Stumble-on truths

Some things have become very clear lately. They are my truths but not The Truth.

Hillary wrote about self-control being a fruit of the Spirit. The clarity here is that I am still seeking approval from others. But the Spirit is indwelling and the fruits should send light from the inside out. We should see growth.When we try to grow fruits from the outside in :usually from a source such as a parent or religous figure: It presses in and stifles. Brings death not fruit.

I realise I do not know how to set healthy boundaries.We often think of boundaries as letting people take liberties with us, but it goes the other way as well. We were taught so well to be hypersensitive that in a way the ego takes control. Constantly thinking of self and how we are appearing. I worry constantly about whether I've stepped over someones boundaries, and I wonder if this is just as unhealthy. It is certainly destructive in relationships.

In one of the other blogs the author talks about letting go of a works mentality, having to earn our way, and then realising that God had not removed His hand from their life but rather the opposite. I have been so worried about trying to be thankful for the hard times and lessons , about not getting trapped in the prosperity gospel that I often won't allow the joy to be present.

My friend Hillary has really inspired me to take up creativity again. And my friend Lisa has inspired me to let go of condemnation , be strong ,and be me.

I always felt it was going to be so much work to change who I am. But you know....God knew me before I was knit in my mothers womb. I am always who I was. It is not about changing, but about letting go. All the expectations and rules of others  have covered me. I am always in here. I need to rest, the work is finished and God will let it all be as it should have always been.

We went to the coast over easter. It always refreshes me spiritually by the ocean. It's siren song entwines my soul. As I sat and looked at the sand on my feet I was so happy. A lot of things went through my mind.

The other thing will be a choice I have to make before the years end. When you find someone in the box you are still defined by the boundaries and that is how your perceptions define life and relationships. As I know me and see the seeds that God has planted I have to find a new way to relate.The ties seem permanent but it's not how it was. I hope the two that were made one before God, carry the ties from before we were created and it's all in the plan.

An Interlude.

I feel faceless, graceless in this moment. Not even as succint as mediocre. All around the inspirational, the beautiful, the grace-moments. Skittering over like hair on silk. The pitchfork has aerated the soil , from whence then did this covering shadow come from.
I dream my dreams in loneliness; as from the womb untouched by loving hands. Perhaps the cover is woven of dreams melted like chocolate in the sun.I see, I smell, I crave the sweetness. I could reach and touch but not grasp substance. Patterned though with the marble of shattered dreams.

I stand in the marbled halls. The vision, the light is clear. The spirit senses what the eye has not materialised. All that is seen is a vessel in the corner. Receptive. Do I carry the seeds.

Ivory Towers part 2

There's a tiny girl waiting there. Innocence stolen. Caged in by shame, and guilt, and fear. She doesn't know  she's loved and cherished. Before her steps were steady they started to burden down her feet and heart. Before she had words; her tears were unseen, unheard.

I want to hold that little girl. I want to tell her it's alright because Papa God loves her so, and He will cherish and protect. I need stretch out the adult hand to Papa God and through my tears search His face for the Truth of that.

At times my heart cannot contain the joy at glimpses of His endless grace and loving-ness. My heart must know the Truth. I believe the Truth was woven in my soul when God formed my bones in my mothers womb, and so the heart hopes and the heart seeks.

The veil has been sewn up by those whose cruel hands attempted to steal Truth from the childs heart. They could not do that, the key is safe in Papas' loving hands. So instead they stitched the veil he rent with Grace. They pulled on the jagged edges to remind the child. Hours on end.Time without meaning.

Those Holy hands will never un-gently pull and tear. But oh so softly in the times I do not even sense, in the places sacred to Him they slowly unfold the veil. I melt when I grasp His tenderness, how can I ever BE: without Him.

I begin to see how tenderly He holds that tiny precious girl in His arms. I start to believe that Faith is the new language I will learn. The words so sweet they drip as Heavenly nectar to my parch-ed soul.

Soon, and very soon I will hold the hand of that tiny girl and we will nestle under Papas wings together.

Mind, Body, Soul

Truth is searched for dilligently, but often the small moments of epiphany come at unexpected times. I am realising the compexity of our creation. How there is Holy synergy between mind, body and soul. Perhaps this mirrors how the Father, Son and Holy Spirit work together. Where one of our parts feel pain, so does the others.

I have a place I can go where they help weave my jagged places smooth again.

They wove back the place where my voice was taken from. When I learnt to speak with less fear of condemnation, I found my voice was there to use.

They wove back the place where the value of womanhood was stolen from. Being less for being feminine. My womb itself wept. As I learnt how to value my God created identity, my womb became a cradle for gifts from Heaven.

They wove back the place where strength was taken from my back. As I learnt to live out from under the burdens of shame, guilt and fear I was able to stand straight and be strong.

As each thought is given credence and examined, and placed in the right space, grace is flowing over and healing all of me. I am being un-broken and woven back together. My bones are knit in the Holy place by the one who knit them in the beginning. He whispers to me with His breath that gave me Life.

Ivory Towers

It took me a long time to know a name.I was raised in an ivory tower, but I did not even know that until I'd reached the awkward age.That time you're transtioning into adulthood.One foot still in the place where you hope for fairytales, seeking a lifeline to swing from the tower without falling.

I wasn't isolated in the physical, but the mind and soul were barricaded by thoughts from the GUARDIANS AGAINST THE WORLD.The world was anyone not us.

Our feet wandered the streets of normal (in the narrow paths) but it was eons before the eyes of the heart saw it.The guardians were thorough in their zeal to protect us from the world.Fear was their greatest tool.

I was thirteen when I heard a name...you're a cooneyite ! My parents denial did not ring Truth but created more chasms to swing across.The paradox of misguided religion;being controlled by having your self-ness annihilated, but also through the belief of being special because no-one else holds the keys to the Kingdom door.

I was thirty three before I knew it was a cult.I'd always had inklings of grace and I know Father was keeping my soul intact for some reason.I am waiting still on the manifested purpose of my Be-ing.I lost so many that played in the ivory towers with me.Lost them to the depths of their pain, shame, and the betrayal of the guardians.

My body, mind, and being were neither cherished nor validated by the guardians.All offence was to be hidden from any eyes that might penetrate the Tower, hidden for the good of their religion.But Gods' amazing, sacred grace sheltered my soul.I was fragmented but He is restoring.

He has kept my tears and cries, and He pours the blessed rains of  Heaven on my head.I stand in the pastures verdantly abundant.I hold up my hands and let the grace flow down my arms and over my soul.