Jesus is my favorite feminist.

This is happening. Feminisms Fest is happening right now. And I want to be a part of it. 

I've started 6 count 'em 6 different posts about feminism tonight.

How do you reconcile what you thought with what you now know?

How do you pretend nothing has changed when everything has?

How do you articulate to others what is stirring so deep and screams so loud?

I can't. Maybe one day. But not now.

But Jesus can. And He did.

Sometimes

As the Father steps out, He reaches for the worn canvas tool bag waiting just beyond the door. 

Greeting the lush landscape with a soft smile gracing His weathered face, the large man gently strokes a leaf here, a bush there as He makes His way through His legacy coming to a stop at His destination. 

Admiring years of work, He lovingly recalls choosing the bonsai’s special container, the trimming and pruning of unorthodox parts, the uncomfortable grafting of strengthening material, and the recent slow tightening of the shape-conforming clamps, which He would remove today. 

Not all was done just for the tree's benefit, but some for those who would one day rest in its shade.

With its branches softly swaying in the warm breeze, the seemingly insignificant tiny tree bows in anticipation of the Master’s expert touch.  

written 09/10

I don't believe in Purgatory, but sometimes I choose it anyway.

I don't have a Catholic bone in my body so don't expect a dissertation or even close to accurate explanation of Purgatory.

If you googled purgatory and got me, well, you're here so stick around anyway.

 Purgatory by Heeman

Purgatory is defined as the in-between.
The place between heaven and hell.
A place or state of temporary suffering or misery.

I don't believe in the after-life reality of purgatory, but I do see it in the here and now.

And sometimes I choose it.

Get Still

At church, in the movie theatre, in the check out line, I can't tell you how many times I've hissed those words at my kids, "Get Still!"

And yet its one of the hardest things for me to do. 

Not physically, but mentally, and especially spiritually.

Just to get still. Just to listen. Just to be.

To Quiet A Voice

I have something to say. Lots of somethings about lots of things.

I know God wants me to write. He has given me a voice. 

And I have no problem using it until I realize someone is actually listening.

There are moments when an intense knowing consumes me, and I become oblivious to everyone and everything except for the one who is supposed to hear what I must say. In those moments I feel the Holy Spirit pouring out of me, saying words I've never thought, seeing things clearly I should not know or understand. 

One Among Many

Wednesday was my birthday, and I spent the day telling people I was 39. Yea... I'm only 38. Go ahead, laugh; I did!

I think I live in a state of constant distraction and multi-tasking. Hence, I can't remember how old I am.

That is until something stops me in my tracks.