Check out this beautiful post by Kattyrae over at Quixotic; she has such a beautiful and magical way with words.
“…And I soar through a world that is new, that is free…”
The sensation that is soaring above the clouds cannot be rivaled. As we climb steadily higher, I do not feel the panic I had assumed would set in.
Instead, there is only wonder.
That, and the overwhelming need for my ears to just pop already.
I feel free. I feel amazement. I feel that I could do this forever, this flying above everything, so close to the heavens that I could almost believe we are soaring with the angels.
The sky is so incredibly blue. Untouched by the floor of white beneath.
The captain says we are at 38K feet.
It is beautiful. The clouds below us are as rolling fields of white. In the distance, a storm is brewing. But this particular one will pass us. Is there another waiting for us up ahead? I do not know, but I do not mind. I believe we are too high for the storms to reach us; they are simply an inconsequential event that transpires below us.
Already we have been up here for nearly an hour. I does not feel as thought that could possibly be true. In merely one hour, I will have arrived in the mountains. The mountains that I love; the mountains I call home.
I know that when my time comes to return, I will be excited to return to my Lone Star, where I truly feel as though I am where I belong. I will be eager for the green that is everywhere in the south. I will be happy to once again walk those fields that are so much a part of me, I live and breathe them.
And I realize, not for the first time, that these three places, these locations that are woven into my very soul, are simply temporary spots of refuge. I am destined for somewhere far greater. And the beauty and amazement I feel now on this, my first flight, will not even begin to compare with that I will feel when I am traveling home to Him. To behold my Savior at last; to bask in His wonder, and lift my hands in praise in His presence.
For now, I am grateful for this moment of beauty. The excitement He gives me at the very thought of travel. I am grateful for the opportunity.
One more hour. I think it’s really going to fly by.
I’ve been meaning to post an update here for a while now…I just didn’t think this would be it.
My grandmother is in the hospital.
She has been fighting cancer for a while now….we’ve already had her longer than we should have. And today may not have been a terrible thing that happened; she’ll probably get to go home tomorrow. The doctors were hopeful. And my family of doctors and nurses looked relieved.
But for a bit there…it was scary.
Because I realized there’s so much left I have to say to her.
I have so much I want to tell her, so much to show her. I’m scared I’ll forget all those amazing things she taught me, or the stories she told. I don’t want to think about how hard it will be for my granddad if ever she’s not there.
That’s one thing about Pearson’s. They don’t show emotion…they don’t communicate affection. They don’t say “I love you”….unless it’s to a dog. We’re rather British in that way. haha. But today; I saw something different.
As we all sat around, laughing as my grandfather teased my (single) brother about catching himself one of the pretty nurses that filled the hospital; as my mom laughed and mentioned how my granddad thought everyone should get a nurse…because he had his eye on one oh so long ago. And he talked about how cute the nurses looked back in the day, with their white dresses, and little white caps…and then something magical happened.
As he smiled at my grandmother in her hospital bed, he said “She always was such a beautiful young thing”; and she just grinned back delightedly at him. And I saw it.
Such love between them both, it made my heart ache, and my spirit soar.
You could see it in their eyes. The worry in my granddad’s…the contentment in hers. The love that had only grown stronger with time.
He talked about how scared he was when she fainted today; how he was too old to be catching her…and when my older brother pointed out how he had done it anyway, my granddad just smiled, as if to say “And I’d do it a hundred times over”…because he really, truly loved her. She forgets things sometimes, now. And though sometimes he complains…he always takes care of her. And you can see it….you don’t always hear it…but it’s there, in his eyes.
You don’t always notice it….sometimes we Pearson’s appear gruff and stoic…but underneath, we’re not quite so British after all.
It’s not that I’ve taken a conscious hiatus from the blogging world…but I have to admit, this year (and others) have proven what I don’t like to admit: I’m a procrastinator of the worst degree. Things are constantly on my mind, and I always plan to do them “later”.
So, this is me telling you that I’ll be blogging on a regular basis again…later. 😉
That’s all. Write for just fifteen minutes…make it count, or write something that doesn’t even matter. It doesn’t…as long as you’re writing.
It’s something my writers group came up with this past week. Just something to keep the creative juices flowing…to keep us in the habit. I missed yesterday, but it couldn’t be helped. This new idea isn’t meant to cause guilt or dread…just help us to be who God made us. To help us stop procrastinating all the time!
The more I write (or read), the more inspiration strikes. Those first few minutes are painstakingly slow…they drag, and the muse comes out kicking and screaming in protest; she doesn’t like to be woken. But after Muse sees the light of day, she becomes happier, and will eventually talk your ear off if you give her the time.
I know that there is something that God has planned in this passion for writing He gave me. He has something for each member of our group. And as we see it unfold, we are going to be amazed at His goodness. But for now, it’s an exercise in faith…in patience. And in perseverance.
Spring is coming…and with it comes new joy; new hope. It’s the way God designed it to be. Spring is a time of new life. The burden’s of winter roll away, and the next several weeks we are refreshed, restored…it’s a time to prepare for the harsh sun of summer; when we will be tested, our faith tried.
But today, it is spring. The lawn is mowed for the first time this year; the sweet smell of freshly cut grass mingles with that of the fragrant blooms that have appeared almost overnight.
There is peace in knowing that God is faithful in what He promised; there is joy in watching it unfold.
There is contentment in circumstances; understanding that God moves us in His perfect timing.
There is excitement in relationships…in restoring old friendships, and forging new ones. At times, I have grown discouraged at the pace that God seems to move people in and out of my life; but in this moment, I know that He knows best…and I understand that we may come in and out of each others lives for the good of us all, and at exactly the right time. Still, there remains the hope that each of those friendships I hold dear at this point in my life will remain so forever.
Spring is that time when the heart overflows, when God’s loving-kindness is so closely felt. When you wonder that you ever doubted…and resolve once more to never do so again.
“It was such a spring day as breathes into a man an ineffable yearning, a painful sweetness, a longing that makes him stand motionless, looking at the leaves or grass, and fling out his arms to embrace he knows not what.”
Spring is that time when we feel a small part of what it must be to walk in heaven.
I’ve been reading Captivating…again. This is definitely one of my all-time favorite books. I don’ agree 100% with everything Jon and Stasi Eldridge say, but I do think they really hit the nail on the head with this one.
There is a truth here about the wounds we receive…there are varying degrees of bleeding, but as my sister says, “just because someone has a knife cut, doesn’t mean anothers’ paper cut doesn’t bleed.”
I was thinking of different ways I let my past wounds dictate who am today. For many years, I lived in a form of denial, telling myself that whatever happened I must have deserved, or that it didn’t matter. But the truth is, often the wounds we receive, as children or adults, often they weren’t deserved…and whatever they say…they did matter. They do matter. Because you matter.
“As Augustine wrote in his Confessions, “The tears…streamed down, and I let them flow as freely as they would, making of them a pillow for my heart. On them it rested.” Grief is a form of validation; it says the wound mattered….That’s not the way life was supposed to go. There are unwept tears down in there–the tears of a little girl who is lost and frightened. The tears of a teenage girl who’s been rejected and has no place to turn. The tears of a woman whose life has been hard and lonely and nothing close to her dreams. Let the tears come.”
Realizing this has been hard for me…it is hard for any of us. Acknowledging that it mattered means that we aren’t strong and unfazed…that we can be hurt, and we do bleed. It takes away a bit of our sense of self-confidence, our ability to handle anything that comes our way. It puts a dent in our facade. Acknowledgment can make us weak.
It shouldn’t. But often, we let it demoralize us. We let acknowledgment dictate who we will be, making us less of a person. That’s the trap I fell into.
Instead, acknowledgment should build us up. Make us realize that we do carry worth. All of us. Sometimes that worth is trampled on by others, but our perception of our worth should never come from someone else…it should be reflective of Christ’s love for us….the worth that God put on us…deeming us worthy, for our very lives to be traded for His beloved Son’s.
Acknowledgment should lead us to forgiveness. I get caught up in that part, too. We think that we may have forgiven those that hurt us, but somehow, some way, our souls drag those old offenses back up. And that is what truly tears us apart.
“Okay–now for a hard step…a real step of courage and will. We must forgive those who hurt us. The reason is simple: bitterness and unforgiveness set their hooks deep in our hearts; they are chains that hold us captive to the wounds and the messages of those wounds. Until you forgive, you remain their prisoner. Paul warns us that unforgiveness and bitterness can wreck our lives and the lives of others (Eph. 4:31, 32; Heb. 12:15). We have to let it all go (Col. 3:13)…Forgiveness is a choice. It is not a feeling–don’t try and feel forgiving. It is an act of the will. “Don’t wait to forgive till you feel like forgiving,” wrote Neil Anderson. “You will never get there. Feelings take time to heal after the choice to forgive is made.”…We acknowledge that it hurt, that it mattered, and we choose to extend forgiveness to…those who hurt us…Forgiveness says, ‘It was wrong. Very wrong. It mattered, hurt me deeply. And I release you. I give you to God.'”
Often I work myself up to a place of ‘feeling forgiving’, but that is not true forgiveness. I don’t place the hurt, my heart, or those who have done me wrong, in the hands of God. I simply shove it away in an old box, to be reopened at some later date. I hold on to the idea that those people were thoughtless, uncaring, self-centered…and I use that to fuel my own subtle form of unforgiveness.
“It might help to remember that those who hurt you were also deeply wounded themselves. They were broken hearts…and they fell captive to the Enemy…This doesn’t absolve them of the choices they made, the things they did. It just helps us to let them go–to realize that they were shattered souls themselves, used by our true enemy in his war against [us]….And then, with an open heart, we simply ask Jesus to heal us.”
And this was a real wake-up, a slap of cold water in the face. They still did something, said something, that was wrong, that was uncaring, hurtful…damaging. But they were just like me. They all had their own wounds to speak of. They too were shattered, broken. And that same worth that my God places on me…He gives to them. He longs for them, too. Do those who’ve hurt me even realize that they have done so? How many times have I, knowingly or unknowingly, given wounds to another? Do they hold this against me?
Do we allow our lives to be shaped by the past? Do we allow ourselves to victimize ourselves? To excuse our behavior?
“Forgive, and you will be forgiven.”
~”Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven.” Luke 6:37
~”And whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses. But if you do not forgive, neither will your Father who is in heaven forgive your trespasses.” Mark 11:25, 26
It is only after this step, that we can truly allow Christ to begin the healing of our hearts we so desperately need.
Okay, not actually something quite so drastic as that title leads one to believe. But, I would like YOUR help in deciding something.
I have chosen to pursue (kind of) a musical career…or path. As a recording artist.
This is something I’ve thought of for years, frankly. My ‘back-up’ dream, if you will. If you’ve been reading my blog for long, you’ll remember that my first dream is/was to be a wife and mother…not to pursue a career. But, it seems that that is just not in God’s plans for me at this time; maybe someday in the future, I’ll get that. Maybe not. For now I’m going to take a couple of steps in that other direction, see what happens. I am going to be heading to a couple of auditions this next spring, and I’m trying to focus on my songwriting and personal rec studio.
I realize that it is entirely likely that I won’t really go anywhere with this…the musical world of recording artists is extremely competitive. But at least I won’t have to say I never tried.
Here’s where you come in.
You probably already know by now that I’m a fan of quite a variety of genre’s. I just like good music. However, that leaves me at a disadvantage when deciding which genre to personally pursue. SOOOO….I’m going to share a couple of songs/genre’s that I’ve been leaning towards. What I’d love for you to do, is share with me what genre you see me in…personality-wise, as well as what my voice would fit in (if you were as unfortunate enough to have heard my voice- :)-).
So, thanks in advance for the replies…and if I don’t get any, then I’ll just assume that you are all behind me 100%, and totally agree with the choices I have indicated! 😉 lol
In the steps of Jane Monheit (Jazz)
And in case the word “Jazz” has you scratching your head and confused, here’s another video that might help you a little…
If you want to, you can just leave a comment below, or even a video. You can vote in the poll below also. Or you can contact me personally if you have that info. 🙂 I’m looking forward to hearing/seeing the suggestions.
What’s the good in trying? Why do things different, hoping that they will turn out better, when time keeps proving us wrong? Why try to avoid heartache, disillusionment, error, or pain, when in the end we always come back to it? What is the purpose in it all?
I’ve been asking myself that question for weeks now…no, years, if I’m honest.
We try to follow a better way, a safer way, or a more moral way. Yet, it just doesn’t seem to pay off. So why do it?
We dress modestly, not because we just LOVE the modest styles, or being not as attractive as other girls…no. We do it out of love, out of a commitment to love the men around us, by not drawing them in by our bodies. Because we are told that loving others, that sacrificing, is much more desirable to a godly man than a hot looking dress. Yet…that doesn’t seem to pay off. We stand along the wall, in our cute, but modestly covering, dresses, while all the guys dance by with the ‘hot girls’.
We don’t date in the traditional manner, because we believe that waiting is not just respecting ourselves, but also the man we will someday end up with. Because having someone for a night is not as profitable as fitting ourselves to be a lifetime companion. Because with each new boyfriend, you’re giving away a piece of your heart that you’ll never get back again. Yet, again, so many of us have ‘not dated’ ourselves into oblivion, while those other girls have kids that they give to someone else to bring up each day, while they pursue their ‘real lives’.
We follow a more humble path, because we believe what the scriptures say about leading a quiet life being more profitable…we give up dreams of being in the spotlight, fame and fortune in our grasp, to serve others with our lives instead. And yet once more, we became a fixture in the background, with nothing to show for ourselves but bruised and soiled hands.
I suppose it’s the hope. The hope that our children will have better. The hope that one day, those choices we make might change the world, if only just a little bit. The hope, the belief, that Christ would have us strive to do so, whether it seems to pay off, or not.
I don’t have answers. I just know that even though our choices seem to land us into the very heartache that we wish to avoid in the first place, it’s better to have tried than to have settled. Because, if you have the will to try in the first place, then you will be able to pick yourself back up, dust off your pants, and keep moving on. Because someday, down the road, it will all pay off.
And you’ll be proud of the choices you made, because you made them based on your values, and on your faith in Christ. It’s not just because of the outcome that we do things. It’s because of our faith. And that’s all that really matters.