Generally Speaking

Walks

2011-08-16T16:29:00.001-07:00

We take walks.
We stroll along the sidewalks of life making noise like heartbeats with the pitter patter of our feet against the pavement of our emotions.
I am loyal and quickly committed to your simplicity and quirky temperament,
So I temper my thoughts with the dampening of myself
If you know me too fast I feel connected and so I hide behind walls painted with facades through which only Jesus goes
Otherwise this broken heart shows and this spirit glows and I trust you, you love me and suddenly we are paused in place with no pursuit
Friendship is easier to procure and less risky, you aren’t likely to lose
So we choose more walks with longer sidewalks until neither of us know what this is

Cry Out!

2011-07-20T15:59:00.000-07:00

Dear Friends and Family,

The past few months have been an incredible roller coaster of excitement with my job, church and life transitions galore! Throughout it all God has been incredibly faithful to not only sustain me, but to provide me new vision for the direction of my life and career. I am excited to share with you where God is leading me.

Nearly 2 years ago I met a wonderful couple, Celestine and Tara Ezinkwo. They moved from Los Angeles to Seattle by God’s leading to build Cry Out! a faith based non-profit located in Renton, WA. Cry Out! exist to develop youth leaders and pursue justice for those who are oppressed in their communities, their cities and the world. Cry Out! uses creative platforms such as music, dance, arts and workshops focused on life and creative skills to empower the youth. Cry Out! seeks to encourage and empower young people to use their God given freedom to seek justice for the oppressed to cry out for justice. It is a powerful ministry that is growing rapidly in the heart of Renton.

Over the past few years I have been asking God, “How can I use my passion for the Arts in tandem with my love of young people and experience in Christian Community Development?” The time has come and God has answered! As of July 1, 2011 I will begin raising support to become a full-time staff member with Cry Out!. This is an exciting move of faith, and I want to invite you to join me on this journey. As afull-time staff member at Cry Out! I will focus on Arts program development,school-based service and ministry,Arts workshops,and a continued to commitmentto youth at the King County Youth Detention Center.

I know God is calling me to join CryOut! in reaching the youth for Christ through the Arts, but before becoming a full time staff member, I need to raise 3,000 dollars in monthly support to cover my cost of living in order to focus on full time ministry. Would you prayerfully consider joining my support team financially by giving $25, $50, $75, $100 or any other amount each month? For example, if only 30 people join my support team by giving 100 dollars a month that would cover my 3,000 dollars in monthly support. Please join me in this journey of faith and outreach to the spiritually and materially poor through CryOut!. I’ve included an insert with further information of how you can become a ministry partner. Thank you for your interest!

Lastly, attached to this email is the Cry Out! brochure and my support card. For more information on CryOut! please visit www.cryout.net If you would like to set-up a time to chat further about Cry Out! and my move let me know. I would love to share coffee/tea or a meal with you!

In God’s Hands,

Nikkita Oliver

Ezekiel 37 - Dry Bones

2011-06-28T07:52:00.001-07:00

I think God may have revealed to me the biblical basis for why I do spoken word... more thoughts to come.

Ezekiel 37

The Valley of Dry Bones

1 The hand of the LORD was on me, and he brought me out by the Spirit of the LORD and set me in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. 2 He led me back and forth among them, and I saw a great many bones on the floor of the valley, bones that were very dry. 3 He asked me, “Son of man, can these bones live?”
I said, “Sovereign LORD, you alone know.”

4 Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the LORD! 5 This is what the Sovereign LORD says to these bones: I will make breath[a] enter you, and you will come to life. 6 I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the LORD.’”

7 So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. 8 I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them.

9 Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to it, ‘This is what the Sovereign LORD says: Come, breath, from the four winds and breathe into these slain, that they may live.’” 10 So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet—a vast army.

11 Then he said to me: “Son of man, these bones are the people of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up and our hope is gone; we are cut off.’ 12 Therefore prophesy and say to them: ‘This is what the Sovereign LORD says: My people, I am going to open your graves and bring you up from them; I will bring you back to the land of Israel. 13 Then you, my people, will know that I am the LORD, when I open your graves and bring you up from them. 14 I will put my Spirit in you and you will live, and I will settle you in your own land. Then you will know that I the LORD have spoken, and I have done it, declares the LORD.’”

One Nation Under One King

15 The word of the LORD came to me: 16 “Son of man, take a stick of wood and write on it, ‘Belonging to Judah and the Israelites associated with him.’ Then take another stick of wood, and write on it, ‘Belonging to Joseph (that is, to Ephraim) and all the Israelites associated with him.’ 17 Join them together into one stick so that they will become one in your hand.
18 “When your people ask you, ‘Won’t you tell us what you mean by this?’ 19 say to them, ‘This is what the Sovereign LORD says: I am going to take the stick of Joseph—which is in Ephraim’s hand—and of the Israelite tribes associated with him, and join it to Judah’s stick. I will make them into a single stick of wood, and they will become one in my hand.’ 20 Hold before their eyes the sticks you have written on 21 and say to them, ‘This is what the Sovereign LORD says: I will take the Israelites out of the nations where they have gone. I will gather them from all around and bring them back into their own land. 22 I will make them one nation in the land, on the mountains of Israel. There will be one king over all of them and they will never again be two nations or be divided into two kingdoms. 23 They will no longer defile themselves with their idols and vile images or with any of their offenses, for I will save them from all their sinful backsliding,[b] and I will cleanse them. They will be my people, and I will be their God.

24 “‘My servant David will be king over them, and they will all have one shepherd. They will follow my laws and be careful to keep my decrees. 25 They will live in the land I gave to my servant Jacob, the land where your ancestors lived. They and their children and their children’s children will live there forever, and David my servant will be their prince forever. 26 I will make a covenant of peace with them; it will be an everlasting covenant. I will establish them and increase their numbers, and I will put my sanctuary among them forever. 27 My dwelling place will be with them; I will be their God, and they will be my people. 28 Then the nations will know that I the LORD make Israel holy, when my sanctuary is among them forever.’”

Footnotes:
Ezekiel 37:5 The Hebrew for this word can also mean wind or spirit (see verses 6-14).
Ezekiel 37:23 Many Hebrew manuscripts (see also Septuagint); most Hebrew manuscripts all their dwelling places where they sinned

Ima Sucka

2011-06-24T10:48:00.001-07:00

If being in love is for suckas then I’m the blue kind with the bubble gum center.
My heart feels like it was slammed in a car door like a finger
This pain it lingers
Like I’m stuck in traffic, it’s a parking lot
The conversation between my heart and my head where my mind tells my soul to slow down before it winds up dead obliterated by this game we call love
It’ll drive you insane and send you off on the wings of a dove
To be attack by an eagle and shat out into the sound
Where a fish will swallow it up never again to be found
That is what loving you will do to me
And that’s the terrifying part of giving it up
Not giving IT up
Giving love up to you
You see cause I’m a sucka for a good romance
That slow dance
Where two bodies move as one finding the rhythm and groove in the journey of our feet along this melodic path turning obstacles into harmonies
And naysayers into falicies
Our love reigns victoriously
Until an opposing King or Queen shouts “Off with her head”
And suddeny our love is dead
And here I am back in bed
Burying this decapitated stone into wet pillows soiled with the pieces of my broken heart and the romances with guys that barely start
Aside from the drawn out DTRs that happen in my head where I can’t remember if the “I love you” line was mine or his
Loving you is rarely fair
Rarely fair trade
It is bought and sold in this capitalistic system
Trampled and pist on
By every guy who thought he got close enough to determine that he didn’t like what he could see
But left me to deal with his nearness and the feelings I was experiencing
Christian men, you all seem to function the same,
Telling me to guard my heart but you neglect your call to protecting
Instead you are reaping and picking, selecting and dissecting
Until you find the one you want keeping
But you don’t see what you have sewn
In your wake we’re left reaping your take
Until our hearts grow fake pressed in with a stake
Turned into movies like black women’s diaries
So fire me or sue me but just don’t consume me
I’m a sucka for love the blue kind with the bubble gum center

Free Write: Knot in the pit of my stomach...

2011-06-22T11:16:00.001-07:00

Knot in the pit of my stomach why must you persists?
The tightness is confining and my eyes cannot resist the need to create release through tears held back by fears shouting out, "The people might see"
They might see that I am not as strong as I pretend to be
My legs are jittery
I am proned to running
I have had this itch like a twitch in my limbs for far too many years
But my will is stronger than it used to be so I stay longer than I was intending
Rendering the deepening of roots of this tree that are preventing me from retreating
Creating a boundary that feels more homely and yet I am all the more lonely
Conforming to this hurting its unearthing this ugly while I set in the corner of my mind struggling shaking and quaking raking and staking the land of my soul trying to claim it as my own with this name that is borrowed and this sight that is narrowed and a prophesy that's furrowed into my future dreams it seems they are transforming and I am hoping this knot it'll cease so that life can persists a little more free

Here's to the Throwbacks...

2011-06-20T09:42:00.000-07:00

Here’s to the throwbacks…
To hot cousins and naïve friends,
To 1st kisses & hits & misses,
To missing friends and friends gone missing,
To the guys who never call and the girls who always fall,
To the moments we cherish and the moments that teach us how to cherish,
To the one who taught you how to drink and the drink that taught you you’ve had enough,
To the one who taught you how to think and the thought that set you free,
Gone head and hang tough (keep yo’ head up),
To the father and the absentee to the mother who tried be both he and she you were the best that you could be,
And to my Riders,
Yeah, my RODs, the one’s who aren’t afraid to tell me when my shit/stuff stinks…
This one’s for you.

Its for the haves and the have nots,
The should and the should nots,
The wants and the want knots in the pit of my stomach this one’s for you my long distant lover the way you hover sends shivers down my spine,
And yet we found in time that you were not given to rhythm or rhyme so I had to let you go because I’m partial to the flow.

Here’s to the cries for Daddy that still persist and the walls that help me to resist the pain,
To late night conversation and averted confrontations,
To long runs in the rain down on me let your love just fall like rain drops and pick-up trucks in the Indiana heat,
Hot cement beneath my feat runnin’ to the pool to get cool while guys like LL stand on the corner lickin’ their lips at fine women rockin’ their daisy dukes and shakin’ their hips in the “summer summer summer” time.

Cause I know that’s right,
Playing outside with the setting sun until the streets light come on,
Welcoming the night for what its worth,
Sitting on our bikes hidden on porches making prank calls telling our mom’s were staying at such and such’s home because we hate our own and I’d rather be with the block boys than be alone,
All the while thinking “how did we get here” cause nobody’s supposed be here,
But here is where we stood and there is where we promised to save our hood,
That we would give ourselves over for the common good cause Vacation Bible School in the summer made us feel like we should and urban missionaries told us we could have more if we wanted it we just gotta be good and since only Jesus can saves us we party through the weekend and go to church on Sunday
Monday we’re back to the grind until Friday comes and he messed with her and she messed with him and he messed she and she got with him,
She had 3 babies by the age of 14
He was in jail before he could even think
He was shot and killed before he met 18
He learned to deal and she learned to read
And she committed to the get the hell up out here
Got into those college test and said never again will I be up in this mess,
But these thoughts they persist and I’m lost in distress dislodged in egress,
Throwbacks that come back in memories and flashbacks set off by the right scents moments like movies that make you laugh and then lead you to repent
Cause I remember,
Looking into each other’s souls like mirrors wanting for something more ding dong ditchin’ on every door searching for love in all the wrong places and hiding our hearts in all the wrong the spaces knowing the scars disfigurin’ our faces and slashes on hearts only hope can resurface and its no wonder we didn’t all make it through this

So here’s to the throwbacks…
To all the little one’s that live in fear
To the boys who pack heat until their hearts are seared
To the girls who give in because they want them boys to care
To the grandma who preaches throughout the years,
Big Mama your words did not fall on deaf ears
To the mother who cries and tries and perseveres
To the father, my daddy, who hurts, your pain is sincere I know if you could you’d love to be here.

Its for the haves and the have nots,
The should and should nots,
The wants and the want knots in the pit of my stomach this is not the end though the moments may feels as if they are suspended in animation this is no forever situation we will move beyond the momentary irritation and be better for it
So release the flood gates our souls need irrigation for hope we cry out in lamentation cause we know its true, only Jesus can save us

So here’s to the throwbacks of cracked sidewalks where roses appear red elegance its beauty instills hope where there was fear that even where there’s ugly beauty will appear
So bloom my block boys and bloom my block girls these throwback they grow back to move forward overcoming the years

Justice Trust This

2011-06-20T09:41:00.000-07:00

singing:
Justice trust this its for everyone
I’m telling you this justice trust this its for everyone
Justice trust this its for everyone
I’m telling you this justice trust this its for everyone
Justice trust this its for everyone
I’m telling you this justice trust this its for everyone

You see my people we’re getting lazy and our sight is getting hazy where there is no vision we will perish and die
We live in a world without real lovers our hate it hides and hovers over mask we’re too afraid to cry
So we give in to our frustration complacent our situation my people I implore you to give one love a try
To cry out for justice cause our children trust us and we’ve got to bust this open wide its time
Time
Time to set the captive free
No more will poor education be our noose and tree
We’ll find hope in our unwritten histories the things they’re to afraid to teach us
Cause in the end its ignorance that defeats us beats us
Secret
Cause in the end its ignorance that defeats us beats us
Not a secret
Cause in the end its ignorance that defeats us beat us
Repeat us in the same old chains doing the same ol’ thang playing the same ol’ games until we go insane
We are filled we rage
We stand inflamed
I will not be caged
I will break this chains
Its time to turn this page

singing:
Justice trust this its for everyone
I’m telling you this justice trust this its for everyone
Justice trust this its for everyone
I’m telling you this justice trust this its for everyone
Justice trust this it for everyone
I’m telling you this justice trust this it for Osama

I was walkin’ down the street the other day when injustice approached and walked by my way
At first I was confused I didn’t know what to say cause usually I’d turn around and walk the other way
But today it was different I refused to be the same I picked up my voice that had sat in decay I
Re-recorded new message pressed play the whole street moved and started to sway
The people came out and they began to sing
Injustice was afraid and couldn’t believe how humanity began unifying because of one small voice that decided to sing
Injustice felt sad and started crying and I know that its bad but I was kind of happy to see this bully a broken being and then I felt pain and I fell to my knees
A bright light began sternly speaking, get off your high horse remove the label and see that injustice is justice in human frailty and both of them are living in the blood of your being
So I reflected saw the proof in the truth how human hands were the cause of living uncouth
Actions and decisions missing precision in love
So I turned to injustice and I give it a hug
And suddenly like magically it just appeared one love it cried out when we gave up fear
Injustice stood up and shed a tear and decided it was time for a new career
Changed its name to just justice and grew strong and gladly one love became our hearts song
And we learned that anyone and anything can change we just got to have the courage to remove the chains

singing:
Justice trust this its for everyone
I’m telling you this justice trust this its for everyone
Justice trust this its for everyone
I’m telling you this justice trust this its for everyone
Justice trust this its for everyone
I’m telling you this justice trust this its for everyone

Justice trust this its for everyone to pursue from me to you
It’s the choice not to live violent
The choice not to be silent in the midst of it all
It is not limited or defined by our melonin but it cannot be enacted without the human
This justice trust this for everyone to pursue from me to you
So what are we going to do?

Free Write: Based on Last Word

2011-06-06T09:21:00.000-07:00

This countertop is cold
Cold like the look I gave you when I told you to go
Go away from here
Here is where you left me
Me, a word I say too often
Often I find myself standing in a room with no walls but obvious boundaries
Boundaries is what my heart needs to keep it inside this flesh, you see
Seeing is believing but what if you are blind
Blind to the World
The World can be so cold

Generally Speaking...

2011-05-31T14:19:00.000-07:00

Generally speaking this website hasn't gotten much play lately. It has been slightly overshadowed by the handiness of a notebook and pen that can go everywhere with me versus a computer and internet that is really only functional in sedentary places.

As of late, I have been feeling a lot like I am chasing the sun/Son. Clearly, that cannot be so. My brain tells me that the sun/Son has been chasing me, and so I akwardly cock my head backwards to try to catch a glimpse of the rays but they remain unseen. To me at least.

More often than not I am confused and conflicted. My heart and mind simoultaneously abuse each other. Productivity is low and in the heat of this unruly adventure I sweat profusely...waiting for my deodorant to kick-in...or give out. This is the anxiety talking; causing me to feel like I cannot do enough, give enough, be enough.

Feeling as if I am forever reaching behind my ears hoping to change the tapes that have been playing since birth. They are not good enough. At times I listen. They tell me I'm not good enough and the battle ensues. It is usually easier to listen to them in complacency than it is continue pushing forward for their changing. On any account, I know that they are not the right casettes and so I will keep reaching until I can change them.

I am not afraid though. This is what causes me to believe Your not chasing me. It pushes me to trust that You are in me. Walking with me. I am not alone.

In this moment I pick up a mental stone. No, not to chuck or throw, to lay down. To build a memorial. To remember that there are times when I find peace and ease despite the complexity and pain of the world around me.

My Mother used to say, "Let go and let God."

When I have children I will say, "Let God. Trust God. God will do whatever God wants whether you are holding on or not. Letting go just may make it easier and little less painful. That said, in the end God works for the good of those who love God."

It'll take a lot longer to say, but it might be a little more descriptive.

No less easier said. And of course, no more easier done.

Silence in the Clinic

2011-04-08T17:26:00.000-07:00

I took you to the clinic today.
We sat in the waiting room making small talk trying to ignore our old friend "worry".
Acting like "Worry" isn't staring us in the face.
Acting like "Worry" isn't pressing in on us from every side.
We would be silent but "Worry" can't be quiet.
"Worry" always seems to fill the empty spaces with "Fear".
And so we push the silence away with our own chatter because "Fear" is a friend to no one, let alone to us.
But at the moment silence would be nice.
We spend so much time in chatter that we neglect to make space to tell eachother that we are afraid.
"Fear" may be a foe, but beign afraid is natural when traveling through the unknown.
If we had space to be honest, the silence to fill with the truth beyond chatter we would know that we are not alone.
"Fear" and "Worry" are not our only companions.
"Courage" stands near because despite "Fear" and "Worry" we move forward asking our questions and taking test where the results whether positive or negative leave us with choices and implications that only lead to more of life's complications and complexities.
Thus we stand holding hands with our friend "Wondering" whom often simply wanders through our days and stumbles through our nights.
As we sit together chatter becomes too laborius, "Silence" too complicated to articulate, and the quiet throbbing of our hearts too loud to bare.
Gently laying my hand on your knee I give you a wordless glance that speaks volumes and I leave the waiting room.
Silenced by labels placed over your mouth you are rejected in many places, frowned upon by self-righteous faces.
How do we remain silent in the midst of so much noisy hatred?
How can we be heard when drowned out by so much pain?
Each of us now sit alone with "Worry" running aimlessly from "Fear".
I commit myself to a chair in the front lobby and you to an examination table surrounded by walls telling stories unheard, marked with frames holding confidentiality statements and public service announcements regarding safe sex practices.
We both sit with our friend "Waiting" in a room where time stands still so there's no telling when we will find healing.
So we sit dealing with the lingering pauses of the second hand...
Tick
Tock
Tick
Tock
Time seems like its slowing but silence is just now beginning to get going and in it we start to wrestle with "Reality"

She Works in Silence

2011-04-08T17:10:00.000-07:00

She cleans his body in silence.
From head to toe she brushes away the dirt of life and hides the visible signs of death with soap suds and water.
Two hours ago he layed here choking, coughing up blood and gasping for air.
19 years old.
Lung cancer left him old and aging too quickly.
His burdened lungs silencing his life's final screams until death quietd his pain.
His family will soon arrive to morn with his decaying body, an empty shell where the only remaining sound is the loud empty space left by his early departure.
She adjust his hair, closes his eyes and places a teddy bear under his right arm before pulling fresh sheets and blankets over his once warm body.
She is selfless.
Moving silently.
Gently restoring his man's frame to resemble that which his family will remember for the rest of their lives.
She watched his screatching death but they'll hold his silent departure in their minds.
She will find loneliness in her memories of him but now works that they may find solitude in his peaceful resting.
Now he looks as if his death came with ease instead of being silenced he appears to have found solitude in silence and peace in death.
The nurse who loved his frame as if it were Jesus' crucified body before her will hold reality alone, accepting a silence that completes the world secretly.
An absense of sound leaving whatevers left after the silence ends to linger.

Free Write: Silence and Life

2011-04-08T17:05:00.000-07:00

These pages are out of order never quite telling the story we intended//And so we supsend our choices afraid to move cause thus far we've struggled to find the groove to our lives animation//So we give in to hesitation//False starts become our reality//Stopping & quitting becomes easier with each misstep that we are tallying//Forgetting that forgiveness often begins within ourselves and then extends to the other//Wanting to love eachother but how can we be lovers when our self-hate we cover with the presence of the other//We become co-dependent security blankets hiding the true depth of our pain//We begin to go insane silencing the stains with shouts and accusations//We silence those which matters because they require us to give up our entitlement for a settlement that leaves space for silent voices to speak the quiet truths that bring volume to our lives//Solitude bringing uninterrupted peace, quite and calm//The difference between being silent and being silenced is the peace of mind that is found in the former over the latter//These moments matter

2011-04-08T16:52:00.000-07:00

To Whom It May Concern:
I'm tired of thinking about you//But your lips have stained my senses and your hands have bruised my heart//I'm wondering where to start the end of a relationship that never went beyond your lip service//Never went beyond your lies but sits embedded in my desire for true companionship//I'd cry but I'm not sure why you did it//And so the only person to cry for would be me//And that is too sad//Feeling bad for yourself is an endless pit//An explanation from you would at least give me a reason outside of myself for the water works//But your too selfish and unaware to do me the honor//I suppose that for you ignorance is bliss//But for me it just leaves my nails attached//Scratching the surface of the ways I'm struggling to let you go

Burnt Popcorn

2011-03-27T16:08:00.000-07:00

Burnt popcorn is a disgusting smell. It permeates everything from the inside out. The air nearly radiates with it. Burning your lungs and searing your taste buds. But even beaneath the stench there lies a a pinch of desire--one can still sense the possibility of salty buttered crunchy goodness upon your tongue. So, you try to eat it.

Bluh.

Its disgusting.

And yet if you are hungry enough, if the craving is strong, you can't help but continue to attempt to eat it.
Hoping to find one soul kernel of popcorn heaven.
Unfortunately, popcorn, when burnt, seems to contaminate the whole bag; even if its just one kernel.

This is my experience with men.
They all seem to come from one big ass burnt bag of popcorn.
Now don't get me wrong. I like men...a lot. I just can't get enough of them.
That said, lets be honest. Some of them are burnt. Messed up. Tore up from the floor up and turned inside out.
And no doubt, once you encounter one like that, the taste lingers in your mouth.
Suddenly, you can't help but smell and taste the smoke in all of them.
Nevertheless, hope prevails.
The craving is strong and you convince yourself you'll find one whose taste doesn't make you sick.
But before you know it the burn begins to stick.
You too become tainted.
The cloud begins to cling to you. Your hair. Your clothes. Just sittin' all up in your nose.
Brought into the fold until you too become just another burnt piece of popcorn contaminating the bag.

Free Writes

2011-03-04T14:46:00.000-08:00

[It would be an understatement to say...]
It would be an understatement to say, “This is complicated.”
It is obviously confusing and the sheer number of parts with which we are dealing is innumerable
They lay, this ridiculous smattering of legos and puzzle pieces, sprawled across the floor of our hearts
So many, so messy, that we each, like children, rebellious to clean-up, deny ownership, refusing to claim any part of this disaster
Our Mother, our conscious, hovers over, pushing us to reconcile within the midst of this playmate situation
We are admonished to pick-up the pieces of life
Beckoned to place them on the appropriate shelves
To store them in bins and hope chests allowing the dust of age to settle upon dreams until they gray, years past turns them nightmares
But at least this playful moment, though chaotic, still beams with youthful bliss and ignorance
We have an obvious fascination for one another
Fancying the disposition of the other above options far less laborious because the challenge leaves us elated
We thus seem fated to sit in midst of the mess
Me in this dress of frustration and you in those pants marking you for an emasculated manhood where I will become your full-time nurturer and part-time lover

[With you...]
With you, life is so easy and yet love grows more and more complicated
I’ve trained myself to ignore this ever present tension
Our friendship remains the most painful position but I am convinced that the pain is merely a sign of how much it is worth
My heart and mind are always contorted wrapped up wishing that we could once again have this conversation cause I still can’t understand why we can’t be together
Our friendship flows like water
Forging paths through uncharted territory, namely my soul
And your presence a slow moving glacier leaves me cold to the many fish of the sea
They are a poor man’s love
But despite this knowledge
I turn to him with whom life is hard but passion comes easy
Never fully being what I’m wanting his touch is just enough to fill the gap
And each morning leaves me,
Fleeing the darkness that holds emotions compressed between the twilight of night and the dawn of day
The light of the passion expressed in action and the darkness of feelings never expressed in word
You hold my heart while I hold his hand leaving me heartless bound in the flesh to another man

Artistic Reflecation

2011-02-10T16:30:00.001-08:00

Wish I'd known earlier, but at least I know now.
What to do?
*pondering*
Write about it.
Speak word about it.
Sing songs about it.
Turn deep sorrow and great joy into art.
In the end, let yourself not be known by your reaction, but instead by your artistic reflection.
So, Life, feel free to happen,
But know that I shall do more than respond.
I shall create.

Records Skip

2011-01-23T10:48:00.001-08:00

You words skip through my mind like a broken record,
Always spinning but never moving forward,
In play but always repeating
Giving you space to be retreating
Causing my love to be receding.
And the repetition of your statement is the hammer beating the nail in the coffin of this relationship.
Every start is shorter with every ending longer,
And I just grow more numb to the needle of this record player attempting to play scars like vinyl.
And every time I think this is it,
There goes that damn skip.

With this Pen

2011-01-23T10:43:00.000-08:00

With this pen in this book
I shall write the words of my heart
Pushing them out, so as to not let them rip me apart,
And because I'm an artist this will be my healing,
Returning sensitivity, renewing my feeling,
From heart to pen
From pen to paper
From paper to mind to mouth to where I stand planted on this stage will be the place of my resurrection.

If you're listening lose all discretion,
Feel and you too shall find healing,
We are about to get real
Finding true restoring in the craft of our wording.

Full Attention (Intro Spit)

2011-01-23T10:41:00.000-08:00

First Love,
I must apologize for how I've ignored You,
Truth is I should adore You, Love
I've hurt You,
Turned my back on You,
And You still wait patiently for me to turn to You,
First Love, I'm comin' home,
Back to You, Love
Givin' You alone my full attention

How You Gonna (Draft 1/No Chorus/No Bridge)

2011-01-23T10:36:00.000-08:00

You swoop in unpredictable / I'm standin' there wide open / Young heart so fillable / You knew the truth / It was inevitable / I should have listened when you said this will be terrible

I was blind / Made me a spectacle / You could see / Wearing those spectacles / You tried to tell me but I couldn't listen / Your actions were lieing / Your words didn't glisten / So we're here in the end / I'm livin' skeptic / This relationship is all the more hectic

I want to give up/ I want to say bump it / But this lump in my throat is leavin' me huntin / Searching for water that you the one holdin' / But if I'm honest you're steady with holdin' / No I'm wonderin' do I move on or step to you bolder

(Dancing) One Fine Day

2011-01-23T10:30:00.001-08:00

It was like dancing in my room only there were two,
I was mad and you were confused,
If I had known then what I know now I might have known what to do.

You were the guitar playing in my ear,
But our hearts were beating to different tunes,
And now I am hurt and so are you,
But neither of us know what to do.

So I push you away and this all goes to decay,
Angels place a cross where our hearts lay,
And it was like dancing in my room one fine day.

So you'll let me go and we'll get out the way,
And I'll continue dancing one fine day.

New Things

2011-01-12T17:59:00.000-08:00

Dear Family and Friends,

I pray that the New Year is treating you well! It seems early on that 2011 is going to be a year of discovery and change. I am writing you to let you know about my future transition from Urban Impact as the co-director of the Leadership and Mentorship Project.

The past 7 years of my life have been amazing! God has moved in some of the most spectacular and unexpected ways. When I moved to Seattle in October of 2004 to attend Seattle Pacific University I could not have imagined the journey that I would travel. Within the first month of my time in Seattle God showed me that my being in this place was intentional. Dr. John M. Perkins spoke at the SPU Common Day of Learning that year, and as a freshmen my whole world was changed. Dr. Perkins gave language to principals and ideas that I had been pondering my entire life in regards to faith, community, and justice. From that point on, I knew that I was called to serve as a Christian Community Developer.

That same year I began volunteering at Graham Hill Elementary School as a tutor while attending Rainier Avenue Church. Suddenly so many things began to fall into line as God developed in me a strong passion and desire for community, family and youth. In 2005 Urban Impact came into existence and I fell in love! I knew that I had to work for UI! I volunteered for nearly 2 years when the door opened in the summer of 2006 for me to become a summer intern. Serving as a summer intern assured me that UI was where God was leading me. That fall, when UI made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, I was hired to serve with the Mekong Center. By God’s grace and provision I have been blessed to serve with Urban Impact for 2 years as a volunteer and nearly 5 years as an employee.

These have been the most formative and life-giving 7 years of my life!
I thank God for allowing me to be an instrument of praise in the Rainier Valley living and serving alongside my neighbors!

Like all things in life transitions happen and God has called me out of Urban Impact to join another organization. As of January 31st I will no longer be serving with Urban Impact (www.urbanimpactseattle.org), and will therein transition to Year Up (www.yearup.org) to serve as the Recruitment, Outreach and Internship Coordinator. This has by no means been an easy decision. For 7 years Urban Impact, Rainier Avenue Church and Emerald City Bible Fellowship have been my family; taking me in and claiming me as your own. You will never know what your love and support have meant for me. I know that God has a plan and I trust God’s leading for my UI family and friends, myself and the dynamic little sisters and brothers (youth) I have been blessed to have and hold.

I am not going too far away. So, please know that I will continue living and serving in our community. I love you all from the bottom of heart!

If you have any questions, comments, concerns, or thoughts feel free contact me through this blog.

In closing, I leave you with this. This transition has been one of the most challenging experiences of my life, but I am reminded that there is a season for everything. I know and believe that we serve a God who works for the good of those who love God.

Ecclesiastes 3 A Time for Everything

1 There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:2 a time to be born and a time to die,   a time to plant and a time to uproot,   3 a time to kill and a time to heal,   a time to tear down and a time to build,   4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,   a time to mourn and a time to dance,   5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,   a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,   6 a time to search and a time to give up,   a time to keep and a time to throw away,   7 a time to tear and a time to mend,   a time to be silent and a time to speak,   8 a time to love and a time to hate,   a time for war and a time for peace. 9 What do workers gain from their toil? 10 I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. 11 He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet[a] no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. 12 I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. 13 That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God. 14 I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it.

Blessings and Love,

nikkita

Thanksgiving Prayer

2010-11-25T09:58:00.000-08:00

Today life seems so fragile. It feels hard to swallow and yet I am reminded of Your faithfulness, Your enduring love, Your sacrifice for which I am ever thankful.

In the midst of trials, questions and tribulations, I trust You, oh LORD. I trust that Your Word is hidden in my heart. I trust that You will never leave me nor forsake me though I leave and forsake you daily. You, oh LORD, are not like man or woman. You alone are God. You alone are worthy. You alone are holy.

I come before You foolishly baring a small fragment and meek understanding of love because it is all that I have to give to You. I humbly lay it at your feet. I lay it not as repayment for a debt that I cannot repay. I bring this love because you loved us first and that LOVE so moves me to give unto You.

Praise be to God. All thanks and thanksgiving be unto You, oh LORD.

Free Write

2010-11-24T13:44:00.001-08:00

I had the oddest dream last night,
You moved my desk for me.
You claimed that the move was supposed to be encouraging,
Outraged I began questioning,
More like spanish inqusitioning,
None the less,
It ended with you chasing me,
Debating me,
We were undoubtedly arguing.
I woke up remembering,
This had been my idea in the first place,
I feel like we need to grow seperately,
Truth is I'm still struggling with the things that you say and do to me,
You tell me its not happening,
But I'm still questioning the truth of your statements matched up with your actions.
I understand that this is all confusing,
And likely frustrating,
But I'm no longer sure if its worth waiting.

Simply Put

2010-11-23T14:58:00.000-08:00

I sit waiting for the pen to hit the paper,
Anticipating the moment when a thought worth writing spills from this ink,
But this crowded coffee shop doesn't leave much room to think,
Not to mention the one who sits across from me,
Your presence beating, poking, prodding my existence,
And suddenly I am pissed.
Pissed because I'm not sure which synapse or neuron in my brain miss fired when I asked my body to turn off this chemical imbalance that makes me want you,
I'd let you go but every time I turn to rid myself of you its like trying to breath with a hand cupped tightly over my mouth,
And so I sit akwardly,
Waiting to exhale,
Holding my breath,
And this crowded coffee shop already knows what I'm thinking,
They say "don't hold your breath" as if to say "don't bet your life on it" but these things could be said with much more ease and much less sarcasm if you would simply say,
"I can't" or "it'll never happen" or simply put "NO"

Waiting Games

2010-06-23T18:12:00.000-07:00

New Slam Piece-- Per Usual Always Better When Performed.

I don’t go around doing things like this,
That’s what I said,
If I am completely honest most people think I am a prude,
And I am sure a few think that I am just plain rude because of the prudence with which
I approach each and every situation knowing that human inclinations can lie and this makes my position in such a world unnaturally wise,
And since I am easily moved to cry I resort to risk analysis to avoid the catastrophe of great floods from my eyes,
Because my rain quickly becomes a natural disaster in the landscape of my heart and earthquakes can topple my soul leaving piles of rubble,
And with my heart and my soul both rendered helpless my mind runs wild free of its bubble.

So now, June 18th, 2010 you will have become my minds constant playmate,
A companion like no other,
Welcome, be embraced by every other date in the book of my life that now stands still plastered with memories like stone walls,
Your hands hold the hopes and fears of a failed risk analysis
Where the unthinkable became thought and the prudent became the dare devil unabashedly committed to this jump
Unsure whether or not I’d find myself caught in the wreckage,
I accepted the potential of being locked in this cage.

6 18 2010, you could have been a jackpot lotto number,
But instead your eyes now hold moments that disappeared in the mornin’ as the sun rose to greet you with the light of day,
Shining bright on the dark of my eve that now seems only a figment of my imagination leaving me breathless with no words to say,
Only the fleeting feeling of lips pressed to mine with hands on hands pushing back voices shouting, “This will all end in time”.

Yes, this will all end in time,
But in this moment the energy of this first first makes the earth stand still,
And if only for a second time stops,
I have gained uncharted moments with you.

And let’s not forget you, old friend,
4th Avenue Diner,
You will continue to be one of my best,
Corners of your infrastructure hiding memories that only I can see,
Flashbacks on movie screens,
I’ve never had Breakfast at Tiffany’s but breakfast at the diner is good enough for me because it is the place where things happen,
The unexpected, the unthinkable, the unfathomed moment,
That happened nothing like I imagined.

Behind a grease stained menu in a worn out booth,
Surrounded by friends for whom this was a monumental move,
You and I met like ships in the night catching glimpses of light,
And I’m still not sure what its worth.
A moment of honesty and you turned to me,
My mind shouting, “What the hell are you doing? We are still waiting.”
But my heart couldn’t hear the warnings over its beat and just pushed forward,
And I’m beginning to think its true,
Every step forward is two steps backwards.

It was only a kiss, but it meant so much more,
I pry would have kept it had I known better what I was waiting for,
Cause you have not called nor emailed nor text’d,
Facebook is acceptable,
You could poke me at best,
I pry would feel better if post 6 18 2010 we would connect,
Cause I didn’t want my first to be a first and a last,
I hate to look back and have regret in my past,
But I know,
It’s only been 3 days and your busy, I’m sure,
So,
I’ll make an excuse for why there’s lag,
We’ll connect soon and I’ll no longer feel bad,
For giving away what I held for so long,
For 24 years my grip was so strong,
But in a matter of hours you got under my skin,
My defenses were down and my soul let you in,
I couldn’t push back,
So hope hit the ring and went for the win,
And I walked into the unknown leaving my 4th Avenue den.

I want you know that I’m not expecting much,
Life is sort of crazy and time is always a crunch,
But it would be nice if we could have lunch,
So please be to true your word and prove my fears wrong,
Just do me a favor,
Don’t make me wait too long.

5 Day Spread

2010-06-21T12:09:00.000-07:00

The past 5 days have been artistically productive and emotionally draining--a new song and a new slam piece.

This seems to be how my life works. Everything happens all at once, and I spend months trying to catch-up.

Things are changing, and I am not sure if it is a good thing. I am doing my best to keep it simple because it all seems so complicated.

That said, how do you simplify running program with no budget, first kisses wrapped in assurances that may only fall short, struggling friends who are too prideful to accept any sort of love, family wounds that may never heal, a 70 hour work week that you created for yourself because its easier to work than it is to deal with the fall outs of a shitty personal life, youth who can't see beyond the lies that society tells them, a church that doesn't really line-up with what they say, etc. etc. etc.

I don't know.

I suppose the best I can do is hold on to God for dear life.

Life Happens

2010-06-18T16:34:00.001-07:00

Sometimes we do crazy things. Sometimes those crazy things feel good. They are fun, freeing and more than worth it! Other times your tossing and turning in your sleep sludging through excuses and justifications for why everything should be "a ok", but reality is you just don't know.

Crazy has been my middle name for the past few months it seems. I haven't done anything too destructive, but I've been walking that line; pushing the boundaries. This is not typical behavior for me. In fact, it is odd considering that I am consistently risk avoidant. The fear of getting in trouble for even thinking of crossing the line is enough to throw me into a vomit like confessional state in which I divulge every impure thought to the nearest priest. Mind you, I'm not Catholic.

All that said, I'm tired of being straight laced, but not really understanding why. I want to have a genuine regard for these "rules" that I follow and preach. Realistically, that sort of regard is developed by going through some stuff. Please believe, I am going through. Some stuff is of my own creation. Some stuff is the creation of others. That said, in all of it, reality is that LIFE HAPPENS.

Instead of letting life happen to me, I am happening to life. Or more so, happening to live.

So, here's to first kisses in 4th Avenue Diners, using your entire savings to pay off your car, moving in with your sister, applying to 4 masters programs getting in and denying admissions, etc. etc. etc.

Free Write

2010-06-07T22:45:00.000-07:00

Your mouth lies but your eyes tell the truth
So I am searching for proof
Hoping to find fact to affirm my hypothesis
You provide, but in the same stride you deny what everyone else can see

*Listening to The Verve Pipe--The Freshmen
Yes, I know. That is so Indiana high school-esque of me
What can I say? I'm true to my roots...

I Hate My Life (Spoken Word)

2010-06-03T18:48:00.000-07:00

I hate my life,
No, really I do,
I don't even know why.
More often than not at night it seems
My voice is silenced by my own screams
Caught in my throat like chip
I drink, It moves
Slowly etching its way down my esophogus.

And it hurts me,
No, really it does,
I am trying to be happy,
But my face is like one of those Walmart smiley face stickers,
Only its red, stained with my tears like blood,
And instead of rolling back prices
I'm rolling back crisis after crisis,
Tipping bottle after bottle,
Only its getting harder to stay a float.

And I am drowning,
No, really, I am sinking like a rock,
Have you heard of the Titanic?
That's me.
And believe me there ain't no happy love scenes,
Cause I am alone
Sinking helplessly into the icey sea,
Slipping seemlessly into the darkness
Only to be escovated when the CO2 I produce is missed
And my silence turns up absent.

And I am cutting,
No, really I am slicing piecies of me,
Like a butcher I am chopping this woman into mince meat,
Hoping to beat new life into her,
With make-up, eyeliner, tweezers like knives,
Attempting to cut down cast eyes and upside down crescent moon shaped lips into a smile and delightful gaze.
Only to find myself sludging through the haze of my own blood when accidently slicing veins and arteries that feed my heart and my self-love.

And I am bleeding
No, really I am gushing.
Sitting in pools of my own viscera and mayheim
And it is only getting deeper.
So against the lifeguards warnings I climb up to the highest diving board
And I commit myself to falling to my mess
I complacently give up
Residing to just live in it because I couldn't study hard enough for this test.

And I am insecure,
No, really insecurity is my daily fit,
I reach into my closet and I clothe myself in it
Low self-esteem
And instead of sifting through hopes and dreams
I am digging through air brushed models and dirty magazines
I am taking limbs from manequins and replacing my own with plastic implants and silcone domes
I am leaping from airplanes of self-unacceptance without a parachute

And I am falling
No, really I am one mis-step from failing
I am holding a hand full of jokers and I at any moment I'll fold
And all you self-righteous bastards staring down your noses at me will say,
"We told you so"
And like my father's ancestors hauled on to ships sold into slavery my mother's lineage
I will sale myself short to poor theological manefestation and half-hearted inclinations
And I will thus be colonized by past indescretions finding sanctity in partial confessions
And there will be none of me left in my possession

They say sometimes things fall apart
But I am always falling apart
And if all the world is a stage I am its greatest actress
Cause I pick up my cross daily
No I pick up my mask daily
And with semi permanent marker on white board face I draw on a smile
And as you pass by I throw you an arbitrary glance

Cause I am a Christian
But really I am a hypocrite
And I wouldn't want you to know that I am a sinner and not a saint
So I live in spray painted surroundings and mirrages of what could be
If I would only let go and say "Hey world this is the real me and I am struggling"
No really I am suffering
No really I am teeter tottering on faith
But the Word says that whomever loves his life will lose
But whomever hates his life for me will save it
And I hate my life
No really I do
So, am I saved?

Adult

2010-02-22T22:36:00.000-08:00

Whoa! I'm not an adult,
Put this train on hault,
Suddenly post 18 and everythings all my fault.

All this responsibility sometimes feels like hot boxin' in a car,
Gettin' as high as a kite off of
adult rights, beverages and legal life.

And other times its like a cage,
Hands and feet bound in chains,
Broken legs,
Yeah, I'm lame,
Lowered through a window lookin' at Jesus shoutin,
"Hey! Set me free."
Don't leave me
To my own devices
Cause reality is my choices will become my future vices.

My life feels like the civil war,
North and south unsure what we're figtin' for
Is it to end slavery
Grow and sale cotton or
To keep the union together
For the sake of prosperity
Livin in this capitalistic facade
Serach for my true identity

Nah! I'm not an adult
Realizing my selfish impulses put my development on hault,
Arrested in a palce where I have control,
But since I can't let go of this here facade
I'm dragged around by misguided decisions like a rag doll.

I know I'm wrong,
But gettin' smashed looks likes more fun from the start of the tunnel,
Strugglin' now to take all these opportunities and funnel
What's broken,
Yall see that perception is everything and nothin' at all,
And hey even adults fall.

Truth and Lies

2010-02-22T22:33:00.001-08:00

What’s a short fictional story if it makes someone feel good?
Especially when geared towards their desires it does what the truth could.
What’s a white lie or black lie?
Is there a difference?
I think there is and I’ll give you a short reference.
People say the truth will set you free,
But the question is, “To what?”

You told me stories and I believed you,
You were on my short list, one of the trusted few,
Not realizing your fibs are like McD’s,
By the end my heart said, “Please Supersize Me.”

My soul sits full of dissonance,
Truth and lie,
Good and evil,
Ying and yang,
Let’s flip a coin and take a chance.

Sometimes in life it seems like I walk hand-in-hand
With Jesus on the right
The devil on the left
All headed up by a New Orleans funeral band.
We dance merrily as we prance through the streets,
Masked of course,
Hidin’ this eerie beat,
But this music ain’t happy cause it’s a paradox,
And hold up that ain’t no hotel,
That looks like a body box.

So, I lean over to Jesus and ask,
“Did you really die up on that cross?”
Cause the truth is when these lies are converted
Imma be like rotten teeth needing much more than dental floss.
Imma need a cleanin’ from the Professional,
Cause this life has felt like a funeral processional.
These lies have left me dead inside,
I ain’t the quick or the dead,
I’m the livin’ dead.

I’ve been eatin’ poison,
History, music and magazines,
Parents, friends, teachers,
And even siblings.
Folks I never thought brought works with fictional lense,
All their words crash and burn takin’ my soul to a spiritual ends.

But I can’t blame it all on them,
That would be twisted,
Cause I too grabbed that fruit
And fed my mouth double fisted.

Somethin’ said, “This can’t be truth”
So open your mouth and ask for proof,
But I didn’t,
Cause truth be told these lies were like heroine to my soul.
Got me high as a kite, turned my skin pale white,
And when I came down I almost died from this lethal height.

It all feels so good at first,
Feedin’ this endless thirst,
But soon my stomach burst,
And the pain keeps getting’ worse.

All of a sudden the truth it reveals,
And it ain’t good like we think it should feel.

The truth sets you free to reality and sometimes it bites,
You find yourself sittin’ in a dark room prayin’ for any sign or light,
These lies are like my bed bugs and bite me in the night,
I cry,
Wishin’ I could go back in time and set it all right.

That said, here’s what I’ve been set free to,
I’ll forgive and say, “I love you.”
First to myself cause I’m not innocent,
Then I’ll turn to others and try to embrace this relational redevelopment.

I’d be liein’ if I said this doesn’t hurt,
But in movin’ forward I’m speakin’ truth
And sometimes it’s like eatin’ dirt.
There’ve been nights when I’ve cried myself to sleep,
But now that I can feel the light I’m willin’ to take this leap.

When a wound heals it ain’t pretty,
And truth is folks can be sort of petty,
We’ve been infected for a long time,
Often our actions and words have no rhythm or rhyme,
But as these nerves return and this scar develops,
In grace and love I find my soul enveloped.

I am in pain right now,
And it hurts like hell,
But like the old hymn,
In the end,
I will say, “With my soul it is well.”
Like a recovering addict I’m lettin’ go,
And all together too often we’ve been set free
Holding on in fear,
But to what, I don’t know.

The truth has set me free,
It’s somethin’ closer to the real world I see,
So if I’m broken just let me be,
Only my Creator can fix me.

All that said,
Please don’t tell fictional stories just to make someone feel good.
We’re creatin’ addicts who are livin’ far less than they truly could.
And a lie is a lie no matter how you spin it,
You know the truth and it sometimes its hurts,
But let’s try livin’ in it.

Free Write

2010-02-17T09:08:00.001-08:00

I never thought that there would ever be a point where death seemed a better option than emotional pain and turmoil. We grow up reading these dramatic love stories and watching sappy movies often thinking, "How silly!" That said, from where where I stand now, the stories and movies seem no less silly, but also all the more truthful--at least in part.

I never had him, but I loved him. My heart is breaking, but not simply because of love lost or unrequited. So much has changed so quickly and it all seems so unfair. Lord, the turmoil you must have felt when your own creation, whom you not simply had but formed with your own hand, turned against You? I can see a small piece of how death became the only option. How deeply you must have loved us Lord, if I a mere human can feel so broken over people I never truly had to this point of realization.

How deep and wide is your love of LORD that You do not turn and run from us because of the the pain.

Living Dead

2010-02-16T06:50:00.000-08:00

No music.
No dramatic pause.
Just the nitty gritty and thus the end of an era.
The end of my life as I know it--knew it.
I didn't think I could go on like this,
But my empty vessel,
This corpse of a body will keep moving,
I am the living dead.

Hear say is confusing...

2010-02-04T17:25:00.000-08:00

Hear say is confusing,
Especially in regards to matter of the heart,
Seeds pushed down so deep that they tear me apart.

++

(free write)

Knowing what you feel for me is hard.
Why would you tell someone else and not me?
Why would they tell me when you told them to keep it to themselves?
Can I trust what they say?

If it is true, I am afraid.
I am afraid that I may do something that will cause you to stop your feelings for me.

The things that we know can change us.
If you have not yet spoken the truth to me that means that we are not ready to be changed.
By simply knowing I have been changed.
What more will consequently be changed?

++

Hear say is confusing,
Especially in regards to matter of the heart,
Seeds pushed down so deep that they tear me apart.

Free Write 12/26/2009

2010-01-13T21:59:00.000-08:00

Love you from a distance isn't easy when I'm standing so close to you. To be honest, it is painful.

When you are near my heart beats furiously and my stomac, full of butterflies, churns anxiously, anticipating the moment when you will leave.

Once you move from sight that hole returns. that gaping hole in teh center of my chest with its searing edges eating through the whole of me as I want to be truly seen by your eyes.

It is a painful reality to love without reciprocation having given your warmth to someon only to stand in the cold outside their front door unreceived.

Somtimes, like a mut, you crawl to their back door to partak of whatever scraps they may throw, but their garbage leaves you unsatisfied--still hungering, still thirsting for more--their love.

Yet still, without reserve you give yoruself over to them. Taking the pain of budding romance deep within yourself. You stand garnished with a crown of thorns holdign tight to emotions taht are only to be mentioned in drunken moment, called out in times whn no one, not even you, will fully remember what was said. You are left standing in the dark of this cathartic moment clothed in a lingering sense of discontentment and embarassment.

Why do you love given the circumstances?

You do so because it is your purpose to love. Your life is a pursuit of love, a gift of love, a reality of loves actions. Unfortunately, in the world, our love is imperfect and often misdirected. Thus, there are tiems when we love what we do not need, cannot have and should not want. That said, the love between a man and a woman can be beautiful when pruned to the mirror image of Christ and the Church.

So, I wait.

I wait for the moment when this seed becomes a rose and these thorns, while still a struggle, are redeemed with beauty. A beauty not our own but centered upon our 1st love as we look out together in a purposeful moment.

As I wait for you to be ready, loving you from a distance isn't easy when we are standing so close. In fact, it is painful, but this love, in time, will bring to fruition life's beauty.

Love.

[Dear Love] 12/17/09

2010-01-13T21:50:00.000-08:00

Dear Love,
This ain't the 1st time I've written you,
But you already know that.
I'm sure that your mailbox is pretty fat,
Fat like a bear in winter.
Letters just hybernatin',
Waitin' for you to respond.
But you, Love,
You're like waitin' for a court date.
You're PO and Lawyer assure you it's comin' soon,
But in your cell you wait and wait
For a sentence of hope not impending doom.
Usually your messages are far and few,
But every now and gain one comes like a car crash
and BOOM,
You are in LOVE.

Real talk though.
The last time you came to visit
You broke my favorite coffee mug,
You know teh one with the heart
That said, "L.O.V.E."
I let you use it cause
You were convinced it was your name,
But it wasn't for you,
You ain't got that much fame, I think,
Anyhow,
Your response was kind of lame,
Yous said,
"If you weren't just letting anyone use it
Might no have been so fragile,
So easily broken.
One more drop and BAM its gone.
That's your fault and I can't
Replace it.
Suppose you gonna have to pick up the pieces and
Face it.

But now that I think about it
You just might be right.
I suppose in themoment
Emotion Won
Got Defensive
Would rather fight.

So, Love,
When you get this letter,
Please forgive me
I've been careless
And now that
I'm broken reality
I see.
I'll do some work
a little healing
And next time you come around
Please,
Don't forget me.
Your always welcome
In your hometown of
H.E.A.R.T.

Sincerely, Yours

True Love

2010-01-08T18:12:00.000-08:00

As I sit and read the writing of young people in our programs I realize that we are all the same. We are all longing for love. We are all playing the game using all of the defensive and offensive techniques that we've watched from those who have come before us. We play the game in hopes of not being caught with our pants down. No one wants to be vulnerable because no one wants to get hurt. Unfortunatley, vulnerability is how we truly love.

Love isn't about emotion. Love isn't about catering to feelings of like or dislike. Love isn't about our flesh, these carnal desires. Love is about sacrifice. When you love someone you are willing to give up your own personal wants and desires when they aren't in the best interest for the one whom you desire.

Love isn't the stuff of Hollywood movies. True love is the stuff that we hide. Love is sometimes ugly. It is the grit and toil, the mundane of life, the things that we often don't want to do but should. Love isn't easy. You don't love if you want an easy life. You lust if you want a passion of ease. You lust if you want to be physically fulfilled, but truly lonely. You love if you want to be purposeful, if you want to care, if you want to hope, if you want to share, if you can accept struggle, if you aren't afraid of sacrifice. Love is beautiful, but sometimes the realities of it can be harsh, even ugly.

True love is sacrifice.

if only

2010-01-06T20:11:00.001-08:00

if only my words could sway you
if only i could gather your love
gather it like daisies in a meadow
placing their yellow faces within my heart shaped vase

if only my love could open your eyes
if only i could show you
pulling away the drapes from your eyes
that you would see what i see

"if only" is a sad statement
because it only means "i can't"

++

its just one of those days...
this too shall pass

From a Distance

2010-01-03T14:24:00.000-08:00

Loving you from a distance isn’t easy when I’m standing so close to you.

To be honest, it is painful.

When you are near my heart beats furiously and my stomach, full of butterflies, churns anxiously anticipating the moment when you will leave. Once you move from sight that hole returns. That gaping hole in the center of my chest reappears with its searing edges eating through the whole of me as I wait to be truly seen by your eyes.

It is a painstaking reality to love without reciprocation having given your warmth to someone only to stand in the cold outside their front door without receipt.

Sometimes, like a mutt, you crawl to their back door to partake of whatever scraps they may throw, but their garbage leaves you unsatisfied—still hungering, still thirsting for their love.
Yet still, without reserve, you give yourself over to them. Taking the hurt of budding romance deep within yourself. You stand garnished with a crown of thorns holding tight to emotions that are only to be mentioned in drunken moments. Called out in times when no one, not even you, will fully remember what was said. There you are left standing in the dark of this cathartic moment clothed in a lingering sense of discontentment and embarrassment.

Yet, you still love.

Why do you love given the circumstances? You do so because it is your purpose to love. Your life is a pursuit of love, a gift of love, a reality of true loves actions. Unfortunately, in the world our love is imperfect and often misdirected. There are times when we love what we do not need, cannot have and should not want. That said, the love between a man and a woman can be beautiful when pruned to the mirror image of Christ and the Church.

So, I wait. I wait for the moment when this seed becomes a rose and these thorns, while still a struggle, are redeemed with beauty. A beauty not our own, but centered upon our 1st love as we look out together in a purposeful moment.

As I wait for you to be ready, loving you from a distance isn’t easy when we are standing so close. In fact, it is painful, but this battle , in time, will bring to fruition life’s beauty—love.

Free Write: Randomly Thoughtful

2009-12-07T13:20:00.000-08:00

Sittin' in a room full of sinners and saints
Judged as delinquents, wearin' jumpers, caged.
But the only sinner I see is the one inside of me
Society, so blind, these angels they'll never see.

++

Wishing we were on a beach
Feeling soft sand beneath my feet
Sunshine on my face
Replacing the dull with radiant grace

++

Sunshine on my face in the dead of winter fills my soul with your golden goodness. These rays of light like arms lift me to a place that transcends the worry of the day. In the light of your love these nightmares become as fiments unseen. My darkness is disheveled with the pulling of drapes from eyes the windows to my soul enabling refreshing water to fill this empty cavern washing clean these cold stone walls of mud.

++

Heard this before in a ten week class where my professor came garnished with a bow tie. How hard can it be? Open your mouth, speak, close your mouth, and move along. That said, i suppose practice makes permanent and ill-preparatino can leave you speechless hearing only the chatter of a crowd dismayed with yoru presentation. So, I'll disappear into the crevices of my mind inviting the characters of my imagination to come out to play until we finish.

++

Monday.
I love Mondays!
A fresh start to old habits. a clean slate to demolish historical lists of to dos that sit upon my throne, a 6x4 desk decorated with keyboard, screen and phone. Yes, I have a phone. It has voicemail too. I'm really not that important. That said, I also have busness cards and a company email. While I'm not essential, I at least feel important and that makes all the difference. Well, it at least makes a difference on Monday.

++

Do what I say and not as I do. My parents must have had this motto at some point. I don't think that believe as such anymore. Mauybe that is why I had a hard time listening. I think recently they've come to realize that I am not blind. I'm not deaf either, but my actions my have conveyed otherwise. Presently they talk a lot less and hide a lot more. One would think its because I'm older, but I honestly think it is because they are older and are tired of repeating theirselves and/exhausted from defending theirselves.

Free Write: Somtimes Things Vibe

2009-12-04T11:13:00.001-08:00

Sometimes things vibe.
Sometimes their are no vibes just the reverberation of feelings and emotions left unarticulated and thus unrequited.

I hate reverb, but it is so telling of what is going on beneath the surface. The messages of sound waves unseen, but suddenly heard can be shocking. The impact of that shock can be dynamic and/or detrimental. It really just depends on the house and what damage is sustained. If the damage is catastrophic will you rebuild or simply move on? What if the damage appears minimal and you repair but years from now it is found unfit, have you wasted your time?

Sometimes things vibe.
Other times things seriously vibrate, no, seriously shake like an earthquake.
I am waiting for the ground to stop moving beneath my feet, but until it does I will come out from under this table, climb on top and ride this shock like a wave. I know its dangerous, but I am willing to take the risk. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but your words can ever scar me. Am I too blind to see the signs? Am I waiting in vain?

Sometimes things vibe.
Today there was no vibe.
A ten minute car ride left me feeling helpless, no, hopeless. Clinging to you the way a hungry child clings to their mother's breast. Pining for the smallest amount of redemption in our conversation. That said your subtle defenses leave me hurt and yearning for your approval, no, your recognition that everything is better than fine. Many have the power to upset me, but only you have the power to hurt. Ignorance, no, a lack of desire to see enables me to overlook your sly remarks for the time, but they will bite me in my sleep. Your words are my bed bugs and your lack of action the essence of my nightmares.

Sometimes things vibe, but today you shook me empty.

Random Free Write 120209

2009-12-02T21:25:00.000-08:00

I can't believe that it is already December. Just yesterday it was June. The obvious time disparity would explain why I am so damn tired.

I can barely believe that it has been nearly two years since I graduated from college. Evenmore I can barely believe that I have been living in Seattle for nearly six years. Six years is a long time. I thought for sure that I would be off galavating around the world by now. That was my dream. I suppse this gypsy found something/someone she loves more than adventure or maybe she has just found the adventure of a lifetime. RELATIONSHIP(s).

I am so disappointed about my trip to NYC...cancelled.

I am completely blown away by Mother's generosity...she bought me a plane ticket for later in the month. That is one of the nicest things she has ever done for me.

There are these two rocks on my desk from summer 2007. In the center of one is written the word "mana" aka "manu" meaning "what is this?" in Hebrew. The other "love". Make of it what you will. There is a sermon in there somewhere.

Sermon.

What am I going to talk about FUZE next Tuesday?

I was thinking...

The Real Birth Story---all the scandalous details...

Free writing sucks tonight. I have too many thoughts and not enough mental energy to make them coherent.

TOP THREE WORDS TODAY... "I WANT YOU"

Random Free Write 11222009

2009-11-22T20:41:00.000-08:00

Generally speaking... I suck at this thing called "life". The upside of sucking early on is that I have the prime opportunity to become the "MILL"--Most Improved 'Liver' in a Lifetime. Yes, yes, I know, doesn't everyone want to become a MILL.

Currently, I am sitting in my office, staring at a pile of junk that needs to be sorted and organized. I have more work to do this week than I did last week. I didn't get half-way through last week's to do list. Who am I kidding? I never get half-way through my to do list before another week starts. Can you imagine how many to do list are currently sitting on my desk? Well, none. I threw them all away in hopes that on Monday I can start over. (I'll dig them out of the trash when I get into the office on tomorrow morning. I need them.)

Additionally, I am struggling with my very own tale of two cities. Where shall I live next year? New York City or Seattle. New York City or Seattle. New York City or Seattle.

My mind is shouting, "just choose."
My heart is saying, "recognize the impact."
My soul is crying out for direction.
My body wants to sink.
I want to sink down a into hole of darkness. A hole so deep that the smallest light would seem as bright as the sun. Eventually I'll be forced to choose, but for now I'll sink deep into my bed far below my comforter tucked tightly in my sheets and the light of new day will do just fine for now.

There is a still small voice inside of me that beckons me to peace, calling me to rest, but I cannot stop this moving. This movement is my life. I fear that if I stop moving I will cease to exist. If I cease to exist have I therefore died?

And I'm lonely. Not lonely for friends. I have plenty. I am lonely for a companion. Someone with whom I share life. However, I'm not desperate. It has to be right. I'd be lieing if I didn't admit that I have someone in mind. If only they would oblige and follow suite I think we could be happy. That said, thinking is not knowing and the only way to know is to try. The only way to try is to oblige. In this instance my love is a ship without water. Lonely as I may be I am never hopeless. There is always hope. Just sometimes my hope is really tiny while other times it is really big and looks a little more like passion. Sometimes my passion is really tiny while other times it is really big and looks a little more like fire. (In those times it may even feel like fire.)

In the long run, I am happy, but not to be confused with joyful. However, I am that too. I am joyful. I am pry more joyful than I am happy. I suppose that is the way it should be since joy lasts a lot longer.

I miss you.

Isn't funny how some of the most powerful statements are the shortest.
The one's with three words seem to mean a lot.
I need you.
I want you.
I love you.
I miss you. I always seem to come back to this one.

God is good. I always seem to come back to this one too.

You've Got Mail

2009-11-18T16:38:00.000-08:00

Do you remember the movie "You've Got Mail"?

In this day and age of technology and modern day communication I feel as if my psyche is marked. By this I mean, unlike my grandmother, and even my mother, I wait for a text message, an email, a facebook post, a voicemail, a phonecall on my mobile device, or a tweet, instead of a letter, a short note, a card, a post card, or a telegram. I can not only move around the house while talking on my mobile device, but I can wonder the entire country (and with the right cell phone plan the entire world) while talking to someone.

What's even crazier is that my grandmother, and even my mother, used to memorize signatures and hand writing. I recognize ring tones, digital names and logins.

My grandomother, and even my mother, used to wait for love notes and flowers. I wait for love emails and text message with smiley faces.

I have to say, all this comparison is making me nostalgic for the past. I want love notes and flowers. I would rather recognize your signature than your username. I know your ringtone and what your name looks like visually on the screen of my phone when you call, but I haven't a clue what your handwriting looks like. I can look up your facebook anytime I want to, but I'm afraid to call you and ask you out for dinner. This is a sad (slightly disturbing and definately creepy) reality.

I'm tired of waiting for a messages in my inbox. I am so used to information being at the tip of my fingers that when I actually have to wait for something (or Lord forbid look for something) I grow impatient.

Is there a cure for the impatience and poor work ethic created by the "microwave popcorn" philosophy of this current generation?

I hope so... cause I'm searching.

Until then, I've got mail.

No really, I do.

Now and Later

2009-11-16T23:06:00.000-08:00

I wish I could call you.
I wish I could call you right now.
Unfortunately, I can't.
This sucks.
Really, it does.
However, it could always be worse.

At least I have this handy dandy blog to let the world know, and maybe even you, that I wish I could call you.
Right now.

Even better.
Now will pass and it will eventually be later.
Maybe later I can call you.

an account

2009-11-14T13:34:00.001-08:00

Warmth pours from the sanctuary
Beckoning me to enter the space
So dimly lit by candle light

Where music moves through the air
Brushing this beautiful soul
Stroking my heart with golden notes only God knows

They sit and stand,
Mournfully celebrating in the presence of the deceased
Not the death but the life that she leaves

If you look,
My mama sits in the front row
I love that black dress
Her hand on my sister’s
Moving with a mother’s gentle caress

She’s got tears up on her cheek
Red where there once was white space
Surprisingly there’s a smile on her face
As pictures of a small girl grown into a woman
Flash across a screen while set to joyful music

My brother hides his face
Never looking at the case
But its cleared he is moved by emotion
As he shakes violently never making a sound
Other than a momentary hiccup to catch his breath
*breathe*
He glances around

I wave to him but he can’t see
Blinded by grief and this decomposing body
I wish he could see what I see
The glory of God and this brand new me
I struggle to say it but truth is I’m happy

A friend walks to the podium and begins to speak
I’m anxious to hear what they’ll say about me
But before I can listen I stroll to the front
Where the box is set and flowers hung

Ma, it’s much more festive than I would have thought
Yellow daisies and lilies to place at the plot
I look in the case where my humanity lay
I recognize the face an empty vessel made of dirt and clay
The body at rest cause death is inevitable
But in God we trust cause life is eternal

They start to say nice things about the life I lived
Of course,
Only the visual public memories
As if to disregard my private sins

But I can’t hide I know what I did,
Where I’ve been,
My own personal hell on earth hidden deep within

Suddenly I’m flooded by the truth
Falling to my knees
*Hard STOP*
The candles CEASE and it is DARK

These wounds like festering disease
Old demons haunting me
Those things in life that captured me,
Outright enrapture me
Chaining my attention to earthly frivolity,
Keeping me from the one who created me

Darkness falls
I strain my new eyes
Searching for any sign of light or life
No, not separation, not separation
My God why have you forsaken me?
Why have you denied me access to You
For whom my spirit thirst and seeks
Both in life and in passing
I’m on my knees begging God please
Don’t leave me like this

Is that there a candle?
Even a small light cannot be hidden in darkness.
I crawl towards it.

Wait!
Do you hear that?
I know that voice.
I’ve heard it before but not like this
New ears bring clarity to a sound once hidden
By the static of humanity

*singing*
Be still and know that I am God x3

Darkness gives way to light
A light that I have never seen before
Receiving with more than eyes wide open
Not just windows but my soul fully revealed
No longer concealed by grave clothes
Free to receive this love envelops me
Lifting me up in arms on angels wings
To a new elevation away from this twisted defiled creation

I look down to earth and see their faces
The ones I love left with my life’s traces

I turn to God and begin to plead:
Most High, my God,
Please hear me.
My life ain’t been perfect
I’ve made some mistakes
Left some with hurts that I cannot take
But LORD God I ask this time you’d redeem
I know there’s some good from the life that I leave
It can’t all be bad if its you that I see

A gentle voice reaches deep down inside of me:
Love, It’s already done
I’ve search the crevice and caverns of your soul
In your life I knew when you would sit and when you would rise
Nothing in your time has been a surprise
Even your darkness has shined like day unto me
A legacy of love your life redeemed
Yes, I saw your private iniquities
Yes, some have experienced them as public realities
But I forgave them when you fell on bended knee
And your savior interceded
Like a lawyer on your behalf (to me)

There are no tears past that stone
NO nashing of teeth shall you see
No separation from me
I want you
You’ve been made clean

Well done my love,
My good and faithful servant,
Welcome home
Won’t you come to sit and talk (w/me)
Ask your questions and concerns from earth that you bring
And afterwards there’s celebration
One of greatest parties you’ll ever see
We’ll sing, we’ll dance, hey, I know you like to eat
So, there’ll be food you’ll sit with me
Guest of honor
My child who has come home to be with family

Prayer

2009-10-28T20:01:00.000-07:00

Yes, LORD your servant is listening. I recieve this calling. I am afraid of the responsibility, but I trust You LORD. I will mess up somewhere along the way and so I ask your forgiveness now (and will without a doubt ask again later). LORD, I know You are faithful. You will go before me, walk with me and stay when I leave. Will You come into where I am broken and make me usable? I love You LORD. I place my life in Your hands. This extra ordinary woman trusts You. Do something extraordinary in me LORD that I may serve You well.

Time will Tell

2009-10-23T22:58:00.000-07:00

How is it that all once you can say...

Don't wait for him, but be patient with me.

Your too good for him, but I don't want you.

I love you, but I can't be with you.

I need you, but keep your distance.

You are the one, but I can't.

I tell you now...

It hurts me, but it won't kill me.

It bends me, but it won't break me.

I want you, but I don't need you.

I'd live life with you, but I can live without you.

I love you, but I can let go.

I'm waiting now, but not forever.

Time will tell.

Plane Rides

2009-10-22T00:05:00.000-07:00

Plane rides give you a lot of time to think...

I was thinking...

I'd write you love letters with paper and pen.

I'd play guitar and sing to my heart's content every morning and every night.

I'd journal each day so as not to forget one moment of this life together.

I'd go to jazz and reggae clubs without reservation because I'm honestly there for the music.

I'd always have my camera so that I could capture those images that I'd otherwise see only once and inevitably have no one, at the time, to share it with.

I'd tell you I love you and this time you would hear me.

I'd ask for forgiveness and you would oblige.

I'd never miss a sunrise and would take time out to stare at the wonder of the sunset.

I'd think more and speak less.

I'd memorize the contours of your face and the texture of your laughs before you walk away from me.

I'd write my heart song so you could sing it with me.

I'd paint the pictures of my mind.

I'd tell stories that reveal truth and heal wounds.

I'd say those things of which I'm most afraid but most need to hear.

I'd ask with courage and faith those questions to which I know no earthly answer exists.

I'd stop toiling to my own avail and remember that one of the greatest gifts we have to give is our "touch". To touch one another physically, to touch each other's lives, to be touched and to receive touch--love.

I'd let You strip me naked of these grave clothes and clothe me as your bride--redeem me--redemption.

I'd let go of these insecurities and ignore the societal pressures and standards of beauty and acceptance.

I'd let go of my pride and let you inside.

I'd admit I'm afraid of the possibilities and so I write them off as impossible. I would in turn recognize the possibilities.

I'd rescue you if I could rescue myself.

I'd never worry if I could always remember Your in control--your footprints in the sand and my body in your hands.

I'd pray without ceasing if I could just get started.

Plane rides can give you too much time to think and just enough time to try to forget.

I Get Myself in Trouble

2009-10-22T00:00:00.000-07:00

I swear I get myself in trouble.

I care so much, but by worldly standards I care too much. I don't want people to take me the wrong way and yet they do.

It is hard to be kind, friendly and compassionate without someone thinking:

1. You have other motives. Folks can't just be nice. It seems people always assume there are strings attached.

2. You are trying to holler. Usually not the case with me. I don't have enough guts to holler. Not to mention, I don't want to holler like this.

It is very frustrating. At what point does it become clear..."I honestly care. I don't have any other motives. I just care for you and your well-being. Can I do that? Can I be there for you?"

Anyhow, enough of my rant and rave...

Song Writer's Block

2009-10-01T20:18:00.001-07:00

I got plenty of chords,
Plenty of bridges,
I've even got the chorus,
But I'm missin' the lyrics.

What's a heart to do,
When they can find the tune,
But the words are far and few,
Heart trapped,
Steady feelin'.

*I need some lyrics...*

Five Lucky Kisses, One True Love

2009-09-22T15:45:00.000-07:00

It’s harder to say,
But easier to feel,
Now I know that it’s the real deal.
It took me a while,
And five lucky kisses,
But I found the one whose lips I’ve been missin’.

He had a car,
With nice leather seats,
And his platinum made us Emerald City royalty.
He had good manners,
Charisma to boot,
One day we went out,
I had nothing to lose.

So he ordered up food that I’d never seen.
The china design, it mesmerized me.
I imagined us here just ten years later,
My heart skipped a beat,
Could I be twitterpated?

When the evening was done,
The moon hangin’ high,
We stood on my step,
I stared in his eyes.
I gave him the look and then he leaned in,
And instantly I knew this just wasn’t him.

So, I shook his hand and bid him goodnight,
Knowing that he was gone with the night.

It’s harder to say,
But easier to feel,
Now I know that it’s the real deal.

Now next on my list was a simpler guy,
He didn’t care if his clothes were torn or dyed.
His black skinny jeans,
He wore everyday,
He was the smartest guy that I’d ever date.

He had classic looks,
With a nice chiseled chin,
Blonde hair, blue eyes,
And yes, he is white,
Don’t judge me or him,
We were in love, or so we thought,
But something changed quick,
And we were broken up.

It happened like this,
One beautiful evenin’,
When we were disectin’ philosophical meanin’,
I batted my eyes and gave him the sign,
But as we leaned in I knew he just wasn’t mine.

So, I gently retreated,
And then broke it down,
He understood cause one logic we’d found,
He said, “You’re a great woman and your argument is sound.
I really appreciate it with an easy let down.”

And just like that he was gone in a flash,
Our world’s separated no longer to clash.
But he wouldn’t be the last on my list,
Cause that was only my second kiss.

It’s harder to say,
But easier to feel,
Now I know that it’s the real deal.

He was a jock,
Not usually my type,
But I decided generalities can be trite,
So I took a risk,
Got lost in his glance,
And found myself given him a chance.

Beautifully sculpted,
From his head down through his legs,
This man was strong,
And could run circles round me for days.
But his best attributes were not his calves nor glutes,
But instead his warm heart and his godly roots.

He knew the Word inside and out,
He followed the way,
And would even shout,
We went for a walk one sunny day,
We sat on a bench,
He started to pray.

“Dear LORD,
Most High of Heaven and earth,
Give us a sign if this is my girl.”
And with an Amen I then felt his hand,
He plastered a kiss and while it was bliss,
It was clear from his lips that he was crossed off the list.

And with great disappointment,
We went divided ways,
But I won’t forget the way that man prayed.

And now after three I sat by a tree,
Feelin’ discouraged that alone I would be.
If the God fearing man just wasn’t the one,
What would I do, this hope was weighing a ton.
And with the warmth of the sun,
The most high gave me a hug,
And said, “Be patient, I’m far from done.”

It’s harder to say,
But easier to feel,
Now I know that it’s the real deal.

Now, number four was a man I adore,
With a beautiful heart,
Love was only the start.
He was a musician and artist for sure,
He knew my gift, my soul’s open door.
And when he would sing,
It all felt so clear,
That he was the one, my future dear.
My heart he had won,
Each note we would sing,
But there was a problem with our harmony.

It was a glorious evening,
Simple it was,
We sat at piano, our voices, our love,
Our melody and harmony woven together,
The angels sang with us,
The moment was light as a feather.

We started to sing,
And he took the lead,
I followed behind with fine harmony,
He stood from piano,
And reached for my hand,
And suddenly I realized,
He’s just my good riend.
And as he leaned in,
I felt his embrace,
I pushed him away and closed up the cased,
I told him the truth that I loved him much,
But that he wasn’t the one that I want.

He said, “It’s ok.
Let’s continue to sing.
I know someday we’ll both be happy.
And we’ll write a song,
The kind makes hearts long.
And that will be our short love song.”

It’s harder to say,
But easier to feel,
Now I know that it’s the real deal.

And while number five was the best of them all,
I’ll save you the story,
And tell you he’s wrong.
A wonderful man of that I am sure,
But the truth of the matter is I’m not his girl.

And after kiss five I stood and I looked,
I gazed in the mirror like reading a book.
I washed my face,
And brushed my teeth and found a truth,
A lovely piece.
I took off my make-up and let down my hair,
I looked up to God and gave Him a dare.
“LORD, you know my heart,
And the things that I need.
I give up this search,
And fall to my knees.
I pray for the man that you will give me.
May he love You first,
Be kind and believe.
Protected and guided through your eyes we’ll see.
He’ll have warm heart and live compassionately,
And when the times is right one we will be,
But until then I live one and only for thee,
This time is a gift,
Yes, Lord, let it be.”

It’s harder to say,
But easier to feel,
Now I know that it’s the real deal.
It took me a while,
And five lucky kisses,
But I found the love that I’ve been missin’.
Yo, Jesus is NOT my boyfriend,
Like some like to say,
Yo, he is my God,
My friend through whom I am saved.
The truth of the matter is I’ve learned to love me,
And yes, I am single, to serve I am free.

About Me...

2009-08-08T16:33:00.000-07:00

It has taken some time, but as of August 8, 2009 the below outlines a number of things I believe to be true in regards to myself, faith and the world around me... WARNING: I am young, and even when I am old, these could change given the right cross-section of God, revelation, and truth. I make no claims of perfection. I am most certainly fallible. It is not a question of will I change my mind or will I disappoint and/or hurt someone I love, but instead a question of WHEN? That said...

"I belong to God no matter how hard I try to run.
Good thing we have a Good Shepherd or else I'd always be running in the wrong direction.
Faith is central to who I am and how I live.
I'm Christian, but you might be surprised at how that ACTUALLY unfolds.

Working hard is a passion.
I am a life-long learner and aspire to be an academic.
Praxis is where the rubber meets the road and I can't learn without it.

I crave, need and want healthy relationships with others.

Equity, justice and righteousness are more than passions--they are a must!

Service is a way of life--as is obedience.

I love children and youth.
I am passionate about healthy families.

Reconciliation is central and essential to Christian theology.

Honesty is a MUST.
I love it when folks are genuine.
I'd prefer you tell me the truth and possibly hurt my feelings momentarily than live in a lie.

A life without music would not be a life worth living.
The Arts leave me breathless and yet fill me with the breath of life.

I love being in love...especially when the love is shared.
My heart and trust are easily given, but once broken much harder to restore.

My body is a temple and I must learn to treat it as such.

I am passionate and full of fire and attitude.
Discipline is the director of passion and therefore necessary.
Ambition is a close friend.
Loyal to the end.
Emotional to the core.
Cool and calm when pertinent.

For life I have a plan but living requires flexibility.

My life starts and ends with an act of love.

Personal Philosophy:
To be salt and light in the world:
Trusting God
Loving People
Living Life
By faith, with hope and in love."

Faith.Hope.Love.

2009-07-25T16:54:00.000-07:00

Searching for a philosophy
To live this life that God has given me
Tried to find the strength in me
But I was blinded by the hate I see
I keep tryin' to live peacefully
But the world around keeps pushin' pullin' me
Right back down into the hate I see
I need a way to break free

Faith
Believe what I cannot see
Hope
Holdin' on until we achieve
Love
Care and compassion unconditionally
Overflow inside of me

So much stuff between you and me
Communicatin' through technology
What about our humanity
Sittin' talkin' its a mystery
I want to look into your eyes
And see emotion, its no surprise
You and I were meant to be
Connectin' through our physicality

Faith
Believe in what I cannot see
Hope
Holdin' on until we achieve
Love
Care and compassion unconditionally
Overflow inside of me

Full Attention

2009-07-24T11:31:00.000-07:00

*New Song* Much better when played/sang than when read... when I get a chance to record and post... I will.

You’ve got my full attention,
You’ve got my heart,
Wrapped up in you,
You’ve got my soul devotion, what can I do?

You’ve got my full attention,
If this ain’t love I’ve got to let it go,
But I know this is love,
Cause my heart was cold,
But now it is warm.

But I stand afraid of all this emotion,
And I stand in awe of all your devotion,
I push away and you show me new love each day.

I stand afraid of pain, the past and present,
And yet you remain, you are committed,
Your loves brought change, I am defenseless,
You draw me nearer.

You’ve earned my full attention,
You’ve earned my heart,
It lays in your hands,
You’ve earned my soul’s devotion,
What can I do, I want to trust you.

You’ve earned my full attention
If this ain’t love I’ve got to let it go,
But I know this love,
Cause my heart was cold,
And now it is warm.

You gave me your full attention,
You placed your heart in the palm of my hands,
You’ve gave me your soul’s devotion,
Your heart is true,
I can trust you.

You gave me your full attention,
You gave me your love,
You’ll never let me go.
I know this is love,
Cause my heart was frozen,
But now it is warm.

[Daddy don't call for money...]

2009-07-14T15:09:00.000-07:00

[Daddy don’t call for money…]

Daddy don’t call for money no more.

Suppose the distance has closed that open door.

It may not be me but some has to answer,

Unfortunately that person is now my baby sister.

I didn’t mean to leave her in a space where she would suffer.

Emotional and selfish, I was supposed to be the buffer.

“Big Sis, where’d you go?”
I cry out, “I had to leave.”

Maturity came about and stole her nativity like a thieve.

There are just some things a little girl should never see.

First, she should never have to see her Daddy leave.

Second, she should never have watch her Daddy beg.

Third, she should never witness his spirit left for dead.

He’ll still pinch my cheek and call my name

But it is only a shadow of the man that remains.

His struggle has been prophesized, self-fulfilling chains

The daughters he fathered have been left for lame.

She’ll never say the pain she feels

And never deal the blame she yields.

I know her burden, cause it I bore,

Yet Daddy don’t call me for money no more.

[The inward battle...]

2009-07-14T12:43:00.000-07:00

[This inward battle…]

This inward battle goes on and on

It’s like being on stand by for a flight

There’s no guarantee you’ll be on the next plane out

But the HOPE, the HOPE is always there

This inward battle serves a purpose

It’s out of love I try to stand

I don’t want to be easily blown like a grain of sand

If my heart ain’t searchin’ for something deeper what should it do?

This inward battle is faithful

Motivated by the unseen it hopes,

It pushes and fights for something new

Asking, “What more is there for me and you?”

I’ve concluded…

Its easier to hold on to the lil’ bit I’ve got

Than it is to let go and trust the unknown for something more

Even when all I’ve got is shit

I’m already poor

I ain’t got much to lose

But it’s all I got

So if it’s all I got then its everything

If everything and I lose I’ve got nothin’

So I ask the question…

Why does my everything seem like excrement?

I could have had something had you relinquished it.

Had you laid down just and ounce of your privilege,

I’d at least be at the starting line.

No, but instead you prefer I stay in wanting.

It’s easier for you if my people pine and parish for narcotics.

It’s easier if they seemingly die at the hands of their own.

And all so you can wash your hands of us.

But just like Pilot your guilty.

That water you just dipped into,

Well it’s tainted with disease,

So now like me your filthy.

There ain’t no freein’ yourself of sin,

The only freedom you’ll find from them chains is the same as me and them.

The only way we’ll see eye to eye

With the playin field level is on bended knee

Believin’ in the death and resurrection of Christ

Will set us free from our earthly frivolity,

And our reconciliation will come when we can say to each other,

“The Christ in you is greater than the Christ in me.”

I ain’t tryin’ to be harsh

Just straight with it.

The truth of the matter is we are separated, segregated, stratified

Hierarchically by gender, race and socio-economic status.

Categorized and stigmatized for the sake our own well-being,

But what about our personal responsibility to each other?

We were created to live in community.

It ain’t about holding hands and singing “cum by yah”.

Instead it’s about faith, hope, love, and livin’ it,

Together as one in unity.

You know “U.N.I.T.Y” (*sing it)

So, how are we supposed to do what we ain’t seen?

Especially when we are still claimin’ the wars of our fathers

And the bastard children of our mothers.

How are we supposed to move forward?

Why are we claimin’ post-racial America?

Cause we got a black president?

FYI, he’s mixed.

And brown kids still getting kicked out of swim clubs in Philly

You willing to accept the casualty and ignore a hot childs thirsty plea?

Well…

I suppose we can start by going down to the river to pray.

Teachin’ true history about our past days.

Bring to light what is hidden in darkness.

Cryin’, mornin’ and lamentin’ for justice.

Afterwards we can bathe in the healing waters of Christ

Recognizing our sin and brokenness

Confessin’ we’ve denied Him far more than thrice

Let us be honest and then acknowledge our humanity

Together remember our personal and communal responsibility

Laying down privilege and all superficiality

For the sake of a unifying vulnerability

But that is only the beginning cause Christ’ll take the rest

All we do is live in this inward outward battle

Giving each other our humble best

So we stay in this struggle as it goes on and on

Living purposefully and faithfully

By faith, with hope and in love

And when the time right our plane will come

Reconciled we’ll stand in the light of love

2009-07-03T14:46:00.000-07:00

Reality can be so potent that it becomes misleading. Events in life are much like scenes in a story. Each and every one is important to the whole narrative. Isolated moments can throw the entire picture off if they aren't held in contrast with the rest of the dialogue or image.

It is so easy for us to isolate our own story from the the stories of those around us. We can negate the importance of context, plot and narrative. I would say that many of us have a hunger to know what is "really going on" and so we speculate. As a result, we are often unwilling to wait till the end of the story to form our conclusions. This is problematic because conclusions formed before the end may be premature and thus inaccurate.

I am guilty of this...frequently. I always want to know what is really happening beneath the surface of a particular moment. I often forget that hindsight is 20/20, and if I would just be patient and wait the picture would eventually be clear. Furthermore, I can't just sit on the sidelines listening and thinking until I can fully see. No, I must fully participate because I too am a part of the narrative in tandem with others.

Evenmore, I have a habit of choosing individual moments and/or statements as focal points. This can be both a positive or negative process. It can be positive when the focal point is one of hope, encouragement or perseverance that pushes me to live in the present with hope for the future. On the flip side, most moments are defined by those that come before and after them. If all of the moments leading up to a particular scene are positive, but all proceeding incidents are negative the focal point may become negative. Negative focal points can be disjointing, and can leave one in a funk. They an even blind a person from seeing when the negative has transitioned to a more positive state.

So, what do we do about this?

If I had an answer, I would not have asked. Ok, you are right. I might have, but this time the question is not rhetorical.

What do we do?

[I'm the Melody, You're the harmony]

2009-07-01T10:24:00.000-07:00

I’m the melody, You’re the harmony.
Your percussion and I’m the bass line.
In the onset we don’t fit,
But in time we MAKE good music.

We can sit with silence and let the music bump,
Your head bobs, my foot taps,
Our hands move at once.

You bring the verse and I’ll bring the chorus,
Together we make the bridge when we drop that beat.

It’s easy to feel, yet hard to say,
So we musicians and vocalists take our turn at play.

This here communication is a cold collaboration,
Two souls, two hearts, many parts, one song,
Our genuine manifestation.

You move—I move—we move,
I move—You move—we move.
We move, together we look out,
And the world grooves with us.

So I’ll bring the melody if You bring the harmony,
You bring percussion and I’ll drop the bass line,
We’ll find a groove together,
And in time we’ll BE good music.

[one gray hair]

2009-06-30T08:58:00.001-07:00

[One gray hair...]
You stand there in all your glory, the reality of age,
Time is moving, like a strong medicinal sage,
Never standing still, flavoring all with touch,
You show me where I’m waiting and show me where I rush.

How can you feel a hole for something you never had,
A simple hand to hold,
One moment, then you crash.

I’m looking in a mirror,
This face feels new to me,
And all because I see one hair,
It beckons me.

It beckons me to move,
Audacious I can be,
You cannot lose a hand that you let go,
That you set free.

This is only the beginning,
One day this head will be
Full of silver glory,
A life lived full indeed.

[Reality and Me]

2009-06-23T17:42:00.000-07:00

Reality and me,
Idealistic enemies,
And yet in bed for eternity.

Where can I go that you won't be?
Reminding me of what I can't see.
I'd rather ignore this tragedy,
but instead you stand there poking and proding.

I'll accept you,
Bitter sweet reailty.
But I won't be content until you retreat,
and my ideals become sweet reality.

2009-06-22T15:52:00.000-07:00

[The words escape me]

The words escape me,
I try to speak but your demeanor it leaves me weak,
And in your eyes I can see the place my heart longs to be.
It’s hard to say, yet easy to feel,
This love it grows expanding fields.
And when you look into my eyes,
My Isis soul it flies and flies,
Close to the sun of your appeal my heart if falls back to the field.
I find no rest, my heart it heals.
My mind is smart, it tries to yield.
But I forget, my wings return,
And for your love I yearn, I pine, I burn.

[There are days when all one has is hope to move...]

There are days when all one has is hope to move forward.
You see the eviction notice posted on the door;
Home has no life, just a house of boards.
You seek for more against the multitude shouting “what for?”;
Your heart cries out to be heard,
Your mind a caged bird.

There are days when all one has is faith to move forward.
Oil run dry and the gold is spent;
Landlord called, can’t pay the rent;
You write the check with faith and say,
Hope You got them bread and fishes today.

There are days when all one has is love to move along.
Friends and fam you’ll find it all,
What’s mine is yours my fictive blood,
It ain’t no problem to share just call,
My bed is yours, our warmth a throne.

So God just give us,
Faith, Hope and Love to move beyond,
The night to light, a brilliant home out of this fight.

Duke Reconciliation Conference 2009 (June 1st, 2009)

2009-06-01T19:20:00.000-07:00

Duke Reconciliation Conference 2009

June 1^st, 2009

A mentor once told me that a smart person knows a lot, but a wise person is aware of what they do not know.

I have only been at Duke for one day, but it is already abundantly clear that there is so much that I do not know. I am still an infant being tossed back and forth by the waves. I have progressed to solid food, knowledge, but I am still shaken and jarred by the ideals of reconciliation and the realities of this world.

I encountered so many truths today. Each deeply profound and many wounding; I am in pain spiritually, intellectually and even physically (although this one could be attributed to jogging outside and not on a treadmill).

It is challenging to hold the “Kingdom Now” and the “Kingdom to Come” concurrently. They are a challenging paradox that is both hopeful and painful at once. There is hope for the future, but the actualization or manifestation of that hope is not immediate. People have, are and will suffer.

A thought that has stuck with has been:

“The word for ‘forgetting’ is MONEY”.—Stanley Hauerwas

I see so many young adults throwing away their passion for change, for service, for reconciliation to make a dollar. We have allowed the stress of college loans and the cultural implications and definitions of status to define our path and directions. Why?

It is because we have forgotten our first master to serve another. We have forgotten the Lord that called us.

Ephesians 4 starts, “I urge to live a life worthy of the calling you have received to be completely humble and gentle to be patient bearing with one another in love…”

As followers of Christ we cannot allow our paths to be defined by the ways of the world. We are to be salt and light. I understand the need and even want for dollars and comfort, but we are aliens in this world. This is not our home. We have an eternal destination, and we want to take as many people with us to that place as possible.

So, why do we believe we should/can act in the ways of the world? There is something wrong with allowing our decisions and future to be driven by the wants and desires for cash and/or status. As Followers of Christ that is not what we have been called to, we have a higher calling. This does not mean that those wants and desires will dissipate. On the contrary living for Christ is a journey, a process of change. What can change however is the fruit of those truths in our lives?

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart soul mind and strength and love your neighbor as yourself.”

“Go into all the world making disciples of every nation baptizing them…”

“Faith, hope and love. The greatest of these is love.”

The saying goes, “Money makes the world go round.”

That may be true now, but money will not save the World. We are the embodiment, the physical manifestation of Christ, in and to the world. When will we start acting like it. Yes, it means sacrifice. If you know the truth you are obligated to follow it. Otherwise, it would have been better for you to remain ignorant.

Friends, we must change our thinking. This does not mean that life cannot be fun and joyous. However, how can revel in my cash and/comfort when half of the world is dieing of overeating and the other half of starvation?

“Reconciling All Things: God’s Vision of Beloved Community”

Relationships alone do not change the social realities.
There is not peace without suffering. This is what we have seen in and through the life of Christ.
Jesus and Justice must go hand-in-hand. One without the other allows us to go to extremes.
Peace takes time.
Reconciliation is no bigger than the one beside you who is hardest to love.
You love Jesus no more than the person you love the least.
“Those who come to serve the poor stay because they realize that they too are poor.” –Founder of the L’arche Community
What is more important…loving God or loving your neighbor? NEITHER. There are far more versus in the Bible about God love us.
We as Followers of Christ are to hold in tension the “Kingdom Now” and the “Kingdom to Come”. (Malcolm, you’ve been saying this all along.)
Reconciliation is dangerous because it demands a new reality. The new reality is dangerous because it calls for us to become new people.
What it takes…(Dr. John M. Perkins)

You need to sense that you are loved by God. (This will be your greatest drive/passion to serve.) (The greatest human need is to be loved.)
You need to know God. (Become a disciple.)
You must experience the “calling” that you are to “do this”. (This sets you up for the journey.)

What it takes…(Dr. Stanley Hauerwas)

Learn both to be forgiven and to forgive because of there are power conditions and dynamics that this sets right.
Recognize we can only do it because of Jesus
Reconciliation is difficult because it competes with our revenge and our cultural memory of what we have seen.
Acknowledge and address memories and language because they are power. They impact our actions. We must seek healing before they can be changed.

“The people who are unequal cannot be reconciled.” Dr. JP
“The word for ‘forgetting’ is ‘money.”—Stanley Hauerwas
“Why is part of the world dieing of overeating while the other half is dieing of starvation?”

“Transformative Leadership through National Organizations”

Sometimes we become so preoccupied with the external that we forget about the internal. This is what happens when the urgent and/or immediate are directing the organization.
Tradition is that which carries us forward not where we stop. Taking what has been life giving and adapting it to a new context is how we should use tradition. We should be allowing people in our organizations to be “traditioned innovators”.
The most transformative leaders are people of character who can tell good stories (even if they are not charismatic).
The most transformative leaders are those who can hold paradoxes together. For example, social justice and evangelism.
Transformative leaders can think oppostionally without becoming polarized.
Transformative leaders can have “meaningful disagreements”.
Strong leaders are always dealing with their own in competencies.
We are to be “institutional thinkers” not “institutional critics”.
Transformative leadership:

Initiate people into traditions in such a way as to create “traditioned innovators”. They do not lock people into a tradition, but instead educate people so that they can build upon them in the future. (“Staying focused on the mission while enabling creativity/innovation.”)
Engage in ministry indirectly while recognizing the direct implications.
Think of the organization as overlapping circles not silos or charts.

You need to have “thick skin”. You need to be ready to accept the potential pain of leadership, but don’t be a self-appointed martyr. You must be able to distinguish between the “suicidal leader” and the leader who is willing to take risks.

Jackson, MS Trip (March 21, 2009)/Journal Entry

2009-04-18T00:23:00.000-07:00

We are in Mendenhall, MS today. So much has ocurred on this land. So many momments--some good, some bad, some legendary, many life-changing, and yet some forgotten. I feel a multi-faceted ancestry to this place that is disjoining. How this feels is good despite it not feeling good. This is what I yearn for...to travel and learn, to be malible and think critically, to explore and discover. To find myself disjointed and broken so that there is less of me and more of Christ.

There is so much to be discovered in this process. I have learned more about me and my relationship with God and others. I am finding parts of me are being tamed and emptied while others are being inflamed and filled-up.

Lord,

Set me free for more moments like this.

This is not easy, but this is good.

You will take me places that are broken to further break me, and in those moments your grace and joy shall abound.

You and the sacrifice of your Son will never change.

You are the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.

Everday You are the same, but I...

I am changing.

Praise be to God!

[Dream after dream the figment of my imagination beckons me...]

2009-04-18T00:22:00.000-07:00

Dream after dream the figment of my imagination beckons me from the abyss of the unknown.Calling my name it urges me to draw near.The closer I get the more secure I feel.The closer I come to the source of my desire the more I yearn, the more I pine, the more I parish.Upon his lips rest my name.There it lays in the safety of his care, his passion, his pursuit.My name is my dignity.I know he will never misuse it.I know he will never abuse it.I know he will never call me outside of it because...He loves me,And thus values me,And will therefore affirm my dignity.

Narrow

2009-01-07T15:52:00.001-08:00

I am afraid that we Christians are quite hypocritcal and fickle. On the one hand we as people want to be treated with dignity and respect, but on the other we reserve that only for ourselves. We want to be confronted in a specific way, but again that is reserved for only ourselves. We want to wave the banner of Christ, but we don't want to follow him. We want to claim the blood of Jesus, but we seem to always want to cleanse ourselves through our own ways.

I know that God can use anyone and anything, but does that me we condone any means in hope of achieving the ends? Can the ends be achieved by any means?

The road IS narrow.

A Picture Worth a 1000 Words

2008-11-11T15:51:00.000-08:00

What are words? Are they not but a tool by which we paint a picture? A medium aimed at creating an experience?

I think in both words and images. Regardless of what the verbal language communicates it is always the images that are much more poignant because they give life to words. If one has not at least seen an apple the concept behind the meaning of the word is non-existent in one's mind. Therefore, the experience is lost. It remains true though that one can know what an apple looks like and not have a word for it. However, the gift of language/word is the manner in which it allows us to communicate what we experience via our five senses, however slow or inaccurate it may be.

If you are wondering exactly why I am dissecting the place of spoken/signed language, images and experience in communication...

Today a friend sent me a picture that was worth a 1,000 words. In viewing the image I felt as if we had in an instance had a 1,000 dialogues, and in that moment a world of conversations fell into place. I gained understanding in studying that photograph that words alone could never convey.

Much of the understanding that came from this photo was the result of personal experience and understanding that has been processed via the use of words. I cannot deny the validity of language, both written and verbal. However, I can now better understand the depth of the adage "A picture is worth a 1,000 words."

Language and experience are intertwined. Images convey hidden meanings while words establish a common manner by which we can communicate and process information. They shall therefore be forever conjoined.

What is a picture but a visual experience?
“The fact is that if you have not developed language, you simply don’t have access to most of human experience, and if you don’t have access to experience, then you’re not going to be able to think properly.”
- Noam Chomsky

Discovering my Multi-Racial, Multi-Ethnic, and Multi-Cultural Self: A New Language—Reconciliation

2008-10-30T08:04:00.000-07:00

(It has taken some time now, but I think I am ready to start processing in writing this passion for reconciliation. Please bare with me. It may be a little rough. I plan on doing this in a series of thoughts over the next few… well, however long it takes.)

I am mixed. My Father is black and my Mother is white. My grandmother on my Father’s side, based on what I have been told, was ½ Hope Native American making me a 1/16. I have a cultural understanding that has developed out of my identity as a multi-racial, multi-ethnic and multi-cultural individual. I identify with each of these racial and ethnic identities excluding the Native portion of my cultural heritage. I often consider myself to be a “Third Culture Kid” (TCK).

I make the distinction between multi-racial, multi-ethnic and multi-cultural because they are not the same. In the United States we live in a racialized society that has a narrow understanding of the differences between race and ethnicity. We often times combine ethnic and racial categories and view them as being one. I also make a distinction when discussing what it means to be multi-cultural. One can be multi-racial and/or multi-ethnic, but not know or understand culture or potential cultural relationships connected to the racial and/or ethnic identity to which they may or may not subscribe.

A Little History…

My Mother grew up in Elwood, Indiana. This area is notorious for overt racism. She grew up in a community that was segregated. Her family, excluding her Mother (my Grandmother), was against interracial relationships. My Mother and her sisters all eventually moved to Indianapolis—the largest city in Indiana (also the state capital). My Mother and all of her sisters chose partners who were African American/Black, thus all of my cousins are multi-racial. My Grandfather for the longest refused to fully associate himself with us. In his eyes, for most of his life, we were not his Grandchildren. He recanted what had happened and asked for forgiveness on his deathbed. I was not there, but my family says that it was a redemptive moment for all.

My Father grew up in between Indianapolis, Indiana and a factory town in Louisiana. His Father and Mother, my Grandparents, were both the children of sharecroppers. His parents made the trek north to Indianapolis when the plastic factory closed in their hometown. My Grandparents were factory workers the entire time they lived in Indianapolis. His family accepted my Mother, but they were not necessarily happy with his choice.

Growing up my cousins and I existed in our own world. We lived in an area of the city where there were quite a few multi-racial, multi-ethnic and multi-cultural children and couples. Most of my friends having similar experiences contributed to me thinking that being multi-racial, multi-ethnic and multi-cultural was normal.

As a child I quickly learned how to move seamlessly between each of the groups with which I identified, or so I thought. I understood the differences, I knew the lingo, and I did so unconsciously. Despite all of this understanding, other people struggled to understand me. I was rarely fully accepted by the groups that I identified with outside of other multi-racial, multi-ethnic and multi-cultural people. It is hard for people to grapple with my ambiguous identity unless they are able to intuitively understand it.

Growing up I was not unaware of racism. One only had to drive to the outskirts of Indy to encounter it overtly. Just a few blocks from my high school, close to the heart of the city, people did not hesitate to display confederate flags. So, even in the city it was present and visible. My parents being Black and White in a hegemonic racialized society often took the brunt of these racial attacks. I remember times when we would not be served in a restaurant in the appropriate manner, and those moments stuck with me. I remember being with my biological Father in public when I was younger, and people would ask if my sister and I were his children. They would even stare, and be protective when he disciplined us. As I got older I would go shopping with my white friends and I would be followed through the store. This made me angry.

At the age of 14 I began working for a Christian campground. I would be gone two months of the summer and I loved it. Even on the camp ground though racism existed. Very few urban churches would send their youth for summer, but when they did those youth were always placed in my cabin. If there was a problem with one of those young people I was consulted. Everyone on the campground knew how to work with youth. Why was I consulted on all matters with urban youth or youth of color? The older I got the more questions I asked and the fewer answers I could find. A deep seeded festering lie began to develop in me over time, and bitterness slowly made its way into my heart.

Fast-forward four years…

I moved to Seattle, Washington to attend Seattle Pacific University. In October of 2004 Dr. John Perkins came to speak to the entire University. His plane didn’t come in on time, and so his daughter spoke at the afternoon convocation. It was at this convocation that the realities of ignorance and the need for reconciliation became startling evident.

In Dr. Perkins absence his daughter spoke. The University had not intended for Elizabeth Perkins to speak, but she was phenomenal. It was obvious that God delayed Dr. Perkins plane for a reason. As she walked up to the podium my heart beat with anticipation. Out of the crowd in front of a friend of mine the voice of a young woman rang out in a condescending tone, “Who is she—John Perkins’ mascot? I thought he was going to speak, not her.” My friends tried to ignore the comment, but it stuck with them. After the convocation they shared with us their experience. We, together, felt the sting of her words, and she most likely didn’t realize what she had said.

Dr. Perkins plane was set to come in that evening. A time was arranged for him to speak at a local church. The moment he arrived on campus they hurried him over to First Free Methodist. It was a packed house from the first floor to the balcony to the foyer. It felt like the entire campus was there. The scene quickly brushed the chip off my shoulder that had developed from the young woman’s comment.

As he spoke my heart, mind and Spirit had an encounter. He brought a truth that I had hungered to hear my entire life. The message of reconciliation both horizontal and vertical hit me like a ton of bricks. My local church had skimmed over this message my entire life; and yet I had felt it deep within the core of this faith in Christ from the moment I first encountered the Lord, but I didn’t have a language to express it. He was unafraid and he called out the devil’s lies around me, but more importantly he spoke the truth against the lies that were buried deep within me. Suddenly I had a new language to talk about all that I had been feeling and experiencing for so long. That day hope re-entered entered my life. The chains fell off and I was free.

It was God’s good planning that I was there because I discovered one of the greatest passions in my life—reconciliation. This is at the core of the Gospel. The hope that we can be reconciled both to Christ and to each other is powerful. I am thankful for my multi-racial, multi-ethnic and multi-cultural identity because the message of reconciliation has been made real in my flesh and it is a message I am honored to carry. The being of such people challenges the systems. This ambiguous being begs us to ask questions about reconciliation and what it means to be united to God and to each other even in our flesh.

My life will never be the same because of the hope that permeates this life that is the message of reconciliation brought to humanity through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

What is in a Favorite Color: Simple Intentionality

2008-10-25T22:34:00.000-07:00

At my age certain questions now seem juvenile. The question in particular that spurred this train of thought is, “What is your favorite color?” Recently I asked a friend this and they laughed at me. At first, I thought they were right to laugh. In that moment I said to myself, “That is a stupid question. I know you work with elementary students, but you are not in elementary school.”

Later as I reflected on the day I replayed the evening’s conversations in my head. I reviewed this specific conversation and I noticed a tension. The Word of God frequently points out how children and youth, those whom society most frequently views as juvenile, are those who are closest to the heart of God. It is in their simplicity that they are able to best understand what it means to have an intentional relationship with God without all of the complexities, responsibilities and theological mush that adults typically allow to cloud the picture.

During the holiday season we have a habit of encouraging children to make cards for those whom they love. When they do so you will see that they are intentional about the colors they use so as to make those cards genuine and personal. Knowing a friend or family member’s favorite color allows one to specialize the gift; to make it personal and meaningful based on the individual preferences of that person. People can show love to one another in a simple, but intentional manner when they know someone’s favorite color. It is a small and simple detail, but nonetheless it is valuable. It is a way of showing intentionality within a relationship, and it really does not take much effort.

So, is this a juvenile question? I honestly do not think so. Ageism is a prevalent –ism in the United States that is often ignored. Children and youth do a lot of things that seem odd or juvenile, but they are really foundational concepts that we, adults, have forgotten. We have written off the value of how something as simple as remembering your friends favorite color can be a stepping stone towards building intentional relationships that seek to understand personal preferences that are both big and small. If I buy my friend flowers they will pry mean more if they are their favorite color because I showed them how much I valued them by remembering their personal preference.

I think that the Word directs us to observe our children because those foundational concepts are still so fresh in them. They can remind us of the basics. When learning to read, write or perform mathematics it is the basic concepts that are the most important because without those you can’t move forward to anything more complicated. Even though one does eventually move on it is still important to remind one’s self how to add, subtract, multiply and divide. A lot of people would say that they have forgotten how to do basic algebra, and it is because they do not practice. If we want to continue to be intentional in our relationships we have to continue to remember to practice the basics.

The beauty of this question is that it is a simple and basic intentionality that can lead to more complicated showings of love and affection. When you remember someone’s favorite color you show that you are not only intentional, but that you can be trusted to remember details. If you can be trusted to remember small details you can be trusted to remember the big ones. These are the building blocks of healthy relationships from the mouths of babes. Isn’t God funny?

I am the Enemy

2008-10-08T11:59:00.000-07:00

This morning I was reading Psalm 3, Isaiah 2 and Lamentations 2, and something hit me. "I am the enemy." All of my life I have been reading those passages, and others as if I am the one being saved. Now, I am not saying that God is not saving me, but I am asking questions about perspective, perceptions and "the Other".

I wonder, "Do people pray for God to save them from me (me--personally, figuratively, the United States, etc.)? In what instances am I the enemy/the villain? How often in relationship have I hurt someone and they have in turn prayed for deliverance because of my actions?"

This is why I need saving. I need saving because for the past 22 years I have struggled to see where "I am the enemy."

Now my actions and choices are challenged, and I can see where I have pillaged much and many...I further understand why I need to be saved.

Faith and Prayer

2008-08-24T20:42:00.000-07:00

As I spend time in the company of "true" Saints I am thrust deeper into what it means to believe, to have faith.

Faith is not simply believing in the unseen. While that is quite the anecdotal answer I believe that faith is much more.

Faith is believing in what one cannot see, but it is also acting upon movement that one cannot see. A movement that comes from an unseen place, but that is clearly real. Acting with vigor--knowing (different than thinking) that what has been said will be done.

On Friday I listened to a woman tell me that she prayed to God for direction. God gave her a list of ten initiatives for the group that she is leading--and all in the same leading told her to quit. Now as she is on her way out she watches as this list of ten is slowly but surely completed. In the world of faith-based non-profit a list of ten items flowing smoothly has to be the work of the LORD.

As I reflect on where I am in life and as I attempt to follow the modeling of "true" Saints around me I feel pushed to pray. This woman prayed and God lead. God told her exactly what to do next. Now God did not give her the plan in its entirety, but God gave her the next step.

As she talked about her career change she said to me, "God will give me my next job. I am know that God will lead me to it."

What more would it be for me to believe that God will lead me to the next place that I should go? To believe that God will give me the plan for my current position?

Nothing more.

I must pray.

I fear though that I do not know how to pray. In that instance though, I can remember what a wise woman said to me. She said, "You have a beautiful voice. A gift from God. Pray to God. Sing to God. Pray in song. As you read the Word sing melodies using the Word of the LORD. That too is prayer."

I will pray and know by faith in God.

Arise with Hope and Vision!

2008-08-12T15:04:00.000-07:00

This summer has felt as if someone is punching me in the face over and over again. I feel unrecognizable. This veil of frustration covers my face so thickly even I cannot see. I ask God for wisdom and receive more strife. I ask God for patience and find more resistance. I ask God for grace and find more unforgiveness.

Youth work is a thankless job. I don't mind that at all though. What bothers me is that I feel so discouraged. How can I be discouraged when God reigns supreme and victorious?

This summer the high school students lack hope and vision. They cannot see their own potential. They are unwilling to accept the love of Christ. They fear their own greatness. They see any attempt at boundaries and accountability as some sort of ploy to hold them down. Every standard is a conspiracy to dismember their youthful freedom. Why can't they see that they are allowing themselves to be chained to stones and cast into the ocean? Their disregard for standards will most likely be the demise of their actual freedom.

It is clear to me that God redeems, but even so He still allows us to feel consequence. We cannot avoid the truth of our choices.

In the evening when I get home I am drained. I am exhausted because I feel so much. I am so sad, so angry, so frustrated, and so passionate... I cannot bear to see them act so callously with their lives, but they cannot see the gifts they possess. I want them to instantaneously see in a moment of revelation and grow up, but that is not how it works.

I lay awake thinking and asking God for the next thing to say--for the next prayer to pray--in hopes that they might wake up and together we might rise up.

As a generation they hold so much power, but they suffer from the same youthful complacency that we have all encountered. We can have so much power and yet never touch it, and never see it come to fruition.

We are creating a generation that can talk using internet intelligence about issues, but that cannot act with historically grounded intelligence on issues.

Oh that God would wake this generation from their slumber. Oh that they would cry out in lamentation and mourn the lost. Oh that they would stand up out of their lament to by God's power act in Christ-like victory.

Oh that we could encourage them and not see them filled with anger when faced with accountability. Oh that we could be one in mind and purpose in the Lord. That we could cry out as one to the God of Israel and in the power of the LORD step forward in a spirit of truth. That we would as one people rise up as Children of the Light--together.

They are our Oaks of Righteousness. They will rebuild the city. Together we will rise up out of the ash heap--they needy, the poor, the disenfranchised, the overworked, the discouraged, the wayward youth, the lost soul, the thirsty, the hungry, the prostitute, the embezeller, the tired, the searching, the happy but not joyful--unmasked and revealed--together we will rebuild the city.

Oh God will set us free from complacency. Give us a hope and a vision.

Let your servants not weep and suffer the singe of discouragement in vain. Let your servants rejoice for the joy of the LORD is our strength. We know this momentary discomfort is nothing in light of the cross and what Christ has done.

Whose Not Who

2008-07-12T14:31:00.000-07:00

In the search for my identity I have often asked the question, "Who am I?" Such an open ended premise being asked only in the caverns of my own mind is bound to be answered incorrectly or not at all. I find that my mind is so finite that I answer all questions with finite answers. Instead of allowing questions to answer questions and accepting the ambiguity of things I simply cannot understand I fight for clear cut and defined definitions.

The question of "Who am I?" is most certainly answered only when followed by another question. "Who am I?" is not nearly as pertinent as "Whose am I?" Which interestingly enough fully informs the "who" by asking the "whose".

The Bible says that God calls us by name. By asking "Whose I am?" as opposed to "Who I am?" I am seeking out the wisdom of my Creator. Who better knows the name, role and function of an item than its creator. So, why would one think to attempt to inform themselves as to who they are by seeking out there self or others--since neither are the one who created them.

Now that it is clear that I am God's the question I ask the LORD is "What is my name?". In knowing my name I will hear the LORD when He calls and then I can reply, "Yes, Lord your servant is listening."

The bottom line is:

If I do not know "whose I am" I will not know "who I am".

If I do not know "whose I am" I will not know my name.

If I do not know my name I cannot know when my Creator, the LORD, is calling me--since the LORD calls us by name.

I am not defined by "who I am", but by "whose I am".

With this Pen

2008-07-09T22:26:00.000-07:00

"Granted this talk Unusual"

Granted this talk unusual,

Surplus of my mouth.

It overflows and spills anew,

These torrents old and new.

Granted this talk goes on and on,

But reaction to anxieties mound.

If I were silent I would explode,

And in my own I'd drown.

But cautions not my tale,

I'd rather walk the edges than in the center fail.

So, granted this talk unusual,

I suppose it's all okay,

Cause someday it won't matter,

For in my talk I'll lay.

"She Says"

"I'm going away," she says.

"Where no one will every find me," she infers.

But in her mind she knows that she won't stumble far from home.

She says, "I feel a push and pull."

And states, "I don't know why."

But in her heart she knows its because her heart is neither far nor nigh.

"I hate and yet I love," she says.

"Confused, I truly am," she proclaims.

But in her soul she knows that she is saved and bound for day.

So though she says and states and infers and even at times proclaims,

She truly knows it is all just fine no matter what the pain.

"It Is"

It is funny,

I love you more than you will every know,

And every winter I sit and wait for you as the falling of the snow.

I hoped you would return with love inside your heart,

But something held you back, away, you left a lonely part.

I tried to say "goodbye" to you,

But your face it clouds my mind,

And when I try to sleep at night in my thoughts you are entwined.

It is funny how I feel this way,

For a man I hardly know,

You come around as often as the falling of new snow.

You emptied out your pockets for a coin you thought was love,

But then you were mistaken by a child from up above,

Children won't be bought for trinkets or shiny toys,

They need their parents hearts and love to teach them how to fly.

So when you decide to open up,

To share with me your life,

I cannot guarantee that I will be here,

Waiting with all this strife.

"With this Pen"

A pen and paper shall be the way I clear my mind to free the day.

And when at night I feel consumed by this ink release is coming soon.

And by God's grace a prayer I write a time to breathe this freedom life.

2008-07-09T22:01:00.000-07:00

When the storms and torrents roar,

When my fears abound once more,

And the waters never cease,

I will fear the LORD.

When the sun and moon are right,

When the sky is filled with light,

And the night gives way to sleep,

Still I will fear the LORD.

For His promise never fades,

My sins are set a breadth away,

As east and west stay part,

His love is near not far.

Daddy's Girl

2008-07-07T21:19:00.000-07:00

Growing up in the absence of a father isn't easy. So many young women act out, and justify not only their actions but also the consequences as a direct result of an absent father. While I give some weight to such an argument I have often found it offensive, but now as I mull my offense over in my head I am finding that I am far from offended--I am wondering if it may be true and that scares me.

I realize that for twenty-two years I have been searching for a father. But, while I was searching, somewhere in the midst of the darkness, I was supposed to grow up. How does one grow up fatherless? I have often wondered what would it have been like if he had been there? What would I be like? Would I be better? Worse? Simply different? I was never sexually promiscuous, a drinker or smoker, and for the most part, by all earthly standards, I have beat the odds.

Despite "turning out ok" I see my friends and mentors with their children and somewhere deep inside it still hurts. It is the same pain I felt as a child when I would visit a friend's house and see just how much their daddy loved them. A river of tears wells up from a hidden cavern of pain and it is at that point that all of my insecurities come out to feed. I fall apart and at the place of least resistance every father and every father figure becomes like a falling stone of disappointment.

I know I have a Heavenly Father who loves me, but sometimes even that hurts. That simple truth can leave one with so many questions and so few solid answers. I suppose sometimes the only answer that matters is the truth and accepting it at face value, but that is easier said than done.

The challenge then is to grow-up regardless. The search now has to end both in light of my age and in respect to the truth. My greatest struggle though is that adulthood, at least in the United States, is one of individuality and the development of one's own family unit--thus far success is without crete. Why is that?

Inability to Grasp Freedom

2008-07-01T22:07:00.000-07:00

I had hoped that with the ending of a strenuous period of life would come freedom. After four years of full-time school and almost always full-time work (sometimes plus) I thought that I would feel a sense of relaxation. Instead, I feel fear and anxiety not only of the unknown, but of my abilities and even more my inabilities.

The me that exists in the university classroom does not, and for the most part cannot, exist in the real world. She is her own creation. In that context knowing it all is expected, implored, and appreciated. In the world this is not the case.

In the world the same people who implore you for your knowledge will most often be the same people who condemn you. The amount of information is never right. It is always either too much or too little. You are either living under your potential or trying too hard. Such inconsistency only exasberates this struggle and leaves me exhausted.

I had hoped that in this transition I would feel relieved and revitalized. Instead I am tired and depressed. I am not worn out, per say, but the years of work do not seem to have reaped the return I had hoped. I wanted to walk away with my degree and years of work experience "happy", but I am far from it. As the saying goes, "Where I go there I am" (PMVC).

In a sense I have raped my body, mind and spirit of its energy and reserves to climb a mountain that may not have been worth climbing. I am lonely as ever. Books do not bring the same safety they did even a day ago. I am striving nonetheless as best I know how. With book after book in hand I am searching for the message I never heard. The message where if I had heard it I may not have tried so hard in years past because trying would not have been as necessary as being.

The hope in my spirit does not burn the same as it once did. Could it be that it was all in my mind? A false sense of idealism built on the knowledge of men lacking the wisdom and heart of God is no place to stand, let alone a place to build a light house.

I cry from what I know, and even more I weep for what I desire. The weight of the world is terrible--full of pain. Too much to bare. It leaves me tattered and naked stuck beneath its torrent and fear. How can I be still when everything is dying around me? When I can see and smell the rotting? And yet, I know that I by myself am without power--I need the Lord.

I desire wholeness and freedom that I may be able to throw off these weights and be free, but I do not know what freedom means? Why didn't I spend four years searching after God and God alone. I thought that I had found Him, but I know the truth is He found me. Why did I turn my back so coldly to bury myself in the words of humanity?

I have lost the ability to connect. Sleep no longer renews me. It is what I do when I need to escape, and even then there is no escape from oneself. Why then can I seemingly escape the presence of God--even when I do not want to?

For these I have no answers, but the Word says,

"The LORD is my light and my salvation--whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life--of whom shall I be afraid?" (Psalm 27:1)

"Give thanks to the LORD for He is good. His love endures forever." (1st Chronicles 16:34)

"I am the good shepherd. The shepherd lays down His life for the sheep." (John 10:11)

"I am the good shepherd. I know my sheep and my sheep know me." (John 10:14)

"God so loved the world that He gave is one and only Son that who so ever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life. For God did send His son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him. Whoever believes in Him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe in Him is already condemned, already because He has not believe in the name of God's one and only Son." (John 3:16-18)

"This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but men love darkness instead of light because of their deed were evil. Everyone who does darkness hates the light and will not come into the light for fear that his deed will be exposed." (John 3:19-20)

I do believe. Why am I still bound? If I cannot break free by my own volition, why then can I be bound by my own action even though my Spirit craves the freedom that only God can provide?

I do not know. I suppose I will have to wait on the Lord.

Becoming Vulnerable (Pt. 1)

2008-06-26T23:22:00.000-07:00

In the past, and by that I mean a few weeks ago, I discovered that I had made work and my ability to work my god. I had begun to consider working for God equal to loving God and believed that sacrifice would earn me a slot in heaven. I wanted so badly to be in a place of honor before God that I idolized the human desire for perfection and saving face over the truths of forgiveness, redemption and grace. I became prideful in my abilities, and as a result what were meant for gifts became chains. I feared my needs and saw neediness as a sign of insecurity, incompetence and incapability. Burnout was a quick term that meant "You are weak, lazy and unwilling to work hard enough to push through, to persevere". I feared trusting others. The words "group work" made my ears bleed. The idea of dependence on another to complete my tasks was gut wrenching. And last, but not least, vulnerability was out of the question.

To be vulnerable meant that I was open for attack. That at any moment anyone or anything could hurt me. Life has taught me to guard myself. Broken trust and physical abuses have left me fearful to leave myself open in anyway. I have struggled to see that my inability to be vulnerable has made me not only unable to love, but unable to receive love. So, I have adorned myself with protection. Education and achievement have been my shield. If I can play the game and place myself high enough up I become untouchable, unbreakable, unable to be harmed. This is a truly lonely road.

The beautiful thing is in the midst of all of this stone has always been a heart. A heart that has been created for and is known by God. A heart that still beats and bleeds regardless of being deeply buried and burned. Our God is victorious, even over death--physically, mentally and spiritually.

Just recently I told a friend of mine that I longed for simplicity. I wanted to live where there was very little physically for me to hide behind. From make-up and clothes to computers and television I wanted to be materially stripped down to a minimum.

One day God said to me, "It is good to live simply. What is more is that I want you to be stripped down mentally and emotionally so that you are open to me spiritually. And do not worry about how this will happen. Trust me. Trust is the beginning of vulnerability." The moment God put that word upon my heart I was in pain. I'd been vulnerable, especially as a child. Here I am twenty-two, a college graduate, at the top of my game (or so I thought), and I am supposed to be vulnerable again. It felt as if God were asking me to strip down naked and stand in public. I realize now though that even when I was protecting myself I wasn't safe. I was able to hurt myself. Furthermore, I locked God out isolating myself from His healing power.

All of this is not to say that I will never be hurt. Pain is a reality of life--after all, we are only promised a cross. What it does mean though, is that I am open to a real healing and genuine relationship with Christ. A relationship in which I can be real and honest about who I am, where I am at and God will meet me there.

God is helping me to reclaim my natural self. The one who has no earthly adornment, but is open is to being loved simply for being. The one who does not work for a place in her Father's kingdom and is open to both the giving and receiving of love regardless of accomplishment, education or achievement. The one who can be still and know, who can sit and by God's grace be moved to stand and walk.

God has not forgotten my heart of service. The strength in Jesus ministry was not in His power per say, but in His vulnerability. Being vulnerable may be risky, but trusting God and being vulnerable to God is real and allows one to truly serve others as Christ. This is not to say that I expect that I will never be hurt. I live on the earth. The same earth upon which the Messiah was crucified. BUT, Christ vulnerability, His sacrifice, gave way to redemption.

I have sought redemption through my own work and protection, but that has left me in chains. I am no longer afraid to leave my prison garb behind to be clothed in the arms of God the Father. It is in this place of vulnerability that the reality of Christ's redeeming act becomes real. It is at this point where God can help me enter into a life that is truly led by the Spirit.

Hope

2008-06-26T00:46:00.000-07:00

"People who claim to be without options are in actuality lacking hope."

Imagine you are in a room with 17 high school students ranging in age from 14-19 on the southside of Seattle. There is a tension in the room that is layered with sadness--at times it almost even reaks of distrust. When you look into their eyes it is at times as if one can see their spirit sinking into their bellies. It pains you from the inside-out; so much so that you can't help but want to reach deep down within them and pull them out, but YOU can't.

So, you pray. You ask God, "I can see that they are hurting. Often I hurt both for them and with them. LORD, please the violence. Please stop the killing. It seems that every time another young person physically dies another experiences a spiritual death. What can I do LORD?"

The LORD says, "Fellowship. Talk. Morn together. You all have lost. You all must weep. The you all MUST rise up together in my name and Spirit."

So, I call them together. They think that we are going to have usual days debrief. (They are the staff for the Urban IMPACT summer day camp.) Instead, I say, "Circle up. Closer. No, closer." They are some what anxious. I can hear the murmurs, "What the hell are we doing?"

I say, "I know that we are hurting. God knows that we are hurting. We need to talk about this. I am going to step out of the circle and you all start where you want to--with whatever you want to talk about."

They start...

A voice says, "You got to respect someone who is a drug dealer or a stripper. They pry feel as if they have no other option."

This was where they chose to start.

The conversation went for over an hour after work. Typically they are running out the door five minutes before work is over.

At the end of the conversation we concluded: "People are never without options. We always have some sort of choice, but it is when we are hopeless that we cannot see the options."

You can be so profound.

The Circuitous Route

2008-06-23T19:27:00.000-07:00

"The shortest distance and quickest route between two points is a straight line, but the circuitous is never wrong."

This is indeed a revelation. One in which I did not come to on my own. In fact, I have often worried that my inability to take the "straight line" is a fault, a disadvantage, the path to my inevitable demise and destruction. In a sense I was right and yet entirely naive and ignorant to reality. My inability to follow the straight line has indeed led to a destruction, but the question to be asked is, "What has been destroyed?"

It is most certainly not me, or at least not me in my entirety or what is truly me. Being that I am a Follower of the Way, an attempting Imitator of the Lord Jesus Christ I believe that I have been born into sin and yet set free by the blood of the Lamb. The old has gone, destroyed. The new has come. No longer am I bound by the chains of death.

For years I listened to Satan's lies. He is indeed the Father of Lies. From birth I had forgotten my one true God, but God has not forgotten me. For so long did I dress in the rags of facade, clothed in the bastard garmets of sin and deceit, but even so I was not forgotten. God forever knows my name. God forever knows my face even when it is cloaked in darkness--for as the Psalmist says even the darkness is as light to God. I am a Child of the Light, a Daughter of Zion, an unworthy heir, but none the less welcomed home as a prodical son.

Being in the world and yet not of it there are times when confusion is the result. Feelings of being lost or lonely, feelings of purposelessness, feelings of fear and doubt, but those are not of God--they are of the world. While in the world we are in tension. Our spirit and flesh are at war within us. We seek to be free because we are free and yet we must be reminded of grace and remember that earth is short and life is eternal. We must hold in tension the kingdom now, freedom from fear and doubt and the kingdom to come, freedom eternal.

It has been a circuitous route to such knowledge, but even more it has been following the ideas the world labels as folly and non-linear that have led to belief for me. I have had to feel the weight of title and the wave of success to understand the beauty of simple gifts. I had to make mistakes and bleed the consequences to experience truth. A truth that heals. To heal a pussy wound one must first scrape and dig out the infection for the healing process to begin. In reality the circuitous route is not the truth, but it is a way for the hard headed of the world to be re-acquainted with the truth.

The fact of the matter is it is neither the straight-line nor the circuitous route that matters. In the end the truth is there is nothing you nor I can do to earn the Love of God. There is nothing we can do to procure forgiveness. There is nothing we can do to obtain our own freedom. It is by grace alone that we receive this gift of true life. It is by grace alone that we, who are indeed unworthy, will drink living water, and it is because of grace that we can choose to take the circuitous route, that we choose to take the straight-line, that we can even choose to stand still or even sit in the embrace of our loving God and encounter a healing truth without even moving.

I will admit I still cannot stand nor sit in the midst of such love, but at least I know that regardless of my path it is not earned nor bought by my actions but instead is freely given. The Lord will meet us where we are at no matter our route and His love remains the same enduring forever.

So it is not so much the route that matters, but the truth revealed in the midst. For the saying is not the route shall set you free, it is the TRUTH SHALL SET YOU FREE.