Cross on Over

It's true. My 'mojo'  is back! I'm writing again!

So do come on over, pay me a visit, and continue this journey with me.

Looking forward to seeing you there....

A Moment in May

My house is quiet. And I desire to write.

But my fingers pause over the keyboard.

Hovering.

Stamping out a few words, letters...then deleting them.

Looking out the window at the ha-de-dah skewering worms on his beak.

It feels like I can't do this anymore.

"This"  being this blog. "This" being writing but not writing. Sharing but not sharing.

Pretending really.

This is not who I am.

I am all or nothing.

Soul bared and soul shared, or silent. IRL ( I have never needed to use that abbreviation ever before! That made me grin!) I strongly dislike small talk.

I like being real. I can't tell you how that began, or why, but it is something that I am supremely comfortable with. I'm comfortable with that skin. I'm emotional. Intense. Deep. Analytical. Obsessive. Yip, that's me. Comfortable.

And here's the funny part. I'm comfortable with being real with the people I know. And I have sometimes even been real with people I don't know, or people I have only just met.

But writing this blog - I come unstuck. I come unstuck because I know some of you. Some of you well, some of you not so well. Some of you I don't know at all.

My hear is shrouded right now... I feel it atrophying at the edges. And the only way I know how to massage it is to write.

And my question is ...how much of my heart do I serve up to you in a post?

What will happen to my heart?

Should this blog continue to live?

... and yet something within me cries out for women to be real, for there to be a community that holds one another's hearts and loves and cares and cradles them...the whole Titus 2 bit. And sometimes it's safer online. It's safer than real life.

Do I shut this blog down and invite those of you who want to over to another?

Am I confusing journaling with blogging?

But honesty always COSTS. And I'm not sure I'm willing to pay right now.

Regal Royalty

Yip, I'm one of them. One of the nearly 2 billion people who watched the royal wedding (does than number include Internet watchers I wonder?). And I unashamedly loved it. LOVED Kate's little giggle after the balcony kiss. Loved that a commoner has married into the family. Loved that the world loves her. Loved that her parents have brought up two amazing level headed daughters.

I loved that 2 billion people all across the world were inspired by it - sure some folks were just watching it because everyone else was, but really - that number of people across the world are searching.

Desiring.

Hoping for something more in life.

That wedding, in all its forms, catches at our hearts, pulls at our dreams and calls us out.

It smacks of God.

And our cynical world laps it up.

Because he created us to love and be loved.

And funnily I'd just picked up "Captivating" by John and Stasi Eldredge and "Do you think I'm beautiful?" by Angela Thomas, because I'm again, trying to figure out what it means to be a woman, and trying to understand...

And I'm reminded.

The question every boy grows up to ask as a man is "Have I got what it takes?" That's why men crave our respect, our belief.

And the question every little girl asks whilst growing up, and the one she continues to ask even as an adult is "Do you think I'm lovely?".

Not every woman wants a battle to fight, but every woman yearns to be fought for...She wants to be more than noticed - she wants to be wanted. She wants to be pursued.
Every woman also wants an adventure to share...A woman doesn't want to be the adventure; she wants to be caught up into something greater than herself....
Every woman wants to have a beauty to unveil. Not to conjure up, but to unveil. Most woman feel the pressure to be beautiful from very young, but that is not what I speak of. There is also a deep desire to simply and truly be the beauty, and be delighted in.

Food for thought huh?

Mole Crickets

I once heard a man tell a story about a hard lesson he learned—only after it was too late. This fellow took special pride in his home's finely manicured lawn and its flawless landscaping. One afternoon he was in his front yard talking with his neighbor when he noticed something moving in the grass. The neighbor said,  “You have mole crickets. If you don't do something quickly, your lawn will be destroyed.”
The man had never heard of such a thing. He looked at his beautiful, deep green lawn, then shrugged it off as nothing to worry about. A few weeks later he noticed brown spots starting to appear. As the weeks went by, the brown spots spread. He tried adjusting the sprinklersand used various different fertilizers and sprays, but nothing worked. Within a few months, his once immaculate lawn was in ruins.
He had an expert come out. The verdict came back:  “Mole crickets!” “But how?” he exclaimed. “I tend this lawn every day and I never saw anything but an occasional bug.” The expert lifted up a section of dead sod and there, to the man's shock and amazement, the grass roots were completely severed!
“Mole crickets,” he explained, “live under ground and only come out at night to eat at the roots. The blades look lush and green, but underneath the surface the crickets are eating away. You might see one or two during the day and think it's no big deal. But by the time the brown spots start appearing, it's too late; the damage is already done.” The expert reachedbeneath a patch of brown grass and picked up a thrashing, one-inch-long insect.  ‘This is the culprit, “he said. The man stared down at the little bug and then at his destroyed lawn. He couldn't believe it.
We enjoy freedom, peace and prosperity in this great country of ours as a result of our forefathers and mothers taking care of the roots—recognizing and destroying the lethal elements before they could do permanent damage. The grass has been green and lush, but brown spots are beginning to appear. Pornography's “cyber-mole crickets” are eating away at the roots of decency and freedom as millions are trapped in addiction. What are we doing to fight them? What will our children and grandchildren do when, through our neglect, procrastination and complacency, society's once-lush turf lies brown and dead?
Internet porn and sexual-oriented chat rooms are working “under the surface” in our society. You can't immediately see the damage being done. It is quietly and privately going on behind closed doors in bedrooms, dens and offices all across America. It's a seemingly little thing, really. One person on a computer here, another there. You see the signs of damage every now and then—a woman is raped, a porn-addicted father molests hisdaughter, a pedophile stalks a child.  “But these are extremes,” you think, “afew brown spots. Most of the lawn is nice and green. It's only a few mole crickets.”
But under the surface, in millions of homes and offices, outside the direct view of society, a plague is eating away at the roots of freedom, decency, women's rights, family relationships and values, respect, integrity and honor.  Do we even have a clue to the extent of damage that is being done? How can we accurately predict the long-term consequences for our children, grandchildren and future generations? Never before has this country experienced such an avalanche of pornography—available at the push of a button, on the computer or cell phone screen—to men, women, teens and children. Where will all of this lead? How much damage will the underground mole crickets of porn inflict before we take it all seriously?

More articles and fascinating reads here, and check out this site too....

Mark B. Kastleman is the author of the bestselling book, The Drug of the New Millennium—the Brain Science Behind Internet Pornography Use. Mark and his colleagues are leaders in the development of personal e-learning systems. Through the latest technology, they provide internet-based addiction recovery training and personal growth programs. Mark is Co-Founder and Director of Education&Training at Candeocan.com.

Excerpts: One Thousand Gifts...

I have finally finished reading One Thousand Gifts, and wanted to share with you all these last few excerpts that have buried themselves in my heart.... (photos are Ann Voskamp's, from the book gallery)

• My mama, valley wise and grief traveled, she always said, 'Expectations kill relationships.' And I've known expectations as a disease, a silent killer heaping her burdens on the shoulders of a relationship until a soul bursts into a pulmonary and dies. 'Expectations kill relationships - especially with God. And that's what a child doesn't have: this whole edifice of expectation. Without expectations, what can topple the surprising wonder of the moment?

• ...I remember: Lament is a cry of belief in a good God, a God who has His ear to our hearts, a God who transfigures the ugly into beauty. Complaint is the bitter howl of unbelief in any benevolent God in this moment. a distrust in the love-beat of the Father's heart....

• ...In the moment of singing that one line, dedicating the work as thanks to Him, something - the miracle- happens, and every time. When service is unto people, the bones can grow weary, the frustration deep. Because, agrees Dorothy Sayers,  'whenver man is made the centre of things, he becomes the storm-centre of trouble. The moment you think of serving people, you begin to have the notion that other people owe you something for your pains...You will begin to bargain for reward, to angle for applause.'                          When the laundry is for the dozen arms of children or the dozen legs, it's true, I think I'm due some appreciation. So comes a storm of trouble and lightning strikes joy. But when Christ is at the center, when dishes, laundry, work is my song of thanks to Him, joy rains. Passionately serving Christ alone makes us the loving servant to all. When the eyes of the heart focus on God, and the hands on always washing feet of Jesus alone - the bones, they sing for joy and the work returns to it purest state: eucharisteo. The work becomes worship, a liturgy of thankfulness. 

• I walk in our back door to candlelight still flickering, hang the keys on the hook and look around  at the steep mountain of laundry there in the mudroom, the shoes scattered, a coat dropped. The mudroom sink is grime ringed. Fingerprints smear across the mirror. I laugh the happiest wonder. In the afternoon's drizzle, I give happy thanks for the daily mess with a smile a mile wide, because this is again my chance to whole heartedly serve God, to do full bodied eucharisteo with the hands and the heart and the lips. I can count each task a gift, pure Eucharisteo. Grace! This work - the thousand endless jobs - they each give the opportunity for one to become the gift, a thousand times over! Because with every one of the thousand, endless jobs - I become the gift to God and to others because this work is the public God serving, the daily liturgy of thanks, the completing of communion service with my service.

• the only thing to rip out the tape echoing self-rejection is the song of His serenade. One thousand gifts tuned me to the beat. It really is like C.S. Lewis argued: that the most  fundamental thing is not how we think of God but rather what God thinks of us: How God thinks of us is not only more important, but infinitely more important. Years of Christian discipleship, Bible study, churchgoing had been about me thinking about God; practicing Eucharisteo was the very first time I had really considered at length what God thought of me - this ridiculous and relentlessly pursuing love, so bold. Everywhere, everything. Love!

• God, He has blessed - caressed. I could bless God - caress with thanks. It's our making love... the intercourse of soul with God is the very climax of joy...we're called to do more than believe in God; we're called to live in God. To enter into Christ and Christ enter into us - to cohabit. Is this why it is His will for us to always give thanks in all things - the unbroken communion?

Food for thought huh?