The Watchman

“Nice”, “Kind” and “Pleasant”

Were once deep compliments

But naked in the light of day

She’s taken great offense

For somewhere down that darkened path

What Virtue aught proclaim,

A mark of woman’s glory crown,

Instead clothed her in shame

She learned to play the fool

And how to look away

When Evil showed its colors

On the backdrop of the day

But deep beneath the surface

Of that naive countenance

A clever Watchman tallied

Every hint of false pretense

He saw beyond the flattery

And counterfeited smiles

And left no room to wonder

If they carried hidden wiles

But when the warning shots were fired

She rarely paid attention

And fell into a trance

That stripped away all apprehension

No matter what they took from her

It didn’t change the truth

Her Watchman saw it coming

And was quick to give her proof

But she mocked him into exile

And thought it for the best

And since that fateful day

She’s never known a night of rest

Now, after all these years

She hits the streets where he was shunned

Calling to a Watchman

Whose forgotten where he’s from

Longing Risen

I was made with a Longing

In my heart

Fierce and beautiful

I wore it proudly

Like pigtails on a little girl

Until

Darkness showed up

And brought the cloud

So I put my precious Longing in a bubble

And promised

I would return for it when it was safe

But the cloud grew

darker with time

Every now and again

Longing wrestled inside of its prison

stirring

disrupting

The cloud didn’t like that!

So it sent a sword through the sky

And angry gusts

carried it away

to a deeper

darker

place

Where no one would

EVER

find it . . .

EVER.

Longing lost its will

in that darkness

and I watched it

sink

out

     of

         sight

         

And yet

The same violent sword

That drove the Longing under

Sliced that cloud

And light shown through the slivers

Leading the way

for the Longing to follow

that light

through swamps and forests

through cemeteries

through mine fields

and mazes

   Rising

      Rising

         Rising

Like a soldier

Rising up to fight for

Freedom

Because she is worth fighting for

The Longing has found its way

and now sits in my throat

And I just know

it will either choke me to death

or BURST into a new song

Survivor In the Wilderness

August 19, 2011:

It is morning and everyone is still asleep.  It is my family's last day at the beach and I have been sitting on our balcony for the last hour or so having a conversation with God that I don’t want to see come to an end.  He has been speaking sweetly to me through exquisite sites, sounds and smells and even through the luxury of drinking in the richness of a good cup (or three) of coffee.  I have been telling Him about all of the people in my life I am concerned for and want Him to bless, even though He already knows and is far more troubled by their trials and heartaches than I ever could be.  I have been praising Him for all that He has done and NOT done in my life.  It has been a most treasured conversation between the two of us but soon enough, the kids and my husband will be awake, wanting to get into the day and I will be thrown into overdrive.  We will cram as much fun into this last day of vacation as possible, while cleaning and packing for tomorrow’s ride home and through it all, I will be anxiously awaiting my next conversation with God.

As a mom, I often feel pulled in so many different directions and it seems I am always longing for more time alone – alone with God, alone with myself, alone to write or create with no interruptions.  Never has this been more true than in this current season of life I am in.  For reasons I have not always appreciated, my heavenly Father has called me away from some of my usual responsibilities that I happen to be very passionate about and has lured me to a cave in the wilderness so that He may get my attention and breathe new life into me.  I did not want to go at first and I resisted Him with every excuse I had.  But He persisted in His whispers to me:  “Arise and eat because the journey is too great for you.” (I Kings 19:7)   

Being a full-time wife and mom in this world has a tendency to poke at all of the sensitive places that give a woman a false sense of value.  I did not want to give up any of the extra responsibilities I had taken upon myself.  They are so important to me, but they had become too important and the only worth I could see in myself was dependent upon what or how much I could do for others – especially those in the greatest need.  Little did I know that, somewhere along the way of serving and encouraging others, I had become one of those in greatest need. 

Though I did not go quietly, I have finally allowed the fierce winds of my pride to subside and have accepted the fact that the journey is, indeed, too great for me.  My Father has my full attention and I know that He has brought me to the wilderness to prepare me for what lies ahead.  I am not certain about what He has planned and there is no doubt that I am in the scariest, most challenging territory I have ever been in, but I know that I am not here alone.  Like the prophet, Elijah, who God nourished in the wilderness, I am being revived and sustained for the next part of my journey.  And in the same way that Elijah searched for God in the strong winds, earthquakes and fire, I have searched for Him there also.  I expected a  nuclear explosion of some sort – overwhelming, but quick.  Then my wilderness experience would come to an end and I could return to civilization and get on with my busy life.  That is not what God had planned.  He chose to use His still, small voice, giving me only little morsels of nourishment at a time instead of a gluttonous feast.  I was too busy waiting for Him to bring the big boom down on me that I didn’t see or hear Him in the quiet messages He was sweetly singing to my soul every day.  Instead of giving me everything I needed and watching me ride off into the sunset without a backward glance, he left me waiting and hungering for more each day.    He knows me so well! 

This morning has been another of many healing gifts from God.  Though I am still in the wilderness, there is much work to be done.  I often feel guilty & even ashamed that I am not doing more and I have to remind myself daily that this is not a retreat – this my episode of “Survivor”.   The business of true healing is not for the faint of heart and it requires more than I ever realized.  Though I don’t always FEEL like I am doing much, I know that WHAT I am doing is important to God and to His plan and that He is preparing me for more.  A GPS won’t be necessary for this journey.   This journey can only be taken by faith. 

Beautiful, Fallen Chains

 I have often wondered what I would see if I could look at some of the people I am often quick to judge through the pure lens of God’s eyes.  We all know what it feels like to be under someone else’s microscope and not one of us would say that we enjoyed being there.  We are wrought with weaknesses and experiences that leave scars.  It reminds me of those awful mirrors that magnify every pore, age spot and facial hair (especially those that keep visiting my upper lip) that we didn’t even know we had.  It is bad enough when we, ourselves have to look closely at all of our flaws we try so hard to cover, but when they are exposed and magnified for others to see, we crack under the weight of our shame.

As a child, I was always drawn to beauty.  I wanted to capture all of the beauty I saw around me and carry it with me wherever I went.  I went out of my way to tell every lovely lady I saw that I thought she was pretty and I meant it.  I did not fully understand beauty, but I wanted desperately to be beautiful.  And I was; only I didn’t know it.  What I also did not realize was that few others knew it either.

Fast forward another 10 years or so to a teenage girl who, in her quest for beauty, was now defiled by promiscuity (not always of my own choosing), wrestling with an eating disorder and numbing her pain with alcohol and drugs.  A lot happened on that hunt for beauty.  Some wrong turns were a result of my own poor choices, but there were many times when I was not given a choice which road I wanted to take.  Most people didn’t see or understand WHY I was behaving the way I was, but paid more attention to WHAT I was doing.  I never felt so far away from beauty than in those years, nor did I ever need it so desperately.  I knew what it felt like to be under a foggy microscope that only told part of my story.  I felt like a freak and I reached out to other people who the world treated differently . . . less than.  Instead of being drawn to beauty, I gravitated toward mayhem and darkness.  Where there was pain, there was I.

Little did I know that I would find beauty there as well and out of my pain and struggle, I was given gifts of compassion and understanding.  Yet, I can still find my insecurities kicking in now and then when I am quick to label a beautiful girl by her lack of clothing or assume that a man’s bad behavior a year ago has rendered no fruit or growth today. 

Over the last several years, God has given me a new microscope with a much broader lens and has gently encouraged me to let Him fill in the blanks that the lens doesn’t reveal.  He is showing me that I need to look both closely and from a distance if I am to understand anything at all and even then, I don’t hold all the pieces to the puzzle.  Someone else’s puzzle is not for me to partake in.  We all have our own puzzle that we are continually working on together with God.  It is a sacred mission between us and our Maker.  We are all working toward the beautiful end product.

As I began to look with a new lens, I saw things that shattered my heart.  I never believed that I could be strong enough to carry the weight of the things I have seen and heard in these last few years.  Some of this disturbing knowledge is engraved on my soul and has changed me forever, but I wouldn’t give it back if I could.  It is often easier to see a disruptive, violent little boy as a “bully” and a much harder thing to ask “How did he get this way?”  Even if we get that far, we are quick to blame the parents (which can often be legitimate), but what if this boy has an unexplained issue that his struggling, loving parents have given everything to uncover?  What then, when the entire family is shamed and judged by their community?  And what about that middle school girl who everyone calls “trash” because she is sexually active with her older boyfriend?  I now know more fully what drives a girl to believe she has only that to offer and we will miss the mark completely if we assume it is because she is a “bad girl”.  We look at teenage girls on the streets whose bodies are being sold and we believe they chose that life, but too often were never given a choice and were always lacking the security and maturity to even make such a choice.  I have seen teenage girls locked up in juvenile detention centers for prostitution while the adult men who paid to use them went home to their families and the pimps who beat and sell them daily walk away counting the cash that someone else made for them – someone who is still a child.  We walk past people like that and think we are somehow better when the truth of the matter is . . . we are really looking at ourselves if our circumstances had only been a little to the left or to the right.  We are looking at Jesus being crucified and we are joining in with the crowd, chanting “Crucify Him!  Crucify Him!”.

Little did I know that when God called me to open my eyes, it was not for me to save those trapped in the darkness as much as it was for Him to save me from my own dark blots that have held the better part of me in chains for most of my life.  As I break free from the remaining chains of my past, I can see that God is preparing me for more and equipping me to show others the way out of darkness as well.  But now, I have no illusions about who is leading the way.  I am not strong enough, nor do I have the vision for this journey.  I am calling out to the downtrodden to walk with me in faith toward freedom.  On the way, we will leave our chains lying on the path behind us.  Now and then we may go back and get them, try them back on and drop them again, but we will keep moving forward, delighting in the beauty around us.  But the most beautiful sight of all will be those fallen chains that whisper victory into the hearts of the weary travelers who make the trek behind us.  Keep walking beloved.   Keep walking. . .