Heart Slammin'

Spitter spatter, you say what’s the matter

And I will tell you what’s wrong.

Sing a song of your greatest calamities,

Write me the melody and I’ll sing along.

You see I’m tired of people hiding their faces,

Puttin’ their sorrows in vases

Wrappin’ em up in cases

And other hidden places.

LIFE.

We’re alive, my friends, and with each passing day

Another opportunity passes away.

An opportunity to shine.

To love,

To show the Love from up above

To be real.

Because honestly, what’s the deal

With people runnin’ around like they’re wearing a crown

Rulin’ this town, they’re scufflin’ around.

I want to know your HEART.

I’ll sit you down; take off that crown.

I want your heart from the start.

I want to hear your passion

Tell me in any kind of fashion,

Make it short, but don’t skirt from the question.

I want to walk a mile in your shoes.

You can’t lose.

What do you want to do with your life?

How do you feel about

Strife? Does the pain of the world cut you like a

Knife? Striving for perfection is never the answer.

That realization crept upon me like a panther.

I want to tell you about it.

Let’s exchange stories,

Stories upon stories

Sharing life together,

The greats and the gories, we are so BLESSED

To be here together whether

Or not we realize it, our

Life is a feather.

Tonight we sleep and another day passes

A day of beauty in glorious masses

Moment upon moment,

If you would put on your glasses

You could SEE.

That life is too precious to hide your sorrows in a box

Keepin’ em’ up with little special locks

And with every tick tocks, tears are shed

From someone around the world mourning the dead

Sorrow and beauty in the same passing hour

Have you ever really thought of all of that power?

All of us laugh and all of us cry.

This remains true through the day that we die.

I wanted to write this poem so that in the end

We could share life together, as I call you my friend.

For the Love of Mondays

How is it that I can see so much pain?

Death, destruction, abuse, anger

And yet still love You?

How is it that Your majesty outweighs all negativity

How Your love transcends all?

My spirit soars as I trudge through mud

Trials that once brought grief now bring joy.

How wonderful.

I want to walk with You by the water

Lightly brushing the grass with my fingertips

Sand curling between the toes

The trinkle of water—beauty

How I long for this solitude, this solace with You

Day in, day out

Dancing is a state of the heart

Joy

*  *  *

I constantly fall to attack

And yet You wait patiently, teaching me

With love

I stumble daily, by the hour, by the minute

Weighing me down, my failures

Striving for perfection is a lost cause

And yet You wait patiently, teaching me

With love

*  *  *

I see now

I see now

Blind like Saul, I’ve staggered about

Lost, hopeless, constantly confused

“Follow me,” You say.

“But why?” Is my answer.

“I know better; I know the way.”

Child…

I see now

Your love is infinite

It is everlasting

I see You now

Pursuing me, daily

Little love letters in the wind and all around

I jump for joy, tears streaming down my face

I am free

I am free

I AM FREE

*  *  *

I will fight for you daily

Irresistibly radical for You

For love

I will fight for you in the cities,

In the jails, in the poverty-stricken houses

I will fight for you in the middle of the abuse and the death and the violence

I will fight for you in the crack addictions and the prostitution

In the brokenness, Your light will shine.

Justice.

Justice.

The beautiful justice of Love.

My soul weeps in absolute awe

In absolute awe of everything

Everywhere I look there is terrible darkness

But finally

For the first time,

I truly see darkness, no longer in naïve optimism

But because of that horrid darkness,

I’ve found Light.

5 Things I Need to Relearn from my 4-Year-Old Self

It has come to my attention recently that kids are the smartest people on earth. They see the world with stark clarity that isn’t bogged down by bias or experience. What comes out of their mouths is pure hilarity, honesty, and at times, downright inappropriate. Children are the lights in this dark, dark world—lights that give us hope and beautiful simplicity. Being a “grown up” now myself (whatever that word means, I’m still unsure), I’m finding that the things I once knew when I was young are now slipping away, and I don’t like it. Reflecting on this thought, I’ve found five things that I need to relearn from my four-year-old self.

1. Being Single is Okay.

Ladies, we can all relate to this one. Remember when this changed? When being single suddenly wasn’t okay? I believe it started in middle school that ones self worth was determined by if they had a date to the dance or a boy to PDA at the end of the school day. No boy, no worth—or it least that’s how it seemed to me. Therefore, my school years were spent feeling slightly worthless and thrown away. Truth? No. My honest feelings at the time? Yes.

Today, there has been major growth and improvement in that area that I won’t go into in this post, but let’s just say that I’ve realized that my affirmation will never come from a man or any other human being at that. That being said, I’m still struggling with this whole “single” thing. How does one not flounder in single-dom? How can I use my single years for good instead of just wasting them away ‘waiting for a man’? What does it even mean to be single?

Teach me, four-year-old Amber! At four years old, everyone was single. The adults, no, but the kids, yes. And did we think we were worthless? No. We celebrated each other’s strengths—“Look! Joe can cross the monkey bars by himself!”—and knew that there were great things ahead of us—“Someday I’m going to be a teacher!” We knew that we were worth love and pursuit and that we had something to offer the world, just as our little four-year-old selves.

2. The World is my Playground.

“I can’t sit in that mud, that’s something kids would do,” I think to myself, prudishly. After all, I was having so much more fun sitting upright in my chair with my legs crossed, sipping coffee. I watch as children climb trees, explore fences by running their fingers over them, doing cartwheels in the grass. When did I forget the joy of this world?

Yesterday, I wanted to run barefoot. I wanted to feel the grass scratch the bottom of my feet as I pounded the foliage. I wanted to explore a forest and be a princess, touching EVERY SINGLE TREE. But I didn’t. I resisted the urge because it was “childish.”

What fun is life if one can’t be childish? What fun is it if we can’t roll down a hill or scream at the top of our lungs? When did I become so reserved, so…”adult?” The word leaves a sour taste in my mouth. At four I knew that the world was my playground. If I wanted to explore a yard or scenery or toy, I did (with parental permission of course). Playing in the dirt, wiping snot on my clothes—I did it all. And I didn’t care that I was being “childish.”

3. People are my Playmates.

I’m not sure when this one changed either. Somewhere along the way, maybe puberty (what a terrible time), cliques started. Friend groups formed, and once you were friends with a certain group, it was highly unlikely that you would be friends with another group. Your best friend was your best friend, and that never changed (and I’m not saying it should now).  Not only was highly segregated during the teen years by not wanting to be friends with many people, but there were also severe trust issues as I realized that people could be mean. Really mean. That realization hurts, and therefore I became closed off and unwilling to share my experiences with many people.

But…we are going through this thing called life together. The people in our lives are our playmates, and it is okay to share things with them, just as when I was four it was okay to play Barbies with who ever was in my house. It didn’t matter, I shared that important event with them. Is it possible that this can translate into adulthood?

4. Everything is Exciting.

I remember being young and getting four quarters from the tooth fairy. SO EXCITING. A dollar was a fortune to my young self, but now it barely thrills me as it once did. I’ve lost the wonder of life—that beautiful newness that one experiences when a child, where you are excited that you get to eat off the big kid’s menu, where you cry after getting a stuffed animal.

I was watching a home movie of our families, and there I was, one-year-old and watching one of those toys that flips after a certain amount of time. Every time it flipped, I FREAKED OUT. I screamed and stared at it, and then at my dad, as if to say, “DID YOU JUST SEE THAT, DAD?! THAT TOY JUST FLIPPED!” Every time it was new and just as exciting, no matter how many times that toy flipped.

What if I could bring that sort of joy back into every aspect of my life? What if I could fully appreciate every moment for what it is—a gift that I want to share with those around me. “Look, Dad!”

5. Everyone is Equal.

This is the lesson that I’ve lost that fills me with the most sorrow. When I was four, and even younger, I didn’t care who was around me. If you could talk to me and say my name, I would play with you, and I would love you. I would show you the blackberries in the side of the yard, and take your hand and give you a hug.

I didn’t care if you were white, or black, or gay, or lesbian, or atheist, or Jewish, or Christian, or man, or woman, or African, or poor, or mentally ill, or criminal, or a prostitute, or label label label.

You were HUMAN in my four-year-old eyes, and that’s all that mattered. And because you were human, I wanted to love you.

My theory on this? If hatred and bigotry can be learned, they certainly can be unlearned.

I’m on a quest for childish lessons that contain the greatest truths, and it is EXHILERATING. Care to join me?

What do you wish that your younger self would teach you?

Fourth of July Fireflies

Ext. Christina’s backyard. Night.

I sit in my broken lawn chair, rocking back and forth to see if I can break it.  The air sits stagnantly in the sky, tiny water droplets suspended in front of my face.

I turn to Christina. “That was a great fireworks display,” I say, grinning.

Every year her neighbors outdo themselves with the amounts of fireworks and the elaborate sequencing. This year’s display consisted of a few highlight fireworks,--ones that looked like spiral noodles, others that shot up so high in the sky that one could lose track of them, and tiny sparkler fireworks.

Content, I sigh, glancing at my surroundings. Christina’s parents sit jollily, drinking a beer; the bonfire burns brightly, snapping and crackling to the right of my chair; lighting strikes in the distance. Behind the bonfire I glance at the forest path—and then glance again. My breath catches.

“Christina…” I whisper.

“What?” she asks, quizzically.

“Look,” I breathlessly reply, pointing to the woods.

In front of the navy blue backdrop of the sky and trees, were fireflies. Hundreds of fireflies, twinkling like tiny stars in the trees. After seeing the fireworks display that ended not even five minutes before, I was struck by the beauty of God’s creation, between the lighting and the fireflies, it was as if He was saying, “Children, here are MY fireworks,” delighting in the one night that all look at the sky and give it the audience that it deserves.

“Can we…should we…can we have an adventure?” I look at Christina expectantly, being fearful of walking in the woods in the dark, yet not wanting to miss this moment, wanting to soak it all up like the humidity that was soaking into my clothes.

“Come on,” she courageously replies, grabbing a flashlight just in case we got lost, urging me past my childish fears.

We trample through the grass to the woods, tripping on unknown foliage, finally finding ourselves alone with Nature, away from the bonfire and people. We stand at the edge of the forest path, looking upon a swampy meadow with tall grass, and a path carefully cut down in the middle of the tall reeds and grasses. Christina leads, knowing the path well, and I follow behind.

I take one step into the woods, hardly believing that this moment could exist on earth, as it seems to come out of a fairy tale. The fireflies twinkle around me like whimsical fairy dust, flittering about around my being. Lightning strikes silently in the distance, adding an emphasis of spontaneous light to my wonder.  The tall grass scrapes against my bare legs. Sometimes I have to push the reeds out of my path, feeling like a curious child rounding a corner.

I am a princess. Tonight, I am in the woods. No purpose, no reason. Not running away, not going towards something, just existing in my serene dress, in wonder and beauty.  I am a princess, as my hand stretches out to catch a pulsing light, as my sister walks ahead, leading confidently. Water and dirt and slugs squish between my royal toes, and I relish in the feeling.

And as we walk out of the woods fifteen minutes later, having completed the semi circle path, I somehow feel different. Like I had witnessed something in those woods that was ethereal, everlasting. I want to package that walk in the woods in a box, take a snapshot of it to revisit during a later date. Walking back to the bonfire, all I can do is smile.

“Christina,” I whisper ecstatically, “We just had an adventure!” 

I giggle, still feeling like a princess.

I am fully aware that this moment won’t last, that living fully in the moment will soon go away, replaced by the daily petty worries and anxieties that I fall victim to. But for now, I can relish in the truth that was revealed to me in the woods.

This life is a gift that we unwrap moment by moment, day by day.

That’s what the fourth of July fireflies reminded me.

A Thesis on Sneezing

ACHOO!

The sound instantly alerts everyone in the near vicinity, heads turning quickly like vultures to an animal corpse.

“Bless you!” come the multiple replies.

“Thank you!”

Sneezing—what an interesting experience.  It’s one of those experiences that is universal, regardless of ethnicity, gender, or upbringing.  The response is universal, because all know the feeling. Everybody sneezes; it’s a fact of life.

One of my favorite things about sneezing is, much like laughing, the variety that takes place in this simple human experience. A baby sneezes, everyone around cries, “Oh!”, as if this sneeze was too much for this baby to handle (sometimes by the distraught look in their eyes after this happens, you’d think it was). A dog sneezes, the same. A first grader sneezes in the classroom; “BLESS YOU” is screamed from all corners of the room from their peers. Even adults acknowledge sneezing with a “Bless you,” even if it lacks sincerity sometimes.

Along with the wonderful results of sneezing, you have the actual sneezing itself. There’s the fake sneezes, usually from middle school girls, the ones that you can’t believe was actually a sneeze. “A-chie!!!!” Ma’am, I don’t care what you call that, there is no way that snot just blew out of your nose at 60mph…I just can’t believe that. Then you have the normal sneezes, the “ACHOO!”s, the ones where your head jerks forward and you fear hitting your head on the table in front of you. This sneeze is experienced by the majority of people, and can be considered your typical, ho-hum sneeze. Then…you have the sneezes like my dad sneezes, where he bends entirely in half and yells at the ground, “AHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!“

This is the best kind of sneeze. This is the kind of sneeze that makes elephants poop on the spot, that makes church services stop at an instant, the kind of sneeze where one can see the powerful force that a sneeze makes. Every time my dad sneezes, I laugh. It’s entertainment on demand, and it gets better EVERY SNEEZE. To my delight, I have inherited my father’s sneeze. It is WONDERFUL.

Sneezing—uncontrollable, no matter how hard one tries. What a gift sneezing is. The nose is tickled by unwelcome company and, impatient as the nose is, it projects the company across the Earth in the form of a sneeze. The nose really is a beautifully impatient instrument. In the presence of unwelcome company? The nose instantly sneezes. In the presence of an unpleasant smell? The nose instantly wrinkles. Smell chocolate chip cookies? The nose instantly, and greedily, expands.

I’ve always thought about sneezes—about how peculiar they are and their universality. I’ve always wondered what I look like when I sneeze. It is something you can never know since you can’t sneeze with your eyes open. About five years ago, I felt a sneeze coming on, and impulsively grabbed my camera. This is the wonderful picture that was taken on that day.  

Happy sneezing, friends. 

Heart Conditions

I want to be FIERCE. I want to be a courageous woman of God who fights for justice with compassion and love. I want to be bold, giving it all up in pursuit of Him, sowing seeds of love and healing the broken, being a light where there is none, helping people realize the beautiful creations that they are, and SO MUCH MORE. My heart is plagued with expectations that I’ve just recently began starting to uncover.

Sometimes I get so frustrated and angry at societal expectations, as it hinders people from love, acceptance, and embracing of full potential. Fear of rejection translates into complacency and then people don’t even TRY. Which is COMPLETELY UNDERSTANDABLE in the given circumstances. So how can one break free of these expectations that hinder us from following our true desires?

I’m reading this book right now entitled “No More Christian Nice Girl” by Paul Coughlin & Jennifer D. Degler. I’m so thankful for Paul and Jennifer’s existence, and that they took the time, and thought that it was worth their time, to write this book. I know the title sounds so cheesy (I even laughed upon seeing it myself), but seven chapters in and it has been such a blessing.  In it, they are basically looking at “Christian Nice Girl” syndrome, and how it doesn’t reflect the Christ that Christians follow. It looks at the 360 degree Jesus—the one that is firm and gentle, strong and compassionate.

I’ve been really torn up recently about my place in God’s kingdom. Do I have any value in His kingdom as a woman? As a woman, I am complacent, meek, mild—what can I offer? Is fighting only for the men? Is fighting for justice and compassion something that is far beyond my abilities as a woman? HOW. SCREWED. UP. IS. THIS. THINGKING?! I mean really. I’ve been so frustrated and angry for the past two weeks feeling worthless when my heart desired BOLDNESS and EXPANSION, GROWTH and HEARTFELT COMPASSION. Why do I feel the need to deny my life of these things? Acting on these impulses, calling out the injustices of the world would bring light, not darkness, and yet I sit in cowardice, waiting, as if that’s what my Savior did (which He didn’t. He fought for every human on the earth, ACTIVELY, not PASSIVELY).

I’ve been told to be meek, mild, nice—because that’s what I’m supposed to be. I can’t do that.  MY SOUL CAN NOT SIT STILL. It wants to MOVE, to BREATHE, to EXPLORE. My soul wants ADVENTURE, to meet new people, to LAUGH, to GET SO PISSED OFF AT THE CONDITIONS OF THE WORLD, to FIGHT. Yes. You heard me. I want TO FIGHT. Human trafficking makes me angry. The way homosexuals are treated makes me angry. Neglecting the lower class makes me angry. ALL OF THESE THINGS MAKE ME ANGRY. BROKEN PEOPLE HURT MY SOUL. People who have been told that they are worthless are GOLD. They need to know this. Who is going to tell them?

This book has been such a blessing because it has shown me that God wants me to fight. He doesn’t want me to be meek and mild. Looking at the women of the Bible shows the boldness in their person. Ruth—BOLD. Deborah—SO BOLD. Mary—goodness, Mary. BOLD. They fought. They were strong. And they were WOMEN. I have a place in God’s kingdom after all. As a fighter. As a warrior princess. It’s going to be a process getting to a place where I feel strong enough to fight, but it is possible. 

This is the true condition of my heart on June 20, 2012. Welcome. Here you have seen the discoveries of late, the ruminations of my soul, and the anger at conditions of the world as is. I’m excited for a few opportunities on my horizon that I will blog about as I feel led. I’m feeling so inspired tonight, because I know that I am not alone. There are women who have been in my place before me and have persevered, and I will persevere. I’m feeling on FIRE, but the emphasizing caps lock really helps with that. If anything you read resounded in your soul, contact me. Let’s grab coffee this summer, or run through a sprinkler and talk. :)

In Him,

Amber     

Made New

You. You there.

Make an incision in my veins and bleed me dry.

Leave me there, a pounding heart.

A burning body, writhing.

By taking away all that I am

I can find all that I am.

And this lifeless body can be filled again--

New. True.

Fill me.

I am Yours.

Take this writhing body and replace me.

Love, Joy, Peace.

Patience.

Kindness, Goodness, Gentleness, Faithfulness.

Self-control.

“I know I’m filled to be emptied again;

This seed I’ve received I will sow.”

*  *  *

The world is new.

I am a child, the earth cushions my feet.

I dance in freedom, in joy.

Are you broken? Come.

I will hold you in an embrace until you can stand again.

Let’s love.

Let’s explore.

At the base of my being I long for adventure

I long to explore, to see

To give explosions of joy to others

To travel to unknown places.

My heart pounds in these revelations.

*  *  *

Day by day,

I feel myself coming back to life

My heart restarting.

Broken places being healed.

Veins full of His passionate fire.

Vigor and Love.

Soon I may be able to humbly stand,

Made New.