women :: wild-blessed

{photo via pinterest}

i speak about the wild here quite often. sometimes, i'm not even sure myself how to find that perfect grove of trees. and the smudge of dirt on my cheeks feels a little foreign, almost like a virginal bride awakening that morning to find her husband-love in her bed with a blush of blessed now.

i'm embracing that wild with shaking fingers, the wild that is woman, that is me somehow strange. the whisper of woman that was in the forefront of His mind, composed with God-Daddy smiles and sunrise-stained fingers that i cannot comprehend without weeping. because He formed me, hips and hair and eyes and mouth all in one, and whispered I see that you are good, wild daughter. 

and i can't help with the pinching and the frowning and the clumsy fingers clutching a chisel to gouge away the parts of me that He must have made wrong, the spots where the Wild-Maker slipped. and the mirror laughs and the sky cries as the Lion lets tears fall as i wrap myself in filmy black mourning cloth and block out the Light.

but He comes in the morning, like a bright-eyed groom with fresh unchanging love in His holy gaze and scissors to snip away the veils until i'm exposed and raw and maybe even bleeding just a little because pruning is pain, but it's beauty too. and then He spits on the ground and smears Heaven-made mud mixed with the Blood of the Lamb on my soul and whispers see again, for your faith has made you whole.

{photo property of DramaticElegance, taken via instagram}

He writes His name on my eyelids so when i blink, i remember. and every flicker of the eyelashes is a flicker of the Spirit-flame sent down after forty days of waiting from the day He rose. He calls me woman, He calls me daughter. and it's not a dirty curse but a whisper of admiring glory woven in Light.

and Heaven to earth is only a whispered prayer away, a half-step to glory. and for so long, i've been loving and living like fire and ice, never touching without burning and melting. but now i'm flying close to the Light and i am not burned, for the One at my side is like the Son of the Most High

so i'm leaving my shoes on the threshold because this place is holy ground, and the dirt feels good between my toes and the wild is calling my name.

run further up and further in
for this is the place of which you have dreamed
for which you have been waiting all your life.

:: be wild, dove-daughter
for your faith has made you whole

three things :: spoken word

sometimes i wanna write what i feel.

i want to take what i see and do the undone and fix the unfixed and light the snuffed candle all over again. but then i look and i say, do i even see? do i even know anything?

and so i take my pen and my paper and my too-many thoughts and i sit and i wonder just what might happen if i knew something, anything at all.

i watch the people, feet on pavement and pavement on feet. and i realize what i know.

i know three things, because sarah kay says good things come in threes, and she's right, after all.

:: i know that light kills the dark ::

and when you're walking in the dark and there's nothing but a match in your pocket, it's a good thing to know. and when you're walking in the Night and there's nothing but a verse in your mind reminding to be still and know that I AM...it's a good thing to know.

:: i know that art is the voice even when it never speaks ::

i know that sometimes the silence of a paintbrush screams SEE ME and the whisper of just one wavering note in the empty concert halls cries I CAN DO THIS AFTER ALL and the raised arm on a stage is the salute to all things undone and all things done over and over and done well.

:: i know that mystery is just that, and it's okay to not know ::

{via pinterest}

i know that knowing is part of the battle, and when you don't know what you know that it can crush and scare and be unsure. but it's okay to have a mystery that you don't understand.

and it's okay to let Him be the mystery of Love and Flesh and Man and God all in one small infant bundle, growing up up up to be Death and Life and Salvation and Water and Broken Bread with Wounds that Heal.

that is what i know. no more shaking ground for i stand on What, on Who i know.

because i write what i feel and i feel what i know. and i know Him and little else. but that's power, okay? that Light is more than enough. that Water is more than enough.

because i know these things. Him and Him only.

everlasting, time over time, from age to age.

Alpha and Omega, You answer. because You know

more than three things. 

Bliss

Now a soft kiss -

Aye, by that kiss,

I vow an endless bliss.

~John Keats

My bliss is vast.

My bliss is leather-bound books...

Volumes of elegant poetry and dramatic prose, rich with the scent of age and wisdom.

It is wide open fields, bedecked with wildflowers of every hue and every type.

It is silver necklaces and delicately crafted earrings.

It's soft rose petals caressing my nose and acoustic guitars.

The scritch-ing of a pen against paper.

The Princess Bride and Chocolat.

A Jane Austen novel and a large leafy tree.

Red velvet curtains and the smell of a theater in those final moments right before a show is set to open.

Fluttering silk scarves and bare toes in the grass.

The feel of a new pair of heels and the whisper of a friendly word.

The tenderness of a lover's kiss and the lilting encouragement of the prophet Isaiah...

...the list goes on.

My toes in the sand as soft waves overtake them, and the twittering of birds along a soft forest path

An arm around me and a shoulder to weep upon, or words spoken in unison and the subsequent laughter.

Windows rolled down and music blasting.

Clear nights with stars that blaze and speak to my soul.

A pile of blankets and pillows in the middle of the floor, and someone with whom to share the snuggles.

A kiss on my cheek and fingers run through my hair.

Flickering candles and painted toenails in ten different colors.

Hot cups of coffee and fairy tales.

Late night conversations with my best friend, laughter that carries across the country.

A text message reminding me that I'm beautiful and that I am loved.

Whispers of Narnia and Hogwarts and secret lands yet undiscovered.

Memories of late nights in Peru and the smiles of brown-skinned children as they cling endlessly to my legs and hands.

On these cold February days, when all seems dead and empty under blankets of snow...

...I cling to my bliss

For warmth.

For light.

For color.

For hope.

For love.

Silence

Silences make the real conversations between friends. Not the saying but the never needing to say is what counts. ~Margaret Lee Runbeck

There is something so velvet, so blissful about silence.

Those moments when all distractions fade away and you are completely lost in a perfect moment of soundless thought.

Some view the concept of "silence" as a sign of mental dysfunction, or an awkward moment between friends when there is nothing left to say.

For me, it's the exact opposite.

When there is silence, there is comfort.

The noise ends, the chaos is silenced. It's a glimpse into the comfort of Heaven.

His still, small voice speaks loudest when we cease our storms and just allow our souls to be bathed in soothing calm.

I think that's why God gave us the following truth about our relationships here on earth...

...when you are able to be silent with someone, without a word between you, it is not because you have nothing to say to one another or that a unspoken tedium has been reached.

Not in the least.

You have reached that point of the utmost love. When those moments of pain arrive between two friends, there is such blessed relief in a simple embrace where not a sound need be made.

You both just know.

There is a time and a place for silence. There is an unspoken need in each one of us to have someone understand us at that level.

It's in that moment of silence when you hear the words "...you're going to be okay" the most clearly.

Because that is a picture of our relationship with God.

Does this not make the silence that much more beautiful?

It should.

And behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice. ~ 1 Kings 19:11-12