Sometimes our plans don’t work out. I’m pretty bad at making plans, considering I don’t like the feeling of having a ton of things on my calendar. However , I was reminded this morning that Jesus didn’t just make plans with friends, he LIVED his life with his friends. Friends that were like family. Traveling, eating, resting and praying. The good , and the bad… clearly. We are not called to be islands , but instead communities. I agree it’s hard, and there are tons of false communities. I don’t want that. I want more. I don’t want plateaus ( thank you Angela) on my relationships with friends and family. I want to spend my time, my treasure, my talent in a way that is pleasing. A big plan, with small steps. 



You broke the windows to my soul. Jagged glass that let in the cold.

I boarded up my heart and called your name, my past. 

There have been times when I hesitated or decided not to write. Those times were navigated by man made fear. I am done with that. My truth is my truth. I have never pointed fingers, I have pointed out … A childhood …lacking, an adolescent… broken, a heart… mended. No one is perfect, and I don’t share my testimony to get an apology or sympathy, but to simply shed light on my dark areas. Mine alone. For every story that I am brave enough to write , there is one still in the dark. I won’t be satisfied until there is light flooding into my heart shattering every shadow. I’m sorry if it causes you to look into your own dusty corners. 

This might seem shocking to all you perfectionist multi- tasking , beautiful children raising people, but….My purpose , even in motherhood is to know God, to adore him and be adored by him. Even when harsh words are spoken, and wrong choices made…even when there is pain …. My purpose can’t be to raise perfect , or even good children…. But to know my father , to feel his love, and to REVEAL his love …to them. So when the crap has hit the fan, and for a moment I forget who I am….I don’t have to DO anything. Just sit there, or more likely, lay there , and let God love me. Let him hold me, and mold me , and make me more like him through every step and every misstep. 

I want what every girl wants, a father that can hold all of me. A father that can hold every detail of my life, every giggle, and tear , every torn down brick of my rubble. Thankful today that I have that. It’s a journey, and I’m still traveling. But I am not alone.

Valentine,
We are better than we were when we were young and beautiful . We are seasoned, and funnier now. What we lost in the hot tempers, and hateful words of our silly youth, we have found in the gentleness of knowing each other. The rivers of time have smoothed away some of our rough edges, and I am grateful for each day, but also each decade. The good , the bad, and the brutiful. I love you. Simple. I lean on you, and I believe in you. In my eyes you are capable of ANYTHING ! In this, the end of our second decade, I can honestly say that love only gets better. It becomes more honest, it cries easier, and it reveals itself as the only thing that matters.

When I am asked to share my story, I usually start with my 14th year, now referred to as the year of sorrows. But as I sit here very still and listen to the small voice inside. I know, my story started long before that.

What sets the stage for my story is not bad childhood memories ( though there are a few), it’s the LACK of memories that speak to me now. The lack of love, and lack of interest my daddy had for me. He wouldn’t have been able to tell you what books, or music I liked. I can never remember being told that I was smart, or funny, or that he was proud of me. And so, my broken heart started long before I learned to like boys.

This story isn’t really about my daddy , anymore than its about me. The story of the prodigal son isn’t about that boy, or his daddy. The stories, yours, and mine…they are about GOD. He is the main character. All of the details are simply arrows pointing straight to his heart.

At 14 , I gave parts of myself away, and I kept doing that for some years. God kept calling me though, he kept pointing me to his sweet son Jesus. And one day, I caught a glimpse of him, I heard his voice, and it was … warm. Yes, he had a warm voice. He told me in warm whispers that I was loved by him. I was sunk. I fell in love with him. There were songs, dances, and long walks. I was eager to be whole hearted. As much as I loved Yeshua, I could not get s grasp on GOD the Father. The one idea that my love was trying to point me to, and I had no understanding of a fathers love.
It has taken years, it has taken raising children, struggles , beautiful strife, and a true love affair with my husband, dark paths that seemed endless…. But I got it! My Abba brought it all up, the past, the pain, the beauty, the ashes, he layed them before me, and as he did, those things, so heavy inside me, became a crown . And with that, I let my Heavenly Father love me. He had lovingly revealed to me who I was as his daughter. I saw, and heard the depth of his love, the lengths that he would go to to call me to Him. Layer by layer he is revealing my story, the one where he is King, and I am princess.

Last year, he gave me the words Reign, and Esther. He was teaching me about my legacy. This New Years He gave me the word…Bird. He told me to fly, to prepare my nest, he spoke of songs, wings, and feathers. I don’t know what flying looks like, but I trust my Father. And so I am singing a song that I don’t know the words to yet, but the melody is in my heart. A song called… Hope. Be blessed in his absolute love for you .

I’m learning . Every new day holds some treasure. Sometimes the treasure is huge and impactful, and sometimes it’s as small as a mustard seed. Today I walked. And I talked, well , actually I listened. I took deep breaths in, and let my gaze drift to the river flowing beside me. Today’s treasure looked small, but it was huge. Realization.
Realize: to become aware of.
Today I watched a friend realize tiny pieces of her heart. She became aware of bits and pieces and shards, and edges. All parts that make a whole. It was beauty unveiled, and it pointed me so clearly to my own heart, and all of its tiny pieces.

Stories are revealed in layers. Over years . Beauty is unveiled in layers, with time. Two years ago , the Lord started in on me. He said … Stop . I did. I tried. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to stop. A year went by , and he called to me again. It’s time, he said. Time to stop. Stop what Lord? Stop running from your broken heart . And with that simple statement, my whole past started churning inside me. I wrote it out my story, I prayed, I sang , I cried… I grieved for the ghost of a girl I used to be. And then …. I started to heal. Another year has passed , and I am seeing myself new, recognizing the intricate details that Abba has worked out in me. The whispers of love that I heard all through the darkest days were His. I belong to him. Our love is eternal. Outside of time. I am revealed again and again ,every morning . Layer by layer.