Showing posts from October, 2013


To the warrior who has for four years with heart and soul and body accepted the charge of weekly battle to stand at the line and hold back the storm.  And the warrior tackled to the ground lying still will still stand at a line.  For his real strength was never just in his body rising to face the next play, but the strength of spirit he lead the team with in his never giving up his heart to play.  

His spirit still stands each game on the field  at a line, now fortified by the body and soul of another.   And now his heart for his team still stands strong at a side line with fist clinging fierceness to raise a banner that cannot be taken down, a banner that says I WILL STILL BATTLE WITH YOU BROTHER. He is our wounded warrior that continues to battle in spirit from the sidelines. You are the warrior that pushes those weak legs and hearts on the field with your yelling lungs and your leading spirit.    

He doesn't listen to well meaning pleas that football isn't everything. FOOTBAL…


You cannot know the future 
or even the

ripple effect of today.

A life well lived today 

matters for tomorrow.

Seeing the SECRET framed

A Secret 
What a great word--secret. "His secret purpose framed from the very beginning is to bring us to our full glory." 1 Cor. 2:7  

It is hard to fathom that God frames a purpose for me in His heart---a path dearly held for me that He paved with his own bleeding hands, life breaths, and dance with the Dark.   He chooses this way for me, knowing me in His secret place, his heart, even when I claim He is dear but don't seem to keep Him very near.
His path is the invitation of a King, sealed with the emblem of His majesty.  His majesty's purpose is delivering His grace that draws me to His table. His secret is to converse and to weave hearts and minds and souls...a conversation...a conversion.

He speaks of  SEEing HIM and knowing what it means to live this abundant life he is calling me to...His abundant abundance of abundance of His abundance of birth...and then an abundance of death and fire...and then an abundance of rebirth...and the unen…


Is keeping God at arm's length close enough? Being within arms' length is scary close; it is  risky close. No mediator need plead who I am to You. This close needs not eyes to search my face, for masks and disguises are discovered.

Oh to be discovered by the eyes of an embracing God.

For when my God sees me face to face, He is close enough to see my eyes fall or rise.

        Will  I  stay to face what He says about me?

close enough to raise my chin

        Will I believe what He believes about me?

close enough to count the breathes I hold

Can I let go of what I hold tightly to my chest?

close enough to feel my quivers of sadness

Can I release the sad in exchange for His joy?

close enough to rub the pain of bruises

        Will I stop remembering my trails of tears?

close enough to sense my confusion and wonder

Can I ask fewer questions to hear Him speak?

close enough to hear quiet mumbled words

 Will he know my thoughts before I speak?

close enough to realize that avoidance begs distractions


Just last week, I saw a dynamic video after which small group leaders were to discuss provided questions.  Before my high school girls group could tackle the listed questions, it seemed a supposition lay beneath all those questions, which needed to be clarified:  Do you really believe that you are headed for destruction in this life?

There is always a Christ answer that lies beneath all the suppositions of my heart.

And the girls, slow to answer, admitted what I thought might be true for them, particularly at their ages.
NO, they did not see their life headed for destruction.  And what are the ramifications of that answer?

If we believe that the road of peril isn't within our game plan, then we are blindsided by that late hit near the out of bounds line.  When we don't understand what the road of peril might look like for us, then we are frozen by its revealed disguise. When we don't realize what destruction does to us, we run toward its captivating offerings. When we don&#…


When a thought wanders days throughmy head and starts congealing like layers of colored jello,  creating sweet sense for the page ...  when a thought wanders like a music note that butterflies through an entire chord,   ringing a  melody for the page...   when a thought wanders like a blurred image that is honed to a detailed portrait...  I wonder as the drizzle becomes a solid deluge,   puddling in the soul to grow to life on a softened page. 

For essence is elusive, words are slippery through my fingers...  for the melody in my head clangs cacophonous in its reading...  for my mind wanderings journey to a sure knowing and holding in my head and heart...

But it is difficult  to transfer wonder through the fingers to the page. 

Yet when the Writer of Words whisper reads to our hearts, the strength of the solid truth becomes a wonderful masterpiece.

For we are God's masterpiece.  He has created us anew in Christ Jesus so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.  Ephesians …

THANKS FOR SNOOPING..."It's just flipping incredible!!"

One of my current favorite authors, Emily Freeman, encouraged her readers today in a guest post on Jeff Goins's blog ( to use their art: 

"Courage is not the absence of fear. If you wait to feel courageous before you release your art, you might be waiting forever. The more we live from who we most deeply are, the more courage will grow."  (Emily Freeman is the author of A Million Little Ways and Grace for the Good Girl: Letting Go of the Try Hard Life).

And since I was probably in 4th grade, I was NOT courageous enough to label myself as an artist in a way I defined art then: painting and drawing.  Secretly, however, I knew I enjoyed writing.  I didn't really claim it as an art, however, until high school.  I never claimed to be good at it, but I spoke best from my head and heart with a smooth pen or pencil (Now, of course, I use my laptop because thanks to typing class in 6th and 7th grade my fingers can fly as fast as my mind.  What does that say…

HELP! I'm trapped in JUMANJI! ------ ZULU!

Quoi zu zesa you? (What's the noise?)

The music I listen to while I write may not suffice to bring the peace of mind to write well today.  There is this outrageous noise that is blaring above David Nevue's piano inspiration, a confined rage spewing out of the back of my mind to protect my cubs from the dangers of the political hunters of this land.  My head is a jungled mess of tangled and overgrown vines. I can't bear the fiscal mess; I'm trapped in a game of JUMANJI and this is real life!

And danger lurks around each corner of my heart's house, springing to overwhelming life. Truly, for this dependent on government money, this game has ZULU! (many effects) 

Quoi zu zesa you?

Awakened to this white elephant sitting on the center of  my chest, I know it is useless, senseless, and  bizarre, but it sits expensively cheap because its placement center stage remains so far from my deeper desires for today. It has been allowed to flap-eared run through the calm and quiet, pl…