You are a beautiful mess

What is wrong with me lately? I am so uninspired to write anything worth a bean! When I think, at last! I have something important to say! I begin to type or jot things down in my notebook and it feels just like a thousand things I have written and said before. It totally lacks any originality, or validity. It captures a sense of blandness and discontentment that I may or may not even being feeling. I sound like a broken record! You miss all of my passionate emotions where, in the bathroom I silently scream until my face is red from frustration and anger at myself, the world around me, my lack of love, lack of peace, lack of understanding and compassion or sincerity towards my fellow man. I fail to express the days that blend one in to the other, all smearing like paint that turns into pools of brown and gray are more often that not, and end up sounding like Pollyanna, ever hopeful, ever cheery! But I am not! No! I am an angry girl with too many thoughts all of the time, and I am so weary of myself sometimes that I could simply die. But I do not say this. No, in order to keep people from thinking I am a negative bore hounding for pity from all of you, which I would not be, but it would come across like this no matter what...self pity is such an ugly trait after all....I spew a rainbow of words containing life and hope, and this all all good and well, but it is not honest. I want to be honest with you. I want to be honest with myself most of all, and that will trickle down into everything I do and onto everyone I meet. 

So, life is dull sometimes and drags on until you look in the mirror and realize your reflection is no longer a girl with long, shining hair and naiive eyes filled with dreams of tomorrows that might possibly come, but your eyes now shift with the lackluster suspicion that maybe life will always be mediocre and unfulfilled, framed in crows feet and smile lines. Quite possibly, and you are no longer afraid of this, life might serve you a large helping of sorrow and disappointments, riddled with anxiety or disease. You are critical. Jaded. Getting older. Supposedly wiser. Like Adam and Eve in the garden, you feel naked and long to be clothed. And so you are.Clothed in tattered, threadbare armor.  Sometimes you may even feel the sharp truth of the curse like a bitter wind on your skin. These are the things I think about but do not share because I have branded myself the speaker of kind words to the public, words of hope. But it is not how I feel often. I struggle with depression one day and then I dig myself out with light and love and the beauty of nature and comfort of family and God. Who of us do not struggle with depression on occasion in a broken world where so much darkness dwells, but also so much good? I don't think I could relate to you if you said you never wished to be absent from this earth because of the pain it brings in life. Once in awhile at least.

SO my heart longs desperately for heaven, a better world, a better home, my true home. But I do not dream of death or suicide. I dream of life still. I chase after the silver edge of the cloud which seems to always be there, a constant companion. I always say, how would the brighter colors be bright without the shadowy brush stokes to contrast them? You cannot have the brightness of day without the closing of the eyes to dark night. So there is the certainty of bad against good, the struggle of sadness to joy. We are human! Will we not feel human emotions and have terrible days that are so full of failure you may not even want to get out of bed the next day because you feel as if you have completely blown it? And then there is always a second and third and hundredth chance at repairing the breach and making lemonade from lemons. Those of us who believe, who have faith in a God we cannot see but trust is there, we have the hope of heaven. We know that this world is but a shadow of the things to come when we die. Sometimes I wonder what it feels like to NOT have that hope. Do you have less depression of this world, because you are so desperately attempting to make this one shot so well-lived? I think there is balance needed. I know we as believers are not supposed to bide our time counting the days we have left, only dreaming of the next and better world. We are meant to live each day here to the fullest, speaking of His saving grace, and looking at how God speaks to us in His creation..in the birds song, the fresh dew on the mouth of a flower, the curve of a child's cheek, the eyes that watch us, the tenderness of new leaves on a branch in spring, baby birds learning to fly out of the nest, a road that goes somewhere you've never been, looking at this day like an adventure to be lived, food tasted, faces kissed, arms held out to the lonely, washing each other's feet in servitude. But somedays are shit. And there is no way around it. Thankfulness changes so much. When I feel dark and angry and crabby and I'm ugly to be around, I sometimes remember to be thankful. To be silent and pray. To seek the peace I know is ALWAYS extended to me, but so easy to turn my back on. But sometimes I don't. Sometimes I waste an entire day indulging in the bread of idleness and despair. And God's grace is on those days too. I hope my blog today helps someone to know that being real and transparent can sometimes look messy, but it is truth, and honesty is always the best in my book. Bless you today. May you find beauty, and refuge in His big, outstretched arms of grace and love, It never ends, even when you feel lost and alone and bored and ugly. You are beautiful, and precious, and special, and your life is the only one of its kind, so live it fully. Even the shitty days.

A Hymn

HYMN:

Noun A religious song or poem, typically of praise to God or a god.

Verb Praise or celebrate (something).

Synonyms anthem - canticle - psalm - chant Here is a little hymn I wrote last night while thinking about God's love. You illuminate my eyes, bring light The way you love me Is like a blind man given sight When you came into my life, I was so very thirsty You refreshed my soul with waters of sweet mercy I drank in your words and cooled in your shade How tender your voice, as you bade me not to be afraid In your care I have remained, for good to me you have stayed Why flee to other lands afar When true to your word you are So faithful, oh so true Just as the sky each day is blue The sun, it rises, and it sets Why should my soul e'er fret You are my love, in you I'll be Until my last breath then sets me free To at last, lay eyes on your face O please anchor me in your grace. Simple, but words from my heart for a savior I know I still require daily to bring me peace, hope, love and salvation from myself and the darkness this world holds. I am thankful for God's simplicity and ever present help in times of trouble. I believe God is with me always and never leaves me. I am never alone. His care is for all of his people, he loves us all.  Today I got on a little tangent to watch a few different videos from YOUTUBE. These were what I chose: erasing hell by francis chan; Akiane child prodigy, an artist who hears from God and gets visions from him and help with what to paint and write; Brian Welch from Korn speaking on his testimony; the boy who died from a burst appendix and saw heaven then came back; the man who almost died in a plane crash and came back. I was just interested in seeing what they said. I am doing some research on the afterlife, on eternity or if it exists or not. I believe it does. Everything I see and have come to trust in points to yes. God wants us to know what we believe deeply but also to trust deeply. I attempt to do both. To not blindly believe, but to ask God's opinion and to seek truth. I am a truth seeker and love justice, long to be like Jesus in kindness, peace, and love. Lead me into all truth Lord.

Blessed are the Poor (in spirit)

Most of you know that we moved from Bend in October to California, where Chris and I have our roots deeply in the heart of the Central Coast. We had been residing in Bend, Oregon for around 8 years until this recent transition. We live on a country road about 6 miles outside of a little village town and about 8 miles away from the ocean. If we climb the semi-steep road to the end of our road, which dead-ends at a ranch, we can see all the way down to the sea, and the sunsets are exquisite. It has rained quite a lot since we moved here, causing the rolling mountains surrounding us to be carpeted with the prettiest green everywhere, and soon the wildflowers will peek their heads out as well, making it like a fairytale land.
Though that makes it sound close to perfect, and we feel extremely blessed to be able to dwell in such a gorgeous, fruitful place, it does not come without it's challenges. California is super expensive and it is a miracle we are surviving financially. Chris ended up with a job down the street from our house about 4 miles, at a surgical center cleaning the medical instruments for meager pay. I stay at home still; though most days do not come without some form of guilt on my end to not be out helping to bring in some wages; homeschooling our three delightful, rambunctious children and cleaning the house that never gets clean due to all the country dust! ha.. We have one closet for a family of 5, and one bathroom which surprisingly works out decently most days. There is absolutely no room for clutter or extra objects at all, which really suits me fine. We live a very simplistic life, mainly happy and uneventful. It is interesting as you go along in life what becomes cherished in your heart. To me, as long as my marriage is thriving, my children fed, healthy and clothed, and food in our bellies, it is well with my soul. Even if those things weren't perfect, it would still be well with my soul though, because I have Jesus, and He fills me with peace and love and the beauty no other thing can, not even my dear family.
I am learning the art of dwelling in community, as an entire large family lives upstairs from us. We share meals often with each other, drive each other around, do things together, and are actually having a worship and prayer night coming up soon with some other families coming as well.
Chris is scheduled to play the banjo on the worship team this weekend, which is a first in many months, Should be interesting and perhaps even fun for him.
We are all learning how to die to ourselves. It is an ongoing and priceless process. I want nothing more than to glorify my Heavenly Father. All else falls to the wayside.
Outsiders may look at our setup and think we are poor. But I feel rich in so many ways. And that alone is proof that God is at work in me.....
I am so thankful for everything in my life. I feel like life is too short and I am getting older rapidly, but there is also beauty in the aging process, especially the wisdom we learn as we grow in experience. I long to find joy in today, and I feel I have been more and more. I see more art and beauty in my days. I sense God's direction stronger, and the things that used to bring anger and rage to me now falls off of me much quicker than ever before. My main incentive is to grasp life as it comes, not looking back in nostalgia or anxiously awaiting the future with what if's, but simply enjoying my daily bread. Being thankful deeply and sincerely for those things which are of the most importance: God, family, friends & relationships, nature, unity, keeping your eyes and ears open to the Spirit's perspective and leading, and knowing you are rich when "things" are scant. "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

what is your worth?

Last night I was feeling tremendously sorry for myself once again, that the only 2 or 3 people who seem to read my blog are my mom and my mother-in-law and a couple others, and my husband who probably feels forced to read it due to guilt. I was feeling sorry for myself that I am nearing my 35th birthday and I have very few items of success to mark my life in any large way. (aside from my marriage which I am content in and my 3 beautiful children that I helped make, that is). I was weeping over the thought that the one thing I love to do, passionately, will be done in such inept and pathetic levels as this blog has done. I was feeling that my life was a stunted failure, a wasted attempt. It was the strangest and most consuming, real feeling that left me raw and speechless and alone.

Who is this girl? How do others see me? I am genuinely intrigued. Am I seen as I myself see me? I am a very harsh critic and in the mirror often what is reflected back to my perspective is an okay looking woman with deepening smile and frown lines, big teeth and an imperfect body. A mind that not many see or take the time to see. A wife of someone who gets a lot of attention because of his talents..and here I am in the shadows. 

I started to envision in my mind, a perfect line of planters in a window box. Each pot was filled heartily with soil, some rich and dark and others dry. All of them were getting ready to sprout something from the soil. Some sprung up with beautiful lavender, canary yellow, or bright red flowers, which took over the planter with vibrant color and beauty which caused delight to the eyes to see. I immediately wanted to be one of the planters which held these luscious flowers in them, because they were pretty and everyone wanted to look at them. They brought immediate, external pleasure, and it seemed to me that this would be the favored way to be.

Some of the planters sprung up with weeds and I knew I didn't want to be those ones. Others remained empty. I knew instinctively that though I desired to be one of the ones that held the flowers, I was one of the ones with nothing to show yet in it. It grieved me deeply, and I wanted to cry, until I started hearing consoling words in my mind. "There is much beneath the soil that cannot be seen yet." 

It is not much consolation, but it is something. Maybe nothing. Maybe someday. I know that one time I recall hearing the Lord tell me I was His swan. He said I was a late bloomer. I will hold on to that.

In the mean time I pray that I will find peace in the life of a quiet observer and supporter of my husband and my kids, and I will never, ever stop writing. It is what I know. It is what I love. And someday, I WILL write books and they will be published. Even if I am 90 when it happens.

Farewell 2012! Thanks for the deepening...

I bid 2012 farewell with a bit of tenderness and a heap of deep breaths. It did me well, but I am relieved to embark on a crisp, white page not yet scrawled on with tears, blood or pain. Not that the entire year was horrible... it was certainly one of the most noteworthy years yet in my 34 years. So much iron sharpening iron. So much storm, so many tears. Tons of changes. From January until this December, I tell ya.....I am so ready for a new season of laughter, joy, relaxation as far as my soul and mind go.
Most of you know that this last year was rough, mainly having to do with the things my husband went through, finding his biological father miraculously, and losing his faith. We also moved back to California in October, which has been a huge transformation as well. The children are homeschooling this year, and that has been an adjustment. What to say, when there seem to be so many events that have transpired and so many words, but which are the right ones to share on the internet? Hah.
We are co-living with a whole other family on beautiful, now verdant green acreage in the country about 7 minutes from the ocean. I am so thankful to live here, to be able to walk outside without freezing my extremities off in December. I am enjoying being "home" as far as the soil goes. My husband likes to say I am now like a tree planted back in its proper soil. My heart is happy.....or it should be.
Why does it seem the older I get the more cynicism attempts to creep in, like bleeding watercolors. I painted my canvas long ago, in bright, cheerful colors of crimson, fuchsia, yellow, bright greens and oranges, but then slowly reality crept in and faded the colors to grey, brown and smudgy mustards. I must make more of an effort to throw off this weighty blanket of what if's and never's and remind myself that the road ahead is still brightly lit with hope and dreams yet to be fulfilled.
This year, 2013, I don't dare to ask that you bring me all flowers and goodness because I know that would be mundane and ridiculous, for life brings all shades of emotions to paint the murals of our existence. But I do pray for renewed vision! I have been endowed with many pictures planted in my heart of things God has promised, and I still firmly believe that I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living, as it says in Psalm 27. "I am still confident of this: that I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." I ask for childlike faith in a world that caters to grownups with realism idealism and much injustice that would make us wish to be blind and deaf some days. If there are a few things I have taken away from this year, one is that expectation is merely a sketch in the masterpiece of what will unfold. The true beauty to life is supposed to be the unexpected turns and jaunts into places we have never ever gone, nor possibly hoped to. We are able to make the very best of the worst through Christ's redeeming guidance. This I know to be true. I have found His breath to be closer than my own, and His presence to be the deepest comfort in the midst of silence and times when I had no words at all.  We all have our own personal level of withstanding pain, a different breaking point that we don't know until we are led up to it and relinquish or dive in. This year has been difficult, yes. But it did not knock me down, and I am still alive. And so are you.
I feel that this year is going to be one of life. Newness. Spring to the soul. I am expectant of wildflowers as far as the eye can see, wellness of heart, a bubbling over of good tidings. I am ready for a rebirth of sorts, and doors wide open that I never thought would be. My feet are on the brink of this road, and I am taking the first wobbly step.But I refuse to do so with old, stained clothes. Garments stained with cynicism and jaded with mistrust because trust was once breached. I am persistent that I will go about this new year with the garments of simplicity, joy, wonder and awe. As my husband wrote in a song, "All that I know, I don't really know." I am ready for God to surprise me, and fill me with all of the treasures His hand bestows into this clay jar, an empty vessel happy to be filled with the fresh waters of His love and faithfulness.
Happy New Year my kind friends. I hope it finds you like a child.

sometimes I am crazy and lose my temper

This is an honest entry I am about to begin here. Being honest is hard when you are a writer and also pertinent to your success. Not that I call myself a successful writer as far as worldly standards go..I am yet to be published, though it is my dream, and no one knows my name. I am the nameless one.
My husband is quickly becoming known as far as some crowds go, due to his musical talents. That is awesome and I support him in all of his directives. But this cannot solely be my job. Even as a christian wife, this is not legit. God made me creatively and uniquely to fill a role only I can fill, as well as being my husband's helper. I think I forgot this for a long time. Like, 8 years. I have shelved so many things that bring happiness and fulfillment to my heart. Like writing for instance. I used to make a point to write every single day, whether it was poetry, journaling, or the jottings of a crazed woman making pleas with the invisible reader. I would journal as if I was Anne Frank and someone would find my writings after my peril. Or like I had something really important to say that no person has ever had the guts to say before. But the truth was, and maybe still is, okay, definitely still is, is that I am terrified to write down my true feelings, because I know they will surely hurt someone, or embarrass the hell out of me or my children one day. My parents might disown me for my lack of confidence in my upbringing. Maybe the fact is is that I am highly in need of some really helpful professional therapy to discover what causes my occasional meltdowns/anxiety attacks and bouts with depression and self-loathing...or perhaps I am merely human and need to just brush all the negativity under the carpet so that I can attempt to see the brighter, more defined aspects of beauty in this fleeting, ridiculous life. Maybe it just happens to be dreary and raining today and I have more difficulty seeing the world through an optimistic lens. Yes, that is probably it.
I am absolutely going through a whole season where I learn to have lower expectations on people I love. Not because they aren't worthy of the highest expectations, but because it's not healthy for my expectations to be so high on them and then get so disappointed when they don't do the things I expect of them. This probably makes me sound lousy either way, but that's why I gave the introductory disclaimer that this was going to be an "honest entry". I guess I am just so tired some days of the things Christianity calls me to, such as apologizing and endless forgiveness, and pressing on cheerfully when I have a tendency to dwell on things sometimes; being loving when I feel like hating, keeping my eyes on the promises God has given me and keeping that hope alive, rather than assessing the situation with the physical facts I am presented with and maybe losing hope and the energy to continue on joyfully or peacefully. I am still wrestling so hard with how to simply enjoy this life! Why? Ugh. I am so sickened with myself some days. This also is not a blog in which I expect ANY responses to my self pity, because that's not what I'm trying to do here, I don't want anyone to end up rolling their eyes at how depressing I am or feeling obliged to "lift me up" out of my current state of depression...I am not suicidal so to speak, I want to LIVE! I want to breathe easy and not take things so seriously, but I find it nearly impossible.
 The thought I had last night that seems to be the anthem of my flow of thoughts lately is: I wish I could start over, like from point A. Like on Solitaire, when you lose and it gives you the option to:  Start this game over from the beginning, or start a brand new game. I just want sometimes to start this particular game over. But I know that would only be a personal hell of its own making, so what's the point?
In the end, I know that even though some days I want to throw in the towel to the things Christianity calls me to, it is also the vein to life and treasures which have no end. I hate the process some days, the "not losing heart in doing good for in due time it will reap a harvest if I don't give up" stuff, but it is all so eternally and even momentarily worth the effort and the dying of myself to my own will and the things that bring me so much personal, internal pain that I often take out on my precious family.
Being a true follower of Christ and his ways is frigging hard. There are so many eyes on you to prove them wrong on the thousands of years of bad names people inside the church have given it. Like religious freaks, hypocrites and division-makers they can be. Or maybe I am just imagining it. I am just so conflicted lately. I just feel coo-coo sometimes. Nuts. I was thinking yesterday about the truth that if you are really wealthy, it's okay to be crazy and end up in a loony bin for a spell to "rest", but when you're broke as a joke, you better get your mental crap together lest you look like a complete failure. What is wrong with my brain/heart/emotions? Why do I seem so broken and un-fixable lately? I just need Jesus so bad, every day. Every second. And that is the truth.

enjoying the beach