Posts filed under abide

risking it all.

65025_10152374298930004_1362035893_n I never imagined I would be telling you this so soon.

There've been hints here and there - shots in the dark toward nothing in particular. But the crux of the matter is this :: at the beginning of the year, I was asked to abide. And I did. I thought - much like the previous year - I knew what the word meant.

I really had no idea.

You see, this time last year I figured I'd be a mom by now. This time last year I figured my book would be published by now.

And in one of these, I was correct. In both of these, I was let down.

There's still a lot I am unwilling to say, especially in a space like this where anyone can grab hold of my words and misconstrue them. But, I will say there comes a point where everything has fallen through your fingers and you wonder how in the world He will make these moments new.

Because in August, we were matched with a mother. Five weeks before the birth, we realized she'd planned on keeping the baby the entire time.

In September, my book was published. This morning, the last day of 2012, I received an email that by January 7 it will be pulled from online shelves. My publisher is officially closing its doors.

It's moments like these I have to remind myself of when my friend told me it was time for me to take a risk on my dreams. She didn't know it then - she was only whispering the truths He told her to share with me - but this word was already creeping itself up and around my heart for 2013. A four-letter word. A scary word that makes me shake in my boots because I'm the safe one. I'm the put-my-hand-up-and-avoid-conflict one. But it was there - right in front of me - and when those words fell from her mouth I knew.

It's time I risk.

And really, what do I have to lose? Everything I breathed through this past year has all but fallen apart on me and I'm left with a few threads but that's all you need to build something beautiful.

I don't know what my next steps are - I've requested my files from the publisher in order to hopefully continue to keep Come Alive on the shelves as a self-published novel. But I believe in fate, and I know these words from my past two years have fallen on me when I needed them most. So here's to risk. Here's to letting go of the safety net.

Because if there's anything I've learned in these past few months, it's that you'll never learn how to soar if you don't first step to the edge and let yourself jump.

 

Thankfully, I've purchased a few copies of Come Alive when things started looking pretty bad and I still hadn't received any copies of my own. So, if you want to stay updated on when it's back online and set for good, join us over on Facebook. Once we hit 500 people, I'm going to be giving away a signed copy.

Posted on December 31, 2012 and filed under risk, abide.

when your heart knows.

I'm sitting in a closet. I can feel the quickening of breath - the avoidance of the hanging clothes in front of me, the knowledge of the playard next to me, the emptiness of the room around me.

This would have been our nursery - her nursery.

I'm beginning to swallow the weight of our adoption falling through - letting it sink in deep with other disappointments. My heart's been unhappy lately, namely because I'm ignoring her as best I can. It can be too much at times. She can be too much at times - clanging away inside, banging against my bones and demanding attention - when all I really want is silence.

How can one separate her fear of a manipulative God, however non-existent, with the reality of life falling apart around her? God wants to give us good things? He does?

Then why do I feel as if everything has been taken away?

And I don't need the story of Job, because I know it. I don't need the but God is good, because I've experienced it.

I'm just so tired of questions. I'm tired of dodging conversation because I don't want to admit how scared I am in this moment - how much I want to channel a spoken-word poet and spit these emotions out-out-OUT in a rhythm that matches the pulsing in my chest because it hurts. It hurts, dammit.

And I stop short of clawing at this skin because there's just so many triggers - so many ways to hide - so many lies.

But I cling to Hope because it's the only thing I know and even when that crashes I scratch through the dirt to find the pieces of what's left.

Will you rest in Me? 

He asks me this - reminds me to abide - whispers that He misses me, and the pain just keeps pulsing and my fingers keep on clawing and I keep on running into another brick wall, my heart in pieces and my forehead bruised.

And each time, I fall in His arms.

Oh daughter. Have I not always provided for you? 

And in my reluctant answer, He smiles - then what makes you think this would be any different?

TRUST. 

It's become my four-letter word :: ripe and scary and messier than I imagined. But what other choice do I have but to risk it all on Him?

The rattling in my bones softens - my heart finally safe in the arms of her Father. It's where she wanted to be all along.

Posted on October 18, 2012 and filed under abide.

proof of Him.

hope is the thing with feathers know this :: sometimes, you find yourself in the middle of God's silence. sometimes, you realize your anger is more hurt and confusion and disappointment because of His absence.

but here's the Truth - He never leaves. not really.

last week, a dear friend wrote about kissing the waves that crash us against the Rock. for the past few months, it feels as if i've been lost in the waves, pressing closer to shore. perhaps this is why standing on the edge of sunset cliffs moved me to tears. watching the white caps rush to meet me, feeling the foam kiss my cheek and roll down my arm, i think i understood with more clarity a little of what i'd been feeling lately.

because although i've felt pushed around, it's really a pushing toward. and these past few days have been proof of His presence.

i've spoken before of how He overwhelms. i'm one familiar with the heavy hand of Love.

this though - this is something all together different.

this is finding stray feathers on walks and last minute getaways with my love. this is a drive through forgotten roads and filling my soul in the rolling landscape of the texas hill country.

this is hearing Him in the rustling leaves despite my anger.

this is emails that encourage and promise prayer. this is close friends coming closer and whispering yes to save room for my own bursts of joy.

so now, i feel myself pushed up against the Rock and every time i feel Him breathe i'm reminded of those words, if grace is an ocean we're all sinking. 

because right now, i'm sinking. i'm sinking and i'm overwhelmed and i'm falling asleep with a smile on my face because this, right here, is my life.

eucharisteo.

Posted on August 21, 2012 and filed under abide.

heart stirrings & salty air.

  2012-06-20 10.19.05

this sea, whose gently awful stirrings seem to speak of some hidden soul beneath - herman melville

in graduate school, i read kate chopin's awakening for the first time. i was immediately drawn to edna, the main character - probably because her views fears of femininity and motherhood echoed the questions in my own heart. and? she's irrevocably drawn to the ocean. the final scene shows edna succumbing to the waves of the gulf of Mexico.

now, while some may question her final appearance as a depressing twist of fate, when i read the story i was overcome with the hope of edna finally pursuing her heart. there was a risk involved in stepping into the ocean and allowing the waves to completely drench her. she fights the desire to dive into the wildness of the ocean for most of her adult life, bending to the expectations around her. finally, devastated by a forgotten love, she flings herself into the ocean. when i read the story, i didn't read an ending of a life but a restoring of her true self. almost a last ditch effort to remember what it was like to feel alive.

i think the ocean a wild and untamed life-force. like edna, i'm irrevocably drawn to the waves. for the past few years, we've considered leaving for an extended weekend to the coast. this year, we decided to bite the bullet. until tuesday, i'll be breathing in the salty ocean air and walking through the waves. perhaps the crashing unpredictability of foam-spent water will whisper some secret messages meant only for my soul.

Posted on June 21, 2012 and filed under abide.

inch by inch

You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it - we bought a zoo for the past few months, i've worked toward {abiding} - sitting and waiting and learning what it means to let Him love me.

something i've learned since january :: it's taking more and more tenacity to sit in the wait.

i can't help but think this means i'm doing something right. 

guys, there are moments i want to run. there are moments where my gag reflex seems potent. this is the process of birthing oneself into full adulthood, a friend told me the other day. in a situation that left me dizzy, she looked me in the eyes and reminded me of the why :: in doing so you will be whole. 

image found on pinterest via alli worthington

so right now, i feel a little like my rope's been cut. i feel like i'm flying and i'm not quite sure if this is a good thing - probably because i'm not quite sure what the landing will look like, i've never been very graceful.

but i'm at peace. one thing i know for sure in this season of learning to abide: He never asks me to understand the steps twenty or thirty yards ahead. the One who holds my heart and the One who understands my fear is the One who whispers these dreams in the quiet.

and all He's ever asked me to do is trust the next inch.

Posted on June 1, 2012 and filed under abide.