Sense

 I’ve lost track of days, but you get the gist. Tired from a good workout yet mentally energized. Something about moving the body. It’s so true. I made it through the entire workout without stopping. How many times have I quit before the finish line. I’m in the valleys, and it’s not where I desire to be.  I’m accepting that daily. I don’t multitask at all. Certain tasks if not all take my undivided attention. I must be fully present walking, talking or doing anything.  If I don’t there are consequences. I have taken spills because I wasn’t watching where I was going. Every action requires a precise reaction. I think I programmed myself to always be on the move, without regard to what was best for me. I took societal cues, ran a race not designed for a me, and played a game where the odds weren’t in my favor. I took gambles’ I shouldn’t have.  Run my race, not the one I wish I had. Success will come when it wants. The path is long, but taking the shortcut is rougher in the end. 

The journey

Is tougher

When I let 

My wants

Trump

Common sense

Creation

 Coming to you today from a place I know well. What’s this place called?  Doubt. Faith and doubt don’t mix. Like oil and water. Or do they?  Writing is like weeding a garden. Trying to protect the good, while getting rid of the unwanted pests. In my garden between the sweet, red tomatoes are the weeds that try to overwhelm the fruit. I’m always still amazed tomatoes are a fruit. As I’ve gotten down on my knees plucking the unwanted to preserve the desired, I’m reminded of how parents do the same. My will has run wild much to my own detriment. I hate to admit when they’re right. I don’t like to say that I’m still young enough to not know everything. With each and everyday I only learn when I put my selfishness aside in the admission that with acknowledgement that as long as I breathe, I am being molded into the best creation I can be. 

Settles

 Day Five

What will I come up with today. The Sunday Sermon is coming. I’m stretched and going.  I only need some joe and I’m ready to rock. Help me come up with not just mere words, but kindle in my soul a desire to be me. Who I am is more than okay. Every day is one to speak life into an imperfect body and frazzled mind. Releasing anger and frustration, and being humble enough to tear the veil. I’ve held back, and it has cost me peace. Peace is too darn expensive. Time and peace.  The only things I really desire more of in this life. Realign and prioritize. 

In this

Sunday situation

Sit in the stillness

Of summer sizzle 

And stall 

The soul

Until

Sweetness

Settles

Molehills

 In my favorite jeans

On Day Four

Am I willing 

To be wholly uncomfortable

With what I’m about

To say

I’ve learned nothing but bad habits by being comfortable. I always need to be stretched physically and mentally. I need to sweat. I’ve never liked the weeds, but it’s where I learn to thrive. I’ve learned survival skills there. And survival for me includes learning how to communicate. I don’t do it well in person at all. I detest it honestly. I make mountains out of molehills because I misconstrue or misinterpret what others say. I’m very literal. I don’t tell jokes. I don’t let people in. I’m changing that. I will always have to teach. 

I share this with you because I’m eating crow. I always complained that I didn’t want this to be my assignment. And here I am.  I’m doing exactly what I said I wouldn’t. If this is the first part of surrender, Lord, I’m under Your wing. 

Abandoned cove

I long to return 

To the days

When I didn’t

Have to create

Joy and hope

It was as easy

As breathing

In and out

Repeat

Enigma

Mystery

Unique

I relate

That’s part

Of the allure

I surprise myself every day. Honestly, I wonder to what depths I will go. The armchair traveler, I’ve seen it called. The world teaches me so much. I recall my travels often not for what I’ve seen, but the people I met. The best conversations happen in the airport as I’m being wheeled to the gate. It amazes me what I’m told in a span of minutes.  If I’m willing to listen, I will learn. God is convicting me here. How many times, I wonder where You are.  You’re everywhere. I just don’t pay attention. What is the correlation. In the airport wheelchair patience is necessary.  With God, I desire an answer immediately. If I give Him time, He will allow me to answer my own question. I want an elaborate display, but the answer comes in the abandoned cove. 

Old school soul

 Day Two:

In the weeds I go. Time to get scraped, itchy and dirty. Strapping on the braces of discomfort. Please relish youth. You don’t get it back. I harken back to days of trying to drive a go-kart and failing miserably. I drove it in the gate five times. Covered in cow manure and sweat. Can you imagine?  An editorial for Vogue awaits me.  As frustrated as I was that day, it’s now a treasured memory. A keepsake of driving. I long for something I can’t do, but that day I did.  Failing in open spaces. Farm life gives you lessons that now cost hundreds in the therapy chair. I don’t regret either. I need both. I need to fall down, feel the earth and then discuss it.  It’s a pattern, I’m sure I don’t have the right to trademark. I’ve tasted grass, hay bales and bugs. There is no limit to what you encounter in the woods of Carolina. The morning call of the chickens has me brewing coffee at four in the morning. It’s not lost on me that the life I lead is a dream to many.  It’s only know as I sit and ruminate, that we don’t realize when mistakes become the biggest sources of gratitude.   Vogue cover girl am I?  Chanel dipped in old school soul.  Funnier things have happened

Lemonade

 The muddy water. I’m wading through it. Metaphor. I know, it’s life. Each day I feel the need to walk down to the pond and meditate. Let the summer sun take me away. Be one with the mosquitoes and bees. Take a swim in that water with the fish right beside me. Be one with the land. Let God’s creation envelope me in a hug. One I’ve denied myself for far too long. Maybe as we children, we have it right. Too much thinking, not enough doing. Jump, don’t hesitate. Not everything with bite unless we try. When I say we, I mean me. I’ve put off writing, beyond what I’ve gotten comfortable with, and that’s not when you grow. I want lots of things, but I’ve not put in the work. Anything worth doing takes effort, even if that is to remind myself to breathe and hydrate. I’m reading others’ words.  I need to read my own. That means I must write them. What’s the good with talent, if you don’t use it. It goes wasted.  I have always worried, and God has always said:  Go!  I won’t let you fail. If you do, it is alright. We’ve made failure a bad word. I need to embrace it. Success comes from repeated failure. I’ve stopped failing, because I stopped trying. The world’s must successful failure. I like the sound of that. Making lemonade again. It feels so good to get into the weeds again. Will you join me?