life step

this whole life can seem like a theater dream.

you know, the bad kind.

the kind where hands push hard on your back and you stumble

stumble out onto a fully lit stage with naught in hand and strange clothing on your back, if any at all.

and they tell you dance but there is no familial music and no steps to guide your feet.

and they tell you speak but you don't know the words.

you don't even know who or what you're supposed to be. 

and you freeze and stumble and bleed and weep and all you want to do is run

run 

run 

run 

run 

run 

run 

until you can't see this strange place anymore ever.

and the comes the laugh. the hearty mocking gafaws that echo through your heart and cause you to freeze and stumble and bleed and weep all over again.

and there is no run.

because your legs have turned to liquid stone and you have nothing anymore.

and then you wake up. and it was all a dream. 

the sigh of relief falls into canter with the beating of your still unsure heart.

but then the news clicks on. death and destruction and ache and break and death not life and dark not light and nothing is as it should be anymore.

hands pushed you into this glaring place and you don't know what o do.

nothing in your hand. nothing on your back.

and then they say dance. 

but He gives the music and holds your feet against His bleeding nail scars and you move together.

they say speak. 

but He gives you His words and you speak. 

a mouthpiece for a mouth of peace. it's a symphony, 

this life of you and He together.

alone it's a kurfuffle of empty noise.

together is a dance.

 a step. 

a life. 

no fear. no stone. no ice.

life love warmth freedom courage.

all this life in Him. 

{linking with my dear emily for this broken song of love}

positivities. {61-70}

(via Pintrest)

another week has come upon us. another Monday has now arrived.

unlike last Monday's good-morning perfection, this Monday has already asserted itself in an attempt to bring me down under a chanting weight

so much to do.

so little time.

long. days. ahead.

i suppose, in a way, this little voice is speaking a measure of truth. 

i do have a great deal to accomplish today. 

i do only have 24 hours in this day, nine of which I have already slept away. 

and yes, this week has the potential to be either remarkably wonderful or disgustingly hideous. at this point, it could really go either way. 

but i have a choice.

 i could either allow myself to become overwhelmed by all that lies before me, take all of my hard and somewhat heartwrending situations of the week and internalize them, and then explode under the extreme pressure...

...or i can stop. i can breathe. i can know the Truth, and hold it closer than ever. and i can walk the path, doing what needs to be done...all the while remembering to breathe, and remembering to lean on the One who carries me through it all. 

and i can remember to be blessed. 

• 61. my mother and sister are coming HOME. tuesday night. after almost three insanely long months without my best friend-slash-sister, and one without my dearest mother...they are finally returning back to the USA. please forgive me a moment while my father and i go leap about the still very empty farmhouse like overly-caffeinated bunnies.
• 62. one month to go until opening night. it's almost here. i can taste it for it's closeness. i just have to survive the next month of off-book act polishing and tech/set conundrums until that curtain finally opens and i can say it's done.
• 63. laundry. the one chore i hate more than any other. but for all its hassle, it bears a certain measure of calming silence in that mostly-deserted laundryroom. save for the humming of the machines, all is quiet. and i can find a moment of stillness there. 
• 64. the continaul reminders that i am not alone in this walk of life. the message from a friend saying, that meant so much, just that talk. the little email with its words of wish you were here with me. these are the little comforts. 
• 65. spending hours talking with my dear engaged best friend. receiving text messaged pictures of the most flawless vintage wedding dress, discussing colour schemes and bachlorettes, and remembering that this path to the altar and to her adoring new groom is growing shorter with each passing day.
• 66. the new writers blog. it means the world to me. to ali. to dreams come true and visions realized. 
• 67. rango and tangled. being a child for just a few hours, laughing and loving those animated films which delight my soul. 
• 68. crying. the healing power of tears as they pour down my cheeks. the gentle reminder of the One who knows my heart. just a little while, dearheart. a little while and all will be as it was again. just wait a little while. 
• 69. His mercies. oh, may i never cease to praise Him. 
• 70. pintrest. whiling away the hours, listing and pinning and admiring such beauty. an addition, to be sure. a blessing, even still. 

this week could go either way. i have much to do, and little time. 

but i am not so small as my enemy would like me to believe. 

for greater is He who is in me

than he who is of the world. 

linking up with multitudes on monday.
a beautiful challenge. never forget. 

greatness.

Walking on the moon. They said we couldn't ever.

He walked on the water.

Artificial heart values, prosthetic eyes, mechanical limbs. They said it was "against nature."

He healed the sick. Gave sight to the blind. Made the lame walk again.

We fiddle with concepts of life support and how to save those we love from death.

He spoke, "rise," and the dead opened their eyes.

We seek selfishness, how can we love without giving anything of ourselves? No commitment, no attachment.

He let Himself be ripped apart, bled dry, and tortured to death...all because of Love.

We weep and plead at the end of our lives, wailing in fear "this is the end. There is no more."

"Death is swallowed up in victory....where is your victory, oh, Death, where is your sting?"

I serve a bigger God than this. I serve a King above all others. I have a Father forever to hold my hand. 

I follow Jesus. 

To the ends of the earth and back again.