Sunday, September 8, 2013

The Bar

So here I am…16 years old.  Hi Amy it’s nice to meet you
You with your combat boots and your yellow and black stripe tights
You with your Chicago Bulls jacket, big and black
You with your baggy jeans one day and your Doc Martins the next

Where do you belong?  Where do you fit in?
You shave your head…
You bring him home, him who is a different shade of then your pale white skin
Into your home so your mom stops screaming about
Your fallen beautiful locks of hair

She yells and yells not because the color of his skin
But because of the struggle you have now chosen to wrestle with
Black sheep, stand out, different
All along pure, not touched, making a promise to your King, your Savior
To wait . . . to wait . . . to wait

Hello Amy at 17 . . . walking around standing tall
Proud of fitting in to this group and that group
And don’t forget that group over there
Choir nerd, athlete, Student Council treasurer
Cool kid, studious, rebellious on the inside
Loving your Savior, your Jesus

18 and 19 come and go
No longer pure
Did not wait
Given up
All along dragged down by the haunting feeling
That something is just not right

Why is this bar so low?
Why do you continue to live in this world of darkness
Sin, lust, begging for more and more attention
Why Lord? Why?
Struggling to raise that bar
Struggling to keep that bar raised
He does not want you to live this life
He does not want you to give yourself to those who do not know that the living God, the one and only, the all powerful, the one that defeated death, yes I said the one that died, dead, no life, in the ground, got up after laying there dead for 3 days, got up, yes got up and breathed in the air and LIVED, was ALIVE, that that same living KING is the same KING that lives inside you right now as we speak, as you talk and breath and preach, Jesus, yes Jesus dwells in this body.

The same body you choose to defile
To torture
To give away
To lower the bar so that you might feel loved
Just to be left behind, used, bruised, unclean

So I say to you at 14, 15, 16, 17
Don’t lower the bar
It’s not worth it
Raise that bar for yourself
For your body
For your spirit
For you King

Raise the bar even if your parents don’t
Even if your teachers don’t
Even if your friends don’t
Even if you girlfriends or boyfriends don’t
Even if the people you look up to don’t
Raise the bar and wait
Because your King is there inside you waiting too


Saturday, July 27, 2013

Forgiven and Free

Tuesday I'm getting some new ink.  

I'm excited.  I love, love, love tattoos.  It makes me who I am now.  I'm unique and I am able to show the world my uniqueness by the ink on my skin. 

So that's Tuesday but today I have been sitting on the concept of forgiveness.  Why can't I forgive myself?  I can forgive everyone else.  I have forgiven my father for drinking too much when I was a kid.  I have forgiven my mom for enabling him (okay so I still struggle with this, I'm not perfect).  I have forgiven Rayne's dad for the hurtful words he has written me over the years and more importantly for his silence for the past 20 years.  I have forgiven Autumn's father for well not being a father.  I have forgiven friends that have hurt me.  I have forgiven guy after guy who have hurt me.  

There is one person I have not forgiven .... ME.

Because I have not forgiven myself for sins I have done I let these sins haunt me and then well . . . . I sin again.   It's a vicious cycle and I'm getting tired of it.  The freedom I feel when I'm not entrapped in sin is AMAZING.  Let me say it again . . . FREEDOM IS AMAZING.  So why, oh why can't I forgive myself long enough to stay FREE?  

I need to work on this.  I need to sink my teeth into what God says about forgiveness.  It's an insult really that I can't forgive myself.  It's an insult to God who gave his son to DIE for my life.  

HE FORGAVE ME.  Period. End of story.  I AM FORGIVEN.  I AM FREE.  

I need to stop looking back and move forward.  Today I started to let go. I started to feel that feeling of freedom again.  It felt great.  

Tuesday I'm getting fresh ink . . . forgiveness and freedom will be my theme.  I figure having an instant reminder of God's forgiveness and freedom tattooed on my body should help me with my daily struggle.  Tattoos are not just body art to me but they are healing and my way of telling the world my story.  

(Stay tuned)

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Mountian Moving God

It's been over 18 months since I have written.   This week has been rough and because I want to move forward not backward I feel like writing is a way for me to heal, be creative, move forward.

A lot has happened.  So much so that I do not know where to start.  I have a lot in my head, in my heart, in my soul that I would like to put down on paper but fear I will never have the time or courage. 

Tonight there is a tugging at my heart . . . my desire to be a foster mother is becoming stronger and stronger with each year that goes by.  I turned 39 this year and part of me grieved that I would not birth another baby from my body . . . or let's face it, it is very unlikely I will.  With that grieving came the growing desire to foster. 

I read foster blogs all the time.  Adoption blogs are one of my favorite and not because I happen to be an adoption caseworker but because many adoptions I follow started out by fostering.  I want to foster in the truest sense.  I want to be a safe haven for children who need me.  I know I will be heart broken but it's worth it to me.  Autumn (my 13 year old) also has a desire to foster.  She wants desperately to be a foster sister. 

So why am I not fostering you may ask?  There is a huge obstacle in the way . . . my sister.  I live with my sister in her house with her three kids.  She DOES NOT want to foster.    In order to foster everyone in the house hold needs to agree to do it.  I want to start praying.  My prayer will be either my sister changes her mind or I move out.  Both of these solutions seem impossible but I serve a mountian moving God so anything is possilbe right?