a new day...

Yesterday was a "down" day emotionally.
My head hurt, I had no capacity to do much of anything.
I read, napped, did some laundry,
wandered back and forth outside. Even being in my yard did not fill
me as it usually does... it was just too hot.
By late afternoon I was convinced the depression I had
walked through the past 8 months was back.
Distorted thoughts were whirling in my head. I felt helpless against the mind games that were using my head as a playing field. Some tears fell and that seemed to help. This morning I have hope in my God, good coffee and am looking at a fresh new day. So far there are no games being played... the coffee is good... and the expectation of a shopping trip with my friend is filling my thoughts.

work and leadership

The last few weeks have been so full of work overload that there has not been much room in my brain for creative writing... or expression. I miss that. My thoughts have to be very focused for all that I run with at work, and that leaves little energy for being in touch with any creative thinking. My thoughts and my feelings are random...cluttered...words don't come out in the right order and for the most part I feel like I am high octane running from work thought to another work thought. It is okay. I love my job... I know I am being stretched and learning much about leadership.
These qualities are being worked on in my life as I journey through my job:

• Competence: it is the leader's ability to say it, plan it, and do it in such a way that others know that you know how - - and know they want to follow you.
• Discernment: smart leaders believe only half of what they hear. Discerning leaders know which half to believe.
• Passion: Anyone can dabble, but once you've made that commitment, your blood has that particular thing in it, and it's very hard for people to stop you.

I am embracing the journey....

The breeze

I am very tired from the week,
all i want to do is stop and "be".
I have to keep going and giving.
The breeze is blowing and it washed
over me - filling me and pushing the tiredness
from the all the cracks of my soul.
I will keep on.

A Duet... by jerry

My husband blessed me with some words in honor of my 50th birthday. To be viewed by him in this way is truly a gift worthy of embracing and celebrating!

A Duet

Wherever you go people are almost immediately charmed by your warm inviting melodies. Toes may begin to tap from a casual distant observer or even the occasional passerby. The passerby might pause asking with an inquisitive eye "Who wrote your music? I have been looking for some time but have not been able to have music like that of my own". They may continue on not having been satisfied with the answer they desired but none the less are aware of having heard something special. “Songs like that aren't written every day. I bet it's going to be a classic" they say to themselves.

People more fortunate... at times maybe presumptuously... counting themselves as an acquaintance, smile as they sing the chorus you play. They may not truly know each verse but still bellow the familiar parts with as much enthusiasm as one might conger; not with too much enthusiasm of course. Someone might be listening you know.

Others know your song well. It is one of their most favorite songs. They bought a recording many fond memories ago. Whenever they are feeling a little blue, they know their spirits will lift just by hearing you. It’s hard not to play it again and again... the recordings in good shape though. It will last a long time with loving care.

The most fortunate person of all though is the one granted the most special opportunity. This once in a lifetime engagement of wonderful melodies, exciting dynamics and outstanding beauty shares the stage as a duet. The instrument and the voice join in perfect harmony creating a heavenly made sound unique to themselves. Together they are able to transcend time and to be fortified with enduring love. And with this love... nothing of kingdoms and principalities from here to ever after can stand against it.

Thank you for allowing me to share a duet with you for the time we have on this life’s stage.

Happy 50th birthday to my special instrument and lifelong partner. Let the music play...

I love you.

His gentle correction...

This morning I woke up feeling somewhat "hung-over" from the busy work week. I was grateful to have been able to sleep past 6am, but still was not so sure I wanted to get out of bed. I finally pulled myself from the cozy environment of my sheets and pillow, and made my way downstairs to the coffee pot for some fresh brew. I plopped down in my favorite chair with coffee and my journal and begin writing. It had been a week! My work days are so full - I seem to be involved with everything going on there - I am being stretched - and it is okay. What is not okay is that I was not able to leave work at work once I left to come home for the evening. I was tight and in major work mode... making it very difficult for simple chit chat with my husband or my friend. I wanted to be left alone...I did not want to be asked questions about my day. I really wanted to come home and get back on email and keep working. That is crazy! Set it down KC! Walk away and it will all be there in the morning. So... I worked hard to let it go. I was able to do that towards the end of the week. How? I have to say it is a God thing. Often I ask him to help me "change" some kind of behavior that I know is not "good" for me or those around me... and I know I cannot do it. Then... I see that I have changed and I have to acknowledge that it was God doing his thing.. helping me walk in his ways and not mine. I am much more content and peaceful when my hand is clasped in his and my heart is open to his gentle correction.

The Shack

http://theshackbook.com

I read the book The Shack.
It was full of love and grace, and a wonderful picture of God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit without any of them being in a "box". They were so unlike what most of us view them to be... or rather, Him to be. Him and Him and Him. 3 in 1. You know.
I cried as I read the last chapters.
Mack was changed... he was deeply loved, and he embraced that love from Papa (God), so he was able to heal from the devastating hurt that occurred in his life.
But before healing could come, he had to feel and let out that pain with cries that came from deep, deep down inside of his soul. And he had to be in a safe place to do that.
We are all broken and need that same healing.
Mending the broken pieces has been a path I have chosen to walk in my life.
One piece at a time.
God has put back into place some pieces that were broken, and also rearranged some of those pieces.
Cracks are still visible, but I am whole.
I think that is why I cried.
I know the place where Mack was walking and it is overwhelming.
Tears must come, and as they flow the hurt - the pain - the thoughts of wishing you could do it over all wash away - there is a newness and love abounds.
You know and believe you are loved.
You know and believe that your life matters.
You know and believe that the pain is worth it.
You know and believe that you are healed.
It is so good.

rain... encouragement

it's gently raining and we need the rain, so there is an excitement in my spirit as i watch the rain drops fall, and i want to yell with my face lifted towards the sky, "keep it coming"!
encouragement...
there is hope inside of me as i see the rain - finally my yard is wet and the grass is actually starting to look green and it does not crunch under the weight of my feet as i walk.
encouragement....
it is life giving breath that we give one another... like rain
we give hope and support to someone
we show our approval and that enables others to keep moving in this journey called life
encouragement...
it falls gently like rain drops on souls that are dry and empty
it wraps its arms around lonely people
the words spoken
the touch given
they become a part of that soul that has needed and desired another human being to care
and then they yell, with their face lifted towards the sky,
"keep it coming"!

friday.....

... the alarm went off and all i could think of was that it was friday... i would make it through one more day and then sleep in on saturday morning. i can do this!

i did not have time for breakfast at home, so i stopped at starbucks for a grande coffee and a bagel. i ordered my pikes place coffee and a mutli-grain bagel with cream cheese. the sweet girl behind the counter leaned forward and quietly told me that they did not have any cream cheese and she was so sorry. ok... can i have butter.. nope, did not have that either. ok - how about jelly? nope... peanut butter? nope. ok - i will take it plain. i told her it was okay... things could be worse... at least they had coffee.

i am so tired it just does not matter, and i have my coffee... the sun is shining... it is friday and tomorrow i get to sleep past the alarm.

Reconnecting...

I just recently had the opportunity to hear from some very special people in my life. It was my 50th birthday and my friend Lauren put together a book full of notes and cards from friends that have been in my life since I was in my 20's. Needless to say, it was a bit overwhelming to read through it. I found myself on the verge of crying before I even opened the book to read each one. There were tears and a flood full of memories that came racing back as I read all of their words. It is good to remember.
Remembering where I was as a young professional woman living alone in Maryland with virtually no friends and living most weekends talking to no one and crying tears of loneliness each night as I went off to sleep.
Remembering Carolyn and seeing something about her that I had never seen before. Spiritually, she was alive, and I wanted what she had.
Remembering sitting in church (they met at a school and I thought how odd that was) and having many "wow" moments as I heard Mike Minter talk through scripture and it actually made sense to me.
Remembering feeling like I had spiritually woken up. I was changed. It was good.
Remembering being single until I was 38, and although there was a season of struggling with that, I loved my life. I loved my friends and the journey I was on.
Remembering Jean and Dawn and all we lived through together as roommates. We laughed and cried from the bottom of our transparent hearts.
Remembering Sharry and how much I miss her and her zest for life!
Remember all the single women that came in and out of my life - as we walked together and I shared with them the best way I knew how to live... day by day... in the moment.
Remembering 3 little girls.. Jill, Jodi and Karen. Now they are grown women of 30, 29 and 27.
Remembering Susan Wells and T7E. She was bound up and together we were able to set her free to be who she was, and not who everyone thought she should be.
People were a part of my journey. Now, so many of them are tightly woven into my very being... a part of me. They have loved me and poured into me, and me into them.
I remember and there is a sense of belonging and satisfaction.
I remember, but I don't want that book of memories to be the end.
So, I keep walking trusting there are more memories to make and people to touch and love.... and another book to fill up.

loving lauren through depression...

Lauren had spent the weekend in our home. It was morning when i walked into her room and found her on the floor, in the corner by the window, with a pillow and blanket... and an expressionless face. She responded to my good morning, but i knew it was not going to be a good day. It had not been a good night. She had not slept... she was angry... she wanted to leave and just go home. She wanted to put everything back into a box and live the best she could. Without feelings. Without acknowledgement of her pain. The ache had been there a long time. She was letting it all come to the surface. It seemed too hard to let it all come out. She was broken. She knew it. I left her room when talking with her did not seem to bring her out of the dead place where she was. She was exhausted and said she would sleep and we could go to church. She would be here when we got home and then she would leave. I left the room to talk to jerry. We prayed. We did not leave to go to church. I let her sleep.

When i walked back into her room there was still that heavy feeling of pain and depression lingering in the air. It had not gone away. And Lauren had not slept. My words to her were matter of fact. "Jerry and I talked, and you are not going home. You are staying here until you are better. You are not going to be alone." She wanted to fight me about this decision we made without her--- and i was ready to fight her as well. She was not leaving. Period. At that moment, I know she did not like me. But I loved her and she was staying under our wing. As long as she needed to.

So it began. Lauren lived with us for 2 months. She became like a daughter to me. I loved her and cared for her more than I cared for myself - and at times more than I cared for my husband. She was broken, hurt, in pain and needed to be carried. I grew to know her pain very well and feel her ache. I cried over her when she had no tears. I prayed over her when she did not know where her God was. I loved her when she did not love herself.

I was learning to love lauren through her depression.

Getting to 50...

I can now say I have done the 50 thing.

I turned 50 on June 30th.

It did not hurt.

I still look the same and act the same.

I am not depressed.

It is okay.

But it took 6 months... or longer to get to that place of being okay with this aging process.

Getting older is a strange event.

One that we cannot stop,

and we can choose to embrace it or be depressed about it.

I allowed depression in this area for a season,

and that is only because I was already in a season of depression, so the aging thing just settled in nicely along side of my crappy mood.

What had I done with my life all these years.

I cannot live them over.

Have I made a difference at all in anyone's life?

Do I matter?

And what am I going to do now that I am older...

Blah blah blah

Medication has helped lift me from this pit.

Talking about my fear of aging with a dear friend has helped

loosen the grip of that hand that was tightly squeezing my heart,

and leaving it limp and without joy.

There is hope in every day I live.

Hope that I touch another life with my words,

my touch, my love.

I have no plans to do anything big. I have no script laid out to follow.

I walk in love and grace with my God and trust He uses me

as He desires....whether I am 50 or 31....or 51.

I try to live and love with an open hand and an open heart.

That is all I know how to do today.

And it is well with my soul.

done

activity
working
sweating in the sun
shoveling mulch
watering plants
digging
sweating some more
all for a purpose
the day
a celebration
it is over
success - yet not all that fulfilling
the work is done
beautiful
the activity has subsided
i sit, read, day dream
think, pray, wonder
enjoyment
the quiet is so good
yet, seems foreign
i need more
musings
write
be, keep living life
embracing the moments
fulfilling

the messes i make...

i decided i needed to share all of the messes i make,
and to make a note that my friend makes many of these as well...
it feels good to NOT be alone.
So....

• ice on the kitchen floor from getting a glass of water
• ice cream on the kitchen counter
• spilled diet cherry coke
• rice spilled in between the stove and the counter
• coffee drips going up the stairs...on the kitchen floor...on the back door going out to the porch
• coffee grinds on the kitchen floor
• graham cracker crumbs in the wee hours of the morning are bound to be found most any where!
• art stuff scattered about in different rooms
• paint stains in old coffee mugs
• tools (jerry's) left in the yard and not put away (i did it)
• weights not returned to their proper place after a work out (i did it)
• parmesan cheese in places where it should not be after making a pizza
• pizza crust on the stove and on the floor... (and in my mouth!)

Until i think of all the others... this is it. (i did it)

Moving too fast...

I run fast and hit things
I misjudge everything
I do not always think clearly
I hit things… by accident
I drop things and spill things,
I make messes...
I don’t mean to do these things…
It just happens.
I have not killed anyone,
but I have left “my” mark on several things.
My intentions for all that I do are usually pure,
and I do not mean to cause harm or frustration…
but sometimes I do.
The “wake” I leave sometimes brings with it the need to
repair.
So we repair.
I love nice things and do not mean to break them up.
So we repair.
I move fast through life and live deeply and with purpose,
and sometimes I just move too fast.
But it is me.
So we repair.
I don’t want to beat myself – but I will try to slow down.
And I will help repair.

A year later....

I often look back at the "wake" my life has left and see what is there. Recently when I have done that I see that the waters from a year ago have become calm, quiet and much less rough than they were. I am thankful. A year ago I was walking life out with a friend who was in the middle of depression.

She had made a major change in her life with leaving fundamentalism and she found out how lonely and dark it can be in that space between leaving and landing. She was in limbo. Not sure where her safe place was anymore... not sure of what was right and wrong, or even what sin was. And who is God and where is He anyway? Into the darkness she slid.

It was an evening in April when I stopped by her house on my way home from work to find her curled up in a ball on her sofa. She was despondent. She was empty. She was fragile. She was alone. She was in need. I packed her bags and loaded her in my car. She was coming home with me and she was staying with us until she could walk on her own again.

If only I knew then, what I know now.

If only I knew then that she was depressed and needed medication.

I did the best I knew how to do.

I loved her.

I prayed over her.

Many nights I layed by her side to quiet the anxiety inside of her so she would fall asleep.

Sleep often did not come until the morning hours.

She cried.

She was angry.

She was often inconsolable.

She was trapped.

I was tired.

But I loved her.

It was a long walk in the journey to becoming well.

The joy of today for me is to look back and see she survived the journey.

She is strong.

She is free.

She is a beautiful woman with a heart that has grown and healed...and continues to heal.

She has joy.

She loves.

She is loved.

impatience
it can turn me into an evil woman
no time for waiting or listening
move
now
stop talking!
leave me alone
i want quiet and space
this will pass
i pray

weekend living

patio landscaping
plants in pots
watering
late dinners
wine on the porch
shopping for a patio table and chairs
being hot
needing food and water
watching and praying for rain
only seeing clouds and hearing thunder in the distance
no rain
church
are you sleeping spiritually?
RoseAngela
more heat
more watering
napping and reading
missing lauren
moving big rocks
jerry being a major "boy"
dinner on the porch, late again
jerry talk time
we want relationship, not religion
the book Ragamuffin Gospel, and The Shack
sweet kisses
watch it get dark
a heavenly display of lightening and clouds
no rain
empty the bad food into the garbage
do the dishes
notice that there is still ironing to be done
oh well
heading to bed
reading
needing sleep
coffee is ready for the morning
all good

RoseAngela...

I have always loved music and listened to it
with my ears and my heart.
Music touches me deeply where nothing else reaches.
It is just how I am made. Music can take me to that place
where I feel like I will explode with emotion.
Music can make me weep.
I have experienced lots of different music over my years,
but I have to say that the music that really grabs my heart is music
that is sung by people who are spiritually in touch with their God and
have used the gift that He has given them to bless others.
There are the well known artists such as Sandi Patty, Jars of Clay
or Steven Curtis Chapman, and the well known artists to me
such as Susan Wells, Jean Sauer,
and RoseAngela.
Today it was RoseAngela who made me cry.
She sings at my church.
She opens her mouth and beautiful sounds gently,
yet powerfully come out of her. Her spirit sings.
She moves me and because of what she sings and how she sings it,
she causes me to look deep within myself and I see who I am
and I see who God wants me to be.
All in a moment.
I am changed.
I am weak.
I am strong.
I am encouraged.
I am loved.
I am me.
I am wanting to powerfully live this life I have.
I do not want to miss a thing.
I also want to hug RoseAngela.
She is a beauty. She is a gift.
Today she was used.
She was a vessel.
She was a sweet spirit refreshing my soul.

The year 1989

That is the official "birth" of my friendship with Dawnie.
We had lunch today on the porch - and it was sweet.
We lived much of our single years together, and now the season we are in is different.
Dawn has 2 little girls that are quickly growing up,
and rightfully so she spends most of her time with them...helping them grow up.
I miss Dawn.
I miss the depth of her soul in our normal conversations.
I miss how she always has the answers to my questions about most anything.
I have always told her that she would be my "phone a friend" if I was ever on "Who Wants to be a Millionaire".
I miss seeing her laugh so hard she "poots".
I miss holding her hand when we pray.
Dawn is nordic.
I think I have taught her how to really hug.
Sometimes I have to remind her to hug me tightly.
I never have to remind her to know me.
She knows me very well.
She has seen me up, down, without makeup, throwing up sick, wired shut and swollen from jaw surgery, and she saw my need for counseling when I was holding on to a part of my life that I needed to give to God.
We walk closely even when we don't see each other.
That is a true friend.
I know she would be there for me in a moment's notice.
I would be there for her as well.
I think I keep her young.
I think I make her laugh.
I know I love her deeply.

Planting by moonlight...

Tonight I dug a hole for a bush.... I actually dug 2 holes for 2 bushes. If I am really honest, Jerry dug the holes because I could not do it.
SC dirt is hard, very hard like concrete red clay.
Tried as hard as I could, the shovel barely went into the ground with my 120 pounds behind it.
Dirt like that is just wrong.
2 hours later we have holes.
Tonight Jerry is my hero.
Planting by moonlight can be romantic.