OK, Honey. Challenge Accepted!

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DAY 1

“You want me to what?”

“You heard me,” he said.

“30 blogs in thirty days?” My mind tries to wrap my brain around it.  My fingers stumble over the keys multiplying the need to backspace. “That’s like, one ever day.”

“Yep,” his smirk clearly came through the Skype response.

“Seriously? I’ll give up ice cream, TV, bathing in the sun…” I search for anything of value.  “Soda with caffeine!  Popcorn!  Facebook!!”

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Disney, the Holy Spirit and a Tinkerbell Tattoo

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It may as well be a metal table by the standard of sterile coldness in this room. I lay still. My eyes pace from medical posters to digital equipment, ears in tune to every word the technician mumbles. He arranges each tool necessary for the procedure.  Heart pulverizing my chest, I can only second guess my implore, years back, to the doctor for this test.

“Please, just give me the tube dye test to check and make sure nothing is wrong,” I begged.

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A Soul Never Handicapped!

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Another sunrise; yet today appears to follow the path of the hundred, actually many more, days before. Lyme, still very present, dictates what his body will do.  Seeing the sun is a treasure. Gazing at his beautiful wife, children, nothing less than a gift, a miracle. A long time friend with a long time physical fight!

This Easter season did not reflect the chaos of planning, shaping and rehearsing as in years past.  That didn’t stop his desire.  His intent, his longing, was to engage in worship of his Christ, his Savior in spite of what his handicapped body would say.

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The Other side of the Bridge!

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Courageous, to say the least, was this transformative expression of devotion. A momentous parade of lives crossed over from death to life, from dark to light, from heaviness of lies to freedom of truth.  Slowly and methodically, each person crossed over the wooden bridge that spanned the stage to fearlessly declare that they are letting go and letting God. Easter’s story of sacrifice and resurrection was spoken, for some a carbon copy as told last time, for others a fantastically timed revelation of their buried or even denied need for a savior.

The last few minutes of this portrayal of renewal and rebirth signifies a new beginning, a healed heart, a refreshed soul.  (Click on link below to experience it yourself.)

Mine was not a physical bridge, nor was it a public demonstration.  I sat on my unkempt bed on the lower level of the wooden bunk. The soul altering message given by the camp speaker penetrated deeply as phrases of truth lingered in my mind. Awakened and now aware of the black hole in my spirit, a decision needed to be made.  Sin and shame are hard to release but I now knew that they weren’t mine to carry.  They were His.

What seemed endless at the time was a flood of emotions that escaped the prison I had made. Yet, it was not in my control. Overtaken, overwhelmed I was as the Spirit infiltrated my being.  Guilt, grief, deceit and all other impurity within, drained from my soul.  A vision of ungodly residue being removed as I “crossed the bridge” from death to life.  High on the Spirit, nothing could weigh me down.

Then life happened.  As it often has a tendency to do, it knocked me off my mountain top and sent me tumbling to a valley of shadows and death. It wasn’t real, lacked genuineness or worst yet it left me were thoughts I contemplated. I had left camp, determined to prevail, adamant to remain in His presence so how could I now, feel so…lost, defeated.

Naivety? Foolishness?  Stubborn independence?  Doesn’t matter, the fact is I was unprepared for what was on the other side.  I assumed my walk of faith led me to a destination rather than beginning of a whole new journey. One that needs daily guidance and direction.  A pilgrimage full of unseen obstacles and attacks accompany the joy and freedom.  After all, a “troll” did everything he could to keep us from crossing the bridge and he doesn’t give up when we make it to the other side.  There is a map, weapons, a compass that keeps us on the path to holiness.  Wisdom, encouragement and truth from His word uncovers what we need to weather the storms as we drudge forward, find confidence in Christ and wholeheartedly understand that we are never alone.

Heaven is dancing for all who have crossed the bridge. Now lets do everything we can to continue moving forward and grow in knowledge and faith of Jesus Christ until the journey is complete.

Dreary Rain? Matter of perspective!

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Yes, at first it was, disappointing at worst and hair frizzing at best. If it were Texas rain, warm to the touch, like a steamy shower on a winter day, kind of downpour, I would dance in it. Drench myself under the pounding drops and be soaked to the bone in it. Not a chance in this cold rain. This is the rain that beckons me to stay inside, re-cover myself in down feathers in my unmade bed and wait.

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The benefit of depression!

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I turn my back from the sun, and slap the snooze…again. Thoughts form, “just get up and move.”  Limbs proceed to upright position; feet dangle a few inches from the floor.  “So close, but yet…forget it.” My head drops back against the pillow, down feathers envelope and cradle me.  I am incapable to motivate myself for another day. Instead my blanket of dull and dreary, I find safe and most content.

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When Patience isn’t Enough!

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Music played softly, bible in hand, and I settled into the comfy spot by the big bay window.  Cocoa on my left, steam swirled and curled above it.  A rise and fall of my chest, exhale of air and I gazed at the sun rays that bounced color and cast shadows over the mountain.  Peace had fallen, (Insert record scratch) until the intrusive ring of my cell phone.  One glance at the caller ID and my heart immediately dropped.  Teeth clinched and eyes closed, I answered as I attempted to disguise, my disdain for the interruption.  I knew better than to be optimistic for a quiet moment.

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Beauty in the Broken!

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As they wait for the scene to begin, the actors pace and move about to stay warm.  Camera crew and I discuss possible angles to shoot from in order to achieve the most cinema graphic shot possible.  Options include graffiti crowded walls, a second floor balcony door with no balcony, and cracked mortar all around.

This underutilized alley with worn out buildings, broken bricks and cracked sidewalks proved to be the perfect background for our homeless teen story.  For the most part, people passed by without a glance or pause to consider our purpose there.  Except for one.

 

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The Art of Vulnerablility!

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“How are you doing?”  my dear friend asked while passing by after church ended.  “Good,” I quickly replied assuming it was a polite hello rather than a genuine request.  But, as my feet continued on, our eyes locked and caused both of us to pivot around face to face.  “No, really, HOW are you doing?”

Startled by the sincerity of the moment, I quickly became aware of my increasing heart beat that moments ago was pumping blood at an inconspicuous rate.  In that brief moment, that innocent question turned intrusive and frightening for I knew the answer but doubted whether it would be received well.

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The Backlash of being Wonder Woman!

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As I am laying on the couch, my foot elevated above my heart, the doorbell rings.  Once again I have to bite off and chew up my  worldly pride (because it is way to big to just swallow whole).  Another dear friend enters with another delicious meal prepared for my family due to the fact that my recent foot surgery has limited my abilities to thoroughly do so.

As deeply grateful as I am for every gal that prepared meals for the first 2 weeks after surgery, I am equally embarrassed and distraught that I can’t do it on my own.  Ridiculous, I know.  If anyone of them were in my position, I would completely do the same thing and help in anyway possible and not once would I ever think they were weak of character.  However sick it may appear, I loathe depending on others.  I want to be able to do it ALL myself.  After all, even Jesus stated, 35  “It is more blessed to give than to receive. ”  Unfortunately my perception of how to balance giving to receiving has been way off.

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