Dance, Pain, and God.

    I know some many mock me for this entry, but I am truly moved by what I have seen and the emotion and it has evoked cannot be ignored.  I absolutely love dance, art, music, anything that creatively communicates something; someone's struggle, love, peace, anything.  Last week there was a dance on so you think you can dance, I did not see it however I scoped it out on "youtube".  This video almost brings me to tears every time.  It communicates the relationship between an addict and their addiction.  It shows with emotion so much of the pain they try to hide, and run from.  The minute they enter into that relationship of pain and suffering, the minute it takes them captive.  I have never struggled with such, but I have always wanted to understand how someone's pain can be hidden so deep that it allows them to come to the point of destruction.  I struggled with this thought earlier today during a conversation about people who experience pain, and subsequently resort to cutting.  Many people (with a higher coincidence within that of young teen girls) cut their arms, legs, whatever is available to control their pain, to ease their suffering.  Why is it that so many people are suffering, and choose to self destruct bit by bit.    

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4tuxWjqmeU&feature=related

This dance emanates the evil and the pain that is dug deeper with the infusing life of an addiction.  I cannot imagine or dream what it would be like to live with the constant stinging of a pain that cannot be forgotten.  I do however understand and know the loving power that can heal those places deep within that are forgotten by everyone but the owner of the pain.  Those places that are not always visible, but always present.  I have experienced deep hurt, and pain in this world.  Maybe not as sharp or deep as some, but deep enough to wound.  I am now in a season of joy and restoration.  Many people ask me "why do you still live at home".  This is such a loaded and hard question to answer.  It is part of my story of the root to my pain.  I took a part of the pain and suffering my father went through in the last years of his life.  Cancer is not an addiction by ANY stretch of the imagination, but does cause pain and suffering for not only the person battling it but the family and friends surrounding them.  I want to emanate so much of my fathers restoration and love that I don't even need to use words. St. Francis of Assisi once said, "Preach the Gospel always, and when necessary use words".  

My dream, my passion my life long aspiration is to be a person of hope, to be an adversary for the weak, wounded and weary.  To take part of their burden if only for a season so they can be restored fully as God would long for them to be.  To love and respect those who need an encouraging spirit, for those who need a healing place to stay.  May my life forever emulate Gods love and healing power through the battles i've gone through and the people I care for. 

Restoration.

The dark parts of my heart consume me some nights.  Light is pushed out of my heart, and is replaced with fear.

fear of making a mistake

fear of being found out

fear of loving and not being loved

fear of being forgotten

fear of loosing my way

fear of not doing what is meant

fear of not achieving 

all these fears reside within the dark parts of my soul.  Many of them digging deeper roots than I could imagine. 

Then my Abba breaks through that darkness.  He uproots them one at a time, with care so that I am not wounded by the light.  His love is so deep, and cleansing my fears are turned into hope and resilience.

They are transformed and restored into

hope of gaining wisdom from mistakes

hope of being transparent and genuine

hope of being loved so deep by a man that is appointed by God

hope of being found by my Abba

hope of His footsteps being set before me

hope of declaring what God has for me in my life

hope of the excellence and achievement God has birthed me for and with

My fears are made new by my Fathers restoring power.  I praise Him today for this new revelation, and long to be found in adoration.

I pray daily for us.

           I pray daily for you.  I pray daily for me.  I pray daily for them.

I see, hear, and taste a passion that no one can express not even I - for a people, a generation of children and individuals, oppressed and alone.

I long to share that with you, but I have done so, so many times with others.  I thought it was appropriate to share my feelings with those who have gone before you, but so many times its been a disappointment after our friendship disintegrated. 

I pray daily for you, the real you.  The one who is genuine and true.  You speak of wisdom and justice, mercy, and tough love.  The one who will love and respect, honor and boast, of Gods blessings bestowed upon you through me.

I pray daily for me, so that I may submit to him but also may be free to be passionate.  That I may wake up daily longing to spend each moment with you fighting the cause of the weary, lonely, the unjust.

I pray daily for them.  So that these children may know their full value and worth.  That they may be loved by me, and someday you.  That today they would know of their Fathers love through my mothers heart God has blessed me with.  That they would be cherished and empowered to be the children of God they were born to be.

I pray daily for us, that we might know the love of God and one day find ourselves loving Him and each other the way we are meant to.

the time traveller.

I ache from hard days

I long for days in which I cannot see right now

I miss days past

I remember walking in the field with my family picking flowers in which the weeds that were disguised as flowers were my favorite.

I look forward and long for the day I can do the same with my own family.

I love the resilient kids I get to hang out with day after day, they teach me so much.

I miss the summer of 08 in which I was exposed to poverty and wealth in the same city - both full of happiness and sadness alike.

I remember the days I was all he ever wanted.

Now I am the girl from his past.

I remember laying next to you in your hospital bed as you breathed heavily, and I longed for the moment to never end.  

I lay here alone and empty missing your advice, wisdom and our talks about music and art.

I long for the day in which I am loved the way my father would long for me to be.

I know that this time alone, should be and will be spent with my father getting to know Him, as He shows me who He desires me to be.

I remember that girl I used to be, and now I am the who I wanted to be.

The past and the present collide on a daily basis and combine to create my actions, thoughts, words.  I pray everyday that what has happened in the past will all work for good to bring glory to God my Father.

Life moves slow, but at a fast pace.

When I was a young girl my summers were slow, and my days were long.  I would run around my neighborhood in bare feet, and ride my bike all day.  I would come in the house with dirty feet, and grab a Popsicle or two.   I had a good childhood -one I should be proud of now.   At the time I thought that every "bad thing" that happened to me was the end of the world.  

Now I sit on my bed thinking after a long week of reverting back to childhood for Kids Camp.  It was great, I forgot how childlike my heart was/is.  Its funny when you experience nothing but real life, hard events in your life - your/my heart that was once childlike and carefree turned stale and numb.  I still love people with my heart, just not the whole thing. . . maybe.  

Maybe I think because so many have left/passed/gotten sick in the past 5 years I think everyone will do so.  I don't know what the reason for my lethargy of heart - maybe its fear of being left again, either way I just feel too tired to love, to care, to pour into.  

I was speaking today with my mom about grieving and she read that it never really ends, you just learn to live with it.  I never wanted to learn to live with the passing of my father, I never wanted to attend weddings and find myself in the bathroom waiting for the song to end so I didn't have to watch the father-daughter dance.  I never wanted to look around and wonder what happened to the full of life family I once knew, and long for the days I (at the time) despised.

What has happened to time, to my childlike heart.  If you know where it is, can you tell it to come back home.  This summer it is my mission to restore my childlike heart, but gain wisdom with age.  My mission is to heal and be healed.  I want to learn to listen to God's heart closely so I can understand His plan through the pain.  I would like to walk closer to my father so that I can see his footsteps before me, instead of pain and heart ache around me.  

Life seems moves so slow when you're waiting for things to happen - but when you grow older and look back at your childhood it seems as though its moved too fast.  

Not my poetry... Respect.

The respected Amena Brown wrote a poem about a few good men.  Which are a. hard to find

b. frustrating beyond belief sometimes.  Here is a poem that allows me to remember that there are men out there that are good and God fearing, and reminds me to pray for them.  So enjoy, its gooooddd.

A Few Good Men

By: Amena J. Brown

His walk is R-E-S-P-E-C-T
He’s got tender loving care up his sleeve
He sees God in me like India.Arie
Something about his swagger
Something about his walk
I get all caught up in that truth he talks

His only game is telling me his name
Or asking for mine
He wants to know what I’m about
He wants to know if I’m about what he’s about 
For his character even God can vouch
Check his heavenly references
He’s got clout where it counts

He appreciates the complexity of a woman’s mind
Deserves words well seasoned and well defined
And did I mention that he was fine?
His good deeds may never make it to the news
But he showed me that chivalry has been resurrected as the new cool

He opens doors 
He walks on the outside nearest the street
He pulls out chairs 
Sometimes he pushes my cash away and says it’s his treat
Telling me it was his pleasure at the end of the night
Walking me to my car just to say good night
Insisting I call to let him know I made it home safe
He makes me feel safe because he is so secure
Imagine that even his sexiness is pure

He gives sweet and thoughtful gifts
Like conversations that take unexpected turns like jazz riffs
Leaving me wanting more of his music
More of his deep voice reflections
More of his intellectual connections
More of him

'Cause meeting a man like him is like finding a four-leaf clover 
You’ve been looking for one all your life
But never thought you'd get the chance to hold one
I can’t really say that he brings me good luck
But I do know he brings so much love, concern, intelligence
So much friendship, kinship, and common sense

If his status ain’t good, I ain’t checking for him
Better know how to be sweet if he’s looking at me
'Cause despite popular belie... size really does matter
A big heart can go a long way
A man who believes that obstacles won’t stop dreams can carry you a long way
He’s the kind who drapes his coat over your cold shoulders
Quick to correct you when you turn pebbles into boulders
His type of love grows stronger as the two of you get older

His love is patient, kind, his love waits
His love gives more than his love takes
Honesty is the first kind of love he makes
He takes his time
Cultivating a connection of the spiritual kind
Investigate his mind and you might find
Pages of psalm 139
I can read his life, line upon line
Discover how his heart aligns with God’s divine design
I am inclined to try to make him mine
But, all in due time

He doesn’t rush which makes his gentle touch mean so much
Just the thought of holding his hand makes me blush
To him, intimacy is a gift, not an expectation
Which means he skips all the compromising situations
He wants me to save my best and no playing games
He won’t ask for my body until he gives me his name

Take a few trifling experiences plus all the sad statistics 
And it might seem that a man like him no longer existed
I stand as a witness I’ve encountered a few
I treasure them for all the gentlemanly things they do
I cherish them for the good men they are
The kind of men that a woman can trust with her heart

amen... haha.