

Bigotry patrols the streets, bidding welcome to his elite castle –
A grand mansion of glass filled with stones.
Hypocrisy dances in its antebellum rooms, spinning wildly out of control.
False pretense floats thick in the air, possessing more fully with every breath.
Condescension conducts through the hallways, bursting each heart with pride.
Only survivors divulge secrets, for dead men tell no tales.
And so no escape can be found here,
This South, beautifully treacherous, was home.

 

Void

My friend doesn't think I know. She painstakingly covers clues with make-up, perfectly coiffed hair and a bubbly personality; but I discern a secret. I acknowledge because I once hid, too. Intelligent, funny, caring, hard-working, a good mom and a great friend; she doesn't see her worth.  All she sees is fat. 

She struggles to fill her empty place with people and life and things, but nothing impregnates the void. No remedy exists for her guilty,  blaming, self-loathing, deprived spirit. Trapped in a vast chasm  of denial and longing, she medicates her duplicity. Food is her drug of choice. Redoubled sedation numbs the painful past while dulling the harsh present.  It brings fullness to the vacuum and peace to the moment. It feeds her body while depleting her soul. 

Hypocrisy engulfs her desperate attempts at escape. She talks the skinny language while engorging. Her mantra is diet and exercise; her practice indulgence and inactivity.  She stuffs herself into clothes too small, trying to disguise the newest 30 pounds.  Her corpulent figure imprisons a hope deferred. 

My heart aches for the pain she feels, the master manipulator she's become. She deceives only herself. What solvent can possibly dissolve the scales from her eyes? What solution can I offer? And then I think of Him. He is the love she craves. 

Every night I pray for my friend. I pray she learns to love herself. I pray she will possess the strength to fight. I pray she will find peace and healing, hope and forgiveness. But most of all, I pray she will realize that nothing and no one can ever perfectly fit the God-spot at the core of her being. I pray for the words that will lead her to You. 

My Bliss

Knobby knees on lanky legs,

Glistening drops on freckles;

Goofy grins and making faces,

Farmer's tans from sun-filled hours.

Stupid jokes and belly laughs,

Fresh, clean smells of bedtime;

Big bear hugs and sugary kisses,

Eyebrows full of expression.

Quirky come-backs with a snap,

Sweat-formed curls;

Bony fingers that glide across notes,

Twin tandem voices.

Gangly arms and awkward strides,

Hearts made of pure gold;

Eyes filled with life, lined with promise,

Impromptu I love you-my home.

The Girl with No Mother

Hot, sticky legs mold to blue plastic benches. With sweat dripping, eyes squinting, and sun baking, I watch my gangly girls run and jump and squeal through sprays and splashes. My mind roams from here to there and everywhere  thinking about how much I have to do and how much I'd rather be somewhere else doing anything else. I blankly gaze through them as they shout, "Mama, watch this!" and I wonder how much longer I'll have to endure the discomfort of this watery torture.

Then I see her - the girl with no mother.  Her bronze skin, deep brown hair, and sapphire blue eyes glisten in the bright sun as she walks aimlessly and without expression through the splashing and gleeful screams.  I immediately become acutely aware of my selfishness. I feel so ashamed.

I know there's nothing I can do or say that will help the girl with no mother, and I realize there's nothing I can do or say to cover my self-centeredness. And so I pray. I pray for her, but mostly I pray for me.