What I Want

Maybe it will be love at first sight.
Maybe it will be someone who I've known all this time and never noticed romantically.
Maybe it will be someone who I hate when I meet.
Maybe it will be a coworker
Maybe it will be someone I meet at one of the psych conferences.
Maybe it will be a handsome stranger pumping gas.
Maybe it will be in ten years.
Maybe it will be tomorrow.
Maybe it will be never.
Maybe I already had my chance with him and blew it.
Maybe I could play the maybe-game all day and never meet him because I'm so busy with my head in the clouds.
Maybe I should not worry about it because it will happen when it's meant to.

no.

sadly

I don't think he has come.

I want a man who sees me the way my friends see me. I want a man who doesn't look at me as a sexy woman. Who doesn't see me as a successful busines woman. Who doesn't pigeonhole me. I want a man who sees the radiant woman that my friends see and love. I want a man who SEES that and who loves it. Who wants more of it.

I don't want a man who just sees that my friends love me. What I have to give. I want a man who loves me the way my friends love me, but who loves me MORE.

that's what I want.

i know that I can't get that with instant gratification.

I know that is the kind of bond that is built in time.

But it's so frustrating to want something that is so transendant and deep and to refuse less. I am happy in my single state of being, but I do feel a bit of a missing piece. I am tiring of fighting the good fight alone, I am ready to accept the idea that I do not have to be an army of one. But I want the fighter with me to be the one who will fight to the end. I want him to be my faithful friend as well as my lover under the stars. I want him to stir my heart and stimulate my mind. I want my tears to find a safe place on his chest and in his heart, and I want my joy to radiate from his toes to his fingers when he is in my presense.

and sometimes

I wonder

is that too much to ask for?

but I resoundingly shout NO! NO IT'S NOT!

I am not asking for an adonis. He does not have to be without flaw. There is not a requirement for his profession. there is no preconceived notion of what he will do, or look like, or say. But our love will speak volumes and sing poetry. Our arguments and fights will resolve with our devotion. That is all I want. I want a fighter, not a quitter.

doncha make my brown eyes blue

Gosh, right when I'm feeling so happy. I'm done with school. I kicked butt in boot camp today. I have friends who love and value me.

I have said that I would love to get my doctorate in Sac or at Stanislaus State because I would love to be closer to the Darlings. Well, I was looking at my little sister's page and I found a weird person that said, "Mr & Mrs. Darling". I clicked on it and it led me to another page. On October 18th my brother Mike got married. The whole family was there and no one told me or invited me. It's been almost three months.

I just feel like crying. No wait. I am crying.

It's times like this when I feel everything crumble around me and I remember how my mom left when I was pregnant. It just makes all my happiness seem so flacid. Why do things seem to come so easy to some people? Why does God see it fit that I have to be all alone? Why is it that if I want or long for family I have to turn friends into family? But my friends have their own families...

Why does it seem that when I'm content, it has to end with tears?

I just hear my mom, "Sometimes life's not fair, Jessie."

I feel like I need a hug right now and the only person to hug is fast asleep because it's a school night.

I didn't choose to be a nomad. I stayed in Redding. I was married. I was engaged. I was a good wife and an even better fiancé. I learned from my mistakes. I have tried to make family. I have loved with my whole heart and soul.

I don't understand.

I don't have a bitter heart.

I help people.

Why don't I sow what I reap?

I don't understand it.

Why am I all alone in my apartment?

Why do I work so hard in school? I work so hard to be a good mom. I’m a loyal friend. I'm a good employee. I do adopt a family. I change careers so I can help people. I pay my bills on time. I don’t live beyond my means.

I build people up instead of tear them down.

You don't leave from interactions with me feeling inferior, but feeling loved and valued and respected.
I try to be self-aware and fix the problems.

I am a peacemaker.

So why?

Why do I sit here and cry when I hear that my brother has been married for three months and no one told me? Why did no one tell me?

Why does my mother adamantly tell me for months that she has plane tickets and the day off work and then cancel the week she’s supposed to come admitting it was a lie? No wait, she didn’t admit it, she had a cavity and needed a filling. That’s why.

You know, my mom moved to Texas when I was 19, unwed and pregnant. She just packed up one day, took my brother and left. She had purposely never let us meet or know our fathers or have relationships with her side of the family. So when she left, she left me all alone. This devoutly “Christian” woman told me to have an abortion and come with her or stay here and figure it out.

I’ve been doing it on my own. I tried being married to his dad, but he was crazy. Literally.

I was engaged and I loved him so much, with all my heart and soul. But he was a philanderer.

I’m not running away from relationships. I’m TRYING. I’m doing my best. I’m making a mountain out of a molehill in a good way!

I even had the best compliment from a stranger that I was truly and genuinely happy. He could see the fruit of the spirit amongst the crowd.

So I don’t understand.

Lesa has car accidents gravitate to her.

I have family leaving or forgetting me.

I guess God knew this was my lot and that’s why I was pregnant at age 19? He gave me family?

Christmas 2008

Interestingly I put on a random podcast sermon from one of the churches I like to listen to and the sermon was titled, Pursuing Divine Health. Tonight is Christmas Eve and tomorrow I’ll be going to Catholic Mass even though I’m a Protestant Christian. As you also know, I firmly believe that things happen for a reason. I just picked this podcast at random and this is how it started (I’m going to take a few moments to transcribe the first few minutes).

"Many of you know that video the Catholics put out, isn’t that amazing? Wow! John Arnett sent it to me this week… And there was this healing that the Lord’s doing and thankfully in the U.S. Protestants and Catholics get along better than in other parts of the world. And Mexico is one of the places where there has not been a cross-pollenization for whatever, for reasons I don’t want to get into right now. But one of our dear friends and part of our network, Angel, pastors a great church in LaPaz where our ministry is… anyway, Angel sent me a note this morning because he’s been working on reconciliation with the Catholics in the area. He’s been just initiating this, he’s just becoming a Kingdom minded person. And sometime ago he went to the Father and asked if it would be possible if his church, which is not a wealthy church at all, could provide shoes for all the kids in the orphanage. And they did, they brought Christmas gifts. … and what has happened as a result of that is off the charts.

Angel's note said: Last night they called a prayer meeting. About 3000 people gathered in the gov’t plaza in LaPaz. Most of them Catholics, but many of them other branches of Christianity. We all joined to pray for Mexico in a first time ever event. We had never had Catholic and Christians praying together in our country. But at the end of the event I raised my voice to ask forgiveness to the Catholics because we had built walls instead of building bridges. A great ovation was heard when I hugged the Bishop. It was even more powerful seeing other Catholics and believers hugging each other and expressing forgiveness.

I know this is a new day. New things are about to happen here. Revival is here. We are making history."

12-25-08

During Mass I went into a meditative prayer three times. During prayer I was thanking God for everything He has given me and asking Him to lay his hand on me. I was asking Him to listen to this choir through my ears. I was asking Him not to let me slip away or worry about things that are insignificant to his plan for my life.

While in prayer I found myself with tears streaming down my cheeks. I was not feeling sorrowful. I was not in grief, mourning, or sadness. I was in gratitude! Gratitude indeed!

I was thankful of all the ways that the Lord has blessed me. When my family left me, I was given a son, friends and love. When I was in my dire period, burned out from school, work and motherhood and I was pushing away my friends- A new position at work opened up which paid me my same wage with less stress; I was brought to the friends who are genuine and truly my sisters in Christ. I was brought to new friends who have shown me such love and encouragement. I was brought to people who genuinely believe in me and in God’s plan for my life. I was so grateful for all that and more, and because of that gratitude I cried thanks. I cried tears of happiness and blessings.

I don't know why I cried, I just couldn't stop. I was oblivious to the people around me, I didn't hear the singing or the priest, I just heard my prayer and the words of my heart. The cry of my heart. The song of my heart!

After Mass I went with Evelyna and her family to Christmas lunch at the Holiday Inn. They had to go pick up E’s mom and father-in-law, so I arrived at the restaurant about fifteen minutes ahead of them. I sat there with my Bible in my hand and once again, bowed my head in prayer. I thanked God again for all my blessings, I don't think I can thank him enough, He is SO GOOD. Then I asked him to read my heart and see what I longed for. I asked that he would go in and read me and guide me to find the scripture that would make sense to me and for my life. I didn't know what I wanted or what I needed to hear, but I trusted that He did. I asked for something that I could look to when I needed to feel security and to feel reassured that He knows my heart.

I ended my prayer and ran my fingers along the edges of my Bible. This is the Precious Moments Bible my mom got me for my 12th birthday. It’s beat up, written on, scribbled in (little brothers!) but it’s my special Bible and I doubt if I’ll ever buy an adult one because this Bible is so special to me. I flipped through the pages a couple times and opened the book and looked down.

I opened the Bible to Psalm 63.

O God, You are my God;
Early will I seek You;
My soul thirsts for You;
My flesh longs for You
In a dry and thirsty land
Where there is no water.
So I have looked for You
in the sanctuary,
To see Your power and
Your glory.

Because Your lovingkindness is
better than life,
My lips shall praise You.
Thus I will bless You while I
live;
I will lift up my hands in Your
name.
My soul shall be satisfied as with
marrow and fatness,
And my mouth shall praise You
with joyful lips.

When I remember You on my
bed,
I meditate on You in the night
watches.
Because You have been my help,
Therefore in the shadow of Your
wings I will rejoice.
My soul follows close behind
You;
Your right hand upholds me.

This reminds me of a part of the blog I wrote on Nov 8th:
This woman sings of His love for her with every step she takes because it is His hand which has held her up when she has felt like crumpling into the carpet. It is His shoulder she has cried upon when school and work have found her weary to the bone. It is the heartbeat in His chest that she has listened to when she has laid alone in her bed, lonely and longing. It is His words of comfort that she has read when she just needed someone to understand, looked around, and found no one to empathize. It is in Him that she finds the courage to press forward when the enemy glamorizes the ease of giving up and giving in. It is through His eyes she sees herself in the mirror when the enemy reminds her of the weight she's gained during these years in school, work, and motherhood. It is His value of her worth that she fights for, not the enemy's lies which place her worth in her waistline or in the opinions of men.

Christmas at The Office

Who knew that I would get my best therapeutic techniques from watching The Office? Yep, I learned alllll about alcoholism and interventions. I thought I would share the wisdom...

---

if I can skin a mule deer in less than ten minutes I oughta be able to cut my way out of this.

this is equal parts scotch, absinth, rum, gin vermouth, triple sec and two packs of Splenda, I call it a One of Everything.

an intervention is a surprise party for people who have addictions. You get in their face and you scream at them and you make them feel really badly about themselves and then they stop.

when I was in college I used to get wicked hammered. my nickname was Puke. I would chug a fifth of soko sneak into a frat party, polish off a few people’s empties, some brewskies, some jello shots, do some body shots off myself, pass out. Wake up the next morning, boot, rally, more soko, head to class, probably would have gotten expelled if I would have let it affect my grades but I aced all my courses, they called me Ace. It was totally awesome. Got straight B’s. They called me Buzz.

Intervention questions:
have you ever used alcohol to alter your mood or deliberately change your state of mind?
do you sometimes have a drink to celebrate a special occasion or mark a holiday?
have you ever, under the influence of alcohol, questioned the teachings of the mormon church?

Five fingered intervention:
Awareness
Education
Control
Acceptance
Punching

As it turns out, you can’t check someone into rehab against their will, they have to do it voluntarily, they need to hit rock bottom. So I think I know what I need to do at this point. I need to find ways to push Meredith to the bottom, um, I think I can do it, I did it with Jan.

There are several ways to kill a zombie, but the most satisfying one is to stab it in the brain with a wooden stick.

KE's Dream

My friend had a weird dream and I emailed her about it. I was just digging through a Word file looking for my homework and I came across my response. During the holidays we have a tendency to feel forlorn and miss the people who were significant from our past. So I thought I'd share my email to her about her dream, I'm sure you don't need to know what hers was about in order to find the value YOU might need to take from my reply.

It was nice and reassuring for me to re-read too, I almost forgot that I wrote it! Ha!

-----

You still love him. Somewhere down in there, you deny it, you don't want it, but you do. But do you really and truly love HIM or what he REPRESENTS?




You've been feeling lonely and wanting intimacy.




Our hearts can romanticize the beautiful things in another person because we want what we think they can give us: stability, love, romance, companionship, the knowledge of who we are intrinsically. When we are vulnerable and we are meditating on one specific thing we begin to visualize it in our life. We are willing it to us. We are praying it to us.




But I think that sometimes our wires get crossed and we inadvertently get confused.




We left them. They left us. For whatever reason the love is unequally yoked. Even if both our hearts are still tied at the soul, in reality we still know it's not meant to be, or we'd be. So in our earnest longing for a love in our life we remember. Remembering fills the void. Remembering is tangible- kind of. Remembering is YOURS and yours alone and the only other person who can share that memory is him, and that makes you close.




I wonder if in your dream you were feeling those soul ties. I wonder if it was your way of calling out to love. I don't know about you, but I love to love. I love the little things that people overlook, I love to think about how I can surprise him and show my love in the everyday... That's what I love. It's not the receiving that gets me going so much, I don't daydream about what someone can do for me, but what we can do together or what I can do for him. I love to love! ***




You know, I have a sneaking suspicion that you're a lot like me. I think your dream was you calling out to love. Not calling FOR love, but to it. He was that last man you loved.




And if he is lying there dying, he can love you in return, he can accept your love, but he cannot show it back and you cannot be disappointed. So maybe it is also your heart's way of telling you to let him go. The old love that you hold on to. The old love is the love that you long for deep down. Maybe your heart knows that God has a new love for you. Because it's new it's foreign and you cannot long for it. How do you long for something you don't know? It's love, but it's a new love, a God love, a love more profound that you'll be able to say, "Wow, this was worth waiting for."




Either way, I think it's your way of realizing that the relationship you had with him is dead (as is he), that you two will always share something that will transcend other relationships (and that's okay & will not degrade your marriage relationship as that will be transcendent on its own), and that you are longing to give love and to be a helper. I do believe that you are growing ready as your soul is crying out to God and to your heart. I am certain that it will be sooner rather than later that your partner will come.


For now, REJOICE in your singleness. You know, I've never been on a missions trip and I've always wanted to. My son is almost ten and we already have passports. I wonder if there's a church going for a week, and I wonder how we would join them? Maybe you don't need a man to go on missions with you, maybe you just need a friend. Maybe, just maybe, your man is waiting for you to join him on his trip…



(***side note*** that's what I remember loving as like... it's been a long, long time... I wonder if I'm still that girl... yes, yes I am... I will always love, I don't know any other way to live my life but through a loving heart)

One of my infamous emails to a friend:

One of my friends sent this article to me this morning and I just finished reading it. It totally made me think of you and how you have isolated yourself through fishing. Little comments you’ve made… I don’t know, I think my subconscious picks up on more things than I do and then I attach certain things to people. So please don’t take offence that I’m sending you this. It’s really just to show you what you COULD become if you allow yourself to dwell.



I do personally know what it’s like to reflect back. I was talking with Kathy the other day about how I pray that God will not bring me a man who is short and skinny (whew, good thing I don’t have any short and skinny guy friends!). She could relate to that feeling and assured me that even if he was a midget God would make sure I was attracted to him.

But I have this tendency to look around at my friends and their respective relationships, and then I inadvertantly find myself thinking about the few past relationships I've had. Then my thoughts take a turn for the worse.

Guys always want to “own” me. They want to talk on the phone every day, hang out constantly, know where I am and what I’m doing and with whom I’m doing it. They get in the way of my time with my friends and hate it when I spend an hour on the phone talking about nothing. I have to share the remote and watch stupid things like NASCAR. There’s complaining when I want to watch three episodes of What Not To Wear on a Sunday while I clean.

Is it too much to ask for healthy autonomy? Our own lives and lives together? Lives in Christ and filled with trust, love, understanding and commitment? Not needing to reassure each other all the time, but having a consensus of love? Is that a superficial ideal that I have created to keep people away? Are my standards too high?

When I look at the relationships around me I feel disheartened because I don't want what they have. They have power and control over each other. I don't want power over another person. I don't want to give control over me. I just want to love and be loved in return. So when I turn and see this "love" around me, I want nothing to do with "love."

Nothing.

I’ll promote love for everyone else, I’ll sing the happy song of the wonder and beauty of love. I will encourage second chances. I will point out that there is no perfect man or woman, I will illustrate the value of LOVE. Singing, dancing, rolling in my meadow of change, I will look you in the eyes and I will profess how deserving you are of unconditional love and acceptance, and I will sell you on the opportunity cost of risk… you will leave from our conversation or email refreshed and renewed in a spirit of hope and love.



But for me…


Oh for me…


I will not step on that plank. There are too many sharks in those waters!!!!


Heck no!


I don’t know how to bait a shark and then fend him off. I’m shark bait waiting to bleed if I even put a toe in the shallow end.



Wow.



I’m such a hypocrite.



How do I look in the mirror?


Oh, through rationalization and justification. When I’m done with school I’ll date. When I lose the freshman 15 I gained I’ll date. When my apartment is clean I’ll date. When I finish practicum I’ll date. When God puts His man right in front of me, on my doorstep with flowers and a card that says, “I’m your gift from God and I will not break your heart or try to control you.” THEN I’ll date…


I bet that sounds familiar to you too…


Something tells me that while you might not actually think all those thoughts, they’re floating around back there. They are whispering sweet nothings in your ear. They are tickling your thoughts and they are shackling your actions. They are your ball and chain. You are more committed to them than you have been to any woman.
Am I close???


Anyway, here’s the article that made me think of you. I thought you could get as much out of it as I did. I’m going to re-read it before bed too because I think my subconscious needs to hear it. That little voice in my head sure likes to point out potential rejections far louder than any potential acceptance…


Who am I to give advice?


I’m as scared as you…


OUR COMMON SORROW

by Hudson Russell Davis

Crosswalk. com Contributing Writer

Like yours, my heart is a library of loneliness, longing to be read, but most people come only to browse. All too often the real feelings go back on the shelf.
— Tim Hansel


One of Satan’s chief means of crippling us is to convince us in our loneliness that we are truly alone, not simply without a mate but without a friend, without help and without God—forsaken. He whispers that whatever cries we utter are spoken into thin air and deaf ears, both human and divine. He tells us that people do not care and that God does not care, but it is not so.


Everything that has overtaken us is common to humankind. We all suffer loneliness. We all suffer rejection. We all raise up hope only to know disappointment. This is true of the single and it is true of the married, true under the limelight of success and the clouds of failure. We all know, to some degree, what it is to be misunderstood or ignored.


This does not mean that our sufferings are not individual, not unique; it means we do not suffer alone. I cannot know the ways you have been cut or the bruises you bear, but I care. We can never truly “understand” but need only love. While it is wonderful if someone understands, it is better if they care.


Each of us knows a particular sorrow, but we all know the pain of loneliness and the hurt of dreams deferred. We could resolve not to dream, but that is not wise. We could resolve not to feel, but that is not practical. By never speaking we could withdraw from the dangers of miscommunication, but that is not human. It seems so simple—no dreams no waking horrors, no feelings no hurt, no misunderstanding no discord. Isolation is a natural answer, but it is spiritual suicide.


If we choose not to risk we loose ever so subtly, the sharp edge to our faith. Over time we become people whose lives are as bland as our dreamless nights. Over time we become the boring but safe people who squash the dreams of others and tell them they should be “realistic.” Over time we may convince ourselves that we are the only unhappy souls in the world. We may even come to believe that a tasteless existence is really contentment. It is not. It is a numb, anesthetized, existence that falls short of living. It is a coma.


Self-deceit would rather ask nothing of God than wrestle with the answers he does or does not give. Isolation would rather resolve to need no one than risk failed relationships—even failed friendships. Because that is what it will come to if we never make peace with the loneliness. If it is suppressed, it may one day explode.


If ever we withdraw behind our carefully constructed barricades and for fear of disappointment relinquish hope, we shut out wife, husband and all living things. That is the danger—numbness not only to the hopes and dreams we harbored in our youth, but numbness to all dreams and hopes that life naturally cultivates.


Years of loneliness can warp our thinking and sap our strength. In time we may imagine that over that dune and the next dune is nothing more than sun, sand—and loneliness. So many of you have shared with me you felt lonely and alone in your loneliness. You have been very kind in telling me that my honesty eased your loneliness. I want to tell you that you were never alone. Alone is what the desert makes us feel, but we are not alone.



Indeed not only do I suffer the same trials, but also many of those you encounter weekly as you suffer in silence. How do I know? They have written and told me—a stranger—what they were afraid to tell you. And you have written and told me—a stranger—what you were afraid to tell them. Perhaps some of you felt comfortable with me because I had opened my heart and because you need not look me in the eyes and fear my rebuke. I have encouraged everyone that they are not alone, but want to add one last charge: break the silence! Open up and let someone in. And if someone speaks to you, listen between the lines for the pain that words cannot express.


Be a safe harbor for hurting hearts. Paul writes, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ” (Gal. 6:2). You may find the comfort you have enjoyed here—in knowing my heart—closer than expected. Perhaps someone near you is waiting for you to break the silence and live by honesty. It is the surest turn in our healing to understand that we are not alone, that we share a common sorrow, a common longing, which is not our own private nightmare.


It is the Enemy’s greatest tool to cripple us, to isolate us in our loneliness. He then attempts to convince us that all the whispers and all the laughter is about us—that we are diseased or damaged and that everyone we meet knows it. But it is not true. He is a liar and the Father of Lies. There is no truth in him (John 8:44). Our greatest weapon is the faith we have been given in a God who loved us enough to rescue us “while we were still sinners” (Rom. 5:8). Our greatest weapon against the isolation is to confess both our love of God and our genuine longing to a living, breathing, person who can touch us and restore us in love.


Beware! Not everyone loves honesty. Those who have already given up hope will not want their memories stirred, will not want the embers poked. They fear disappointment. I fear disappointment. For some, who have found peace in simple answers, the complexity of a real God who acts in ways we do not understand and cannot explain will be too much. But if ever the Christian community is to rise above the charge of “hypocrite” we must come out of the shadows and honestly state that we are content but not satisfied.


Here, I will start: “Hi. My name is Hudson and I am lonely.”

Now you. ...

Starting from Scratch

My mantra has been my countdown. It's almost like I'm Will Smith in I Am Legend and I'm keeping record of my days in this craphole of a city that was once so beloved and so familiar and is now so desolate. I see the remnants of the life I once had while I stoically hold onto the hope and knowledge that I will be able to put it right again. I am tormented by the awareness that this was all my own doing, the choices I have made, the songs I have sung, the poems I have written.


As I walk past a mirror I do not recognize the woman who passes.


She is beautiful and confused. She is happy and swirling. She is confident and self-conscious. She is scared and alone and filled with love and friends. She is one woman with so many contradictory thoughts and longings. She is the old Jessica, the one who was married and heavy and insecure and was living an after-school-special. She is the modern Jessica, the lady who was in love and athletic and living a fairytale. She is Jessie, the little girl who the grown-ups said "doesn't have a mean bone in her body." She is Jess, the fiercely loyal friend who takes on her friends' battles on their behalves. And she is a new person. A woman.


In a crux.


A new identity on the verge of blossom. A cicada nymph ready and yearning to shed her skin, depart from her borough and emerge in the daylight. After years as a chrysalis, I am screaming to be relieved of my cocoon!


I daydream of a circadian rhythm. I daydream. I can feel the sun on my face as the romance of my life-past dances across my closed eyelids. I can feel my body emerge from my bed, well rested and happy. I can smell my Madagascar vanilla red tea brewing in the morning as I lie in the dark of my living room before the sun has risen. I can hear the waves, the guitar and the melodic voice of the pilates instructor whispering from my television as I begin my workday before the world has risen. My lungs shudder in the piercing cold of the dawn as I run down the street to greet the sun, a song in my heart and a playlist in my mind. My eyes can see the pavement change from sidewalk, to gravel, to street, to gutter, to overpass, to my front step. My intelligence can remember its freedom of thought during those morning runs when it could run-wild. My derrière can feel the sofa underneath as I sit and snuggle while watching a movie or reading a book. My hands find the idle time used to chop vegetables and experiment with dinner. My teeth chew slowly and my mouth savors my meal. My lips smile as they laugh with friends because they know that there is no agenda for the next day or month and they can just relax and smile. My body is easy in its sway because it knows that its own agenda is to heal and love.


My soul lights like a candle.


And so I count the months, weeks and days.


And I hope and I pray that I don't disappoint myself.


But the difference,


the one small thing,


the tiny, minute, variance


of this new woman whose arms can feel that finish line and whose fingernails are prying through the opening in her shell,


is that her lungs fill with the cool, refreshing, hope-filled air of confidence in the Holy Spirit.


THIS WOMAN is assured.


This woman sings of His love for her with every step she takes because it is His hand which has held her up when she has felt like crumpling into the carpet. It is His shoulder she has cried upon when school and work have found her weary to the bone. It is the heartbeat in His chest that she has listened to when she has laid alone in her bed, lonely and longing. It is His words of comfort that she has read when she just needed someone to understand, looked around, and found no one to empathize. It is in Him that she finds the courage to press forward when the enemy glamorizes the ease of giving up and giving in. It is through His eyes she sees herself in the mirror when the enemy reminds her of the weight she's gained during these years in school, work, and motherhood. It is His value of her worth that she fights for, not the enemy's lies which place her worth in her waistline or the opinions of men.


This woman, this Jess, Jessie, Jessica, Jessiepalooza, Reindeer Love, this daughter, mother, sister, aunt, friend, student, employee, coworker, princess, child of God,


this woman is not going to stop,


she will not give up.


Remember, she is a lioness, she is in the grasses of the prairie chasing her change and embracing it.


She is connected to her feelings subjectively and objectively. She is dualism incarnate. A woman and a child, the past, present and future of her own making guided by the careful hands of God. Quietly listening for his direction, trusting in Him.


I am ready to love and to live, and this countdown is excruciating. But my-oh-my, will these lungs fill clean, fresh and true the evening of December 20th, 2008.

***after posting this I started listening to a sermon podcast, I arbitrarily chose one on apostleship. Five minutes in, the pastor says this:

There are two main ways to know what you're supposed to be doing with your life. The first one is, what do you love? … What you are passionate for you were born to do. And the second way that you know what to do with your life is, what are you afraid of?

How many of you know that the dogs of doom stand at the door to your destiny? The children of Israel were supposed to go into where? The Promised Land. How many of you know what they were afraid to do? Go into The Promised Land. What you're supposed to do with your life you'll be scared to death to do.

How many of you know that the dogs of doom stand at the door to your destiny? Many of us never enter into our destiny because the devil put the dogs of doom there? Whenever you get close to these barking dogs you know your destiny lies on the other side of that. What you're supposed to be doing, you'll be scared to death to do.

Jesus said, "he who wants to save his life will lose it." …

-----Welp, I don't know if you see where I'm going with this, but if you've been reading what I've written these past couple of years then you're having an a-ha moment with me. The dogs are barking! They're yelping! So then, I know that I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing, and I gave up my life to save it.

Clean, fresh breaths fill my lungs! I will fill my lungs with words of invitation to God.