Sunday, August 10, 2014


I remember it clearly,
Looking across at you as you drove me to the airport.

Your eyes on the road,
curls sheltered beneath
the yarn of your cap
at first light
in the chill.

The sense
that you were a
real man.

The kind I could
(and should)
give my heart to.

One who would give
without thought of
keeping any
for himself.

Lessons learned in
shaped the set
of your shoulders.

You withstood.

You found a voice to give praise
from the ashes
(of an aftermath)
I shared the experience of
thousands of miles-
and years away-
from knowing you.

We lost our futures before we knew
our future
was to be found
in each other.

But, looking at you-
absorbing you-
It was plain to me
that you were he.

The years have proven the truth I felt
inside of that moment-
of what you're made of,
who you are.

Whose you are.

And that is all that matters now.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

We All Fall Apart

We all fall apart sometime. Or rather, the reality of it strikes us. Sometimes it's a myriad of tiny reality pin pricks and other times, it's a blow.

My friend posted this photo to Facebook last night.  That's me on the left.


I've been trying to un-see it for the hours that have passed since. It was taken the morning after a super fun triple family camp out.  

I don't always look angry, bloated, and exhausted. I usually don't wear my pajama shorts with the top half of my outfit, either. But, that's how things were when I got called outside for a group photo with a couple of ladies (and a baby) whom I absolutely adore.

Neither do I consider myself a particularly vain person, although I'm at least moderately vain-I think most women (and men) are to some extent. So, my inner reaction surprised me with its intensity.

I complain that Facebook is a place where people cultivate an online representation of their ideal self. Then, when a less than ideal version of myself is made public on Facebook, I'm thoroughly uncomfortable with it. Obviously, I'm as guilty as anyone else is of wanting to be seen only on my terms.

Seeing myself like this-it holds a mirror up to me that no ordinary mirror can hold up. I'm flawed. I'm a year away from 40 and I have to work harder and harder to keep things the way they've always been because I don't know what else to do. I feel like I can really, re-he-healllllly identify with Goldie and Meryl in Death Becomes Her.

Yes, I want to, need to, UN-SEE it.

What to do when the seams unravel? The outer seams, (wrinkles, bulges, gravity's pull) and the inner seams (anxiety, negative self-talk, fear)?

What brings the pieces together?  What silences the negativity and fear?   What reveals the beauty at the heart center?  

It's not a what, it's a whom...

Jesus.   It's that simple and that complicated. 

It's a daily, every hour, every minute, every second struggle to tune in to Him and tune out from the lies. Lies that say my value can be found in the most vulnerable and fleeting of places.

It's time for some Proverbs 31:30, my friends.
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.

I pray-for peace-acceptance that this is the way of time. 
I pray for gratitude-much of the reason I lose sleep and feel trapped in another person's body is because I have 2 little human beings I'd never trade for a wrinkle-free complexion or bump-less silhouette. 
I pray for Love-His Love, for me-that I would allow myself to receive it, that I would love myself enough to release unrealistic expectations and be joyful.  JOYFUL, I tell you! 
I pray for freedom-freedom from the desire to prove something, the endless striving for what's out of reach, from finding self value from anywhere I ought not be seeking, and from any other ideas that bind me and prevent me from being near to Him.

Does that mean I quit taking care of myself? Of course it doesn't-being healthy makes life more...just, more! And, putting an effort into one's appearance is rewarding-but, I do this for my own reasons. 

I'm sure one day a much worse image of me will be made public. That's okay. 

It's much less attractive to be held down in chains.