Saturday, July 11, 2009


There is a level of insecurity I face when I look in the mirror.
Brokenness I can not ignore.
In spite of my beauty
Or perhaps, lack there of,
I am emotionally stained
Afraid to look deeper into my person,
My woman hood…
My dark veil that hides my true feelings
I smile and I tarry,
Hoping that someone will save me
From myself,
I am hateful,
Slipping into an insane world,
Need I say more?
I’ve felt that empty stinging
That lifeless pain
Not knowing that it was
Apart of growing.
Sick of being so alone,
I want more …

There are a lot of things that I want, but what I want more is to be loved. To know that I am loved without condition. To know that if I surrender my all I will not be taken advantage of. To know that if I give my heart away that it want be broken into a million little pieces. To know that if I lay it out all on the table I want be laughed at…

I don’t have a lot of friends. I have met a lot of people. But I don’t know if people really get me and to some degree I think I’ve paid too much attention to the way I am perceived by them. At some point, though I have to care less about people’s opinions and more about their souls. I really don’t care to be liked, as long as I love.

I realized sometime ago that I liked to write. There was a time in my life that writing so defined me that I could not see my value outside of my ability. This was scary, especially, since what defined me was taken from me. I made a decision to fall in love with my husband and to become a mother. I made a choice to follow God wherever He led. This upset a lot of people, including myself, because we had put so much stake in my gift to write and perform that when I stopped writing and performing, I looked more like a failure than a success. I spent several years fighting to get back to a place that essentially did not love nor appreciate me for me. When the bible says, “A friend is gained in the day adversity,” it’s not saying that to sound meaningful, it really is a true statement. I have gained truer friends while I was sleeping on the floor than performing on a stage.

I don’t want to be a party pooper. I’m not trying to ruin anybody’s buzz. But I do like to “keep it real”. Tell me the truth? Do you really prefer living your life as though none of this sh%# matters, when you really know it bugs the hell out of you. Our generation isn’t the generation that sticks its head in the sand and says it will all be over if I hide from me. We our confrontational. We ask questions. We say, hey this doesn’t measure up, Mom? Hey, Dad you lied to me.

When I talk to God, I have explicit candor. I don’t say, “Holy Father, thou art so Holy and I know that I am just a peon that could never ask you any questions.” I say, “Dad, this concerns me, tell me what to do,” I say, “Dad, I’m a mess and I need you to help me.” And I have even said, “God, this is hard and I don’t want this anymore, why are you making things so hard?” And He laughs and patiently loves me through my tantrum.

I share this because I know that I am not the only one who asks these questions or considers them. It concerns me deeply that people have so many internal issues and they hold them inside because they feel like they have no out.

I can’t truly be myself or be vulnerable because people will take advantage of me, hurt me, use my weakness against me or think I’m a weirdo when all I want is to fit in and be accepted. Everyone needs to be affirmed. Everyone wants to feel like they have a place in the world. That’s part of our humanity. Relationships are valuable. But a relationship with another flawed, imperfect human will never fulfill you.

Relationship with your Heavenly Father will. When you open yourself up and allow yourself to cry it all out and say, “Hey I struggle with this. I need this.” You take the first step and your father takes twenty more towards you. He embraces you like the daughter he has longed for.

I don’t mean to romanticize this thing. But I have experienced the glory and majesty of relationship with God and I have been to the pit of darkness. It was Christ who saved me. It was Christ who gave me hope. It was Christ who showed me who I was. It was Christ who gave me an out! It was Christ. In this culture it would be much more comfortable for me to say, “Whatever works, works.” But that isn’t my testimony.

If I had witnessed a crime and had been asked to testify against the person I saw commit the crime. How valuable my testimony would be? On the flip side, I am witness to the goodness of God; yet, some people hear it and disbelieve. They question my intentions, my intellect, my character, etc…

Do I want to be heard? Yes. But what I want more is to love.

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