Truthseeker

Truth dear heart is absolute, not subjective.

It does not come in shades of grey…changeable like stage costumes. It is seldom choreographed, never rehearsed….it does not fear exposure.

Viewing truth from different angles does not change its composition .

Its solid, not vapor.

It stands alone sure footed not needing to survive afloat on the slanderous tear downs of another.

What is,is.

All the lies on earth don’t change the facts .

Truth is buoyant. You can’t keep it sunken down, no matter how hard you try .

Fakery breeds false comfort .Its the calm before the storm.

Even truth seekers can be deceived if the lies are comfortable enough to snuggle down into.

If they support the picture dear hearts crave to hold then we dive in blindly mesmerized by possibility and empty promises.

And can you blame us ?

I’ve jumped to by a line.Led by love and the false hope the lie birthed.

I, who should have known better ,sort truth and brought the lie, the con, the scam…..price paid but to late to avoid collateral damage.

Did you know crocodile tears aren’t just shed by crocodiles? Consider them costume jewelry ,all a part of the show.

Oh dear hearts, please learn from my mistakes!

Please learn to not just see but seek it out .That truth amongst the tangled webs ,even if its hard to swallow.

For these little hearts that I hold so close I pray they always value honesty above all else.

That they love fiercely and forgive freely but are wise enough to spot deception a mile off and bold enough to call it out .

I want them to know that forgiveness is the holy home of freedom .

I pray they are less easily fooled then I.

That they know their worth is based on the intrinsic value of their soul and nothing else.

That they are ever loved !

That they are wiser then I .

That they have compassion for broken ones but safe enough regard for self to not be broken down by them.

I pray they have courage enough to know their limits ,brave enough to hold firm boundaries.

To know there is more honor in a painful truth then face saving white lies.

To be brave enough to be authentic always .To never loose their fight.

To never compromise their values or sell their souls for transient things.

To know the difference between real hope and empty words that only offer make believe.

I strive to teach them to see souls ,not faces .Not eyes and hands but hearts . To see the scars and the landscapes of those inner places that make us who we are .

To know the power that they hold and to always use it justly.

For them to know compassion ,forgiveness and truth will always take us further then bitterness and anger but that anger has its place … just don’t stay there to long.

That grace and mercy are divinely given into overflow when called up on.

To see the worth of showing up for hard conversations and the merit in asking harder questions .

To try to always speak truth in love.

That love is a gift ,but trust is earnt ….and to never sell themselves short in that regard.

That hearts do break but then they heal .

That fires don’t always mean destruction but can refine hearts and lives into the purest form .

To not fear the storms just because we feel the wind and rain.

That there are better days ahead.

That they are worthy of love , of truth , of respect and dignity.

To settle for nothing less.

That life is hard , but God is good and tomorrow always comes.

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

Prism

It seems with all that has been lost of late some years have fallen away too. Heavy taxing years that brought weight to these shoulders and creases to this brow vanish into thin air.

Age it seems is running in reverse as the clock ticks backwards and lost hopes are revived from the ashes of a hefty existence.

The grey that wove itself like a blanket all across our world has dissolved into a rush of technicolour. The limits I had, in absent-minded slumber, accepted for my life are peeled back one by one being found counterfeit with every layer.

Tears still come, but less frequent now. Traumas raw edges smooth with time and strength takes griefs seat at the table when given space enough.

Discipline to harness the overwhelms of a runaway mind is being developed. Now those tormenting thoughts are captured before they get loose enough to cause much damage.

This heart still holds the shadow of memory …it always loved, but hearts are easily deceived …infatuation it seems resembles love to a faithless unlearned heart ….as much as lies resemble truth to one that seeks to believe it so.

Naivety is no longer an option but in the raw light of realities presence, the world comes to life again. Rainbow possibilities dance like light through prisms across this new years dawning.

Dreams once cherished but long since passed over spring back into the realms of possibility. A second chance to live again without the sacrifice of freedom, of identity … Visions of tomorrow dance before my eyes weaving patterns that shift and change in a kaleidoscope of mesmerising colour. My breath catches in my chest as prayers are lifted higher.

Id never pick this for our story. I hate the disfunction of the journey.The ache in their eyes often more then I can stand …..but the independence is heaven-sent. Provision in its truest form.Sweet silver linings to a bitter onslaught.

While we are it seems destined for struggle…I have learnt that pain has a purpose .. And when I trust long nothing is wasted. Sometimes heartbreak is the making of us .. wherein shackles are removed and voices refined.

This fire that was sent to destroy this heart only served to temper it. Strength is found surprisingly within the expression of vulnerability. Integrity birthed from raw honesty.Freedom stirs from the seeds of surrender.

To embrace the process instead of fear it… This is the secret I have struggled to learn.

While this sole rages still at the injustice of it all..the foolish wastefulness that discards a life, a family that was long fought hard for…The spirit stirs within breathing oxygen back into tomorrow. Promising hope and second chances.

To really live, love and be loved in return. To seek adventure freely. To connect completely without shame and secrets holding this heart back at the boundary lines. Freedom to lift a voice, a heart heavenward not caring for anyone’s approval nor bracing against their disdain.

Our world is alive with colour…it bathes the heavy-hearted ache and washes it in glorious light infusing hope as it swirls around the corners of our home.

Joy follows behind. .. Slowly she washes back into their laughter. They dream again. Play again. Exhale less laboured than before.

The weight is lifting and the world has opened up again as it was once before me long ago. Unchained, transformed and We are free.

Nameless.

Endless cycles of broken and breaking only to scar and tear and scar again. Layer upon layer upon layer upon layer and there’s no escape from the torment. The demons won’t leave. No peace. No safe space… Guarded hidden behind a wall of lies.. Fakery the only language. Life devoid of hope.. Devoid of living water. No refreshment.

Empty business fills the days and the sweat of labor is squalled away in all the inbetween hours. Nights are filled with numbing and distraction that pulls down deeper darker…its blackness intoxicates and consumes.. Contrasted only by bright empty eyes and flashy false smiles that scream as they seduce with empty promises of fulfillment, and satisfaction .To have it all… To hold excess. ..but they steal more then they give robbing life with every round. Draining a soul dry…

Battered and bruised by the work of own hands. Unconscious self-sabotage…drags under again. Like a black hole it consumes all around .. Promising to devour..decite has hold in its ice-cold grasp … And it must be a welcoming space I think .. better than the endless fighting of conscious.To proud to reach out. To ashamed to seek help.No recognition of truth amoung lies .

And here we are.. Life stopped short. Can a trauma be a saving grace?

Can this hell bring healing?

Does destruction herald restoration? Can so many broken hearts be healed?

Can a shattered life, family find grace for the new day?

Cause in this space of blackness. Of the darks cold breath down ones neck it seems that all is lost forever.

Truth is messy. But this mess is said to promise freedom?

And I don’t see how but I’m beginning to understand.. Heaven has loved me and loaned me his eyes to view the unlovely with glorious insight.

The stripping of secrets..Now only serve to dig the other deeper. No way to stop truths explosion.

Undoing is grace?

My eyes now opened. . . No longer held spell bound in a fantasy of falseness.

Heart break is grace?

This madness… Insanity. Absence of logic and kindness is freedom somehow as it makes the letting go easier..the absence sweeter still .

But this I don’t understand. Is there freedom in madness? Is insanity a reprieve? does it hold promise too or is this blackness exposed in all its filth?

And I begin to grasp that the only way to unstick us from the others demise was to shatter it all..to tear it apart exposing the darkness..we couldn’t save ourselves so heaven intervened.

And somehow in the unsticking of this other, we become free. Eyes wide open. Life exposed, false reality shattered and there is freedom here.

Can trauma hold healing? Can this chaos be blessed and produce fruit? Is destruction life-giving?

And all I know is what I see and what I see with eyes of heaven is divine hands holding us. Leading us… Dirty broken hurting us. He walks us through and breathes grace..intertwining us with love working it all for good.

Here hope lies waiting… When the anger wanes. When I loosen my grip on the ache..hope draws breath.

This is a year of restoration,and while in no way does it look like I thought it would ,he is a God of his word.

This little light …

It’s pitch black out tonight and we are late getting home. There are no street lights out here to light the way. The darkness cloaks the landscape like a blanket.We come up over the rise and the light beam from the headlights cuts through the night. The shadows rush away as light fills the space they once stood.

This is how I want to live my life. I long to live in the light,absorbing that glow and carry it with me everywhere. Even into the dark places especially the dark places. After all, dark cannot remain when light shines bright. The inky blackness is forced to surrender to the illumination.

But what if the darkness exists within taking up space where light should reside?What about fear? Unbeckoned it fills the empty places smothering the hope for tomorrow.

The ache of not being enough, not belonging.Of failing them. The haunting terror of medical prognosis. The dread of not having enough to make ends meet. These fears play like reruns ..a lingering side effect of days gone by when provision was thin and hope just as sparse. These were days weighed down by the dark.

And what of the doubts? Faith is hard to stand on when a contrasting reality stares unblinkingly back at you. Endless ‘What ifs’ ring loudly through this mind because what I see is in conflict with what I want to believe. I want the light .. but all I see are Shadowlands.

What about the hurts? I wonder how much of a beating can one heart take? Can my heart take, before it gives up ..falls casualty to this flawed reality?

I’ve carried a shattered heart before. Juggling all its jagged edges, hands bleeding from the shards while trying to patch it back together and work out how to avoid the same again. I became warden to my own failing heart. Keeping it close, under guard, tethered and restrained.How else is one to avoid the pain. I’ve taken the time to construct the walls even dug the moats needed to keep my heart from harms reach.

I became an expert at camouflage…a mask can hide a million scars ..nothing fits so well as an engineered smile and like a pro I excelled at the dance.Gave my everything except this heart. Never to be vulnerable but always untouchable. Never to be burnt again.

But high walls, masks, and what-ifs serve only to dim the light further.Allowing the darkness to gain ground and in the blackness, I become more afraid of what I can’t see. Im claustrophobic here… breathless and suffocated. Alone despite the crowd. My own fortress is now my gilded cage.

I want to love outrageously. Live uninhibited. Dream big and run fearlessly headlong into tomorrow. This is difficult to achieve when one is walled in and distracted with playing pretend.I’ve learned that safe comes at a price.The cost, a life half lived.

No this isn’t for me… the cost, this one life, is to great a price to pay for preservation.

Light, I’ve found, holds its own promise. Light is life to the fullest.

In pursuit of this, I’ve learned to tear down the walls, take off the mask. Silence the inner chatter. I trade the pretense for honesty in all its flawed beauty. Vulnerability once a foe is now my friend. I become a builder of bridges. I risk this heart to feel alive again and let this little light shine out bright.

And I’ve found that just like my drive home when this light shines true the clearer my road ahead becomes and further the darkness recedes. Clarity and truth are gifts of the light. Direction is easier to find when I can see the road that lays ahead.No more do I stumble blinded by the dark.

Light leaves nothing hidden. It ushers in truth. Light is unquenchable in its desire to shine.If allowed it floods in pushing the darkness out.Leaving freedom in its wake.

I’m left vulnerable, maskless, honest and alive …not afraid of what I can’t see as my focus remains only on where the light leads. Distractions like shadows melt away. The light brings purpose.

My world has come alight, my life follows suit. Far from perfect but complete in its imperfections. The dark doesn’t scare me now. Light has come melting my defenses and chasing that consuming blackness away. On those days where the mask is appealing and the what-ifs beckon, I’m learning to focus this light, silence that noise and not take the bait.