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. . .

The Greatest Generation

Before my daughters were born, I worked in nursing homes doing activities.  Those years made a better person out of me.  No - the residents I worked for made a better person out me.  I heard their amazing stories and saw how hard they worked and how much they sacrificed to provide a better future for the next generations.  I kept a journal of some of the conversations and exchanges we had over those years and kept photos so that I would not forget their faces/names.  Some are forever etched into my heart and no photos are even necessary.  Like Russell Miller - who is still one of my best friends (I love you and miss you) and Dillie Dixon (my fiery friend who shared in my thirst for mischief), Charlie Stoneburner (I still have the ornament - always will) and Agnes Schwartz who lived to be 104, but it wasn't long enough for me).  I have the utmost respect for every one of them and they all taught me so much about life, love and even death.  I strive for a fraction of their character and heart.  This poem is a little bit of all of them - it is all true of one or more of them and they were true legends of their time.

Mr. John Doe's Room

It’s just a meager taxi ride

From your home sweet home

Where extraordinary people live

Yet spend their days alone

And if you were to wander in

On some fine afternoon

I’d urge you to come take a look

At Mr. John Doe’s Room

And you will find an old, frail frame

That once stood “ten feet tall”

Whose legs became a wheelchair

Just after that last fall

But look beyond the telling lines

That lead to humbled eyes

And you may see a different man,

A Hero in disguise

Look closely at the pictures

Of his all-adoring kids

Their faces singing praises for

What kind of dad he is

And please don’t miss the stunning quilt

That warms his standard bed

The one his dear wife made with love

Just after they were wed

The quilt alone will tell you

Of her diligence and care

But speak, it won’t, of all the trials

And hurts they’ve had to bear

Like going without food for days

So that their kids could eat

In the days of the Depression

When life was bittersweet

And the time she lost the baby

After two hard days of labor

And nearly lost her own life

Had the Lord not chose to save her

He’s watched those tender, loving hands

Grow weary with disease

And as he once proposed to her

He said “Good-bye” upon his knees

And over in the corner

There’s a shoe-box filled with stars

That he had earned in Normandy

Along with battle scars

And that’s not all – there’s so much more

That you will never see

Unless you look with brand new eyes

At each biography

So let each face that your eyes scan

Be as a precious flower

Whose beauty far exceeds your own

When in its latest hour

And as you leave this “Garden”

Of wisdom in full bloom

You’ll find a living Legend

In every John Doe’s room

A B*TCH Named Shame

Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve been filling up my ears

With insults and convincing lies that bring my soul to tears

You come over uninvited and you sprawl out on my floor

I’m tired of stepping over you to reach my own front door

This house belongs to me and yet I let you drive me out

And stand out in the rain so I don’t have to hear you shout

I’ve looked in from the outside like a vagrant seeking shelter

And watched you vandalizing as my blood began to swelter

And all those raging parties that you threw at my expense

Inviting rapists, liars, thieves and “friends” with ill-intent

They made themselves at home and I, afraid to come inside

Lingered in the yard where all the flowers choked and died

I’ve watched you rearrange each room and I no longer see

The things that made this house a place that felt like home to me

And all these years I’ve stood out on the wrong side of this door

Believing that, without a key, this house is mine no more

But righteous rage came knocking and I saw you load your gun

And I knew then that you were making plans to fight or run

Well sister get your running shoes and put that rifle down

I’m kicking down this door to run this party out of town!

There’ll be no one left standing to protect you from the truth

From there, I’ll drag you up the stairs and throw you from the roof

But not before I mark you so that all will know your name

“Here lies a double-crossing B*TCH, but you can call her SHAME.”

by Karen Davis King

Welcome!

Thanks for visiting Talitha cumi!  I have been doing a lot of writing over the past several months and just feel the need to share it in hopes that some of the things I write may bring hope, comfort, inspiration and encouragement to others.  I have always found art and writing to be healing and empowering and that has never been more true for me than in the past year or so.  Some of what you will see on this blog is a little on the dark side, some posts will be full of hope and others are somewhere in-between.  Whatever you find, I hope something speaks to you. 

To give you an idea of who I am and what you may see me write about, I am a lover & follower of Jesus Christ.  I don't consider myself a democrat or a republican, nor do I believe that God supports one or the other. I love America and our troops and their families (past and currrent) who have sacrificed so much to protect everything it stands for.  I know our nation has many problems, but I wouldn't want to live anywhere else in the world and I consider almost daily what my life would be like had I simply been born on another part of the earth - it's not a pretty thought.  Even still, there is always work to be done and I try not to complain unless I intend to also do whatever I may be capable of to be part of the solution.  One of the most important issues for me at this juncture (and has been for the past 3 1/2 years) is the issue of human trafficking.  I have felt most passionate about dealing with the issue of sex trafficking in the US (and YES, it happens in the US to our daughters and sons, even in Prince William County), but there will be more to come on that because I have much to say.

I am a full-time mom who intensely loves her family and yours and wants to see all families thrive.  I treasure children and teenagers and I feel we (our world) are failing them and that most systems in any country, state or neighborhood (some worse than others) just do not protect them or value them enough to make them a priority.  I volunteer in the local juvenile detention centers and other places where I see struggling youth, abused, addicted, neglected and nowhere safe to go.  We as adults are too quick to judge young children - we see their behavior and mark them as "trouble", "bullies", "promiscuous".  We look at the "WHAT" instead of the "WHY".  I say "we" because I have been guilty of those judgements far too many times.  No I am asking God to let me see others through His eyes.  Most of us don't know the nightmares that some kids are living right under our noses.  It could be your next door neighbor, your straight-A student or the teenager who is always cracking jokes in your church youth group.  AHHHH, see there I go - you can tell what I am most passionate about.  I didn't intend to make this a loooong introduction, so I'll save the rest of my thoughts for another time. 

Again, thanks for visiting and please know that you are important to God.  He has a special place in His heart reserved for only YOU and only YOU can fill that particular space!   

Beauty for Ashes,

Karen