when thrashing isn't a thumb war

{photo by dramaticelegance]

these past several months have been all about the Story for me. the funny thing is, despite the fact that my entire being is storytelling, it's really never been something that has met the criteria for my focus.

i've heard that phrase "let Him write your story...only you can tell your story" over and over as long as i can remember. i was raised in the Church; it's one of those things that fit in our little dictionary of words we all know. but it faded. and in some respects, my faith began to fade, too. 

writing that phrase made me nervous. i am loathe to write anything about shaky faith because i tend to hear the same things in response. it makes people uncomfortable, edgy, to think about faith being anything but concrete. we talk about it in whispers, as though it's a very dirty secret, casting furtive glances over our shoulders just in case someone might hear. 

my precious friend Mandy {who has written a book about her own personal thrashing which can be found here} wrote these words on her Facebook page ::  I don't have answers. I can't prove a thing. My faith is custom fit. Messy and mysterious. This is all I've got. 

ever since i read them, they've been humming in my soul. there's a strange sort of freedom when someone else speaks that same thing that's been sitting in your heart for a long time, maybe even before you knew they were there. 

part of telling my story is lifting my head up and acknowledging the road i've walked instead of keeping my eyes down to study the cracks in the sidewalk. the thing is, i didn't trip. i faded. Mandy uses the word "thrashing." and that's a good word. it brings up a picture in my head of a man on a mountain in the throes of a wrestling match with the Son of the Most High, from the darkness until the dawn. 

{photo by dramaticelegance}

and damn, that's powerful. the thrashing, the wrestling, the wandering....it happens in the night. that dark night of the soul. and then comes the dawn with Light shining down on the flattened grass and the bruises and bumps and bleeding places. thrashing isn't a thumb war. it's a guttural cry as you charge into the complete darkness. and sometimes you run into a tree. but you pick yourself back up and snap off a walking stick and pull yourself along.

sometimes pruning leaves you messy // right there on the inside //

and it's that moment in the shower // when you're crying to match the water 

// but then you come out // and the steam pours off //

and you're coffee and tea and warm blankets from the drier 

// fragrant and steaming and clean

words by me :: #mypoetryseptember

:: and it's all part of my story. 

it all comes back to the Lion. it's in that dark place where you have no idea what might come skulking out of those darkened doorways that He curls up quietly at your back. and sometimes, when you need him the most, when fear threatens to consume you and has crawled down your throat

He roars. 

trying on shoes

{via pinterest}

i'm walking a mile in your shoes. it's a hard thing to do. it's stepping out of the comfortable, away from the familiar and the normal.

but it's something we've forgotten to do, even as Christians. our greatest commandment is love Him with everything, the inhale and exhale, the lightbeams from the ends of our fingers and from each strand of hair. 

but that second one. why do we have so much trouble? 

love your neighbor ::

and don't try to ask the question the man at the fire asked, the one i'm never sure if it's heartfelt sincere or hesitating sarcasm. i can almost see that gentle look in His eye, the one that i'm sure that He wears often. the look of sorrow, the unspoken, 

oh child, can't you see Me? 

because 

your neighbor is everyone.

it is those that we have made untouchable, unlovable. the wallflowers and the window-washers. the soiled doves, the bastard sons.because the noblemen sat at the table with upturned noses and gags held back in the throat at the distaste, at the horror, at what kind of woman was touching Him. and He reached down and touched her back. 

i'm aching at this church, this city on a hill turned smudgy and dark because we're content with only tending to the pretty candles and letting the other ones burn out alone. 

He washed their feet. down on His knees, a servant Messiah, He took off their shoes and got their dirt on His hands. 

so i'm trying on your shoes, and my toes are a little squished in some and my feet too tiny for others. and my eyes are adjusting to seeing through your lenses for just a minute. because i want to understand what He did. i want to see your world through your eyes, through His eyes. 

i want to stop in the street because i felt the power. 

someone touched me.

{linking early with emily to celebrate LOVE}

Nombre (July Giveaway Winners)

Remember to live, 'cause you're gonna be thrilled to death / When the stars collide and your eyes grow wide. / Take it in with your breath against the glass. ~Owl City, Alligator Sky

I could not be more delighted to be able to announce that the July edition of Inspirational Giveaways is now closed. 

And three beautiful winners have been chosen.

Each and every one of you has been a blessing to me in ways you cannot imagine. Thank you all for your support, love, and beautiful comments. 

Thanks also must be given to Holly at Five Little Gems for her generosity and graciousness toward me and this blog during this process. Her work is truly spectacular, and I could not be more honoured and privileged to feature her artistry here. 

And now...please join me in giving congratulations to the winners, who were chosen using Random's random list maker. 

Jennoelle -- white Christmas fairy, authoress of Unoriginal Originality. Winner of Item No. One: burgundy pearl bar necklace with antiqued gold.

The simple things? Going barefoot. Time to read. Bike rides into town to buy and eat ice cream with friends. Sunburns that eventually fade into tans. Writing in my notebook outside in the sun. Driving with the windows down, sunroof open, and radio turned up loud. Small sweet kittens. Hair blowing the the breeze. Yes, these are the simple things that make me happy during summer.

******

Kels -- victorious ship, authoress of The Flip-Flop Farmgirl. Winner of Item No. Two:  Denim blue jade faded nugget bar necklace

The thing that makes me smile in the spring and summer are flowers. I love all of the little daisies that pop up in our yard. 

******

Hannah Grace -- God has favoured me, authoress of Walk. Winner of Item No. Three: pink crystal and grey pearl earrings.

The simple things that make me smile...My little brother smiling, his voice, his skinny arms around my neck, his laughter...all of him. Nothing brings a smile or a sad look to my face quicker than he can. I just love him so much. Other girls tend to take their siblings for granted, but not me with Noah. Other things are storms, daisies, toddler girls, the sound of laughter, and vanilla twilight. 

******

I could not be happier for the three of you. Please email me or comment with your email address so that I may get these items with you as swiftly as possible. 

August begins in two days. And with it, a new giveaway shall also begin. So I beg of you, keep your eyes open in the coming days. I look forward to walking down this road again with each and every one of you.

Blessings abound.

Never forget to dream. 

Remember to dream because it's gonna be a starry night / over every town, if you look down. / So harmonize with the singing satellites. / Remember to scream because you're gonna be lost for words / When the sparks erupt and they light you up. / Dip your toes in the galaxy 'cause it's yours to explore tonight. ~Owl City, Alligator Sky