:: be kind to yourself

{my little love and i}
photo property of DramaticElegance

they used to believe that a photograph captured a piece of the soul. with every flash, a part of the person was absorbed into the image.

sometimes i think that's still true. only in part, of course, for i know where my soul stays unwavering. but part of me pulled into the image...yes, i think i could believe that. because i judge my face in the mirror and the camera is a mirror of sorts, a mirror that freezes moments in time.

and i don't always like those moments.

:: be kind to yourself
the note on my mirror reminds. four little words that might be the hardest ever to swallow. but i have to be kind to myself, for my little one's sake. because she's started holding out her arms to me, five and a half months old, and already she silently calls for her momma.

and i know that soon enough she will be speaking, because she's already listening. and she reaches up her hand each morning with sleepy eyes and feather-soft touch from the bed we share and coos love to me.

she loves my face.
why don't i?

i have to learn. so i wrote the note in my best handwritting, the letters composed in what my friends call a fairy language, a love message to myself. because i have to learn to love myself before my little girl sees that i don't, and learns to hate herself the way i still do sometimes.

{via pinterest}

so i'm learning to smile for the camera, learning to reach out a hand toward the feral, frightened kitten that lurks under the porch. we need to make friends, she and i.

there's a promise written, one i will one day have tattooed on my skin like the Lion on my left wrist.

the King, your King, is enthralled by your beauty.

honour Him, for He is your Lord. 

::psalm 45:11

there is a King, mighty and righteous, a roaring Lion and a sacrificed Lamb. and He is captivated by me.

so for my little girl, i will learn to look beyond the mirror and into the soul the camera can't quite capture. the one He holds in the palm of His hand, the one He finds beautiful and worthy, covered in His blood.

Lion of Judah, enthralled by me.
oh, how can it be?

meditate

{via the sacred life}

yesterday, i wrote about how i need to learn to rest.
today, i can't.

because i'm sicker than i was yesterday, and my head is full of a pounding like tribal drums but much less beautiful and far more painful.

and i spent an entire night tossing and turning against a pillow tower and sneezing through a swirling patterned box of Puffs.

but lack of sleep has given me time to think. time to reflect and meditate, even on this word itself.

:: meditate ::


because it all goes back to be still and know, as i sit with patchwork quilts draped over always bare toes and the twisting swirl of fragrant tea steam slowly fill the air with soothing.

and i let the television sound fade to a mumble and the music to a background whisper. 

:: and i meditate ::

maybe not with crossed legs and crooning chants of syllables repeated. today i find my peace with candleflame flickering and a bowl of chicken noodle soup.

why have we pushed meditation out of our faith circle? when did we stop allowing peace into our hearts?

{via pinterest}

one thing I have asked from the Lord, 
that i shall seek: 

that i may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, 

to behold the beauty of the Lord

and to meditate in His temple.

:: psalm 27:4 ::

it's when we open. it's when we refuse to close, no matter the hour. when we are unafraid to shiver in glory, and when the scared becomes the sacred. we stop looking at the mirror that seems so ground, and we turn our gaze inward, upward. 

when we stop and inhale. when we became brave to approach, to contemplate this thing of so much boldness and so much peace all at once. 

i'm embracing Him, i'm inhaling glory.

i'm meditating. 

wings

"And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove! Then would I fly away, and be at rest." ~Psalm 55:6

i'm in love with the Psalms.

honestly, David had such power in his written word. there are so many times that i am tempted to be intimated by this king-turned-poet. 

his words resonate so deeply in my soul and seem to flow from some unknown spring of wisdom and God-touched power...it is almost enough to make me afraid to write another word in my lifetime.

but then i remember that David was not a king-turned-poet.

he was first a poet.

first a nothing.

first passed over.

second passed over.

passed over six times before he was remembered to be out in the field with the sheep.

but he was the chosen. not the first, nor the second, nor even the sixth. but he was the one picked.

he was the man after God's own heart.

how this man feared. how he fled from death and murderous men. forced to hide in caves, the dankest and darkest places of the earth. almost a tomb for him and his poetic light.

and oh, how he cried to the Lord.

how he begged. how he wept.

but how he praised. 

even in his darkest, he knew his King was his brightest.

he begged for his own dove wings. to fly away.

but his King said

I will carry you Myself. on My wings will you find life.

i am a nothing turned something. picked last, but soon to rise. a poet turned princess. 

and i will let myself be carried

from darkest caves to heaven's heights 

on His wings.

He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. ~Psalm 91:4

linking up with my dear Jen and the other beauties at the sisterhood of Soli Deo Gloria
as well as Hear It On Sunday, Use It On Monday