Today, I invite you to tell the real-talk truth about imperfection. My offering is a poem. What truth of imperfection is rising up in you? What have you learned about being imperfect? I’ve learned I don’t have to be always perfect. God is doing a good work in me, work that I cannot even begin to do. He is faithful. And His work is perfectly good.
A Love Letter of Hope – A Time for Mourning a Time for Dancing
Life isn’t always beautiful roses and fragrant daffodils. Sometimes life carries the stench of dead things – dead dreams, dead hopes, dead feelings, loss of people, loss of relationships. It reeks of pungent rottenness. We’ve all been there. Heads hanging so low, not even the sun can lift them. Hearts so heavy with the ashes of our pain that we are immobilized. Yes, life isn’t always a beautiful song. Sometimes it is the wincing melody of screeching nails on black chalkboard.
So I’m writing a book, a second memoir of sorts. It’s been an interesting process and also emotionally exhausting. I’ve rediscovered and also uncovered new things about life, faith, and pressing in to life. None of the writing has been easy, but I think it has been worth it to dig in to the whole truth hidden behind doors. Of course, writing memoir can take a lot of a person. Be gentle with yourself. Sometimes you come to the page blank. Words won’t come. You’re staring at a blank screen. Nothing is making sense. I had that moment the other day.
Sure I could have quit, closed shop, threw in the towel, or give n up. But, I didn’t. Instead I chose to step away from the writing. I chose to be gentle with myself. In my writing process, I often find reprieve by walking; so I went for a walk. My heart and mind needed to declutter. Be gentle with yourself. Down a hill and up another, gaining speed, I walked. When I got near the end of my walk I realized there was another kind of writing I had neglected. Songwriting.
The memory of who I am and what I am meant to do rose up again, calling me to return. I trudged up the final hill home, blinking back tears because I knew these words holding tension in my heart were true. Be gentle with yourself. I got home and did not return to the book. Instead, I took out my guitar, tuned the strings, and began to play. Here is the result of that time well spent: the first lines of a song (I haven’t written one in over 5 months, and that’s too long for me).
I haven’t stepped here for so long
In the quiet place
Filling space and time with busyness
I’m out of grace
Still you are here
Still you are calling
Hush now be still
You whisper all my fears away
Here in the sacred place
Beloved, what is He calling you to remember? How has He been whispering to you? Has He been calling you home to “be”-ing and not doing? Remember whose you are. Remember the grace given you. Remember:
Be gentle with yourself. For me that gentleness comes from the stillness of moments where I can ponder God and His presence. What does it look like for you? Whatever you’re bulldozing through, where do you need to pause or change course.
I leave you with this:: Be gentle with yourself.
You can listen to a rough cut of the song on Soundcloud.
I want to remember the fragrance
Of His death because
It gave me sweetness of life
I want to remember His Word
Coursing through my veins
Fleshing out deep truth
Penetrating the root of my dark
Pulling me into His
Embrace of healing light
I want to remember His last breath
A heaving sigh resting on the earth
Between the veil
Breaking the chasm’s divide
I want to remember Jesus the Christ
A gift of redemption, of restoration
I, no longer on the outside
I, now invited
I, now belonging
I, now adopted
I, now ardently loved
I want to remember Jesus the Christ
I will give Him all of my life
This will be grace enough
More than enough
Linking up with Lisha Epperson for #GiveMeGrace.
If kindness is currency for the heart, then love letters are gold for the soul. In this week’s Real Talk Tuesday Link Up our theme is #LoveLetters. My love letter is a bit unconventional, however, it is a letter of hope, of restoration, of truth, of healing, and of love for the here and now.
“If i like a moment, i don’t like to have the distraction, so i stay in it”
in mending the soul, we learn to face the truth about our abuse. it is hard. life sucks. brokenness. pain, violence, and not having a voice all suck. just being real here, but when you’ve suffered abuse of any kind, that last thing you naturally want to do is face the dissonance of truth. even if that truth will set you free. there is a chord within that finds the entire process counter intuitive. Continue reading