Goldilocks: Just Right.

by Holly

Strong and independent. At least she thinks she is.

Adventure calls. Wandering into the unknown, her innocent curiosity gets lost in her criticism.

Fear, The Not Enough, wins. There is only one way, right in the middle. Extremes=dangerous, inside the margins=known.

Alone, she befriends the neutral inside. Accepted and expected is what comes out. Intimacy with just right grows. She knows what others want to see. She shows them what they want to know. But she senses something else within her.

The voice inside, it rumbles low. It fuels default, demands order. It tells her she has it all together. It brings her comfort. Praise. The voice carries her while her something else simmers deeply, never boiling but never freezing.

This porridge that simmers, could it be her true self? Her peace?   A porridge made of dreams, passion, desire: the triplets that make her her. They wait for her rising. They long to meet her strength and independence, her confidence. They hope that someday her curiosity will trump her criticism. They wonder when her sense of adventure will take her past the edges. They fight to free her. Fill her.

Because being filled with the porridge is the only way to make room for the joy, the completeness, and the saving of souls: triplets that can never be found in just right.

What are the dreams, passions and desires that make you you? [contact-form][contact-field label=’Name’ type=’name’ required=’1’/][contact-field label=’Email’ type=’email’ required=’1’/][contact-field label=’Website’ type=’url’/][contact-field label=’Comment’ type=’textarea’ required=’1’/][/contact-form] 

A Year Ago, Today

by Kari

I take a deep breath.  I pause in gratefulness to my Maker for this fullness in life that Paul talks about in Ephesians 3.  For this is the day that Holly and I launch this blog.  Our hearts are overflowing to share our stories with you in poetry and prose.  And we invite you to dialogue with us in this journey.

 

A Year Ago, Today

Year ago today
Saturday morn couch lay
frozen physically
numb dizzily:
this is happening.

“I don’t know what to do”
meant I did too:
leave him
four kids
get help.

Texted counselor friend
ensure no dangerous end
texted faithful neighbor/friend
she arrived.

A community tea party
I was to lead hardy
“I can’t do this today
I must go away
can you be me?”

Shaky words
no tears
lost in skin’s atmosphere.

Kissed kids, nestled in covers
brush by husband, no hover
“I can’t process with you.”

Faithful friends, family
dropped all to salvage me
cringe with me
hurt with me
and
my husband.
We are eternally grateful.

New life, language surfaced
through pain, tears
purposed.

Goldilocks living
longed to strangle
to get my attention, angle;
chronic depression confusing
age-old self-hatred losing
leathery cords fusing
over-commitment amusing
cerebral institution musing.

Life on hold
catch my breath
month of June
therapy depth
resuscitating Goldilocks
to see the real deal.

Real deal wrestling
shame digesting
vulnerability pressing
angst manifesting.

New-birth tears rising
finding self thriving
calling out the conniving
to the depths diving.

Goldilocks not hated
not ridiculed, mutilated
breakdown to brave
true-self crave
dreadlocks fated
embracing me
amazingly elated.

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Does God Want Us to Listen, Talk, or…Hum?

by Holly

She thought she would hear Him more if she paid more attention and tried harder. God was like a continuous hum, constantly trying to speak to her.  So, if she did not constantly hear Him, it was because her efforts were too small. She thought the ones who were good at walking in His will were the ones who were good at listening. If they could do it, she could. Tuning into the hum was a skill that could be learned.

But she wondered why it was always more about listening than talking. She had always tried to talk to Him through her prayers.  But her prayers felt like a one-way, as she asked for the good stuff and dumped the hard stuff.  Praying did not feel like talking.  Prayers were about asking now, then hoping she would be skilled enough to hear His answer later.

As she tried harder and harder to listen, it felt more and more unnatural.  What if there was no constant hum of Him trying to reach her?  Maybe that had just been her hope. There was security in a hum that never stopped, a comforting tune that would make her feel like God was always there looking out for her, inviting her to Him, whether she was paying attention or not. Maybe she wanted a humming kind of guidance, the kind that was there for her when she came across something too big to handle on her own, but kept on going when she did not need it.

What if God designed her to be more than His perpetual listener? What if he yearned to listen to her? What if he created her for a conversation with Him?

In the conversation, both would listen. Both would speak. They would figure things out.  Together.

They would hum new songs that had never been heard before – together, in perfect unison.

How do you communicate with God?

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Now Playing: The No-Sleep Zone

by Kari

I had never experienced sleeping problems until a year ago. Suddenly all of the complaints and stories that I had heard about were happening to me. For weeks I received very little rest, but instead entered a new territory of the night.

 

Insomnia Night

Insomnia Night
fright
princess wave
restless knave
cells fighting
freak show sighting
anxiety parade
clock stopping
heady zone
dead phone
house humans snoring
my body imploring
excruciating challenge
don’t move
breath no soothe
panic driven
up to pace
tomorrow a waste

 

What words/phrases would you use to express your bouts of insomnia? [contact-form][contact-field label=’Name’ type=’name’ required=’1’/][contact-field label=’Email’ type=’email’ required=’1’/][contact-field label=’Website’ type=’url’/][contact-field label=’Comment’ type=’textarea’ required=’1’/][/contact-form] 

 

Are You Spinning Around in Busyness? You’re Not Alone.

by Holly

On busyness. 

Spinning.  You and I are the hands of a clock, never moving synchronously, rarely being one.  I am wound by something else, something…out.  All that “needs” to be done.   Every time I reach the top, a rush of success fills me.  (or does it?)

Mechanically, I tick.  If I stopped, I would be broken.  And brokenness would require meeting You. Courage.  My opposite of success: something other than doing, other than working.

The circles are always there, tempting me to spin.  But You are always there too, beckoning me to stop.

There is no heart in the spin.  No joy.  No peace.  No feeling.  It just is.

But I, I was made for stopping, breaking the circle.  I was made for filling my heart with oneness through the brokenness.

Unwind me until I stop because stopping is where I find my heart.

The unbrokenness of the circle tricks me into complacency, energizes me by the stuff out there.  My heart suffocates until I face the brokenness.  Until I share it.  Until I am one with You, and others, from in here.