to be a dragon-slayer

know this :: when you begin following your calling, your true calling, there will be naysayers.

the loudest voice? the one you can hear above all the whispers and questions? it will come from inside you.

no really.

second guessing is normal. doubting means you’re moving - shaking things up a bit.

here’s the key :: don’t listen to it. 

you can’t. if you do, the fear will strangle you. i know this. i’ve lived it.

i’m a perpetual second guesser. at dinner with russ, i’ll hem and haw about what ifs and i think it’s time buts

when it all comes down to it, i can talk myself out of any decision. i’m that indecisive.

my best friend sent me a sword a few months ago. in the card she told me i could slay dragons with it. when i got it, i instantly thought pssh. no i can’t. not these dragons….

i felt a little nudge in my spirit – you know that feeling. the slight correction from our Divine Madman. the whisper came quiet. oh Daughter. yes. if you only believed in you as much as I do. if you only saw the strength…

wait. me? can i? my heart started pounding in response – her own war dance in preparation of our battle.

yes…she joined in the whispers of the One who holds her hand when i’ve forgotten.

i’ve learned something over the past few months. you know when you’re listening to the wrong voices. you get angsty. confused. dragons come out of nowhere and their fire-breath feels hot and your heart gets all blistery.

even your body responds. nervous stomach, headaches, exhaustion…

danielle laporte mentions in her book the firestarter sessions that the phrase “it just doesn’t feel right” has been down-played by far too many people. i agree. i’ve also heard that the “gut feeling” we experience doesn’t come from our actual gut but our brain.

huh.

so this brick wall of conflict you’re experiencing….could it be a mirage? could it tip over with just the slightest touch? what would happen if you just tried to give it a little nudge?

sometimes, the man behind the curtain is just that –  a man behind the curtain. there are no monsters here. and if they do show up? {because they sometimes do, they’re pesky like that}

you have what it takes to slay them.

before they disappear.

Beneath these ribs is a divided heart that is both screaming to be invisible and aching to be noticed – Josh Riebock, Heroes and Monsters

sometimes, i’m scared of the words.

photo credit :: jon duenas

i feel them brewing – taking over my thoughts and simmering in my heart. i want to be honest in my writing, vulnerable even. but most of all i want to hide. because in moments like this one, where i feel the reality of decisions and day-to-day living falling heavy on my shoulders, it just all seems a little too much for my words to be seen.

vulnerability turns into a four letter word if i’m not careful.

so i tread lightly here, skim the surface and fall into rhythms not my own. instead of invisibility i don a mask and well…this never works for anyone.

this leads to a weird sort of balance. half of me aches to spill words of how i really feel – the ones where i juggle my thoughts and wrestle with messiness. the other, the side of me who hates a hair out of place, wants to cover it all. so i find these middle of the road thoughts that are safe and won’t disappoint. oh but they do. they do disappoint and i’m left all wrinkly inside because i know it wasn’t what my heart wanted to say – wasn’t what He wanted to say. and then? then i lose the words. the ones i held on to, the ones i didn’t want to share, they disappear.

the only thing this ever does is just make me tired.

so i’m trying to return to me. i may not be around here as often as normal or i may start spilling words left and right. i don’t know. one thing i do know is that i’m gonna try my best to listen and listen well.

words don’t come twice, you know.

co-connivers :: we are reconcilers

this is part of my series on brandy walker’s eBook saving the worldcheck out the rest of the posts here

i first saw the video posted on facebook. at first, you’re not sure what you’re watching. i’ve heard of these windows in amsterdam. i’ve heard of the women beckoning men through the glass, scantily clad, promising a good time.

i also knew the implications of these brothels and trafficking.

it’s less than two minutes, but it only took two minutes to completely break me. the girls break into a flash mob dance, the men looking on in hunger. once the dance ends, you hear whistles and clapping and hollering…until a sign above the girls lights up and reveals truth.

every year, girls are promised a dancing career but end up here. stop the traffick.

and then there’s silence.

complete

silence.

the first time i watched it, i crawled into our bathtub and wept. the situation was all too real to me – the injustice blatantly in front of me.

i knew i’d just intersected with my purpose.

in dan allender’s book to be told, he says that our greatest pain within the story God’s written for us will point to our greatest purpose in life. i’ve known this for awhile. i’ve even experienced it. there’s nothing that gets me more ruffled than hearing of girls or women taken advantage of…

but this video? it did something. it rooted deep and rearranged all i had organized in my heart. knocked a few “important” things off the list in order to settle in nice and snug toward the top. it snuck in so quickly and unobtrusively that it’s been weeks for me to even be able to find words to describe the experience.

what i know is this :: our purpose, our dreams, they aren’t meant for us alone. we didn’t find ourselves in this moment so we could be self-serving. our passions, our talents, our leanings, they all point to Him.

we have been reconciled so we can turn around and be reconcilers. 

think of your gifts. think of what angers you – where you find you just can’t stay silent.

where are you called to reconcile? 

co-connivers :: looking ahead

this is part of my series on brandy walker’s eBook saving the world. check out the rest of the posts here

where do you want to be one year from today? 

people ask this question a lot when you start talking about dreams and goals. it’s a good question. forces you to think, narrows your focus, makes you set reasonable benchmarks to get where you want to go.

it’s difficult for me to think that far in advance, though.

don’t get me wrong – i have a picture in my head of where i would like to be on may 2, 2013. i think the difficulty lies dormant in the speaking out of this dream. like, once i say it, people know it and some may even hold me accountable…

…or, now i’ve said it and people know so i’ll seem a failure if i don’t make it.

this is why i created my 50 before 30 bucket list. i have a little under three months to complete quite a few of those goals, but the most important thing?

i never would have completed any of them had i not written them down.

by writing them down, i declared myself willing and able. writing them down provided a space for me to think and pray and dream, allowing some of those dreams to morph into something bigger than i ever anticipated. when i started, i wanted to finish my novel. i did. as i began to work through that process, i knew i wanted to get it published. it will. when i first started talking with rhizome, they mentioned it would be sold as an ePub, through nook and kindle and iPad. if it sold over 500 copies, they’d consider paperback.

in editing, we decided to scratch that idea and go straight to paperback as well as nook, kindle and iPad.

i’ve also completed a 5k, shared my writing in an unexpected place, gone dancing, got another tattoo (or two), and spent time spoiling myself with massages. by the time i turn 30 in july, there are quite a few others i expect to have marked off the list, things  i never anticipated being able to accomplish.

i wanted to write an eBook. i did. i wanted to take the leap and publish it. it’s on amazon. i promise you. this time last year, i never would imagine i’d be where i’m at today. ever.

and it’s because i’ve taken to the notion of declaring yourself worthy of fulfilling dreams. there in us for a reason, you know.

so this time next year? i plan on having a child – i imagine we’ll be placed long before may of 2013. i’ll be in the throes of writing and editing my next novel. i’d have published my book of short stories, come alive will be out and {hopefully} still selling, and i’ll be preparing for the next stage in the adventure our little family has embraced {how’s that for vague}. by that time, what’s most exciting is that i’ll hopefully have planned and executed my next big project :: an eBook on why story is so important and why you should share your own.

and this is just the beginning.

you’ll find that once you start, there’s really no stopping you. ideas will suddenly come and you’ll wonder why you haven’t taken the step needed to complete that goal. and it will seem really, really easy to go ahead and make that step now.

so…think about it.

where do you want to be in a year? 

let me know in the comments. i’d love to hear from you.

piece by broken piece.

i read somewhere recently that God doesn’t reveal to us all of our pain at once. if He did, it would completely shatter us. instead, He does it piece by piece, slowly breaking through our heart of stone.

my heart is easily wooed by this process, except for when new pain is introduced. it’s easy to forget where you’ve come from – easy to place those memories in some sidebar of the brain. this doesn’t serve us, though. and God, in His magnificent and furious love, wants nothing more than for us to be free. i’ve found it’s usually right as we begin to take the breathe of relief that the healing process just may be coming to an end that He shows us one more piece to let go. it’s never over. we’ll never be completely healed with these earth-suits constantly reminding us of our move through eternity.

so we are re-introduced to muddling through the dirt and debris of our hearts. for me, this is when i begin to whimper. the habits of presentation and everything is fine come quickly to save face. but soon, i’m a mess. a puddle on the floor, broken and needing a Surgeon’s hand.

can i be honest? this is where i find myself right now. i’m not writing from a “future me” – my words are penned from a state of brokenness where i’m a bit overwhelmed by decisions and opportunities and heart-pulling. i know i’ll be okay. i know the monsters in the distance are really nothing but mirages, but that doesn’t escape my quickening heart and sweaty brow. although i’m keeping the tears at bay, i’m pretty sure i’d collapse into a slobbery mess if anyone took a second glance and began to prod.

do you practice the discipline of silence? this question was asked of me last night as i explained my word for the year. i had to chuckle. me? silent? i know the discipline well but place me in a room with nothing but my thoughts and i just may start humming to drown out the noise. i knew why the question was asked, though and i couldn’t help but remember the way my heart bent toward the thought of a quiet moment with Him.

because eventually? i know there’s nothing more freeing and renewing than time spent in His lap. the thoughts will cease and it will be nothing but His words washing over me. the monsters in the distance will vanish into the atmosphere, and the wounds oozing fear and rejection will shrink through His suture.

so even though this morning i woke with the battle of running away vs. hiding my head in His chest, i know it’s only a matter of time before He grabs me and holds me to Himself.

sometimes, His furious love overwhelms our senses. sometimes, there’s nothing left to do but surrender to the divine Madman and His healing touch.

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