Archive for Philipians

The Perfect Storm

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on March 29, 2011 by Her Broken Wing

The Perfect Storm

Standing in the cold

I find no shelter from the rain.

Hope of a lesser Kind

Love such forgotten.

The storm of redemption

Jealously takes hold of my soul.

The rain picks up her pace hard against my skin.

And the thunder rolls in close.

There is a climax of Earth’s beauty as Mother Nature cries out.

There is a Perfect Storm.

Then the denouement.

Speculation—maybe.

Summation—surely.

Peace 

 Silence

Thus, the events of my life.

For the peace of God transcends all understanding…” (Philippians 4:7)

Beautifully Awkward

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Letting Go

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on August 6, 2010 by Her Broken Wing
I remember back as a little girl, the first time my dad let go of my hands. He said, “Go, I‘m right here.” I trusted him. I jumped into the deep waters and swam. He watched me intently with his big beautiful and loving eyes. I was the center of his attention. The world had stopped for a brief eternity.   

I remember…   

My first day of school my dad walked me up to my class, and said, “Go, I’m right here.” There he let go of my hand, kissed my head and walked away. I believe I saw a tear.  My heart was beating so fast. But I trusted him. I knew he would be waiting for me.   

When I was nine, my dad held me tightly until the doctors wheeled me back into the procedure room to sew up my head from a tragic injury. My dad said, “Go, I’m right here.” I still remember him reluctantly letting go of my tiny hand. Oh, I did not handle the separation, for I saw my dad cry. I felt my heart swell.  I knew I was loved.    

Then life changed…Some months later something happened, my dad had to go. Through the heartbreaking devastation of divorce, my dad took my hand and said, “I must go, but I’m right here.” My trust was shaken that day. Obviously if I had tried harder, my daddy would not have gone.   

So my days grew dark and long… the days became months and the months became years. I was learning a new life without the structure I had known, albeit not that great for my parents really were not cordial. I was learning to live out of a new identity of that of my previous Daddy’s Little Girl, I began looking to fill a void deep within my heart. I wanted to be the center of someone’s attention. I wanted back what I had as a little girl.   

Trying to fill the past with something of the present is like putting a square peg in a round hole. I just doesn’t work. For God says, “Press toward the goal…” (Phil 3:14)—- not … hang out in the past…   

But the pain was too great for me… So I continued to fill the void with things not of God…   

Near the end of my father’s life, I plummeted into total despair. I held the pain of his death like a trophy. I could not let go. For letting go would mean… acknowledging my sickness, my victim mentality and meaning that I would have to become real with myself. To release my dad to my Heavenly Father, I would have to release myself as well. No more “Oh poor pitiful me….“seeking sympathy of others… living in the chaotic world I thrived in that kept it acceptable for me to use drugs. After all, look what I had been through…To trust–we must take a risk…for others are going to fail us… I am going to fail others.   

Letting go, would mean–Dad saying, “Go, I’m right here.”Letting go, would mean–Abba saying, “Go, I’m right here.”  

 Today, I am able to jump into the deep places of my life and immerse in the warmth of the surrounding embrace of love…For I am the apple of my Daddy’s eye.  

Beautifully Awkward     

I Regret To Inform You

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on April 8, 2010 by Her Broken Wing

“Forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:13b)

Another day came; and I just lie there in my room listening to the bustling of life continue on without me. I was too tired, too drugged. I couldn’t get out of the nightmarish cycle I was living. Not only did shame eat away at my soul but the prevailing emotion of regret. I had lived with such sorrow over my life passing me by. The life as I knew it could be.

We all have had serious regrets in our life time. But when we feel are responsible for our own destiny, it makes the pain worse. I remember as a child, how strong the emotion of regret could be. I recall how magnified my emotions were as child? Just like the time I was on a scavenger hunt and walked right by the prize only to have someone walk behind me and find the reward. How devastated I was.  I had tremendous regret, “If only I had looked closer…” As a child, the sting of regret could linger for a long time.

My pain the past ten years was no different. Maybe because I had been in the habit of numbing myself, I am just now able to experience feelings–good and bad!

Regret attached itself to my soul and has not easily let go.

The law of nature is clear; we cannot be in two places at one time. If I live in my regret, I cannot move forward. For a long time, I just didn’t get that. I would perch myself on my pretty little throne of self-righteousness (see my addiction was still in the closet) as I tried to fix whatever current issues were most pressing–usually determined by–what caused me the most pain! I dealt with this by sending out letters (or emails) to those that hurt me. Maybe if I could make them feel bad, they would feel bad enough to come to my place and beg forgiveness. After all, this (“this” being –anything and everything) wasn’t my fault. Or I would play the self-pity card game, come, sit at my table and I’ll serve us tea and cookies.  Soon, no one wanted to join in any “my reindeer games.” My friends and family had a life. I was on my own island… The Island of Shame and Regret.

In my loneliness, through my tears and whispers, I began to cry out– Father Almighty. It was because of my extreme brokenness and my nothingness that I finally knew what it meant to give it all to Him, but all I had left was a worn-out, broken and shattered resemblance of a shell of my life.

So I did.

Gave it all. Piece by piece…crumb by crumb. (Drugs and all)

That night, I slept.

I dreamed.

I woke.

I was released from the bondage of regret. The scales of shame covering my eyes fell so that I could see.  I finally understood—the scripture:

“I was blind and now I see.” (Jn 9:6-7)