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Showing posts from 2016

fear is a liar

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Fear is an ugly and demanding master. 
I had to take my poor doggy, Zero, to the vet two days ago. We were sure that it would be a quick and easy fix, and we would be on our way. Initially, they agreed. But, afterward, we left with the problem unresolved, looking much worse than before, with meds in hand, another appointment, and a hope that it would resolve itself at home.
Except, fear had already been spoken. "Maybe, it's not what we think. Maybe, it's worse. Maybe, it's the dreaded C word - cancer." 
I won't lie. I almost lost it right there, in that little examination room. My mind was instantly transported back in time, to a same little room, right down the hall, where we had lost our last dog. No matter what they said, fear had been whispered in my ear, and now it was washing over my mind,  infiltrating my heart, and claiming my future.
Fortunately, the issue actually did resolve itself within a day, and we are moving on.
Last night, I needed to pick u…

square pegs and round holes

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I stand on the outskirts, anxiously awaiting that coveted nod, the one that will verify my entrance into a band of brothers, all chosen, all accepted, all wanted. 
I stand as other names are called, as others celebrate their new placement, as they step into the spot that I desired to fill.
I stand, long after they have moved on, feeling the sting of rejection, again, as if transported back in time to schoolyard games, and captains, and picking sides, and never, ever wanting to be chosen last. 
And I realize that there is a world of difference between being picked last and not being picked at all.
I raise my chin up, quivering as it is, and determine to try again. I wipe away the pesky drops of weakness from my eyes. I look around and notice, for the first time, the rest of the crowd. Smiling. Waving. Motioning me over. I glance behind me, searching for the more worthy one, and I hear my Father say, "It is you. It has always been you. For while you have been working to fit your s…

in the rearview mirror

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*October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month


I could rummage through the memories, pinpointing exact moments, specific events or words, that, undoubtedly, led this younger me to fall prey to an abusive man. 
...and I have.
I could lay blame at the feet of circumstances or people in my life, shrugging off the cover of responsibility, and live under the banner of victim.
...and I have.
I could absolve it all, each contributor to the broken me, and allow guilt and condemnation to weigh me down, into darkness, where I justify him, where I excuse him, and live under the banner of unworthy.
...and I have.
I have, at one time or another, processed through all of these, trying desperately to find answers, to find reasons, to find healing. And, I just can't. Not anymore.
It happened. There may be a hundred reasons. There may only be one. But, life happens. I'm tired of putting my newfound freedom on hold while I travel back in time to fix what can't be fixed, to question what can&…

sex, values, and that other v word

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WARNING : This post does contain some vulgar language.



The latest controversy concerning Donald Trump is all over the news and social media. And while he is running for our highest office, I am choosing not to make this a political post. Instead, I want to view this from a perspective of sex, values, and that other v word.

By now, I am sure that you have read or listened to the words that Trump had to say about women and the power he feels that his celebrity rank affords him. He isn't the first to use those words. He won't be the last. He isn't even the only man who has used his money, status or notoriety to add another notch to his bed. That definitely doesn't make his statements okay. What it does do is shine a light on what has become the norm; accepted into our society as "boys will be boys" or "no harm, no foul" because words are just words, right?

Wrong.

Our speech mirrors the thoughts already roaming around our heart. More times than not, onc…

where the church gets it wrong...us versus them

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I desire open, honest, and nonjudgmental communication from all people and all views and all ideas. The words of my posts are simply my own thoughts on how the church* can fully be operational in His Love.



The church mistakenly gives the impression that we have cornered the market on God's love. We stand atop our soapboxes touting our views as if they are the only truth, looking down our judgmental noses, and trying to sway them to our side. You know, in a me versus you, us versus them, right versus wrong, sort of way. We use fear tactics and condemning words. We are critical and discriminating. We affix our sanctimonious masks firmly, denying our own lessor evils, and protest loudly about their greater sins. We do all of this while claiming His great love.
Here is what I believe about His great love :  He abundantly lavishes it on everyone, pursuing us ALL with reckless abandon, desiring relationship with each one of His children.  He doesn't care about which church you atten…

black and white

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I am biracial.

In times like these, I feel trapped, caught between the rock of being white and the hard place of being black.


I could write for a very long time about the horrors of racism that my family members, that my friends, have endured because of their skin color. I could cry and tell you of the suffering that I have been through, as recently as this month, because of my mixed heritage. I could paint a gruesome picture depicting the ugly side of this mess that most of America would prefer to slide under the ever present rug of denial and disbelief.

I won't.

I am at a place in my life where I no longer want to look at what makes me different from you, at what divides us. I want to look into your heart, past the color of your skin, the money in your wallet, the house that you live in and the car in your garage. I want to look past the job that you have, the country that you are from, the vote that you'll place in November, the team you root for on Sunday afternoons, the…

from conception to completion

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Besides my children, I have conceived many things within my self - plans for my future, ideas and goals and dreams. I have nurtured and cared for and matured some of these in their entirety, all the way through their birth and into being, into life, continuing to love and cherish these pieces of me, of who I am. I had a job and I saw it through to the end.
Let me real here. I am not always a good finisher. I do not like hard, difficult. If there is a quicker, less painful route to take, I run for that option. I will opt for a c-section as the finish to these processes every single time. honestly. I take every precaution to ensure that from conception to completion I am in every step, but...I remember as a child trying to see how quickly I could come down the stairs, how many steps could I jump over, skip entirely, and still make it safely? As an adult, I am still trying.
And so, many of the seeds that I have purposely planted have withered and died, abandoned to dry seasons of my own…

water my soul

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I dislike drinking water. like really, really dislike it. I do it because I know that I should, but let's be honest, not nearly enough. As a result, I am a fairly dried out person - dry hair, dry skin, just dry all around.

So, when at the DC Pride parade, I began to feel the symptoms of being dehydrated, I realized that I had messed up. In an effort to not have to keep finding bathrooms, I had decided against drinking fluids. All day, I had just had 1/2 of a coffee, a pepsi, and 1/2 of a tall frappe. all not so good choices. all not nearly enough to keep me hydrated while standing for hours in 90 degree weather without shade. Thankfully, Mid J went off bravely through the crowds in search of water for me, which I promptly downed like a person lost in the desert who finally finds an oasis.

The following morning, I awoke with my previous blog ( here ) burning on the inside of me. Papa was downloading the why of attending the parade, the why of all that I had experienced, the why of …

born this way

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**Warning- this post contains an adult theme/images** *********************************************************



Why?
This was the question posed to me, a lot, concerning the reasons behind my attendance at the Pride Parade in Washington DC. I wasn't sure of the answer myself, until now, after the fact.
Coming into this year, I knew that pieces of my life were being uprooted, rearranged, changed, and put back differently. I had an intense desire to live life, really live it, fully alive and immersed in all of what it holds for me. I created a bucket list of sorts (discussed here ) and began fulfilling it. This parade was on that list.
I knew what to expect while there but I didn't know what to expect for me, for the why of my being there. My anticipation was great, for I know that God has placed this list, these longings, inside my heart for a reason, a purpose. Big D and Mid J were with me as well, and they were just as excited. 
As a straight, married woman, I won't even …

transition

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transition [tranˈziSH(ə)n]
-the process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another
-music. a sudden, unprepared modulation (transitionfromonekeytoanother).

It felt like wearing prescription eyewear that transitions into sunglasses and I had just walked from the outside in. Everything was black, like suddenly being blinded into utter darkness. Where was everyone? everything that I believed, held on to? The feeling of aloneness, of abandonment, was suffocating, crippling. I panicked. I ran, sometimes headlong into things, people, situations. Other times, just as rashly, I ran away from those same things, people, situations.

I felt like I had been forcibly plunged into new waters, sans a life vest, and I was thrashing, kicking, drowning, in my fears, my anxieties. The more I called out, the more the water rushed in, overwhelming, threatening to render me lifeless. I was completely unprepared.




As I sit here trying to form my next thoughts, I realize that this is what pis…

flawed

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Guess what? I am flawed.
Guess what? So are you.
It isn't a bad thing. We throw the word around as if it's on the list of naughty words, one that we shouldn't claim, one that we should be striving to correct. 
Except that my life got better after I acknowledged that I am not flawless, that I am not perfect. I am who I am, and I own every single piece.
My whole Christian life I have heard "God doesn't make mistakes" and yet felt incredible pressure from these same places to conform, to fit in, to be perfect, flawless, to play whatever part necessary to be 'one of us'. 
Simon says be quiet, sit down, believe this, live like that. talk the talk. even if it isn't my voice. walk the walk. even if it isn't my path.
These two conflicting ideas - "you aren't a mistake" but "you aren't good enough" - make life miserable. Quite frankly, I am tired of being miserable, tired of playing a game, tired of pretending in order to …

dropping the reins

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In this pursuit of real, I realized that some of my closest relationships were anything but. Because I had all these expectations, all these ideals, of how they should be, how the other person should act, in order for me to have what I wanted, or felt that I needed. If I was after real, I was going to have to examine these relationships. and I was going to have to relinquish my control.
I did. I dropped the reins and handed them back to their rightful owners. I decided that I would rather have nothing than continue to force another to be an unwilling puppet in the show of my life. It sent me into a tailspin. For someone who is accustomed to being in the driver's seat, to surrender it is crushing defeat.
I struggled. I fought. I sat on my hands every time I wanted to reach over and take back the wheel. I cried out but the answer was always the same. Let it go. Let them be. Real is interaction between two free people. You have kept their hands tied long enough.
That hit me hard. My…

the journey to health, healing and wholeness

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In 2014, I was diagnosed with several medical conditions which now contribute to my life of chronic pain* and fatigue. One of these is probably something I was born with, given the length of time I've dealt with it. And it has greatly contributed to most of the others.
     By the end of 2015, I was done. done with opinions, both medical and well meaning but uninformed people. done with lack of understanding and compassion. done with appointments and techniques, medical intervention and therapies. done with going to bed in pain, only to wake up in the same nightmare. It is unbelievable to those who have never dealt with this to fully comprehend the daily life of one in chronic pain, so believe me when I say, it is hell.      Now, in 2016, it has come to this. I am stepping back and looking at this in a different light, as a whole picture instead of a part, as a total body rehab instead of pinpointed areas. I will not allow this to be my story. I will not let it stop me from …

time well spent

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You know that country song "Live Like You Were Dying" by Tim McGraw? Well, not to be cheesy, but I kinda feel like that.
Those were my words to hubby near the beginning of this year. No, I'm not dying. Well, technically, yes I am, but aren't we all? I mean that I don't know that I am, in a you-have-x-amount-of-time-left kind of way. It was like a lightbulb went off inside of my heart and I could see, really see, the importance of what I have encased there, of who I have sheltered within. I understood just how very precious time was. And I didn't want to waste one more day. not one. 
Time is our most precious commodity. Once spent, it can never, ever be regained. It just can't. Life doesn't work that way. I made a decision that this year would mark the beginning of my living like I was dying, of living like life matters. This is my way, which I will update periodically. 
*Intentionality is one of my key words of this whole process, as I focus on spendi…

between the ends

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control or chaos
chaos or control
Those are the far ends of this life I've led.

I can find many excuses as to the control end : I'm a first-born with all of the matching characteristics of overachieving and my way is the right way and competitiveness; my Type-A personality drives me to create this perfect picture around me by controlling it all, every little bit.

It isn't fun to live here. believe me. It takes a lot of trying and striving and manipulating and hoping that it will all work out, that life will become what I am working so hard to create. perfect. 

I can find many excuses as to the chaos end : I'm tired of the trying and striving and manipulating and hoping to create what seems to never be perfect, so now I am given to apathy; my all-or-nothing personality has switched from working to letting go, all of it.

It isn't fun to live here. believe me. It is a tumultuous time of disorganization, of a life scattered to the winds of disarray, where confusion r…

chasing perfection

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perfection.  . demanding, always extracting more and more, until defeat rolls in and begs for mercy. close on its heels follows low self worth, doubts and questions that beg me to start again, more fervently. trying, striving, scrapping it all and starting over. just a tweak here and a little there. better, always better than the previous times. maybe, just maybe this time will be... perfection. . again and again and again, like the maddening carousel that it is, refusing to stop, demanding its riders pay with a most valuable commodity - time. wasted. precious moments spent chasing the ever elusive... perfection.
. done. finished. the exit from the whirling carousel was a painful one. i'm bruised and battered, cut and bleeding, teetering between wanting to celebrate the victory and accepting that i lost the battle. i will never attain... perfection.
. looking around, i try to find one, just one other, who has won, who wears the medal proclaiming perfect. there are none, not one…

25

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25 is a big number. It's the ruling one of this year, as I hit that milestone for a number of things. This is one of them...

25 years ago, I was a naive twenty one year old. I thought I was worldly. Ha! I had just been playing at grown up. The real stuff was still coming. 
I worked at a job that I detested. I was making more than the minimum wage at that time, with benefits included, full time, and yet, I was completely unhappy. 
I was going on four years in a relationship that, while unhealthy, had lasted through a lot. I had a ring. We talked future. I was in love, and yet, I was completely unhappy.
I had friends and a social life. I partied, hard, and lived like there were never consequences. I indulged in anything that would make me happy, and yet, I was completely unhappy.
At a time when everything looked good, when I had life where I wanted it, I should have been happy. I wasn't. Just where was this elusive happiness? 
I didn't know then what I do now. My job couldn…

where the church gets it wrong...loving yourself

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I desire open, honest, and nonjudgmental communication from all people and all views and all ideas. The words of my posts are simply my own thoughts on how the church* can fully be operational in His Love.



“That you love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and muscle and intelligence—and that you love your neighbor as well as you do yourself.” ~ Luke 10:27  The Message

Growing up in a conservative church, I heard this verse plenty of times, usually with the emphasis on one of two parts. Either we were learning how to love God, or we were learning how to love others. 

That colored my thoughts, and therefore my actions, on what loving myself looked like. Turn the other cheek. Be a doormat. Put others needs ahead of my own. Love with no boundaries. Loving myself equaled being self-centered.

In these past few years, my understanding of this verse has changed, evolved into a place where I am beginning to comprehend just how revolutionary it is. As I am loving my Father m…

6 life lessons in 6 months...self care(part 3)

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I have spent a majority of my life putting me at the tail end of all my collective lists. behind my husband and kids. behind my friends, my jobs, my activities. behind it all. I was so busy taking care of others that taking care of me was on the back burner. Now, I'm paying the price in various ways but mainly, my physical health.

"It is not enough to be busy. So are the ants. The question is : What are we busy about?"
~Henry David Thoreau

In all of my busyness, in my running to and fro, I knew that I was burning out. I felt it, deep down, but I was still ill-prepared for the eventual fallout, for how hard rock bottom would feel. I was busy but doing what exactly? was it beneficial to me? my family and loved ones? or did I simply get a twisted sense of accomplishment from martyring myself, day after day?


I had to get very real with myself. I sat down with my to-do lists and calendars. I cut away the nonessentials. I penciled in whole rest days. I made specific times that …