Letting Go

July 25,2014
Letting go...
The end of apologizing for your body starts with you and me....
I am covering myself these days in coconut oil after a bath. Every inch of the skin that covers my bones...it flows smooth over the fabric of my outward wrapping,radiating satin against a pale light. A small gift to myself. A gentleness with my body I have not offered before. How much shows up in the mirror, the stories of this one life. A patch of grey. The scars of surgery. The stretch marks of babies and weight gain when the hard storms came through. The cuts and the bruises of day to day living. I am finding that the old tapes that used to play are fading now. At least most days. The tapes of not good enough. Not beautiful enough....never ever thin enough. The tapes of voices past of names called, 'thunder thighs, lard ass, lazy, ugly, stupid, ' the stunned look of silence when my legs were viewed for the first time in a bathing suit. The ample untoned look was such a turn off. As if that had any bearing on this spirit of mine. The comparison to my sister who I was informed I would have given my right arm to have a body like hers....I did not say those words. They were spoken over me.
My father once complimented me while I laid in the yard in a chair under a street lamp in the late night. A floral summer dress with a pink ribbon around the waist, long hair down my back....he said you are prettier than your sister....he was terribly drunk . His compliment carried no truth I could receive.
This body has born much....loved much. Extended much, and beyond, what it had to offer. It has suffered sexual abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse...yet it woke up day after day and allowed this spirit to live. It walked through years of poverty and lack of food, the countless deaths of loved ones, a family murder, losses, disappointments. It has served and mended. Born children. Born stress, and many sorrows. Some joys...but they have been fewer. I look at my face. And think who is this body, these dark eyes staring back....it hardly seems real. To have this body....I live in such a spiritual world I hardly acknowledge it's presence. My therapist asked one day when I spoke of my childhood and the sexual attack I went through, at that moment , 'what bloomed'? Instantly I knew it was my spirit. I ceased to live in my body. No one would have that control over me again. No one would get near my spirit. Do what you like to my flesh but my spirit is untouchable. So I have lived that way, but I realize now,I don't want to anymore. To walk with God. To be called out by His voice is to present myself. My whole self. To acknowledge all that is....So I am learning to be kind to this physical form. Respecting it is bringing some validity to all the paths it has walked. All I have endured. I think of the one who made me and how many people my hands have touched in healing, all the heavy loads I have carried and the hard labor.
I look at this aging face, the satin skin. I do not condemn myself anymore. I do not despise this flesh and bone stitched up in an untrendy fashion.
To condemn myself is to condemn the one who created me.
The truth is whatever this body presents as, It will not keep me from loving you. It will not keep me from comforting and caring. If you love me you will not care. All you will see truly is the eternal flame I carry. Just as I see that flame carried in you.
There was once a time I did not go see people because I felt my appearance was not acceptable enough .I hated what I looked like. For 25 years I had longed to go visit a childhood teacher who was like a father to me. I trained and ran and lost 60 pounds. But still I was unacceptable. One day many years later the light made it's way into my life. It did not matter how I presented myself in the physical what mattered most was the message I had to deliver to this man I had loved from childhood. A man that believed in me more than I could have believed in myself. So I went. I had gained all my weight back and then some. He welcomed me with open arms and what precious connection I had with his soul that day. He did not care what I weighed. I was there to tell him the testimony of how he redeemed my life. How God through him had saved me.
He took me on a tour around his beautiful farm...acres and acres of pastureland all the animals standing content watching their master, close to the fence....
He took me to the top of a steep hill where groups of people come to pray and look out over the mountain nearby in a purple haze. Standing there, I was in awe....all the beauty I had missed for 25 years because I had been afraid of how my body would be received. I felt these creatures crawling all over my body.....I looked up and I had stepped into a swarm of lady bugs....legend tells they symbolize letting go........
For weeks after I left nearly every day a lady bug found me.
I am listening....I believe God can speak through anything He wants....I am letting go. The tapes are fading. I present myself my whole self...spirit entwined with flesh to be used.....

Lisa

Lisa

I have been haunted by memories of her for 35 years. We met one day shortly after she showed up at grade school. She had moved with her mother from another house and school system. I was invisible. My family was very low income. My clothing was the clothing of a child who was an accident rather than welcomed and cherished. I sized her up there was a different look on her face. Something open about her eyes, her smile. Like me she wore tattered jeans, a short sleeved camp shirt with a long sleeve turtle neck underneath. I had no friends. Hope was birthed by her face. I thought perhaps I might have a chance to forge a friendship.  I wore loneliness like a cloak to hide all my sensitivity .

I approached her, how vivid I remember her small lean arms trailing along the counter in our schoolroom. I offered my name. She turned and nearly knocked me over with kindness and a wide smile. I remember the utter shock of the way that kindness felt. A simple greeting can change the course of a life.  I think I loved her from that moment on. I never understood what made her so open so gentle with me. She seemed interested in every creative thing I did. And I loved how her mind worked. She was quick witted, simple and beautiful. Everything Lisa touched became beautiful. She did not even fear my home....my home filled with violence and anger. Somehow when she came she caused us all to rally.  She brought with her some kind of miracle. She was such a funny child. She was so tiny and flexible she could put her feet behind her head and scoot across the floor on her arms and hands like a crab....I remember even my father who lived in depression would laugh out loud and my mother adored her....when Lisa came she brought health....I loved her more than anyone I had ever met. She was the kind of friend that can only be called a divine appointment looking back years later. The kind of friend that brings sanity and safety to a life that held very little. 

She always came to my house...I was never invited over to hers. That is just the way it was. It seemed normal to us. My heart would leap with joy when she would come. We would spend our time sharing ideas, dressing up and gathering tall grasses in black garbage bags in the back yard for the horse I was determined to get on hope alone. She didn't even question it....with her small perfect hands ,she just crammed those weeds into bags with me and believed my dream....

One day she came and told me that she was moving....she would be changing schools. I heard whispers her mother might be dealing with divorce. How little you know about what that means as a child. I could barely comprehend what she was saying....I thought surely she could be dropped off like always...she could write...Lisa got into her mothers car that afternoon....I watched as the only friend I ever knew as a child pull away. Even the spirit is awake at that age....something final in the parting.

I walked up to the unfinished bedroom and knelt down over the rafters....weeping , speaking to myself, "I can't lose you, I can't lose you."

I had glimpsed joy. Lisa was joy. 

I never saw her again. 

I have never lost the ache. 

Familial Bubblegum.....By Tanya Turner

Standing in the kitchen all newly renovated with granite and engineered flooring, we all stood waving our hands wildly lightening bolts traveling through strong arms and long fingers, one sister comments,' if you chopped off my hands I could not speak"Our passion could pass for the culture of Italians but instead we live out the lives from millienias of broken humanity. Heart broken humanity all clamoring for affirmation and peace. Four women.Three sisters and the one who gave them life....Spilling and spilling out sorrows onto the floor. Our collective voices became one voice from the beatings of life and the same story repeated with different dates and different characters to play the parts. Similar themes, elements and descriptions of dark holes we fell into and could not pull ourselves out of....Spirits and emotions fractured and splintered....under bright eyes and pretty faces our hearts sag...under our feet and bodies below the perfect engineered floors...... the rotten beams and work worn poverty footsteps,  hurt , disillusionment ,abuse and death . We are worn. We have seen too much to fill several lifetime containers of sorrow. We are done. We lack Marbles to cope....

I look around bleary eyed....my hands stop gesturing my voice stops joining the chorus and the quiet comes to me....the clarity comes to me...."this is not your inheritance...." The Creator speaks again....I look on with wonder...."this is not your inheritance".....then I remember where I am....who's I am....and who's they are....it is so easy to forget with family. The ones who walk with you those early days, who mold your spirit and heart...Encourage you, bless you, curse you,The ones who can get under your skin, next to your heart, push you out into hard places....hurt you , kiss your face, pray for you, sing you songs,  rob you if you allow it....abuse you .....this ....this is where the Kingdom meets the road.....getting it right in the family brings along with it the ability to speak to a dying world....speak life to a dying world....

oh but it is thick and sticky with family. Like wading through bubblegum you can try as much as you may to shake it off  but you get caught in it, you get bound up in it,  They know the darkness and the greatness of you, they know the secrets and the blemishes....everyone suffers the same trauma and gets broken in the same place but it all manifests a different way. One goes from one extreme of exercise and whole foods to bingeing on pop tarts to cope, one does not and starves, one cannot make it without prescription medication to deal with the physical pain and the depression, one eats and lives a life dependent on others to make it out the front door. The windows covered with the finest linens, soft feminine ruffles, the finest money could buy line dark windows that let in no light....

But there in the quiet against the roar....the stillness comes....the room swirls I am lost in the awakening of truth....it is not mine to heal....not mine to fix...we suffer the same brokeness ... this one thing that I know we were all meant to find wholeness. But it will come in different ways in varying measure. But all from the one who created us. We have no hope of ever knowing health unless we seek the only one who can truly recreate us from the internal out.....
I smile to myself thankful at least we are all aware we are fractured, and there is an underlying sense of love that will always connect us.

I remember to speak life. It is the only thing besides prayer that I have gift or courage to do. Life words. Life focus. I stop the waterfall of death words with my mouth....the focus on past and the crushing....I remember the threshing that brought me healing and how much chaff had already blown away and how far we had come....the sorrows were all part of the threshing....the sifting of what could be used from what was valueless ;  what could be ground and made into bread to feed the world and planted to reproduce fruit and life  through the next millennia of humanity.....

What do we take away from the threshing.....will we walk out with an arm full of chaff that neither fills us or brings life or will we hold double portions of grain that can be used to feed ourselves and placed in fertile soil to raise  green shoots of something eternal and living. If we can only remember what we have taken from the threshing and not what it has taken from us that will change the outcomes of so many of our choices....Change the way we speak to each other, the way we look at ourselves....we are not victims any longer, we are not captive or in prison....we are free, we are strong, and this bubblegum we get caught up in is Kingdom training of the purest kind....the hardest kind, and the most refining kind.The chaff blows away on the wind, thrown up into the air grain flying wildly, not wanting to separate from what it loves or keeps it covered in security.....but it comes down hard on the stone floor....pure, ready to be used ....then ...finally then....bread......seed.

Thanksgiving

Being Thankful creates abundance, being thankful precedes the miracle....these are words written from one of my most revered upcoming authors Ann Voskamp. 

Hard words worked out in one life, living in a very real physical body,  the toil of caring for the needs of children a husband and a home. Thanksgiving worked out in an environment of hard realities. 

 Somewhere between childhood and womanhood there was this misunderstanding with many of us, that the easy would come, the favor would come, life would be gently handed to us on a sparkling platter and then we would be thankful....that somehow we would not know the meaning of sorrow or disappointment. But then:
the easy did not come,
the favor was taken or lost
the sorrows came,
death visited our doors just like everyone else...
years of waiting for that person, that love or that thing that would magically take us to the new life of being thankful did not come. Illness came knocking and addictions
, and void and broken relationships....it all came.....
sometimes we could see a glimpse of light here and there where joy would rise to the surface but it was short lived and we forgot to sing.
We forgot to sing....anyway....when all the terrible winds shook us to the core and the storms raged we forgot to sing and be thankful.... 

Sometimes the storms take our voice. Sometimes it seems they will take the very heart out of us ....our screams our cries for mercy cannot be heard carried off by a violent wind. We are helpless. It all comes back around to this truth...we are helpless and totally dependent on the one who created us. It is on the   threshing floor that thankfulness is birthed. Humility comes to us on the threshing floor. The days that appear to be full of not enough's brings forth desperation of the spirit....I think that is why Jesus said blessed are those that are poor in spirit...for theirs is the kingdom of heaven....we are desperate for the filling...desperate for the Kingdom alive in us..

I have been changed  by learning to reverse the faulty belief system I had from childhood....thanksgiving coming when there are storms...thankful heart for every glimpse of light I see....until that light fills the room around me and fills that space in me and spills onto everyone I touch. The life truly does know abundance when our eyes are open our hearts expectant of miracles instead of the other shoe falling.
I am changed and I am being changed. The hard things still come but something imprisoned for a life time has been allowed to walk into the warmth of God's truth....the welcoming heart and spirit griping truth that a heart of thanksgiving changes everything....Everything.....

If I could.....

Soft lights flicker on the counter next to me as I work. Some weary soul has come to me. They have walked through my door for a treasured fifty minutes of safety from the world. I study the lines of their back, the creased skin where there are bones out of alignment or problems with the underlying fascia. I lightly touch problem areas to see how much work may be needed to correct physical issues. The moment I touch them I feel the life force that courses through all our bodies the circulation moves with power....I say a silent prayer as I begin my work in awe once again of the beauty of the Creator for allowing me to be so intimate with His children to aide in healing and nurture.
My thoughts sometimes dwell on the one that rests before me in complete trust that I will care for them even though many have never seen me before.
Today my thoughts went to those that I have loved and lost. It seems The older you get so many things are revealed to your heart. So often we expect young people to understand so much more than what they can. The truth I am realizing is you cannot truly understand something unless you walk the path yourself.
I was thinking of my Grandmother. She would talk of how utterly tired she was sometimes as I grew up. How the energy had left her. How I wish I could sit with her at the table once more and hold her hand and say...I truly understand. I wish as a young strong woman I had helped her more. There was so much I could have done for her around her house to ease her load.
I wish I could stare into my Grandpa's eyes once again and not preached a lifeless religion of to do's so he would escape fire. I wish I could have told Him how beautiful he was to me. How much I admired his strong heart. How I wanted to be like him. I wish I had had the wisdom to tell him how much God adored him. What purpose and value he had on earth. I wish I had not let his teasing hurt me but rather used it as an opportunity to play...
I wish I could have understood my Fathers heart while I was young. I wish I would have hugged him more even when He seemed angry. I wish I had not built walls around my heart to protect myself. I did not know he was sick....If I had the chance I would pour encouragement over his life and tell him how great he did in so many things. I would tell him I am proud to be his daughter. I would tell him how special a man he is and was and list all the reasons why so he could hear it.
I would love to see Pop again...to hold him and just be gentle with him. I would love to sit in the porch swing and hold his hand next to my cheek. Before he died the only thing he hoped for was seeing the blackberries come into season just one more time so he could have one last pie...he was 96...I don't know if he ever got that one simple treasure again....I truly understand that one longing...I heard him speak it on an ancient tape I had and it hit my soul ....someone who had so very little who worked so hard on the land...just one pie...I understand Pop....truly I do...

Suffering brings great understanding...hopefully if we keep our hearts soft it also brings strength of character tenderness and compassion. I am aging. Even with all the good things I do for my body now I feel the weight of the years. It has humbled me in a way nothing else could. The strength I am hoping to know is the kind that is internal and eternal. Strength of the physical comes with diligent sessions in the early morning before most people awaken from slumber. Strength of Character comes from every moment where our beliefs move from thought to the road....Dear Lord help me to always put belief into action, help me to take the wisdom gained and use it from now forward....

I told Father how much I missed my loved ones...I ache for them every day. I understand so much more about them, about life....I am trusting that one day I will get the opportunity to have these conversations and hold them near my heart once again. If I could...

Faithful.....

I want to speak of Barbra....I remember her coming into class that first night fresh from the corporate world to explore the beauty of the human form. She was stunning. I invited her to sit next to me. She reminded me of a China doll, Porcelin skin and the most vibrant blue eyes the color of the Agean sea, long dark lashes and thick dark hair. She was trying desperately to get her paperwork together and catch up with where we were.( At the Medical Arts school they did not start everyone at the same place they just cast you in somewhere in the rotation of learning so it was a scramble to retain everything they threw out at first. ) I remember her very quickly making me laugh or us laughing together over the immaturity of so many happenings. I think we bonded over several different factors...possibly our age and sense of humor, but now I think we saw a common dedication in each other that drew our lives together. I had been on a spiritual journey for years, finding my resting place in my Creator. She was on a journey of the physical . Like me motherhood, work, housekeeping and everything else had taken center stage. The weight of allowing life to just steam roll our days caused the literal weight to weigh down our bodies. Most of our education I think I spent so much of my time buried in chocolate and caffeine. Anything that got me through. I am sure she may have a similar testimony. One day near the end of our learning I caught this gleam in her eyes. She had joined a fit camp. Not being a morning person EVER, I thought she was insane to get up at 4:30 to get her tail kicked , see her kids off to school, go to work then go to school all night.
Truth be told I thought the craze would wear off in a couple of weeks and she would once again join me in study with a cup of coffee and a bag of chocolate.
She did not.
Night after night I saw her taking control of something that had gone awry so many years before. It was more than what she ate. It was a change of heart. New confidence radiated from her face. Something about her tenacious spirit to change called out to me. I had tried to talk myself into believing that I could not change my body...It had been too many years. After graduation and finding employment, Barbra had already accomplished her goals of weight loss. She had trained for a 26 mile marathon. She had done numerous fitness camps. She was a physical testimony of the bodies ability to adapt and change into beauty.
She was eternally in my thoughts. That spirit that spoke to her spoke to me. I chatted with her online one day and she was telling me about the new fitness camp she was joining. I told her we still did not have that in our budget. She said right off the bat," I'll train you!" Just like that my life has changed. I had lost over twenty pounds on my own but I have never pushed myself physically. I needed more. Much more. I needed someone who would be faithful to push me. Barbra saw past my poor eyesight, my pitiful sense of balance, my knee pain to what could be. I think she may be prophetic but does not know it yet. You have to be prophetic to work with someone like me physically. :O) It really is comical. Thankfully our workouts are so early we can barely see each other anyway! I say,"I can hear you but I can't see you!"
I am ever awed at the Lord's goodness. Just when I had the motivation to change He provided a person who would encourage me and push me beyond what I have ever done before. She offers herself free of charge. Yet I will ever be in her debt. One of the things I am struck with about Barbra is her complete faithfulness. So many people have set out on a similar journey with me but none have been this faithful. Many mornings I drive silently through the dark to the park where we meet and nearly each time she is always there a few minutes ahead of me. I see the Fathers heart each time I see that car parked next to the entrance. My eyes have filled with tears over that stability. That is a characteristic of God. How much more I love the Father when I see one of His children able to carry out the responsibility of that gift. No matter what Barbra commits to she follows through. She has to be one of the most tenacious people I have ever met. I am reminded of the story of Jacob in the Bible who wrestled an Angel and held the Angel so tightly and would not let go unless the Angel blessed him. Barbra may have wounds like Jacob did. But she holds on and will not let go. She will be blessed. I am a better woman because of her. My body is stronger than it has been in the last 20 years. I have barely scratched the surface of where I need to go but with her help I am on my way. One day perhaps I will match her steps. I cannot see that far ahead yet...but it does not matter she does. She is my friend and a woman with a heart like a Lion. I am so thankful for her, so thankful for her faithful enduring spirit that pushes me on when I am drained beyond belief and never fails.....I love you Barbra. Blessed is the woman who can be called FAITHFUL.

Soft Heart

Soft Heart...

One year. A year can make all the difference in a life. I can truly look back over the course of one year with wondering eyes and hardly believe the events that have unfolded in this journey. A year ago I knew nothing of the beauty of enough. I have to walk carefully with my words because I want you to know what I mean by "enough". Certainly we have never gone hungry. We have had shelter,We have had clothing given to us. But we have never known in the last 8 years what it was not to be concerned over how we would meet our bills, we had no buffer in our checking account, we had no way to plan for anything. We were a family of five surviving on one small income. Some view this subject as taboo. Don't speak of money I can almost hear. But it is only when we can be most vulnerable that we are able to truly live and touch someone else and testify of the greatness of God.

At times I became so discouraged that I withdrew, I fought with God asking "why?,"" we are intelligent people, why is this door of provision sealed tightly-" Every time a promotion was sought it would be given over to some one else...every time strategy would be put into place to advance our family ...again the seal became tighter....I became so angry with God I did not want to speak to Him. I would stay in my cocoon silent , furious, and bitter. I was becoming a person that I was not meant to be. My Christ given nature is that of eternal optimism, hope and curiosity , appreciation for every blessing...but the my heart was becoming like a stone.
I could feel the weight of that pulling me down at every turn. I regret I did not bury myself in Father's arms the way I should have. Instead I would find things to keep me busy. Many things in and of themselves productive and helpful. I learned to make everything my family needed from scratch. Everything from medicine to laundry detergent. I am thankful for all the research and knowledge I have, but now looking across those long years I realize what Father was after all along.

Because of the lack of trust I had in my earthly Father to provide for me I transferred that same fear to my heavenly Daddy. All the head knowledge in the world will not drive out that fear only God can in His own way. Under my earthly fathers care there was a lack of every provision. He was a dear man but he was inadequate to meet the needs of my family. Because of the reality of where we were financially I started to believe God was inadequate or worse that He did not care. Didn't He see we had to stand in line for food with the low income and those out of work.....we were supposed to be "HIS" children , wasn't He supposed to pull us out of our mess? ....the filth in my own spirit is hard to admit...that sense of Pride and entitlement.....I needed to be awakened. I was in a slumber of self absorption.

I started a month fast....the weeks passed without food, every time I went to find Father I was hit with one assault after another. The crisis that struck me during that time was such a flag that something was breaking in the spirit realm for our family. I felt like nothing was happening in my heart with all the attacks. But at the end of that fast I was released to go to school and nothing has been the same since. Every time I would inquire of Father it was almost like I was ushered into making a decision to go even though I had so many doubts about adding debt to our already growing load.

Today I heard the voice of the Lord, as I drove the Baby around to various places to get our groceries and do errands. He spoke the words," SOFT HEART" and the tears started to fall ...
I realized what he was after that all along...like Paul no matter what situation I find myself , no matter how hard, horrible, unkind, unfair, mysterious, I am to remain with this heart of contentment, this soft , soft, heart....

I thought of dear people in my life, whether friends, coworkers, family, it seems because of what I have walked and understand so deeply I hear the winds carry so much bitterness, so much dispair- whether we walk in poverty, or wealth, whether we walk married, or alone, whether we walk disabled emotionally or physically, whether we have children or don't have children.....if we become bitter we start to die, we have lost the dearest treasure we have our childlike expectancy that we have a Father that will meet all our needs and beyond to what we want. He has taken our empty hands and filled them....we have a long road to find true freedom but it took me many long years to the real freedom of a soft heart.