broken lines // mosaic

{via pinterest}
artist unknown. if you know, share it with me? 

i couldn't pass this one by.

not when my entire life has been broken from the start, and not when my passion is reaching out the broken ones and tucking them in close against me.

we've been made to think that broken is a bad thing, something to be ashamed of, to coil around and huddle in the darkness. but being broken makes mosaics, those little intricate lines and cracks that make up the letters into words of our own deep stories.

being broken hurts. it's not something anyone wants. we don't set out each day wonder, oh, how might i break today? :: but maybe we should.

i hate being broken. but it's not a shame thing. i'm pulling back the cover on my heart, the thick woolen blanket wound around my shoulders and whispering to each of you, come here, dearheart. let's sit together and put it all together.

it's what sisterhood is all about, taking the bits and showing the bright Light that gleams from between each little crack. it's what the Lion does best, breathing soft Life onto hearts and watching them mend, but leaving the soft marks behind.

and the Pharassees chant, "all you need is Jesus. but then, you need this...and this...and this thing too..." and the milestone hangs heavy and all you can do is collapse.

no dress code or stand up sit down or running away from the shadows. because He's in the shadows.

He's in the Light. He's in the dark. 

:: He IS.

the marks are art, lines of ink on the page. they speak of a greater story, a deeper grace. they show that you are strong, wandering through fire but held tender and close. it's stepping off the cliff and standing on air, hovering gentle on Lion's breath.

{linking five minutes of unedited "broken" writing at lisa-jo's today.}

beautiful {a fae*rie tale}

{via pinterest}

finding beautiful was something she found almost impossible. really, it was something she had to pursue, something she had to chase down. but it was always so far away.

and then she tucked herself in among running water and air-light bubbles. and the chaos still continued outside, the television murmuring and little baby whimpers as sleep claimed her bright blue eyes. but there was silence and stillness and fragrant beauty in the candlelight with the water splashing.

she felt a mermaid there, nestled among the sea-foam that would consume her if she was not careful. her skin glistened and her the ends of her hair dripped sandalwood and night-blooming jasmine. she started to hum, she couldn't help it, in tune with the soft flickering light that swooned around her.

she pondered the grace and wonder of the candle flame, how the light faltered in the breeze of her own lips but then returned stronger and brighter. was that beauty, not something with skin and eyes and hair and the curving shape of lips?

that it was the gentle bending, the fingers curled into hair and lips parted with the harmonizing of a familiar growing Song that was more than just a strain of notes and melody, but a state of being. 

was beauty a sort of surrender? 

:: it was, in fact, the ultimate. 

listening ::

{photo property of
and used with permission
by gypsymothsol}

when i was little, there was a poem i used to whisper

:: is anybody listening, listening...

and i said it in little-girl hush, and giggles accompanied each little word as i held my fingers against my lips and whispered. and sometimes i say it in adult groan where there is no one listening, no one seeing me. i mean, i'm here, don't you know that? but no one listens.

and i feel tiny. everyone does sometimes, but in this blogging world, it's hard not to be drowned out by a crushing roar of words that overwhelm and make me feel like my fingers are reaching up for a tiny bit of oxygen and i'm whispering

:: is anybody listening, listening...

but there's something profound about the whisper, even if no one else hears the words that leave your lips. because Lion's ears are acute and they pick up on everything. i swear the little tears that plink against the glass in His hand are the loudest chimes to Him.

and i haven't written a book. but something i wrote earlier this week made a splash and my brokenness was heard, louder than i anticipated. and i'm learning that there is someone listening, just the right someone. it doesn't have to be kings and queens up on the high places, but that tear-stained momma tugging herself to fit the mold that doesn't fit on her like it does on the other "hers" across the street.

and maybe it's just the plink of a tear in the bottle. one little drop.

but i promise
He is listening, listening...

{linking five minutes of uncensored stream of consciousness with the gypsy mama}

falling up :: five minute fridays

{via pinterest}

falling scares me.

i watch The Amazing Race and whisper with my husband, i want to do that with you. and we talk about each challenge...could we, would you? but the height ones seem to make me swallow the hardest

and then there was the man who smiled at the tallest building in the world and said, oh, i love the heights. and i started at the screen agape, heart filling with something i still don't understand just yet.

and i'm realizing that it's more than just the simple heights of feet and inches up against the clouds. i've found myself afraid of high living, because there's always that chance i might plummet down with just one little misstep. and nothing scares me like that  idea that maybe i'm not as steady as i like to think.

but falling just might be what needs to happen. because there's that rush as your eyes close and the Breath rushes past your cheeks and there's nothing but you and the Lion in the silence, and you realize all of a sudden that you're flying.

i'm in awe of the way His wings feel against my cheek. or maybe it's the shock of the feathers sprouting out of my own fingertips as He whispers about the wings of eagles that He promised low in my soul.

it's sacred, holy ground. 

:: holy air.

and when my feet touch the ground again, i lift my wings to cover my face and whisper

worthy worthy, holy holy

maybe one day, i'll lean back with eyes closed and let myself just tumble hand in the hand with the One who fought death and won. tandem diving from earth to Heaven.

{linking five minutes of unedited stream of consciousness with lisa-jo }
join us?

expecting // fear and light

there is a new rush of emotion in my life at present, of realizing that i am going to be the mother of a little one in less than twelve weeks now.

the reality that my little person is already starting to make her presence known on a regular basis, and the whimsy that tugs at my heart whenever i start to think about holding her in my arms.

{26 weeks and ever-growing)

and for a moment, i turned whimsical.

and then i froze in my tracks.

:: i'm going to be a mum ::

and the petrifying concept, which had been occurring to me in the beauty and delight of pregnancy, sank in with a sonic boom that shook my foundations and led me to weeping in the middle of the night.

am i ready for this?

my expectations have turned from whimsy to fear and back again.

they say that no one is ever ready for this, not really. that you can prepare all you want, and then still be entirely unprepared for all that comes alongside the birth of a tiny new person that has your husband's eyes and perhaps too much of your spirit.

i look at mothers who seem to have it all together, and i shake with the terror that i might not be as good as they are. that i could say the wrong thing, that i could do something that would cast splotches of indelible tar-like ink on this little girl's still-blank canvas.

is this something that comes with impending motherhood, along with the passion to clean everything in sight, and then to eat everything in sight, and then repeat both actions over again until house and fridge are both equally clean?

i wish i could wrap this up in a tidy little bow, express some truth that i am entirely confident that i've got this, that i can manage this and that my worry flitted away on the breeze.

but i can't do that. i don't think i will ever be able to do that, to cast aside every shred of fear that i have and just run away.

but i'm not doing this alone. there is a Rock that is greater than i, a song that is louder than my fears, and a Saviour who is holding my hand with the softest whispers

I am a Father.

you are a mother. 

i understand. 

and we will parent together, daughter. 

can i do this on my own? never.

but then, i'm never alone. 

i am co-parenting with the King of Kings. 

awaking mother

{via pinterest}

{five minutes. refusing to over-think or over-complicate. in these moments, we write for love}


when i went to bed on Wednesday night, i was a me. single tense, just one body.

or was i really? 

because this little one was already growing within, without me even knowing that i wasn't just a me. but a we.

but this morning, i awoke. and it was different.

because i was mother. i could feel the change. maybe not physically yet, maybe it's too soon. but i found my fingers pressed against skin, whispering good morning to the lentil in my tummy.

because i awoke new today. 

no more will Friday the 13th speak of bad luck. it will be the first full day that i knew i was mother. 


today was the day my mother hugged both me and her grandchild at the same time. the first day that i wandered through my home with Harry Potter in hand as i read familiar words to the tiny one who can already hear me.

i awoke different today, though i have been doing it for six weeks without realizing.

today, i knew. and i awoke mother.

{thank you so much to each and every one of you who wished us well. we are so incredibly excited. 

we are due on September 3rd, 2012. expect lots and lots of updates as the weeks progress!}

connection in the Sovereign

{via pinterest}

when i tell people that i blog, sometimes i get the strangest looks. when i mention a friend that i have made, how dear she is to my soul but our only connection has been the one that flutters through cyberspace, the looks intensify.

because it doesn't make sense, if you give it too much thought, and if you don't understand.

how does it work, exactly, for women of every walk and every age and every standard to merge their souls and bare their hearts to one another?

does connection take face to face, hand to hand, and breath to breath?

or is it about heart more than flesh?

because there is love that radiates 

from screen to screen. 

there are voices that ring together with laughter over steaming coffee mugs, and then there are the clusters gathered to weep and mourn a broken heart with tears that flow in brokenness, despite the distance.

there is connection. 

this i promise you.

this is the blending of earthy and sacred. i've said it before, and perhaps too often.

but, oh, God became flesh, and gold became straw.

and connections become invisible and fingers touch and grasp together.

these sisters, these seekers that stand together with one hand stretched to Heaven and the other pressed to qwerty keys, they understand.

this is sacred connection of the strangest type.

this is Sovereign sisterhood.

colour drops :: five minutes

{via pinterest}

five minutes

five minutes to write my heart without stopping, without editing, without over-analyzing every word. 

it's about being free here, about writing for love here, every Friday. 

******

half the time, i forget about colour. 

i focus on the black and white and loose the technicolor in the religious right and leave the relationship to fade from sight until we're back again to shades of grey.

it's the stand-up sit-down, learn the ABC of You and me and just forget the mystery that the Pharisees just couldn't grasp. 

but that night, it wasn't black and white, but RED with Life and GOLD with the broken heart of Soverign Father slashed across the sky in lightning slash. 

and those shades of grey died with Death in the space of three days when colour was risen from the ice-cold rock and Life burst forth into rainbow drops of GLORY and WHITE.

because it's important to pick up the crayons of childlike faith and streak the colour bold and wide from side to side and cover the page in infamy and reality of the truth that set us free in the space of three days with Red that turns us White again.

so we just have shut up, sit back, and let Him flip the mental switch to bright and drop the harshness and swallow down the mystery of the unseen and oh, glory be to the Painter of celebrates eternity. 

do we remember colour now? 

{linking five minutes of my day with Lisa-Jo}

resting Christmas :: five minutes

if i'm not careful, December can wear me to the bone.

it's that way with beautiful things. if we aren't careful, we can loose ourselves in the miscellaneous of the year and let the big picture fade into a ruined negative. 

i can become full of calender dates and evergreen, making endless plans and fretting over budgets that never seem to end. 

and when Love comes, my oil is all gone, because i realize that i've forgotten to store up any for myself. and Love is there, and He takes me still as broken and worn. but the blessing that could have been...that's faded and forgotten.

it's fear that brings me racing.

must be perfect

it's Christmas...my perfection.

no more resting until the work is done. oh, how weary, how tired this makes my soul.

i need to remember. i need to take the time to reflect upon another weary young woman, the one who strove through confusion and exhaustion.

the little one with the heart of a King beating in her womb.

the tired pregnant woman who found her rest close to the tiny feet of the newborn Messiah.

whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High

will rest in the shadow of the Almighty

so i'll join her there, in that place of tears and stable straw. and we'll gaze with wonder and awe. 

this is the right kind of peace.

the right kind of tired.

{linking with Lisa-Jo for these five minutes of Love}

{also, the November giveaway winners will be announced this weekend. thank you for being patient!}

grow

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking.  linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

GROW

now GO...

i've been doing a lot of growing in the past twelve months.

taking a look back over my calender, i'm overwhelmed with everything that has occurred in my life. it's awe-inspiring, how i've changed.

did you know so much could happen in a year?

i'm sure i knew, but i think i forgot.

i think growing is one of those things that you can't exactly predict. it's all in relation to how much you're willing to receive, and how much you're willing to give up.

because i've been surrounded with partners in this process. those amazing ones who come alongside you, and whisper into your ear

what, you too? i thought i was the only one...

but i've also had the pain, the pruning, the stripping of the secure and leaving me shivering and wanting my old self back.

and then i find myself in the greenhouse of my Gardener. it hurts, but He trims away the dead parts of my soul. 

it's still in process -- i'm growing, after all. 

but i'm not alone. and i'm seeing results. 

so i just have to sit in the Earth, and remember that He has been here first.

and watch for the blossoms to emerge. 

unexpected

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking.  linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

UNEXPECTED

now GO...

i'm in a place that i never expected to be. 

i never thought it would take me this far into my Christian walk to start to embrace this thing of sacredness. 

as a little girl, i wanted to be a Christian because i loved Jesus and i wanted to belong to Him.

i didn't know or understand what i was doing until i got much older. 

i was embracing the unexpected by become His child. 

because who would have expected a King to put His crown on the floor and step from Royal to humble? from Eternal to Mortal...and yet still remain Eternal. 

who would have expected Sinless to become sin for the very ones who pushed His already-broken body against a splintered beam of wood and drove iron nails into his wrists and feet? 

He was nothing like what they expected. 

i'm awed as His ability to break those barriers -- not to destroy what was written, but to fulfill. 

this Rabbi of Peace -- fighting the ultimate war with Death. 

 so much victory. 

this is my unexpected, which has now become my understood. 

this has become my Embraced. 

remember

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking. . linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

REMEMBER

now GO...

i saw this word last night. and i started to think what i should remember. 

because i remember a lot of things. not important things, like England king or the capital cities of every state in the Union. 

but i remember snapshots and mental videos of things that no one else does.

{photo by DramaticElegance
1997: haircut like Skandar Keynes}

family things, little quirks and things from the past. 

she does too. 

she was my companion in most, so we share this common memory.

you see, most of my memories involve two little girls. 

one with dark hair cut in a too-short bob because the little long-haired blonde one wanted to play beauty shoppe with Mummy's sissors. 

little red wagons and cats that lacked enthusiasm for being wrapped up like Baby Moses and being floated down the creek in a basket. 

lipsynching into hairbrushes in front of the video camera...it's on YouTube now, somehow. 

inside jokes that we still laugh about, because we remember, you see. 

on Tuesday night, we followed tradition. hanging lights and placing angels and snowmen in their traidtional places, like we do every first of the eleventh month. 

but this year, these two little girls are joined by two little boys. 

{photo by DramaticElegance
2009: my wedding, Bride and Maid-of-Honour}

these little girls have loves now. 

new memories now. 

these boys will both be here here for Christmas. 

one a husband who spends every waking minute with his woman...


...the other a solider home from war  for his first Christmas with her on this side of the webcam. 

we grew up somehow, these two little girls. 

but in the dark under the Christmas tree, we still tangle our fingers and curl like hedgehogs into a little bundle together. 

because we remember. 

relevant

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking. linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

RELEVANT

now GO...

i crave relevance. i ache to have a place of here and now in this world. where my past has blended into shadow and is no longer haunting my every step with its pack of has-been lies. 

i tend to place relevant and authentic on the same level. because how can we stand in a place of relevance to the world if we are not being authentic with Truth and Light? 

relevant means pertinent, connected to the matter at hand. 

authentic means real, not falsified. 

so you see how they must go together?

so many of my precious blogger friends are doing just that this weekend. they are wrapped up together in a place of relevant, authentic love and community. 


this place of sharing and precious connection where only computer screens had joined before. 

and i won't lie in that i envy them this. i wish i could be there with them, finding my corner of community with this thing that can feel so aloof at times. 

but i know i am here in my relevant place, where i need to be for such a time as this.

maybe someday, in another year, i will join them in their place. 

 i am not with this community now, but i am here. 

still authentic, still honest, still raw, and still craving this touch of relevance. 

beyond

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking. linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

BEYOND

now GO...

i love this word. 

this idea of going beyond...

...beyond what is normal, what is accepted, and what everyone says should be.

perhaps it is the seeker in me, the little girl with TOMs and searching eyes barely hidden beyond choppy bangs that may have never grown up. 

she's still here. just six years older and a little wiser, or maybe not. 

i'm still aching for the beyond. still digging through fur coats to find the snow at the back of the wardrobe. i'm not about to stop that search, and it's about more than a magical land.

it's about the beyond. the more. the bit of unseen that i know is there, fingers out and reaching at the beams of hidden light. 

i want to go beyond this world. beyond this place of feeble and insignificant. because anything can be made beyond. because we were made for greater things.

{via pinterest}

if i find in myself desires that nothing in this world can satisfy, i can then only conclude that i was not made for here. 

i am not of here. i am of the beyond.

i am a citizen of the land of Love and Salvation and Light. 

i am a daughter of the soon. 

tired of this glass dimly, aching for the fresh eyes of Heaven-sight.

i want to catch that White Stag, find that hidden door, step past the train platform of Shadowlands and come into the brightness of this ended dream.

of this morning beyond. 

i'm ecstatic with the knowing that beyond is here. and i can touch it.

i am living in the now, living in the soon, living endlessly in the beyond. 

i don't have to come back to reality

because i'm already there. 

He promised, and i believe.

beyond is soon. 

beyond is here. 

catch

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking. linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

CATCH

now GO...

there is something so amazing about spending a week with a bride in preparation. most people don't get to see this part. this is precious between just a sacred few. 

because we get to see it all. the anticipation, the waiting for her groom to arrive. ten hours away no more. he will be here, and someday is only two days away from being forever. 

but there is the other stuff too. 

the stuff scattered around the room, suitcases open and tousled, things strewn helter-skelter. because she's preparing in this week. 

it's more than just tulle and ribbon and last-minute shopping runs and hot glue and sewing kits. 

it's a change of life. 

she knows that soon, she will have a human parachute. 

it's a drop and catch type of affair. 

she's dropping one name, and catching another. 

she's dropping the old life, the old home, the old surroundings

and catching the new. 


the new existance with the man she has loved for so long without even realizing he was the one she loved. 

this is a strange kind of balance. this thing of drop and catch.

but the dropping is slowly coming to the end. 

the end is in sight. 

and the catch. 

that beautiful soft catch. 

of sand and beaches and sunrises and tearful i do's. 

of money and children and grey-haired futures.

welcome to the catch, love. 


{please forgive my lack of commenting, loves. when my dear one is married, expect a return from me
also, would you please leave Alex a word of love? two more days before she is a wife.}

ordinary

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking. linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

ORDINARY

now GO...

this ordinary has been forgotten.

we forget those little bits of life that are so important...

the most important. 

we seek glitter and glitz and so much different that we forget to see those things that are right in front of us. those bits of inspiration that are daily lost in this shuffle of seeking extraordinary.

yes, forever should we strive to be living lives that are beyond the pale, strong and rich for Him. 

but even this is ordinary.

we follow a King who cast His crown away. living among the dust and dirt and death and sin and pain of this world. 

{via pinterest}

He who knew no sin...

...covered in this world's dust. with feet that needed washing, and yet He knelt and washed that of others. 

He was most extraordinary of the ordinary. this Man of sorrows, this King of Life. 

and we must not forget this place we hold in this world of shadow and strangeness. 

find the beam of light in the darkness. 

that one pebble along the beach.

that one moment in the passing of eternal time. 

this beauty in the plain. 

this is ordinary. 

this pursuit of the extraordinary. 

amigos

five minute fridays. we write for five, and only five, minutes. no editing, no overthinking, no backtracking. linking up with the gypsy mama.

the word

FRIENDS

now GO...

i wonder where i'd be without them. 

these people who have radically transformed. touched. caressed and pushed and held and gripped my wrist so tight as i slip beneath the surface and pulled me up again.

man was not meant to be alone.

each one of us has the one partner with whom we are meant to spend our lives. 


and i have found my precious true Love and life companion, and my life would not be the same without him to hold my heart. my true best friend is him, indeed. 

but there are those others. 

those other lifeguards that watch your shore, those other hands to hold as roads are raced, those other heads of hair to blow in the wind from rolled-down car windows as music flows through each strand. 

so much shouting. laughter. wisdom. precious ones. 

{via pinterest}

{those tissue bearers. those shoulder-lifters. 

those warm blankets for a wounded soul, those comforting wraps for laughter at the fireside. 


those sisters. those brothers. 


those dearhears that can look back at the page and say, 

yes, we were there. but we overcame. and we sang and laughed and wept and danced and leaped for the pureness of it all. 

together. 

companions. 

my precious ones. 

my sister. my Abby. 

my soul sister. my Alex.

my tender mother. my sweet mother-in-law. 

my loyal father. 

my brothers. my sisters. 

lists too long to name. but i love you. 

my team. 

champions all.

survivors all. 

His all. 

{the fantasy giveaway ends TONIGHT! be sure to enter here before midnight tonight}