Friday, June 19, 2015

In the Broken




I stand here in the broken
Shards all around
Lost in the dark of lonely hours
Trying to hold my ground

I am the stranger broken
Discarded on the side of the road
Watching as you pass me by
You never even slowed

I am the woman at the well
Alone in the midday sun
The reminders of my sin
Can never be outrun

I am the woman scorned
Standing naked and ashamed
You in your robes of righteousness
Your stones held high and aimed

I am the woman on the rooftop
The victim of one in power
You cast all blame upon me
From the confines of your ivory tower

The price for redemption's high
Requiring blood to be shed
But how long can I bleed
Before there's nothing left

I stand here in the broken
Longing for the love you spoke
Drowning in your platitudes
You smiling as I choke...

Saturday, May 23, 2015

Standing with the Victims

I know we have all seen the stories surrounding the latest with the Duggars. You can't connect to social media without being bombarded by it. Everyone has their opinions and aren't afraid of expressing them. The comment sections are particularly brutal in many cases on both sides of the coin.


Why can't we forgive and forget?

Haven't we all sinned?

Didn't we all do something as 14yr. olds we are ashamed of and wouldn't want to see made public?

All sin is the same in the eyes of God. He has forgiven Josh, so should we. After all, it was a long time ago.

He was only a child when it happened.

Let those without sin cast the first stone.

He said he was sorry...


In his official statement of apology, Josh Duggar also says, "I understood that if I continued down this wrong road that I would end up ruining my life."


The thing that bothers me the most, and that none of these statements takes into account, is what has happened to the victims. Their childhood was ripped away from them; their innocence stolen in a moment. How in those moments of "acting inexcusably" their lives were forever altered. Altered in ways you could never understand. Physically, mentally, behaviorally, and spiritually. These are things they will deal with for the rest of their lives. The will carry this with them into relationships with friends, with family, with authority figures, with the church, and for many of them, with spouses and children.

Statements like those above are dismissive of victims. Period.

Please be mindful of that the next time you want to post to Fb or Twitter; the next time you want to comment on someone else's post or article. Unless you have been a victim or are walking the hellish road of healing with someone who has been molested, you have NO IDEA how hurtful and dismissive your words and attitudes can be. 





Be a safe place for them to fall. Let them know you are there for them no matter what. No judgement. No platitudes or quick fixes. If you don't understand, say so. Help them find someone that does. Someone trained to deal with what has happened to them. Cry with them. Hold them if that's what they need. Sit with them in the sorrow and anger. Mourn the things they lost with them. Be strong for them. Be the light in their darkness.



National Sexual Assault Hotline
800-656-HOPE(4673)

RAINN
(Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network)


Saturday, April 4, 2015

A Lament for the Lost

It seems fitting that as I write this the skies are heavy with rain. Proclaiming their discontent in loud crashes of thunder and menacing flashes of lightning. Today is Good Friday. Ironically named, as it is a day of silence and sorrow. A day of sadness and shame. A day marked by the death of hope. A day of lament for those of us who are lost...


Lost in the silence
Lost in the sorrow
Lost in the nothing we've become
Lost in the sadness
Lost in the shame
Lost in the hurt we're running from


Today is a day for those of us whose voices have been silenced. Whose words have been stolen by the accusations of others.

Today is a day for those of us full of sorrow. For the wrongs that have been meted out by our own hands. For the forgiveness we withheld. For the grace we failed to give.

Today is a day for those of us drowning in sadness. Because relationships have been broken. Dreams have been destroyed. Lifetimes are slowly unraveling right before our eyes.

Today is a day for those of us who live in shame. Because we don't live up to the expectations of others. Expectations of perfection. In our relationships. In our churches. Or because we no longer go to church as the church is the very place that shame was forced upon us.

Today is a day for those of us who continue to run. From the hurt. From the silence and the sorrow. From the sadness and the shame. From our own expectations of who we should be.

Today is a day for those of us who want to feel nothing. Because the feelings are overwhelming. For those of us who want to become nothing. Because being is too painful.

So we all come together at the foot of that empty cross. All of us who are weary and worn down. Where we sit silently. In the midst of our sorrow, our sadness, our shame. With others who share our hurts. With others who share our tears. With others who understand we have more questions now than answers. And we wait.

Because we once were lost...



Saturday, March 7, 2015

On OneWords and a Crisis of Faith

2015 came rushing in as fireworks lit up the neighborhood skyline. I didn't care to watch this time and be reminded that beautiful things last only for a moment.

And then they are gone.

Instead, I sat with tears steaming down my face at midnight. Tears for the things that should have been. Tears for the things that were promised. Tears for those things that I had a hand in didmantling. Tears for the year that was supposed to be better than the one before. Tears for OneWords and promises from God that were as fleeting as the beauty of those fireworks. And likely just as costly in ways of the heart.

I decided I wouldn't choose a word for this year.

I simply don't have the energy to focus on something that is likely to bite me in the ass yet again. I've forgotten what it's like to be excited about a word from God. Does he really care about something as small as a word? I just don't know anymore. And I think that is part of the problem and why I find myself where I am. In this crisis of faith. Or maybe more accurately, this crisis of belief. I've always  had a problem with the whole faith thing. I want to know when things are going to work out and more specifically how they are going to work out. It's only been made worse when people tell me that things aren't working out because I don't have enough faith. Reinforcing the whole works based approach to God.

If I do enough good things then God will love me enough to work all things to my good.

But I found I could never do enough or be enough to make that happen. Yeah, I know that sounds dramatic. And for some of you, overly churchy. It sounds that way to me as well. Yet I have no better way to describe how I got here. At this crossroad. This proverbial fork in the road of life. Torn between the right path or the left. Which one will lead me to the answers that will satisfy the endless sea of questions? Are there ever any real answers? Does God ever throw the life preserver?

Or are we left to drown in the endless tide of doubt unless we make our own way out of the madness.

I simply don't know anymore. I don't know that everything will turn out for good. There are more things falling apart than being restored. And maybe that's the point of all of this. That there has to be a falling apart before there can be a coming together. Death before life. The waiting and the struggle have become overwhelming. I'm tired of fighting against what I used to believe and all of the things that I know now that contradict those beliefs. I bought in, or sold out, depending on which side of the fence you are on. I drank the kool-aid and now I'm left with the bitter taste of something that's gone bad.

I used to have that assurance however misguided. And now, I miss it.

I miss the person I used to be even though I was never really satisfied with who I was. Maybe I only miss the person I thought I was. The person that everyone else thought I was. The illusion of who I wanted to be. Now, I just don't know anymore. So, instead of choosing one word and having that be my sole focus for the year there has been a phrase that just won't let me go.

Be still and know.

I don't know appears to be the theme here. It's time for me to stop forcing the issue. To not only embrace the stillness but also the knowing that comes after the and. I think that's the most important thing for me. Taking the time to sit still in this dying in order to know that new life is around the coner. Knowing that being still is not all there is. The and says that there is more to the story. More to my story. It's time to let my story write itself the way it's meant to. Hopefully finding my way back to the assurance I used to have. Not because I've bought into someone else's experience but because I've lived my own. I want my faith to be hard earned. A living, breathing, progressive thing that's borne out of the stillness. A faith that continues to grow after the and. 




Thursday, February 19, 2015

On True Blood and Honest Prayers



I recently finished watching True Blood. It didn't take too many episodes for it to become one of my favorite shows. There were characters that you loved to hate and characters that you simply loved. One of my favorite characters is Lafayette Reynolds, the short order cook at the local hangout, Merlotte's. He is flamboyant, charismatic, black, gay and proud of all of those things. He makes you laugh, makes you care about himself and makes you care about the people who are important to him. He is also a medium and as such has begun to use the powers he has inherited. He comes home one night after almost getting main character Sookie Stackhouse killed by invoking these powers and he has had enough. He is afraid of what he has done. He steps up to his altar, faces his prayer icons, lights some candles, and begins to pray. The icons appear to mock him so he sweeps them to the floor and begins to destroy them, all the while saying I am a good man. I'm not sure who he is trying to convince of this, himself or God. He falls to his knees and in a moment of desperation cries out...


"Listen up, I ain't never put too much stock in you, Lord God, but if you up there, I'm tired of all this bullshit! . . . Fuck this shitty stuff! Cut me a break!"


Some of you couldn't get past the fact that Lafayette is black and gay. For some of you, medium and powers lost you. For some of you, the only thing you notice in this prayer is the profanity and that negates it for you. For others, it's the fact that he admits to not giving God a whole lot of credit in his life. It's irreverent. It's bold. It's raw. Those can be offensive on the face of them, but especially in the context of where they are found. Prayers are not typically where you expect to find those things. Prayer is, after all, supposed to be reverent. The place where we meet God face to face. Holy ground as it were.

The thing that struck me the most was the transparency and fearlessness of the request. He's not at all afraid to say exactly how he feels. To ask for exactly what he needs. Isn't it funny how desperation can bring that boldness out in a person. I immediately thought that's the most honest prayer I've heard in a long time. And I have been feeling exactly the same way . . . cut me a break.

I know especially for me as I shed the trappings of organized religion, holy ground is most often found in the questioning. It's in those moments of doubting, when I question the very stock that I put in God, that I meet him more and more frequently. He knows I feel this way already. He knows I want to cry out in the very same way that Lafayette has done. It is in the rawness of those moments I know he hears me. In those moments when my guard is down, my self-imposed righteousness cast aside and I am completely at the end of myself that he sees me. That I see me for who I am. That I see what I truly need. It is in those moments when I am being brutally honest with myself and with God that I feel I am actually standing on holy ground.

I think we have been so desensitized by the church to our actual feelings that we forget we have them sometimes. We've been told we should be humble and repentant, a new creation. All of that old stuff supposedly has passed away. We stand before God with our Sunday Best on - not just our clothing, but our attitudes, mannerisms and language as well. We spend so much time and effort trying to be what we think God wants us to be before we come to him that when we come before him we've forgotten who we really are. I know I have. My prayers have become sanitized. As if I might somehow offend God by simply being who I really am. As I said earlier, he already knows how I really feel anyway. Why do I think I need to make my feelings presentable before I ever express them?

Let's be honest. Sometimes life really sucks. Children die tragically and suddenly. Couples who have been together for a lifetime find themselves newly single and alone wondering what in the world happened. Jobs are lost. Homes are lost. Families are destroyed. We go to church in search of comfort. In search of God. Wanting and needing to be seen and found lacking. Made to feel we are not worthy because we haven't checked our real feelings at the door. Because in the eyes of religion we haven't spent the required time making ourselves presentable for God. Because our messiness, our brokenness, our shitty stuff is too much to deal with and nobody wants to get their hands dirty.

I'm done with the games. Done with the platitudes and the pretense of religion. I'm done with being afraid of showing who I really am. Expressing what I really feel. I'm done with being ashamed of my messiness, my brokenness, and all the stuff life has thrown at me that I am not handling very well.

I think God can cut us a break. The way of the cross encompasses our messiness. It's all about our brokenness. In its honest brutality the cross made a way for us to bear those very things.

So, here's to you and me embracing who we really are and what we really feel.

Here's to honest prayers...

Friday, January 2, 2015

How Do You Wrap Up a Year?

How do you wrap up a year you wish had never taken place? How do you find any good things in a year filled with heartache and loss? Broken promises and shattered trust? I don't doubt that there have been good things that have happened, it just seems that the scales are weighted on the side of broken.

I'll let my 5 most read posts speak for themselves...


5) Genie, You're Free
"When all of our hope has slipped through our fingers, when we have nothing else to hold onto, all we want is to be free. Because the end of hope really is where hell begins. And none of us want to live a life in hell. We need you to accept that life is not black and white. That there are no simple answers. that we can't pray this away. We need you to understand that until you walk a mile in our shoes, you really have no idea what you are talking about.

We need you to walk alongside us, to love us without judgment. To walk with us for help. We need to know that we are not alone..."


4) Tu Me Manques
"Love makes knots; love brutally tears them apart. I have been knotted. I have been torn apart."
Virginia Woolf


3) Living at the Edge
"It's in these margins that we can speak our truth. It's here that we see Jesus as he really is. He's the one who stoops down and writes quietly in the sand at our feet while those who would judge us look on. He takes the time to sit with us by the wells that are brimming with our mistakes, our addictions, our anger, our bitterness, and our depression. He loves us enough to simply be with us in our brokenness. He accepts us just as we are. He wraps us in arms of Grace. His breath against our cheek, hope whispered. He never promised us that everything would be perfect. He only promised that he would never leave us nor forsake us.


2) Longing for Grace
"There have been many more things over the years that have contributed to the reasons I'm not in church this morning. The above was only the beginning. Where judgment and legalism took root in my soul and haunt me to this very day. The place where the trappings of religion wrapped themselves around my heart and have slowly been strangling the life right out of me.

And I know I'm not the only one. I see stories every day of those who have suffered abuse at the hands of the church. In the name of a denomination. In the name of reputation. In the name of legalism. In the name of judgment. In the name of religion. All under the guise of being in the name of Christ."


1) Following the Ache
"But there's another side to justice. In the bible we see that justice also deals with benefits given to those in need; the widow, the orphan, the poor, the sick. In these instances, justice looks a lot like love and grace. And aren't we all in need at one time or another? Even those who have hurt us. Especially when they have done everything in their power to make things right. They are in need of the exact same love and grace that we expect for ourselves.

But it's just too damn hard sometimes..."


I'm also going to include my least read post of this last year. It was the closing piece I wrote for my guest series on Hope. It really captures the essence of what this year has been about for me.




When Hope Escapes Me
"Sometimes when you can't find your own way it's okay to get lost in someone else's story. To find that me too moment and hold on for dear life. Sometimes that's all we can muster. Grabbing onto the hope someone else extends to us in their story.

When hope escapes me, I'll find refuge in your stories. I'll grab the lifeline you throw me and hold on for dear life..."


That last sentence, "I'll grab the lifeline you throw me and hold on for dear life...", really does say it all. I feel as if that's all I have been capable of this past year. Holding on. Barely sometimes, but holding on nonetheless. Thank you for being that lifeline. For all of the encouragement, your love and your understanding. For sitting with me in the ugly, broken places. I wouldn't have made it without you!

Sunday, November 16, 2014

When Hope Escapes Me

I sit here trying to figure out a way to cleverly close out this series. To wrap everything up in a pretty little package with a beautiful bow on top. I truly have no idea how to do so. Nothing about these last weeks has been pretty or particularly bow worthy. I'm left with just as many questions now as I had when I started.





It seems I've lost my lifeline.

You know how you have days where nothing seems to go your way? Where you can't do anything right? Where everything you touch crumbles in your hands...and spills over into the lives of those around you?

This last month has been full of those days for me.

I lost my mother three years ago this past October. Grief carries its own agenda. You're never prepared for how it can sneak up on you seemingly out of nowhere. Our relationship was a complicated one and I think I am mourning the things we didn't have more than the things we did have. Do I have regrets? Yes. And I'm plagued with the they saids, and the should haves. Not one of which I can do anything about...

I hope my daughter doesn't have the same regrets when she finds herself where I am.

Until last December, my husband played guitar for 7 years at a large church. That July I wrote my OneWord mid-year update. I had been struggling with trust and in a moment of brutal honesty, I dropped the f-bomb, simply a guttural response to what I was feeling at the time. Nothing more. Someone in the church saw the post when my husband shared it on his FB page and called the minister of music. The post had to be removed from his page and he was asked to stay home that weekend. Two weeks later there was a meeting in which he was told they would no longer be needing him to play, assuring him it had absolutely nothing to do with my post, and everything to do with changes they wanted to implement. We found out a couple of weeks ago that none of the reasons given for no longer needing his services were ever put into place. So of course it's my fault. All because I was being honest. And the kicker is, not one person involved in that church ever asked if everything was ok...

I hope to someday find a church where I am accepted regardless of the words I use.

Then there is that pesky internal soundtrack we all carry around with us. You know, the negative one we try to avoid listening to. There are times though, that it is so incredibly loud that it is deafening. And then it's reinforced by things that are said about you. You are untrustworthy. You ruin everything. You're a liar. You aren't enough. You aren't important. You're words don't carry any weight. You can't...you aren't...you don't. That soundtrack is screaming at me these days.

I hope that this is not the legacy I leave.

I haven't been well for several months. Physically and emotionally these months have taken their toll. Last week it all caught up with me. My blood pressure spiked at stroke levels and stayed that way for days. A visit to the doctor finds me on meds for my blood pressure and an appointment next week to make a plan to address my depression.

I hope this is the beginning of better days for me.

I realize that this post seems like a real downer but look at the common thread throughout...hope. I hope for more. I hope for better. So I guess I haven't really lost my lifeline after all. Somewhere along the way I simply stopped looking for it. Depression will do that to you. Being physically ill for long periods of time will do that to you.

I think what I have learned from this series is that, no matter the situation, no matter the person, there is always that common denominator. It manifests itself differently for everyone but is always there when you take the time to look for it.

Sometimes when you can't find your own way it's okay to get lost in someone else's story. To find that me too moment and hold on for dear life. Sometimes that's all we can muster. Grabbing on to the hope someone else extends to us in their own story.

Hope. Hope seems to be the lifeline that sustains us through the hard things. It's the thing that keeps us getting out of bed every morning. The thing allowing us to be able to face our days, however difficult, one small step at a time.

When hope escapes me, I'll find refuge in your stories. I'll grab the lifeline you throw me and hold on for dear life...



I want to thank everyone who participated in this series. You truly have been my lifeline during this time. Your encouragement and your prayers have meant more to me than you can know. Thank you for throwing me something to hang onto, for allowing me to get lost in your stories.

You can find all of the posts in the series here, "Finding Hope in Our Stories Compilation".