MIA

Seems courage is missing ….fear takes place as counterfiet memories rampage through  distorting a  mind …

Grass is always greener elsewhere and its true for a while till you realise that all green lawns are labour intensive .

Shame and guilt arrive and unpack suitcases settling in and making them selves comfy .. they are here to haunt and taunt..to sabotage the lifeline and steal the light of hope .

They breathe fakery ..spawning lies and mindgames that spew venom onto holy hearts .

But it doesnt stick .

Holy hearts are held in hands of grace and they know truth from disfunction .Refusing to be drawn into the twisted games of broken down queens .

Prefering to stand apart . Staying sweet , honest and open .

Heavens own hand fights for these beloved ones , theres no need to muddy ourselves in this mess .

Sweetness and truth hold strength unparalleled. Grace allows one to be bent perhaps but never broken .

The storms serve only to strengthen our roots .. sending them deeper still .

Heavens life force flows through them .Unmoveable . Unshaken . Undeterred.

This isnt were the road seemed to lead .. but hands of grace guide us through illuminating futures bright …and its ok this detoured road .

No fear lives here . Regret and sorrow dont get to take up space but are moved out as quickly as they arrived .

So the adventure continues.

Having learnt long ago what love is and what it isnt makes this space only blessed .

Love releases… lets go ..fighting for a heart doesnt make it yours .

Never trust a heart that had to be drawn, seduced manipulated or tempted into residence .

Love is freely given . Freely recieved .Held loosely and wishes blessing not curses .

Love doesnt control or manipulate. Doesnt hunt down threatening spreading lies and rumores wide .

Love is not obsession .
Love is not toxic ..it does not poision .

It holds space . Stays in grace and releases out, breathing blessings for the road ahead .

Love never fails .. it doesnt damage ..doesnt lie ..doesnt break the hearts its bound to care for .

Those things never flow from one who loves …only from hearts that have lost themselves in swirls of deception and vicious cycles of disfunction.

Grace teaches truth . Teaches hearts to recognise love when they encounter it .

Life is heavy without grace carrying the weight . This heart does not  pretend to have it all figured out but is thankful the weight of the walk is shared load.

In our joy and in our pain there is stablity as we are planted deep in heavens heart unmovable , protected , sure footed .

So here we stand …5 again not 6. Praying sight to the blind . Mercy to the broken and blessing over the ones that curse us ..This is how we walk contrary to this life .This is heavens way .

Restoration.





RUINS derelict and abandon. Came upon them by suprise, silent and unsort.

This wasnt really where I pictured us. After all this holy ground is ruined city, desolate and unkept.

Its been looted and vandalised to an extent that if you didnt know what stood here before it would be unrecognisable .

This landscape is pretty badly beaten up, I wont lie.

Ruins are full of ragged edges. Shards of glass stick out here and there at odd angles .Fallen beams and broken staircases are a trip hazard and we tread carefully trying to weave a path through the wreakage and come out the other end without more damage then before.

By faith, eyes are able to see through the distortion…percieving like  visionaries the beauty that could stand .

Before the earth shook down this city, before the vandals attacked her walls and war broke out.

She was once beautiful.
Full of promise.
Built for delight and home and heart and family.

She nursed dreams within her walls. Laughter rung out and adventures were seeded deep in her gardens waiting for the time to sprout, grow, leaf and fruit.. but it never came.

Winter fell heavy.
Those dreams froze deep in the earth .Spring never arrived . 

Wars raged around her.She became collateral damage to the surrounding disfunction.

Her foundations,always a little sketchy, cracked apart and she crumbled



Heart left the city and it was turned over to whomever felt entitled to rampage her walls.

Now back here we stand beholding ruins and wondering where to start.

It seems that even the harshest winters never really last .Spring always comes and those deep seeded dreams aren’t dead at all to our suprise but amongst the chaos and cracked open earth have felt the sun and sprouted up in search of light.

Within this shattered landscape life breathes again.

Hope like seedlings springs up in the most unlikely places and although the envirionment is ragged still, we find it punctuated with the vibrance of possibilities regrowth.

Wisdom, grace and insight is desperately sort to know where to begin .
This is a restoration project of epic proportion and building on broken-down foundations is a fools game .

We aim to build it slow and right.
Taking time to ensure steadfast footings.
To clear the clutter and remove the rubble.

To see the space to draft new blueprints and begin again with guidance of an architects eye and hand.

To build sturdy castles here in this landscape is the dream.With stronger  boundry lines that keep the vandals out and higher towers to gaze futher into the future then we could see before.




To dream impossible dreams and plant them like seeds deep in fertile grounds.

To tend these gardens well and have them bare holy fruit for generations on.


Healthy strong cities birth legacy and hold high the hearts that follow in the labourours wake.

What once was impossible now seems tangible.We dare to forge the path that is seldom walked .

Its said nothing worth doing is ever easy, what is easy never lasts.

This restoration is far from effortless but we are standing tall believing the sweat and tears are blessed.

Healing after all is seldom pretty. But much like reconstruction fortification is a nesassary element.

Foundations now built on hope and heart trusting the rest will follow.

Such is life that when we find our feet and learn the landscape, the earth turns suddenly and all that was is at once undone .

Faith allows sight to see these ruins for what that are and yet overlay them with what will be .

Holding fast to what was is staying stuck in ruins desolate.
Instead we choose to take a leap and start a journey deep into new beginings.

Forgiveness ends wars , takes power back from vandels hands .
It offers clean slate. Its the gift that rewrites a new tomorrow. Birthing future in her wake .

All thats required is the courage to chase down the truth, Catching hold of light and choose to see beyond the present mess and futher into tomorrow.



Waiting.



Patience is not a thing that comes easily to me.
It’s a hard-learned quality that I still struggle to grasp firmly…
I hate delay..hate the pause…the uncertainty that the wait entails.

But nevertheless, here we are again.

We’ve lived pause and isolation before. Oh, more times then I can be bothered to count.

When our sunchild became ill and overnight turned into a shade-seeker we stepped out of the race.
Hid from the light.
The threat of exposure, sunlight or illness, was too costly for her.
She was defenceless and we had  need to retreat from the world, from life to an extent and re-write our normal.

When depression and pain reared its ugly head again and again…we stood back once more.
Retreating from loved ones and acquaintances alike.

It took everything to keep one foot moving in front of the other.. Years lived this way…this half-life.

Then one day the disease lost its grip letting go of our girl… Light returned to her smile.

Later on, the depression and rage left home.  Slowly but surely new life has been found on the wings of faith and
in the arms of friends … we stood tall again..finding our feet, our breath. Shaken and bruised but redefined through the hardship into something stronger.

So it seems like a mean trick and the worst possible timing this current season of shaking and stirring…

The whole earth appears to be trembling…a global pandemic..a virus.  Unseen before and we are all taken off guard..ill-prepared.

Gods fall all around us and take with them any semblance of security.Stockmarkets plummet, unemployment skyrockets.
Its hard to tell whether the real threat is an illness or the fear it infests us all with.

We are left stunned and helpless in the face of a storm set to swallow the earth as we know it…

Meanwhile, this child that once overcame a beast is showing signs of relapse…

The strain of the last yr has taken its toll on all of us. But this child, My strong silent girl with a brave face to rival any warrior is struggling …it starts with pain unspoken.

My mummas eyes are trained to see the hints no one else but her big sister sees. These clues are seared into the recesses of our being we know them on some primal instinctive level. 

Rashes follow.
A butterfly flush stretches across her creamy white cheeks..encircling both beautiful hazel eyes and stretch down to her chin. It’s been coming and going for a while but now comes and lingers longer then I can stand…

This flush is pure anger – blood boiling vessels and capillaries raging with inflammation that circulates through her system…tearing and shredding at her muscles..her joints ..her organs and skin.

For an invisible disease, the visible ruins me.

She doesn’t play her guitar much any more. Her hands ache and while she hasn’t said anything…the lack of music from behind her door tells the tale. I have become home sick for the sound of plucked and strummed melodies.

A blood draw confirms my fear and my heart braces, knees crumble and I am found again on my face calling heaven down around her demanding the light return and banish the beast for once and for all.

There’s no other beside me this time. No shoulder to brace myself on or hand to grip when fear beckons after dark.
When my mind runs rings around itself..and all I have is prayer.

I find myself on my knees,prayers constantly falling from my lips.They drop as desperate laments, sprout wings and reach heavens ears in a stream of constant overflow.

Communion unending breathes faith back into the dark space between fact and truth and I am tethered to heavens heart again.

I’ve come to realise I can’t stop the onslaught. Life is in lockdown as the threats around us magnify.

But in this place of waiting…

Waiting to see how just how firmly that beast has tightened its grip on this child….

Waiting to see if she’ll shake it again or is this to be war once more?

Of waiting out the tremors of the world around us. For this pandemic to burn out…

Waiting for friends and family homes and hands to be safe reprieve again…

To see what tomorrow holds for our little reshaped family… I’m relearning the art of patience…

I remember learning once before to count blessings. How doing so drove out the darkness and summoned the light.

To fix my eyes beyond the storm clouds, and gaze above the waves.

A season of slow down offers much to one whos willing to see it… but mostly it offers time.

Priceless time.

The chance to remaster old arts.

To do those things I never seem to have time for and notice the small.

If you take the time to see and have the inkling  to look a little closer there’s such beauty in the mundane.

Magic can be found even in the fog of uncertainty if we find the grace enough to see it.

Forced stillness can be therapeutic…

Home can hold the heart and laughter of carefree faith given space enough to be.

Unrushed days and easy nights are in fact perfections.

After all, some times schedules can serve to suffocate.

Isolation it seems minimises complication..permits real rest…

Perhaps the timing I thought so bad is in fact blessed?
It’s not a stretch to see that deep rest could herald deeper healing.

And then I remember…
Last year when life hit so hard I couldn’t breathe and time insisted on ticking by with so many commitments I felt drowned I prayed that it would slow… stop even..long enough to catch my breath.

And here we are.

Time stands almost still once behind our door. Life hit pause and only the garden changes around us.

This time around I’ll seek the joy in the mess.
I’ll resist the urge to be swayed by the trembling of all around us…
I’ll stay on my knees and hold tight to heavens hand when fear creeps back.

I’ll embrace the wait with faith enough to know healing is hers and we’ll rise again.

We may be shaken and bruised a little but refined some more and stronger somehow for our trouble.

Patience is an art form that it seems I have time enough to learn.

 

 

Ashes



It is possible to live at the bottom..exist at basement level…waste a life holding onto fakery..projecting to the world what isn’t.

Fear and her lover Pride seek to keep us beaten down and stuck. Twisted ,contorted ,deformed and devoured by the lies they spin and we are burnt away to ashes in the inferno they create. 

They lock us into cycles that do nothing but shackle us and snatch light from our days.

I guess to find a life again one must let go of everything you thought it would be and jump eyes wide open into the uncertainty of tomorrow.

It takes muscle to find courage and face fear head on.

Truth is strength, its kryptonite to pride.

Truth shatters pride crushing it till all that’s left is raw integrity lying amongst the dust.

It creates breathing room for new beginnings .  

Honesty is owning mistakes..shouldering the weight and lifting it higher.

Forgiveness I’ve found holds keys to freedom… It gives a soul wings to soar.

Humility makes for lighter hearts..it climbs ladders that pride never could.

After all you cant remedy what you won’t acknowledge.
Can’t rebuild with broken glass…

I’m learning healing comes at dust level. When there’s nothing left to hold. Nothing to lose.

Ashes are where it’s at.

So in this upside-down existence, Im finding destruction is building.
Chaos  life-giving. 
Pain is the beginning of healings walk.
Dust and even scattered ashes are heaven blessed.


Divine love breathes hope into hopeless spaces.. and nothing is beyond mercies reach .

Honesty is everything. For there is nothing without her light.

…And in her glow we are found so beautifully broken that this bottom we have hit signals that the only way from here is up.

 

 

 

 

 

Hindsight

If I had it all to do over again.. I’d write a different story. The plot twists would remain the same I guess, I had no control over them anyway, but I think perhaps Id handle it all differently.

Hindsight is 20/20 or so they say and if I only knew then what I know now. Maybe I wouldn’t be sitting where I sit. Life in limbo is not so fun.

In hindsight….being everything to everyone left little space held for me, for us, for them.
Spread so thin I got lost amongst the load…but this is what I know,
its how I walked wounded..
This is my survival story.

Empathy imbalance is costly. I mastered in needing to belong…but found belonging nowhere.

Boundaries have never been my strength…

I’m learning.

I guess when life is chaos you control what you can in order to feel some sort of comfort. These shoulders carried more then they should.
These hands held to tightly when they should have loosened their grip.

Maybe if I saw the pain within and recognised those wounds as not unlike my own Id have been less quick to pick up the weight, less willing to be  trampled under the need to please.

If only I saw what was truly behind the masks, the walls perhaps I would have connected differently having held insight to meet the need.
I’d have loved differently perhaps … Less surface skating but brave and risk loss to go deep, instead just existing holding pace.

At very least I’d not have been so effortlessly deceived.
But perhaps this is how he walks wounded…
His survival story.

 

I guess though we can only know what we know..and give out of what we have to give.
Running on empty could never ever be enough.


Had I perception of the hidden depths then perhaps we would never have drifted so far along these roads that led to the edge.
Or perhaps never had begun at all.

Having never known whole ourselves how could we recognise the depth of dysfunction?  But you can only know what you know…
This is how we walked wounded.
This is our survival story.

Knowing now what I missed then… Id tell my former self to let it fall…step back and allow the crash…not fear the mess but embrace its power to herald change , eyes wide open. Perhaps the earlier the less complex it could have been.Or less final.

I crave a time machine so that I could go back and do it differently.
Notice when I overlooked. See what went unseen… Less played the fool and more foolhardy. More Wiser then wishful.

I loath the wounds,reddish-purple scars that weave the depth of my 38 years, wishing they were not …quite… so… deep.
This is not the first abandon.
Not the first rejection.
This is not the first heartache.
These are old wounds that have been torn open time and time again.

Each repeat more shattering then before, each blow leaving the scar more unsightly …

This ache such a part of me imbedded in my soul. It has a way of spinning spells that dictate my every moment.
I have wished this ache away a thousand different ways. 
Dreamed a different story a thousand different days…
But life is no dream and to live there in denial heals nothing…achieving even less… Just more time lost in  fraudulent haze.

Enough life wasted walking wounded.

I crave courage.
To be dauntless
To walk whole.
I want to live life in full colour.
High definition.
Outrageously authentic no matter the cost.

But what’s required here isn’t earthly essence…it isn’t easily understood… I’ve let go the idea that I could change it all..instead learning to trust in the process.
Forgiving the other the damage done is easier than forgiving myself for my own failings.

But perhaps it had to be this way.
Perhaps it’s fundamental to our walk.
Perhaps it was a lesson I had to learn and learn it well I have.

Maybe the story had to roll like this to get where we are going.
Maybe this is where the wounds get healing.
Maybe this is the start of a new story.


And maybe it’s ok if I’m not ok.Not just yet anyways.

Isn’t it enough to know I’m held in hands of grace?

Hindsight while helpful for understanding can be a brutal teacher.
Freedom seems cannot be brought.
I can’t untangle myself or turn back the clock. I wish to God I could…
But heaven knows better than I of how this journey plays out.

I’ve found that forgiveness is freedoms kiss on aching brow…
It’s release…..
Oxygen and medicine all at once.
It’s CPR to a dying heart.
Breathing hope back into these weakened lungs. It’s the strength to put down the anger and lift gaze into tomorrow.

In forgiveness I find my courage..it bleeds refreshment through these veins. Quiets the storms of overwhelm.
Lifts the weight of not being enough.

Hindsight schools me in forgiveness. Leads me back to hope. To faith. To the dreams of age-old yesterdays that seem to light the way into tomorrow.
I am found again in graces embrace.
Still bearing scar tissue..
Still walking wounded,  but a little less so now then before.

 

 

 

 

 

 

She is….

Impossibly flawed and oh so broken…still she walks as queen.

Head held higher defying the ache inside.

Youd never know the depths of sorrows overcome. She is victorious .

Her integrity is made complete by humilities seasoning.
She is beauty and brokeness all at once.
A masterpiece in the making.
Dust refined into being by the artists hands.

She carries the blue prints of heaven deep in her soul.
Her path is kingdom laid .

The presence of ten thousand angels feed her courage .

She walks encircled.

Wisdom of the ages is at her beck and call.

With each stride made grace pours down and washes the earth beneath her feet.
She is holy and this now holy ground.

Sanctified and sacred.

Her beauty elemental.

Flowing like a current from soul deep…

down rivers of cracked and broken
out her finger tips into the atmosphere.
She’s electric.
Intricate, one of a kind.

Irreplaceable, unforgettable, indefinable.

She cannot and will not be contained. Her soul has swum deeper than any ocean.
Her prayers break through the outer reaches of furthest galaxies.
She is not limited by time and space.

Infinite and wild as any raging sea.

Her faith and compassion stand her tall.
Though she may be knocked down broken she will never be destroyed.
She knows how to rise.
She is master swordsman.

When She lifts her gaze to higher things the heavens are her home.
Loyalty is on her breath..faithful her hearts cry.

She is a master at connection.
Built for depth and real.
A wellspring of hope and light into darkest stratospheres.

 

Grace is her garment.
Peace her shoes.
Truth her battle cry.
Crown of glory adorns her head
Mercy falls from her lips like a waterfall…washing healing over all she encounters.

She speaks the language of  angels.
Her heart is held safe in the hands of the divine.
Honor runs through her veins.

Her eyes behold the unseen.Shes gifted insight into tomorrow.

She lifts her voice with sure authority. She will not be silence.

Created for freedoms call. To advance and not be halted.

Her heart is guarded by discernment. She takes pause, waits for clarity.

She is unrushed and sure footed.
Time and season don’t define her.

Love and belonging is her legacy. Wholeness and completion her birthright.
Freedom her inheritance

Destiny dances in whimsical abandonment before her eyes and shes confident in the script she lives knowing all of heaven goes before her.Testing the way..weaving a path.. orchestrating it all for good.

 

The pursuit of happiness

Seems a lot of people live their life in pursuit of ” happiness ” and compromise anything and everything to attain it. … I’d argue its less about your circumstance and more about recognising the value of what you already have.

Is what you behold weight or blessing? Cause I’m finding blessings are by nature weighty and oh so worth the strain.

 

 

 

Grace upon grace

Grace….how heavy life would be,

how hopeless if not for grace.


Grace brings rebirth.


Renewing..

Grace means it’s not what you bring to the table…. but who you are.


Grace says it’s not all up to you.


Grace turns vulnerability into strength unparalleled.


It’s not the measure of your worth by your accomplishments but the intrinsic value of your soul.


Grace is the gentle whisper that says try again tomorrow.


Grace says that you are worthy of love.


Grace breathes forgiveness, hope and lights up darkest valleys with promise.

Grace says you are enough.

You can overcome.

Grace holds space.. Pauses time. Rewrites legacy.


Grace craves integrity, walks hand in hand with courage to seek honesty in everything.

Grace dissolves shame and fear..

Births hope into the darkest atmospheres.


Grace says there is always hope.

 

Precipitation .

Raging fires and devastating drought have overwhelmed this part of the world that we call home and it really has felt like life imploded over the last twelve months.

Like the internal and external environments around us have reflected and refracted the same theme and there’s been little reprieve from the onslaught..

Impossible diagnosis had launched herself into our stratosphere and we were caught in the whirlwind of trying to process exactly what those words would mean to the way life needed to be walked.

January held Acute Myeloid Leukemia,

June a heart attack then strokes x 4 Life shattering disability following in its wake

August marriage and family collapsed in an avalanche of lies undone. If lies were liquid the drought would have broke by now a thousand times over.

But they arnt so water got scarcer. The green pastures turned to dry cracked earth and trees and gardens of our own oasis die.

Temperatures rise quickly with summer coming earlier then she used to . No afternoon storms this year to break the heat. Just hot dry parched landscape. Selfishly I’m thankful for their lack. Storm watching was a favorite pass time in years of love gone by.

Fire season struck with vengeance burning hard and fast with no escape It seemed the whole world might burn and there was no stopping it.

The blue sky disappearing behind walls of smoke for weeks on end the earth here bathed in orange glow. Nights moon shone red through the acrid haze. Ash fall on everything and its like gazing at life through a sepia lense.

Colourless…void and dying.

But we were blessed . Spared the losses that others have faced …it stopped being a question of if but when the fires come and I realised that was exactly like our life.

Inevitable it is that pain will come. Heartache is it seems an equal opportunist of truest form.

And whilst I cry out at the injustice. At the disappointment ,and the needless mess.

I find necessity to get back up. Can’t hover here in despair..

I’m not fighting flames that threaten to consume but the dark that seeks to infiltrate this space that’s carved for glorys presence..

And in the fight to stand back up.. I find my voice….the breaking holds blessings in disguise and isn’t this the way of freedoms walk ?

I find courage seeping into the empty spaces..spured on by those who hold integrities hand. Despondent prayers are flung heavenwards and the troposphere cracks her reluctant floodgates…

Rain downpours as a Christmas wish come true drenching our arid earth and barren hearts a fresh with glorious liquid blessing.

Fires are extingished by heavens own hand and we are ever awed.

The reprieve this brings is divine intervention to an overdone soul.

The danger isn’t gone completely,theres still blazes to be fought. But each new step forward, Each time my gaze shifts higher, we gain ground.

Freedom comes at the cost of heartbreak a result of trust mislayed .Its a bitter lesson learnt.

Rain holds the promise of restoration..its grace tangible.

The dark retreats and glory edges back .A voice rises up louder then before. Wings stretch out ,arms link and we advance untouched.

Smoke and mirrors still try their hand at shaking this new courage that we’ve found.Threats seek to shut down this boldness.But it seems freedom has unshackled controls rigid grip and we will have none of that.

Faith stirs deep again feeding on glorys fire and I learn that burning bridges can it seems illiminate better the way then floodlights ever could.

Rain will come eventually. Droughts will break . Rivers will flow and life will begin again… The glory space will hold strong and despair will be a distant memory.

Contrast

Life’s full of contrast.This last season was pain unparalleled and provision unequalled all at once .Identity shifted, thwarted,stolen perhaps…yet blessed, loved and seen better then before.By ones I never expected to be there .

Now days I’m introduced as the “single mum”.. Ahh.. never wanted that title. It’s not that I can’t do it.I know I have capacity. I just never wanted too. It’s not meant to be this way.

I miss the idea of another. The reality however is easier to release.

That in itself is sad truth.

If love rang true it might be harder to let go… But love fell short more then once. Love wasn’t just blind but distracted,absent and unaware.Love hid from life and wished for a different path.The family created wasn’t enough to fill the void.Love grew cold like ice and cruel followed .Wrapped all up in self alone it stopped seeing the hearts it held allowing them to slip through fingers, grip slipped, fallen, shattered, lost.

Love looked at this heart to give it joy.. But truth is its impossibly unwise to source happiness in something external.Destined to disappoint,this heart not created to fill such space.

Truest joy is birthed from within.. Forged in fires of contrast it shines brightest. This heart has learnt that secret well. So in the absence of love…joy remains and contrary wise increases more and more freely now that it is uncrushed by the heartache of life with a broken other.

Loving deep whilst living unseen unknown and unfelt is an lonely existence indeed. Here I find despite the ache there is freedom in this space of disguard…Perhaps I should feel bitter disdain, sorrow, anger, jealousy maybe at being so easily replaced…to be replaced before even being disguarded is a vicious blow to ones pride most definitely. Still no one ever died from wounded pride…It has perhaps potential to be a fatal hit to a heart that loves completely. Or so I would have thought. But as it turns out this heart of mine is tougher then it seems. Able to bear a blow like this and rise again. Not taken out by worst fears realised.

Most definitely there’s been damage. Abundant tears cried to wash the burning ache and soothe the scar.But scar tissue is stronger then the flesh surrounding.This isn’t this hearts first round in the ring . It’s been through more then one rough beating and stood up against the odds before.

Ive learnt that courage not to fear the dark but resolve to face it armed with light makes surviving victorious these rounds an easier task.

We are promised a life complete with troubles. Hard is inevitable.Tragedy will strike ,hearts will break and none of it seems fair.This is the rich tapestry of our human existence. There’s no escaping it.

The secret Ive learned is to steady myself enough to survive the impending storm.Placing my back against something steadfast and praying for gritt enough to hold on tight.Weather the blows and hold strong to the knowing that hearts achieve restoration with time if they are empowered to forgive and even messy endings birth new beginnings full of possibility.

Space ,grace and time hold healing powers of their own and even a desolate season will run its course eventually. Nothing earthly is forever, tomorrow always comes until it doesn’t and hope when realigned with faith and heavens plan is never really lost.

So while I stand on shifting sands. . unstable as I am. . . between heartache and closure there is joy here amongst the pain. As eras end and dreams are buried..new ideas of adventure sow seeds deep and take root in this cracked earthen heart.Watered with tears of grief, prayers for grace and vows to live more fully from here on out.

The contrast shows the value of time. The importance of savouring it all.I notice and soak in the moments now that I have long overlooked and find in them reprieve enough to keep on walking.Allowing dreams and glorious ideas to take hold, sprout root or wing and follow where they lead.

Thankful for the outpouring of love from hearts of friends and family that once I held at distance. Grateful for their arms of grace that catch me when I trip,fill my glass and heart a fresh and breath connection back into this isolated space .

Hope for light filled memories, opportunities to really live.Embracing the ache is I’ve learnt the only way to recover freedom lost. The contrast is life-giving. A lesson to priceless to explain that must be felt to be truly understood.

So in this space of reckoning… In the messy middle hours… I am thankful for this walk. This undoing. This ache has taught my eyes to see new things. To walk in truth more boldly then I did before.

When you’ve walked worst fears and to your surprise survived there is little to hold you back at boundary lines of life.

Courage spreads her wings and calls to the deep in me..take flight there’s a world to see. Imagination and daydreams beckon stirring excitement at the possibilities of a life fully lived . Adventures promise illuminates, its contagious giggle is heard again in the garden in little voices playing louder….Joy circles back again flooding in and life is in stark contrast. Messy, broken beautiful all at once.