STOP IT!!!

"Here, here now. Don't Cry. You raised your hand for the assignment." ~Mother by Tori Amos

"I am the Lord, your God. There's majesty and splendor 'round about Me. It's very sad, but true, that very often your faith fails you and you doubt Me." ~The Job Experience by Mali Music

Confession time: I HATE COMPLAINERS!
Confession pt. 2: I complain BITTERLY and Constantly.

Yeah, I know it's hypocritical. Me and God are dealing with me. 
I've noticed something among my peers.  We have a very "children of Israel" mentality.  We piss and moan about our current state, we beg and plead with God for change.  When change comes we PISS AND MOAN About that TOO!!!!! 

STOP THAT CRAP!!!!

How is it that we can get EXACTLY what we ask for and NEVER EVER be satisfied???  Are we that empty?  Are we that CHILDISH?  God has blessed us with abundance, He's called down plagues on our oppressors, He led us to freedom and promise, sustaining us all the while.  WHAT MORE DO WE NEED???????? 

We have it all, yet STILL the complaints come.  You want guidance but you don't like where you're led. You want money, but you don't like the job.  You raise your hand and say "Here I am, Lord!  SEND ME!" but you throw a tantrum when you get your walking papers.  What gives you the right to dictate how God does ANYTHING????  Who do you think you are???  Seriously?

Just....please....just stop.

Fatness and Food

I have come to the conclusion that if you put Brie cheese on anything....ANYTHING I will consume it without remorse.  Lady Gaga better NEVER wear a brie dress in my presence. That'll be the LAST you hear of her. TRUST.  (This statement is also true of Bacon.)

I've noticed that average (thin) people sometimes speak to overweight people as if the larger person didn't KNOW they were fat!!!  Like, WHY are you whispering to me about food and heart attacks???? Ooooohh wait...I'm FAT????!!!??  OH MY GOD!!!  CALL AN AMBULANCE!!!!!  DO MY PARENTS KNOW???

Let me explain something to my thinner brethren: sometimes a cupcake is the only thing standing between me and outright HOMICIDE.  Trust me. I'm performing a public service.

soooo...um...yeah.  that's all for today!

Trying to Live Ferrari Dreams on a Pinto Budget

Ok. I admit it. I have a problem. I hate hate HATE being poor. I hate not having the time or money to do whatever my heart desires. I've had this problem for a long time. On the low....I've always been about the money.  This makes me sad. But it's also reality.  We need cash to survive in this life.  We need cash to play the games we want to play.  Without cash I feel very LEFT OUT!  I feel like I can't participate in life, in the living and ENJOYING of life the way I really want to.  Why? Because I don't have the money to go to the movies, or out to dinner, or to buy a pair of shoes (although I FIND a way for shoes!), or a cute dress, or even a FREAKING BOOK!  sheesh.  We need money in this life.  We need it to grease the wheels and sometimes make our dreams reality.  I feel like this lack is just another link in the chain that's holding me down. I have BIG dreams and BIG ideas but my pockets don't line up!  It's one of those "laugh to keep from crying" situations.

Sigh. Ok.  That was my rant.  I'll get back to living now. Thanks for listening.

What if...?

This is a bit racy.  Just forewarning, because it's out of the norm of things I usually post.

 

We meet, and what ifs fill my head.  What if I were not me, unencumbered, free. But I am none of these things. I see the question cross in your eyes and it dances in my mind. What if….  I could touch you, hold you, have you?  What if…you could have me?

If simply wanting made things so, then I have held you and had you a thousand times, a million ways, a trillion days.  You have been mine, if wanting you was having you.  But desire and yearning, I am learning, do not always lead to possessing.  So, as the question of carnality dances in your eyes and across my skin, I feel my answer rise to the top of my mind.

I would think.  I would think long and hard about you.  About touching you, feeling you feel me.  I would enjoy the idea of lips and tongue and playful teeth tangled together; of fingers twisted into hair, passionately pulling.  Of weak, shaking legs filled with a lover’s waist, and the taste of sweat salted skin.  I would.  

I would think about you having me, and me having you.  I would think about you for as long as it took for the thought of you to send me star bound.  Then, when I spiraled down and came back to myself, back to my senses, I would walk away from you.  I’d keep the thought and leave the man behind.

You are beautiful and exquisite, brilliant and lovely.  You burned so brightly I was almost blinded.  But you are incredibly expensive.  You exist in a museum; a display of magnificence and artistic achievement.  You belong to everyone, and no one.  

I would gladly look at you, and look, and look, and look my fill, for you are generous with your display.  But I cannot afford the price I’d have to pay to obtain you, maintain you, and keep you, no matter how badly my fingers itch to trace the contours of your skin.  So you will have to stay where you are; safely beyond my arm's reach.  And I will have the what ifs to keep me company.

Something Rediscovered

I wrote this a while ago back in my hitRECord phase...or CRAZE is perhaps a better word. I hope you enjoy it.

Blows fall, raining from the canopy of hands above his head.  They want to kill him because his beauty frightens them.  They want to fill him with so much pain that he never bothers to smile again.  They hate him.

Bruises bloom across his skin, and even they are beautiful.  His skin swells, blazing red then deeper.  It is the purple black of a starless sky.  The moisture in his eyes brings the promise of rain to  drought depleted souls. 

Still the blows fall, like rock slides from mountainsides because he will not give them his voice.  He will not satiate the fires that feed the flames of their hate. 

They give him pain because pain is all they have to give, it is all they know.  And in trying to forget they forge another furrow into his skin.  They watch the bruises deepen and wait eagerly for the blood pour to begin.

Life spills from him and he smiles.  Words, pregnant, promising and rich pour from bruises that became cuts.  Words they had been wishing to hear all their lives, but their ears were deafened by their pain and rage.

As the words seeped into the ground life sprang from them, Verdant, vibrant, free, uncontrolled.  Life took hold, took root in the ground, took root in all of them and chased the hate away from poisoned minds.  Yet still, he gave until all his words were given away. 

All his words were drained away to become part of the whole.  They in he, he in they all his words were given away.  Freely, sweetly.  And even their share in the shame of taking this life was beautiful and sweet.  Brutal, Painful, Necessary.  Complete.

 Have you ever done this? Created something and then forgot about it? Or planned something, written something, set something in motion and it just drifted from your memory?  When you found it again what did you do with it?

Know This

Know this.

If you have been sent there, there is room enough.  If there isn't, room will be made.

Doubt is the harbinger of disbelief and the defeater of faith.

When you walk, walk in all confidence. Know that where ever your foot lands, that place belongs to you, regardless of the current occupants.

Know this.

Follow Your Path

The purpose of this post is two-fold.  I want to talk about something I'm experiencing and I want to give a little peek at what I'm working on these days.
 

I don't know if this is a case of life imitating art or the other way around.  All I know is right now my life is mirroring a situation I've written about in my book.  I believe everyone in life has a purpose, or path, as it were. Once you find that path, it is your ultimate purpose to stay on that path.  For some the path burns so brightly that they have no trouble finding it and following it.  For others (like me) it can be shrouded; a step by step discovery of yourself and your potential.  I can honestly say that right now, today, I know my path and it's burning brightly.  Anything standing in my way will be eliminated, up to and including people who can't or won't believe in my purpose along with me.  I have enough fears and doubts of my own to waste my time battling yours!

Below is an unedited excerpt from my book.  It's pretty straight forward. Read away and please comment!  I thrive on feedback!

Old Mamma and the Path

            “Come closer child.  Eyes not what they were.”  She held out her hands and Casha came forward to take them.  They were warm and strong, her grip firm as she pulled Casha down to sit in front of her.  Her eyes were a clouded blue and set in a wizened face.  Her gray locks piled high atop her head were so long that they trailed down her back and pooled on the floor around her.

            Casha sat quietly through the physical perusal.  Old Mamma’s hands touched hers, feeling the palms, squeezing her fingers, patting her arms, testing the muscle.

            “You have some skill with a blade?” 

            “Yes Ma’am.”  She had the same melodic accent as Marcus, she noticed.  Something about her reminded Casha of Delphine, she missed her terribly.  Old Mamma’s touch lingered for a moment on Casha’s wrist, resting lightly on the hidden mark.  Then she was beckoning Casha to lean forward.  Mamma hummed low in her throat, her hands smooth and gentle as they traced her brow, touched her hair, her cheeks, the contours of her nose and mouth and finally came to rest over her eyes, then she sat back.

            “Good strong arms.  A fine warrior, but such a heavy heart for one so young,” she clucked her tongue.  “What troubles you child?”  It was a simple question, but there were so many possible answers Casha didn’t know where to begin.  She wasn’t sure she wanted to reveal everything to a complete stranger.

            “Your secret too heavy to bear alone.  Share it out and lighten you load.”  Casha gasped and clutched her wrist.  The old woman smiled.

            “Mamma not all blind you know,” she tapped her brow.  “Ori show things the eye can’t see.  But I thinking you know this already.”  Casha’s mind was whirling.  Could she do it too?

            “You can see it?”

            “I can feel it.  It’s a dangerous thing.  How you come by it?”  As Casha recounted her adventure at the equinox fair she felt the familiar pang in her heart when she thought of Aizzaku and the parents she had never known.  Mamma listened, humming the same low melodic tune.  From the folds of her robe she pulled a square framed mirror, she handed it to Casha.

            “Look you, and tell me what you see,” her voice was filled with gentle warmth; it seemed to still the air around them.  Casha did as she was told.

            “It’s just my reflection.”

            “Closer child.  Look deeper.”  Casha’s breathing slowed as she pulled the mirror closer to her face.  She gazed into her own golden eyes and somehow saw beyond them.  Past her reflected face a larger hidden scene appeared. 

            “I see a wood,” she whispered, squinting to make it out.  “There’s a road cutting through it.”

            “This is your way.  You must follow it.”  Mamma’s voice was far away and above her.  The road now stretched beneath her feet, winding far into the thick of the trees.  Casha looked around at the forest, bewildered.  Twilight was dimming the sky and a thick mist rolled in and hovered over everything but the space beneath her feet.

            “Keep to the path,” Mamma’s voice was faint now.

            “But I can barely see it.”

            “Just walk child.”  The voice faded to a whisper.  Casha took a tentative step.  The mist parted before her and the pathway pulsed with a soft light.  Her apprehension subsided as the way became clear.  With each step she took she shed her uncertainty.

            The path soon began to climb steadily upwards.  She could feel it in her legs, her breathing became more labored.  It may have been hours or just minutes, there was no way to mark the passing of time.  Casha didn’t know how long she had traveled before she reached the plateau.  The plain stretched out before her into the distance, shrouded in the thick swirling mist.  Shapes seemed to rise and fall beneath it, indistinct masses never quite surfacing from beneath the veil.    The mist at her feet churned as a dark shape rose before her, solidifying into a black cloaked figure blocking the path.

            “Let me pass.”

            “This road is closed,” said a strangely familiar feminine voice.  Behind it the path glowed softly beneath the mist and stretched to the horizon.  Casha moved to step around her, eager to finish her journey.  A pale hand grabbed her and forced her back.

            “Did you not hear me?”  Casha ignored her and rushed forward.  The cloaked girl pushed with such force that Casha lost her balance and fell.

            “You must find another way.”  Casha took in the vast expanse of space around them, nothing but mist and sky with only the illuminated path to break the monotony.

            “There is no other way.”

            “You are mistaken,” came the voice from the hood.  As she said it the mist rolled away, revealing a ground littered with paths and roadways all crossing and intersecting each other, stretching into the darkness, yet hers was the only one possessed of the Light.

            “Choose another way.”  It would be easier to go around her, Casha thought, just take another route and pick up the path beyond her, but the idea of it filled her with unease.  Mamma had sent her here somehow, instructed her to keep to the path, and she intended to, wanted to follow her instruction, if only for the fact that she was tired of being lost.

            “This is my path,” she said as she stood.  “I will keep to it.”

            “So be it.”  The girl drew a long blade from her cloak; Casha’s heart sank.  She was unarmed.  The girl came at her with force and relentless speed, keeping Casha dancing and dodging.  The length of steel between them made it impossible for her to get close enough to strike.  She was being pushed back, closer to the edge of the path.  Casha dove under a high blow, rolling to reach the center of the path.  The girl was on her before she could get to her feet.  From her advantaged position she could take Casha down with one well placed blow.  I need a blade NOW!

            Casha saw the blow coming.  She knew there was nothing she could do.  Instinct brought her arm up in useless defense and she braced herself for the pain.  What she felt was the body jarring clash of steel meeting steel.  The sound of it rang out across the landscape and rattled inside her head.  In her once empty hand she held a sword.  It was simply made but to Casha it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

            She took only seconds to overcome her shock.  Months of Warrick’s hard training and muscle memory took over the fight for her.  Casha regained her ground with ease; the blade was perfectly weighted and balanced to become an extension of her arm.  Casha took advantage of an opening and struck the figure down.  When the blade made contact the figure dissipated into vapor, but where the one was cut down two others rose up in its place.  Each fighter she defeated yielded more and more opponents.  They pressed in around her, overwhelming her with sheer numbers until she was pushed off the path.

            Her feet sank deep in thick mud, throwing off her balance and nullifying her attacks.  It closed around her ankles and held her fast.  Each step had to be wrenched from the squelching mess.  Worse yet, she could no longer see the Light of her path; she was outnumbered and fighting blind with no idea which way to go to get back to the path.  She needed help.

            Strong hands pulled her from behind and dragged her backwards out of the midst of the shadow fighters.  She was placed back on her path which was still illuminated softly, but now it was intersected with another path, brightly lit and occupied by her rescuer.  From behind Casha could see the shadows falling quickly before the newcomer’s weapon, a staff ablaze with white fire, and they were not replicating.  Casha made a move to aid in the fight.

            “Keep to the Path,” Old Mamma yelled over her shoulder.  The woman before her could not be the same one she met just moments ago.  She moved with the speed and grace of a youth she did not possess. 

“GO!”  Mamma fought back the shades, her staff a vicious blur of light.  Casha ran along the path, it was brighter now that Old Mamma’s light gave it strength. 

Dreams, Revelations, and A New Philosphy on Fear

“A person needs new experiences. They jar something deep inside, allowing him to grow. Without change something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken.” ~Duke Leto Atreides, DUNE~

Wow. SO much has happened in just two days that I’m at a loss to explain it all!  An amazing opportunity has presented itself to my family and we are jumping FULL FORCE towards it! 

Saturday we went to the Baltimore Convention Center to audition for Actors, Models, and Talent for Christ.  Initially when I heard the radio spot about the auditions I was only thinking of Kylaa.  She has expressed an interest in acting so I figured why not?  My husband also heard the ad and decided to audition as well as bring a family friend along.  I was more than happy to be the chauffeur for the day! Look, I’m just happy to be out of the house on any given occasion!  Oh, but children always have different ideas.

 Kylaa asked me, just once, to audition as well.  Now, that request by itself tugged at me a little.  I suppose it nudged something that had been sleeping inside me for a while.  But that request alone didn’t spur me to my choice.  She just happened to ask me in front of my parents, the sneaky little minor.  It was like blood in the water.  My mother immediately put in her two cents, as only a mother can.  Use it or lose it, I think that was the gist of her argument.  The sleeper inside me turned over and stretched.  My father just asked why not, with an indiscernible look that said “I know something you don’t”.  The sleeper inside me blinked sleep out of its eyes.  I started mulling it over.  No. That’s a lie.  I made my decision right then to audition for acting.  I think I just needed their approval…or better yet, their endorsement of the idea.  Knowing they believed gave me strength to overcome my apprehension.  So the sleeper was now fully awake.  Not only was it awake it was dreaming OUT LOUD, going on and on about all it wanted to do.  The dreamer wanted to sing.  I wanted to sing.

I’ve never made any claim to vocal ability…EVER, but I love to sing.  I adore it!  I’ve never made it through ONE day of my adult life without singing.  I sing to make it through my mind numbing day job.  I make up my own songs, sing them, then write them down and call them poems.  I sing all the time and when people take notice I laugh it off, as if I were only playing around.  Singing isn’t a hobby.  It is a way of life.  It is a coping mechanism.  It is a survival tactic.  But I’ve never told anyone this.  Why?  Because I was afraid.  Afraid and ashamed and intimidated.  I have been crippled by self-doubt and constantly comparing myself to others.  I would constantly whisper to myself and say to others, I can’t blow like Beyonce or Jennifer Hudson.  I can’t sing like Will Lindsay. (yeah. I compared myself to my husband too.)  Years of this kind of reasoning stole my voice, just snuffed it out.

I’m not sure how the conversation with my parents turned towards the audition.  But the Monday before the audition I was talking to them and one of them brought up singing…AGAIN.  I cringed, but the dreamer was GIDDY with anticipation.  My mother is a very vocal person.  When she has an opinion you WILL know.  And boy did she EVER have an opinion about me auditioning!  But that just made me want to curl into a ball and hide somewhere.  My dad is the exact opposite.  He got on the phone and in his calm, observant way told me that he listens to me sing all the time.  He knows I joke about it and laugh it off but He REALLY listens.  He told me he heard my talent.  He wanted the rest of the world to hear it too.  I cried.  I think when a singer or any artist really, a “need it to survive” artist, goes unheard or unnoticed it’s like being mute, invisible, and on fire in a crowded room.  It’s like you’re dying but no one knows.  My father saved my life with that conversation.

That Saturday we auditioned as a family.  For the record, Kylaa NAILED it!  She auditioned for acting and modeling and blew that guy away!  She was so nervous she started to cry, but she got herself together, got over it and did her thing! I am SO INCREDIBLY proud of her!  Lindsay did his thing too, but I never doubted for a moment he would be anything other than awesome!  Our adopted sister Maya was also incredible!  She and Lindsay performed a skit that they co-wrote.  PHENOMENAL!

When my turn came I chose to do the acting first.  I read some commercial copy for finishline athletic footwear. (good thing I wore my chucks!)  Then came the singing.  The dreamer in me was so excited I thought I was going to be sick!  I chose “Amado Mio” by Pink Martini.  I took a deep breath closed my eyes and everything went away.  It came right back, though.  Dave (the man who auditioned us) stopped me after “Mio”, the second word in the song.  “Yeah.  That’s all I need to hear!”  Then he laughed.  Honestly, at that point I didn’t even care what he thought!  I had just sung FULL OUT with everything in me in front of a stranger whose only job was to JUDGE me!  I WIN!

His feedback was positive for all of us.  I was so elated I was light-headed.  My dramatic fainting in the hallway was only half in jest!  Regardless of the outcome I was euphoric!  I had just conquered one of the biggest fears in my life.  Instead of letting fear be my obstacle, I used it to spur me onward.  I was freaking out internally all day Friday and all of Saturday morning!  When I’m nervous or afraid like that I get very spastic.  What others may think is excitement is my way of NOT screaming in sheer terror.

Anyway, we all left the convention center on cloud nine.  We were told that we would get a phone call by 4pm Sunday.  By 3:30pm I was getting antsy!  The phone rang at 3:45.  We were in!  We all made it for our top choices!! EVERY LAST ONE OF US!  We got a glowing recommendation from Dave!  Not only that, he recommended me for something I didn’t even audition for! (Commercial Modeling)  So we have a standing invitation to perform at the AMTC SHINE event in Florida next year!  VERY EXCITING! 

There is a substantial cost involved, of course.  This is something else I’m afraid of, the high cost of dreaming.  It is sobering to say the least.  But the cost of NOT chasing it is so much higher.  I don’t want that for my daughter.  I don’t want her to have to bear the weight of regret.  I don’t want her to experience the heart-hardening of a dream deferred.  I don’t want that for my husband, who has been chasing his dream for more than 20 years.  I want them to know there is a reason, a point, and a purpose for their existence.

If you’re reading this, if you have a dream sleeping inside you, I hope it wakes you up and inspires you.  Don’t let your dream stay comatose.  Also, if you’re reading this we would be so grateful if you were moved to help in any way.  We welcome all your prayers and well wishes, they make our heart glad, SERIOUSLY!  But even more than that, we welcome your donations.  NO AMOUNT is too small to give!  We will even take your pennies!  That is the cost of changing a life…changing three lives!  If we've touched your life in any way please help us reach even more people.  You can contact me via email: Cherece.lindsay@gmail.com

If you know of anyone who would be willing to help please link them to this blog. Retweet us! (@RECeBear) Follow us on Tumblr (Write This Down)  Spread the word PLEASE!  THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Cartography

I believe I've found divinity.  Or at least that portion of heaven that was allotted to me.  But I must acknowledge the source, lest I fall into idolatry. 

With each word I write or type, the shape of it becomes clear to me.  But the scope!  Oh my, the scope of it is so beyond me.  I have written a world.  Written into existence something that was not there before. It makes me giddy to think on it.  But I must tread carefully, or what was given me will be all too quickly snatched away.

I am but the highway the words have traveled on. The words come through me, not from me.  They come from a place of miracles.  From a place where a spoken word from powerful lips can create life.  And even as I am the highway, I seek to use the words as a pathway to the divine.  To explain what I see, what I feel, what I hear, what I know when I reach heaven, when I touch God.  The ecstasy and delight.  The speechlessness and awe.  The humility and gratitude.

I believe I have found divinity.  I have written a world.  It becomes more real with each passing phrase.  At each visit I find God waiting.  At each visit he gives me more of the world.  He gives me words and sends me back to earth.  He makes me the cartographer.  I must create the map and show you the way, line by line and letter by letter.  I have written a world, and this dream, to me, is as real as waking.

Sunrises and Mortality

Today I saw the sun come up
Golden and pale pink over the treeline
The gray of horizon phasing into 
The softness of clouded blue
Today I saw the sunrise
And I cried.
I almost didn't see this sunrise
Yesterday, I almost died.

I guess things don't really phase me.  I take everything all in stride.  Unless I'm angry.  My stint in the emergency room was like that.  At first I was panicked, and afraid.  I cried a bit.  I made sure to do it when I was alone.  I don't like crying in front of people.  It seems too intimate to share my weakness and fear with a stranger.  My pain is my own.  I guard it like I guard my secrets.
But after the tears, which didn't last long at all, I felt nothing.  I was my old self again.  No worries, no fear.  I just took it all in stride.  One step after another.  One foot in front of the other.  There was no time for any emotion, just survival.  Just keep going.  I didn't feel any different.  I didn't feel any closer to death.  Didn't feel like I was hanging on by a very slim thread.
It wasn't until I saw today's sunrise that it finally hit me.  It wasn't my husband, or my daughter, but the colors of the sky as the sun crested the horizon. It wasn't until I saw the underbelly of the clouds tinged pink from the earliest light, and the gray of the dawn burning away to blue.  Not until I saw the liquid gold of the morning sun spill through the trees, did I truly understand the position I'd been in.
I almost missed this simple beautiful sight.  It has long been my habit to thank God for the sky, or red flowers by the highway, those unexpected red moments of life.  When I did this today, I realized I might not have witnessed this.  Thinking that, I cried. I'm so grateful for the life I have been given.
The smallest moments, so unexpected, are intense in their purity and power to remind you of the truth of your situation in life.  We are only a wink in God's eye.  I'm glad he decided not to blink this time.

Choices

Two Deities. One Oracle. Does she have a choice? If she does, who will she choose?

I Consider Myself A COLOSSAL Big Deal....Sometimes

I read an article the other day. It was about the complexity of the creative personality. It was eye-opening for me.

I have a big ego. HUGE. MASSIVE. I'm the absolute cockiest SOB I know! I hear Beyonce's "Ego" as my soundtrack on a regular basis! I am WILDLY self-confident, and I believe, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I CAN. BACK. IT. UP.

But, guess what? I have consistently battled low self-esteem, low self-image and CRIPPLING self-doubt. I feel and KNOW that I am THEE least qualified individual on the face of God's green earth! I'm often self-effacing, reticent, and AFRAID!

And ALL of this is OK! It's all contradictory and complimentary to the creative personality! I used to think I was CRAZY! No, seriously. I've doubted myself often because of this duality. Instead of regretting this about myself I've embraced it. Besides, who am I to doubt the way God made me???

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi wrote in his book Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention: “If there is one word that makes creative people different from others, it is the word complexity. Instead of being an individual, they are a multitude. Like the color white that includes all colors, they tend to bring together the entire range of human possibilities within themselves. Creativity allows for paradox, light, shadow, inconsistency, even chaos –and creative people experience both extremes with equal intensity.”

I am NOT crazy. I'm hardwired to think, feel, and act in 3D! The one thing that is most important about living this way is the need for balance. Without it I would swing like a pendulum from one extreme to the other. I would have no equilibrium. God is my stabilizer. He tempers my ego with humility. He counters my fear with confidence. He makes sense of all the insanity inside my head, then he USES it!

So, when I start to think I'm a big deal, I all too easily recall that I'm NOTHING without the presence of God in my life.

Living On The Edge

I've been living on the edge recently. I've gotten used to the edge. That place of peculiar balance. It takes a different kind of strength to live on the edge. A strength that only comes from an understanding of stillness. Too much movement can send you toppling over to one side or the other. Here on the edge you have to practice balance everyday.

I've also been living on the edge of the wilderness, so close to my promised land that I can see it, smell it, and taste it. I've spied it out. Part of my soul was like Caleb and Joshua. I am fully convinced that I can POSSESS my promise. But the other part of me was truly afraid! And that fear nearly sent me back to the wilderness.

The book will be finished this year.

These are the words God said to me Sunday morning. They rocked me. They shook me from my stillness. They also held me to account for the work I'm doing. They pressed me and pressured me.

Right on the heels of that shaking came fear and doubt. How can this be possible? I've been writing this same book for YEARS with no imposed time limit. Now all of a sudden I have a deadline?! Now I have to PROVE my faith!? OH NO!

I tried to justify my fear by telling God "It's not YOU I'm doubting! It's ME!!" "YOU can do anything. I'M the one with limitations." That worked for about a minute. God rebuked me outright! This is what He said:

"If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it THROUGH you. So when you doubt yourself within this plan you ARE doubting me."

OUCH.

That shut me right up. How could I have magically forgotten that I can do "all things through Christ"? I'd been still for so long that this sudden need for movement had me momentarily confused. I'm OK now, though!

I'm going to possess my promise now. I'm crossing Jordan and sacking Jericho. I see God. I see where He's going and I'm following. No. I'm CHASING after Him. God said I can, so I will.

It's been a WHILE!

Wow! So, I realize now that I just don't blog! Which is ironic, seeing as how I'm a writer. I promise I will do better.

Since I know that no one is really reading this right now, I feel comfortable in using this as my "diary" of sorts. I've heard God. His words scared me a little bit, but that's never been a good enough reason NOT to do something. (In my opinion, anyway.)

So hopefully I can update here with some consistent progress notes!
Peace and Blessings!