the one where I talk about sex {again}

{via pinterest}

let's talk about sex.
I'm serious.

it's everywhere.
I'm serious about that too.

but you know something else?
it's also a really big secret.
{especially in church}

I grew up in a world where gateway drugs weren't seven-leafed plants held rolled and drooping between teenage fingers. it was the fingers themselves that were the problem. because if skin touched skin, that was the start of a slippery slope...

...a slope that led to bodies and skin and nakedness and words that were alluded to, but rarely spoken aloud. just in case there was someone listening. and the idea of it being mentioned in church? never. just in case God might overhear.

we talked about purity, of course. about guarded hearts and the mystery of a man with a woman and the way it should be for marriage. but what, exactly, should be for marriage? we were never sure. not really.

it was all a mystery. until churches and white dresses and rings slipped onto sweaty fingers and hotel rooms where the door shut with a heavy thump...

...and then it was still a mystery.

because it was a secret until that minute, except that everyone seemed to have forgotten the "sex kitten" potion that was to transform a blushing new bride and a nervously fidgeting groom  into ravenous sexual creatures. they forgot about what happened when the door closed and we stood there with shuffling feet and the acute awareness that there was nakedness under our clothes.

this is the part where I am supposed to present a solution.
the only one I have is for us to talk.

we have to stop making little words that start with "p" and "v" and "s" into dirty unrepeatables that linger like forbidden fruit squashed into pulp on tongues. we have to find that line and realize that it's written in the dirt, not carved into rock.

we need to talk.
with words, not euphemisms and "when you're married, you'll understand."

because it doesn't work that way.

we need to talk.
about sex.
about penises and vaginas and hormones and sex. hear me say it. sex.

because the most important thing is a heart.
not a hymen.

our Father :: glory

{via pinterest}

yesterday was Father's Day. and i meant to write, i did, but the crush of the do and the laughter and the ice cream and pizza and s'mores in the glow of a low-setting sun overtook my inspiration.

there were hugs from the man of God that raised me, and from the man of God that gave me his son as my love and calls me "daughter," and from the man of God who looks at our tiny evenstar and calls her daughter.

and i inhaled family instead, and oh, it was so good.

and then i woke up this morning with sunrays on my cheeks and some strange realization brewing soft in the core of me. because on Saturday night, our pastor spoke familiar words that the whole room of worshippers repeated back to him, not just because he asked but also because we couldn't help it, really.

our Father
hallowed be Thy Name. 

and these words, just those two short phrases, had lodged themselves in my mind and hummed at me in the dawning. i've felt the stirrings my entire life, the pull from the place where my faith journey started where nothing was personal. it didn't feel right even to my little-child heart who grew up in the church.

why call Him Father and then be afraid to touch Him?

and i've been chided more than i can really comprehend for daring to touch the spiritual, for being so irreverent as to reach out my fingers toward His robe and even just brush the fabric. and i use that strange word so often :: sacred. and the intensity i feel scares even me sometimes, because what is there that pushes me in such a powerful way?

{via pinterest}

He does. 

and i reach up my fingers with a kind of hesitant bravery, that kind of courage that groans in the silence when we know what must be done, but there is a shakiness somewhere down deep. and it's overwhelming and we know that it might lead to something else...something bigger....maybe something  that would hurt.

our Father, 
glory. Your name is glory.

and so i grasp, tight, and i'm lifted onto a Lion's back and the roaring laugh reaches my hesitating soul. fingers in His mane, we leap to salvation, and i am so close i can feel His heart. and oh, it is a thunderstorm and a tidal wave and a comfort and a peace.

it is all of these, and a thousand things more.

and i beg Him to write His name as deep as it can go, because i don't want to forget. and i want to throw back this strangely terrified warrioress heart and howl glory at the coming moon, early seen at twilight, and radiant in the darkness.

:: my Father. 

Your name. 

oh...glory. 

ashes :: what wondrous love

{via pinterest}

what wondrous love is this 

oh my soul //

oh my soul //

i've been softly singing these words as i wander though my morning. it's been notes that have hung on my tongue since Saturday afternoon when i stood and watched as tongues of fire devoured my in-law's barns and vehicles. 

but the wind turned in the nick of a second and spared the house. melted slightly, scorched and warped slightly. whispers of what could have been, but were not. what wondrous love is this.

and now i find myself on my knees as i ponder what He let me see. i walk a line between grief and awe, of sorrow and wonder. because i'm learning first hand about refinement through fire, and seeing things that i never connected before. 

beauty from ashes, life from the ground's barest places. this is the thing He has been pushing on me in recent weeks. i have the firebird on my ankle, placed there the night that we remember His cry of it is finished. 

and He spared the house like He spared my soul, with His breath and His wind and the rain that came pouring down like tears as He saw the grief and wept Himself for love of His own. and as i walk through the ashes and embers and charred remains of wood and metal, i realize this more and more. 

{via pinterest}

deeper and deeper i am sinking into impossible Love that is almost wordless, inexplicably powerful except for when you experience something beyond yourself. 

He dwells within her

she shall not be destroyed.

::psalm 46:5

because my soul is something tucked away, and He lives in every corner of me, and i'm learning to let Him paint my soul His colours instead of mine, and gently mold me into something more beautiful than i could ever comprehend. and if that takes ashes and ink and clay and soot, so be it. 

and so i'm back to the words that i've been singing for three days. 

what wondrous love is this

// oh my soul

// oh my soul

in which we share the road

{via pinterest}

so when your hope's on fire

and you know your desire

don't hold a glass over the flame

don't let your heart grow cold

i will call you by name

i will share your road

:: mumford and sons

it's been a rocking chair morning, the kind where my little one won't stop fussing and wiggling and wants only to be held close to her momma. and so we spent our morning in the rocking chair, back and forth motions with coffee for breakfast. 

and these are the times when i ponder the beauty of community, ironically in the silence and solitude provided between breaths when the little one dreams curled against my shoulder. 

there's something essential about community, that moment where a hand finds another hand and skin on skin whispers i've been there; take heart.

there's a sweetness here, a precious air of understanding that comes from shared experience. it's that candle in the window, that tiny beacon that signals welcome to the wandering heart that hasn't found a place to settle yet. 

{via pinterest}

i've become passionate about encouragement, placing my flag on the mountaintop and reaching down a hand to those struggling in their coming after. this is why i stand and say to those sweet ones climbing hard behind, 

do you know just what you are to Him? 

do you know the world needs someone like you to make it better? 

and i'm still learning, a student at His feet, and we're making plans and laying foundation together. and it's going to be beautiful when it's all done, because it's His blueprints, after all. i'm just the follower who lays the brick and paints the wall with colour streaked in my hair and smudged on my cheek. 

so take heart and reach up, sister warrior, brother braveheart. He'll catch you, and we'll walk in light together. 

may you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

may today there be peace within.

may you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.

may you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.

may you be content knowing you are a child of God.

let this presence settle into your bones, and 

allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.

it is there for each and every one of you.

:: St. Teresa of Avila ::

{joining with dear em today; join us?} 

painted

{via pintrest}

every artist's tools have a story.

look at the old pen and inkpot, stained with fingermarks and blots of this novel and that world's creation. there was life born there.

the pointe shoes, tattered toes and dirt-marred satin. what leaps speak novels in these wrecked canvases?

and then there are the paintbrushes. 

flecked with paint and primer and so many colours that the layers have become one upon another.

oh, what mysteries of tender caresses and angry slashes are found here amid the horsehair and bamboo?

see this is what i desire. 

no more sketching with my charcoal that can be

 rubbed 

and washed 

and faded down 

to nothing with just a bit of pressure. 

i want raw. 

no more scrapping my brush across the surface of the palate, just covering the tip.

sleeves rolled up, arms plunged in up to the elbow. 

{via pintrest}

blue dripping to a puddle on the floor.

a single strand of hair brushed across a forehead results in a streak

of yellow 

and purple 

and red 

and aqua. 

skin once bare made perfect. 

no more surface living. no more sketches of me. no more maybe this or perhaps that. 

i want deep. down to the bottom where the richness resides. 

this is what it is to be used for glory. 

for so much beauty, for all this majesty. 

take me deeper. 

i ache for You to hold me.

melt me. 

mold me.

fill me. 

use me.

{linking up with my beautiful sisterhood. this place of real.}

veil

hidden.

discretion tucked away behind yards of spiritual fabric.

so much silence found in place that should be flooded with joy

locked in the somberness of black and dark and 

walk this way

fit this mold

be this person

it's what He wants?

did we forget just as i am?

did we forget that this veil has been torn already

not by us from the bottom

 but by Him from the top?

no more cowering required. 

no more dark laces and segregation. 

this is freedom found

hair flowed loose, any colour allowed. silver jewels in ears and nose and lip. 

there is so much shouting here. so much colour here. so much life and love and freedom. 

there is no more condemnation. He sees all, forgives all, if only asked. 

did we forget where He looks? 

not out but in. 

so let this veil go. 

freedom is this song. 

{linking up with Jen and my loves at Soli Deo Gloria}

Supposed

I pray your glory shines / through this doubting heart of mine / so my world would know that You…You are my strength / You and You alone / You and You alone / Keep bringing me back home. ~Gungor, You Are my Strength

I know that you're all expecting my weekly Monday musings regarding all the beautiful things in my life. 

And there are many of them, brimming just under the surface of my dreams and moments this past week.

But right now, I can't find them.

I made a resolution to myself that I wouldn't write what the world at large might want to hear. I'm going to write what's real.

My reality.

And right at this moment, my reality isn't all that beautiful. In fact, it's rather like a harsh palace of stone and ice. I feel at war with myself, with certain people in my life...and in all honesty, I don't even know what to say. 

I'm brimming over with so much confusing, and maybe a little too much hurt than I should be in this particular situation. 

It's overwhelming me. And I have no outlet...not right now. Later, I will, I'm sure...but I don't need it later. 

I need it now.

I feel horribly selfish and petty to even write a post like this one. I feel as though I have promised you poetry, sunshine, and summer breezes in every piece I write. And this one is truly more of an icy snowstorm of hurt and complicated emotion.

Forgive me? Please?

Maybe later this afternoon, after a bit of a good cry and losing myself in the silent embrace of the Word, I will come back and pour my beauties onto the page.

…but, for now, this is all I have... 

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. ~Psalm 73:26

Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. ~Isaiah 41:10

Joining in with this beautiful sisterhood on August 22nd, 2011
Expect to see more of this blessed release from time to time.
Life is hard. God is good.