Intimacy

When I'm sitting in those moments where our souls gently touch in the closeness, I am reminded what true love looks like.  It's being able to look into your eyes and not feel uncomfortable.  It's laughing with you around a fire.  Your smile when your walls are down. The genuine undressing of our boundaries 100% me and 100% you.  The intimacy is so easy. So comfortable. The trust so easily given. 

I always ask people who've been married for a long time what their secret is. It's sort of become my own private joke- I originally started asking to gleen some advice for my own uncertainties.  However, I started hearing all these lovely answers and now I ask because I love hearing people who still love each other talk about their love. I love seeing them glance at one another as if opening a secret box only they know of. 

I love that to be together for a long time you have to make the decision

(Almost daily) to choose each other.  Some days it's easy to choose your partner but other days (and sometimes for many days, weeks or months) it can be the seal of a promise that chooses for you. There are so many things that can effectively crack the foundation a couple sits on - temptation, stress, money, etc.. But those moments of intimacy can bring strength to the decision to choose. 

Whichever the degree of ease while being with my husband, there is something that I love the most about our union.  In my quest to be as joined with my husband as possible as his wife, partner and best friend- sexually, emotionally and mentally I am always aware of the depth of intimacy we are experiencing and what level we are connecting on.  I am always trying to uncover the depths of his soul. The intricacies that make up his heart are the most interesting thing to me. He is so incredibly beautiful to me because I have seen his soul, those multifaceted colors that make up his rainbow. The intimacy he gives to me has been shared by no other and I love being a part of his heart. I love that for my whole life I get to explore him. I am so privileged and honored that I get to peer into his heart.  That is the nature of intimacy. That is what keeps us connected. That's my desire.  I cannot impact or properly interact with his heart until he allows his defenses to be lowered. There are times when we are together that are naked and pure but it's hard to remain vulnerable even when you're married to someone - especially if you're married to someone! We should guard our permission inside their soul with absolute rigidity. Especially if it isn't easily given. 

I have been in relationships where I've kept myself from the other person and others where I have exposed myself bare.  The times when I am laid bare (although super scary) are the most passionate, intimate moments in my life.  It just shows me that even in a marriage, you are still interacting with a person who has a heart laced in multifaceted colors making up their idiosyncratic characteristics.  We must cherish people, how incredibly complex and beautiful they are - especially if given the gift of experiencing them so intimately. Why do we waste this?

I just thought of something else: if I can peer so deeply into another humans heart and only see a fraction of who they really are- how much more would God know us? And if he would know us so intimately, how much easier is it to understand the reasons for what we do.  With such understanding, how much more forgiving and full of grace would he be?  Love, is a big and pure thing whose simplicity we over complicate. 

--his beloved. 

An open letter to my mother

 Mom,

I spent a great many years mad at you.  I was mad at you for dying. Mad for dying so early and unnecessarily, mad that I was alone, mad to not have you in my corner anymore.  See that’s the thing, even though you and I never got along – I always knew you were in my corner.  I miss the richness having you in my life brought me, even though you were full of drama – you were my drama.

I’ve learned a lot since you’ve been gone.  I’m a grown woman now, I bet you wouldn’t even recognize me.  I am proud of the woman I am, confident and solid.  You’ve contributed to this, you know.  Your soul has shaped mine – in some ways more pleasant than others, you’ll see. I was talking about you the other day and I realized just how different a person I am today.  I want you to know who I am, even though it’s impossible.  However, I feel in some way I can connect with you through the writing of this letter.  Mom, I’m going to be as honest as possible – that’s something new about me, I am not afraid to speak my mind anymore.  I just want you to know my heart.

When I was growing up, you used to work – constantly.  I’m not upset about that, I understand we were poor.  I sort of wish you had managed your money better because we wouldn’t have been poor but sometimes you just get behind and you can’t ever break the cycle.  I’ve been there – I’ve learned from it too.  You never seemed to learn how to get there, I think limits were really hard for you – or freedom felt like heaven to you. I don’t fault you for this either.  I used to, that’s why I had to bring it up, I suppose.  I used to hate the mention of being like you, looking like you, having your qualities.  I think I genuinely hated you.  I am sorry for that, I know you would forgive me.  I have learned to forgive you.

I don’t know the whole story of what happened after the divorce.  There were some mumblings of you not defending me after I told you.  There was some rumor that I had a breakdown in elementary school.  I don’t remember all that.  I wish you would have protected me if those rumors were true.  I have some residual effects from that incident but I think I am mostly okay.  I think about it sometimes but the thought is brief and I push it away to better things.  No use dwelling on the past unless it can be used to better the future, right? I have learned to forgive.  Not just for them but mostly for me.   I don’t need to carry the bitterness of unforgiveness in my life.  So it happened, I am happy today so it’s okay.  I am alive and well and my heart is full, mom.  I am able to practice my empathy and shoulder more burdens.  I am able to feel and cry when the emotion strikes me – I was so cold when I was younger.

Your work habits shaped mine.  There was a time, I was working two full time jobs (to pay for that expensive college degree I haven’t been using).  I was proud I was able to keep it down.  I wasn’t calling in, I was able to hang but my heart just wasn’t in it.  My quality of life was bad.  I was arguing with my husband (yes, I married Landon – more about him later) and my house was always dirty (I hate how our home looked when I was growing up and have found a nice appreciation for cleaning.  I’m still messy as hell, but I can’t do filthy).  So I stopped, and started to look around at life and really think about what made me happy.  I shut down for a while after you died. Not because I couldn’t function without you, but because you left such emotional scars on my heart that I had to now navigate alone.  I felt a dark spot – I feel a dark spot where your bright soul used to live in my heart.  Now I have memories and a bottle of your expensive perfume in a box in the closet.  Every time I open it, I am reminded of hugging your neck – one of the few great memories of you.

Becky was a good help to me after you died.  She became my pseudo mother.  We grew very close in the years I worked with her.  I followed our plan to become a PCA and then took the CNA class after graduation (yes, that’s right, I graduated college with two bachelor’s degrees and a certification to teach English as a second language).  – but I only followed our plan simply because that was our plan and I didn’t know what to do after you died – so I followed the pre-arranged plan.   Im happy I did.  I have been a CNA for the past 6 years and I LOVE it.  I fell in love with the medical field, I am going to school to become a PA.  I know you would gush about this to everyone.  I know I am making you proud.  I have met some of the most beautiful people as a CNA.  I’ve discovered my calling – to serve people and heal through my hands and heart.  To offer myself.  It’s like a key clicking in a lock.  This is who I am. 

Becky helped me figure that out too.  She died a couple years ago.  Her cancer came back and took her quick.  I hesitated calling her because I didn’t want to deal with her impending death and when I finally worked up the courage to call her, she was already too far gone and I never got to tell her I loved her.  I mean I did, over the phone but I’ll never know if she heard it.  I hope she knows I do. I’m sure she does.  It taught me not to wait to tell people the good things you love about them.  Why wait to be kind? Why wait to call?

Boy, did I love her. I miss her laugh and smart ass sense of humor.  She was fierce and I loved that. 

Landon and I have been together since 2008 (again, haha).  We’ve toughed through a lot.  Still no children for us, we miscarried in 2012 and haven’t tried again.  Joey had a kid though! his name is kevin and he would lighten your world.  He is the most awesome little guy I have ever met and I love him with my whole heart.  He is so special and beautiful – smart and full of questions.  Sometimes he can be a little asshole, but most of the time he’s a sweetheart.  Landon adores him.  He adores Landon. It’s the best. Landon and I have a fun time.  Especially lately, I have learned some things in the past year and I think its really enriched our relationship.  I have learned to be more patient and try to only build up.  I have learned to speak my mind and be honest.  I think really, I have learned who I am and what I want as a woman.  I fight fiercely for my marriage (most days, haha) and I hope we do okay.  Because I have seen divorce through you and dad, I hold tighter than most but I don’t think its because you divorced.  I think when I love something or when I make a promise, I just have to follow through, passionately.

I learned more about your disease this year.  I learned that I carry your genetic makeup more than just in my looks.  It has really made me think a lot about who I am and who I want to be.  To forgive easily and fight fiercely.  I have learned who I am as a woman and I like myself.  I love knowing where my weak spots are and my strengths.  I love knowing what I want in bed ( we don’t get to talk about this, mother haha) I love knowing what makes me happy and how to find peace.  I could literally die right now and know that I am at peace.  I could probably work on my relationship with God a lot more but I am so fulfilled.  I think that as I look back on my life as an adult, I can understand your struggle a lot more than I used to.  I can understand why we clashed the way we did.  I just wish I could talk to you now, knowing what I know now. 

I have to say, I hate that you used your disease to threaten us as children.  I remember you telling me that you will kill yourself before you go on dialysis.  I was scared I would be without a mother.  But then you did get sick and you didn’t take care of yourself.  You never could manage the weight thing.  It ended up being one of the biggest reasons for your death.   It makes me extremely nervous when my weight goes up.  I worry that your disease took you so fast because you didn’t follow the recommendations the kidney doctors gave you.  I hate that.  I believe you could have been here longer or hade more time for a transplant if you had taken your binders and ate the appropriate food – or just kept healthy knowing first-hand what it’s like to watch a parent be sick and dying with a kidney problem. I wont make the same mistake.  But I thank you for that – because without watching your situation, I may not have this opportunity.

When I look back on my childhood, I remember spastic mood swings, some fun times and most of our arguments.  I remember hating myself and everyone around me.  I remember the alcohol and consumption of questionable items.  I remember cutting myself and wishing to die. I remember finding Jesus and feeling love in my heart and his guidance in my life.  I am where I am today because of his constant guidance and patience in my heart.  Mom, I was kind of a mess. I am better now. 

I miss you, and I could talk forever about the changes in my life. These are the things I typed when I felt your thought in my heart and so they must be the most important to tell you.   I love you, and my memories of you have turned lighter in my mind.  I wish you were here for me to tell you all this.  I suppose this will have to do.

Love,

Jackie

walk the clouds to find your soul

When I climb into the clouds, I find myself at a place where I am completely, 100% myself.  I walk with a pack on my back carrying my insecurities, my hopes, dreams, passions and goals.  Except while those things define me, they are not what I find at the top of the mountain.  I don’t always know it, but I am always searching. Searching for answers, peace, a happy ending, but mostly for acceptance.  I want to know that who I am, is okay with the rest of the world.  It is scary find yourself and then to stand up and defend the inner parts of your heart.  It isn’t that I need the acceptance to continue being who I am, it’s more that I would like it.  I would like to know that I am pleasing and acceptable to those around me.  I want to be a pleasure. 

The best part about self-discovery and acceptance is the peace that comes with it.  Even with my negative aspects, I have come to terms with myself and all the many shades that make my colors.  I am beautiful in the knowledge of myself.  I am aware of that, but I hope others agree with me.  I feel the same concern when I recommend a good restaurant – I don’t want to steer people towards something they wouldn’t enjoy.  I honestly find so much pleasure in creating pleasure for people – I think my own desires stem from that.

 I say all this because when I am on top of a mountain, I stop searching. When I am surrounded by the unspeakable beauties of nature untouched by man, I am caught speechless.  I am aware of something bigger than me.  There is a vast largeness that cannot contain the inextricable glory that this world has to offer.   There is an acceptance here – an unspoken agreement – that whatever I am is all I can bring to the table and whatever nature chooses- will be.  We coexist in the unspoken treaty of our existence and I am wholly me surrounded by the universe that I live inside.  I cease searching and I am found.  I find peace in just being.  There is no other place in this world where I can be so simplified and existential all at the same time.

The climb always throws me.  Even though I know it’s coming and I know itll be hard, I still ache when I get to the incline.  I’m not the fittest girl but I am determined.  I do not want this mountain to conquer me when so much has already laid claim on my life.  I want to get to the top and KNOW that I can.  I get a rush out of conquering something so daunting.  It makes me feel strong despite my vulnerabilities and powerful despite my insecurities.  There is no other high like it.  The process is simple: begin the climb, hate the climb, accept the climb, enjoy the climb, stop searching, find my way home – because it always ends.  I find it has given me a better passion for patience.  I find you can apply this process to almost anything in life that requires long suffering endurance, haha.  The thing I have learned most while hiking is that even when I am dead tired, I can still go.  Even when my body aches, I can still go.  The situation will always eventually end.   In a day and age where I fight to remind myself that I am never in control of anything except myself, it is soul satisfying to be on a mountain where I have no control except my ability to walk on. 

The hike is near and dear to my heart.  Whenever I come down from the clouds, despite my exhaustion, I immediately wish I was back.  I find things on those mountains that I have never found in town. I learn things about myself that I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t gone.  The experience for me is so real that I feel as if I have visited a sanctuary of sorts.  My heart demands to be wild and I must obey for so too does my mind desire a sunset over the mountains with black coffee to sip on and worldly things to dwell upon.  I don’t know much in this world, I doubt things constantly; but one thing is for sure, I know who I am – especially stripped bare at the top of the world and that is enough for me. I want that genuineness, all the time.

--His beloved

In light of pain

The sound of the treadmill reverberated off my ears. 

Thump thump thump thump thump

The sweat dripped down my flushed red face but I was too tired to care anymore. Normally the sticky sweat bothered me enough to stop my work out.  Not this time. This time I was going to make it. Faster. Faster. Faster. 

Thump thump thump

I looked down at the timer - normally something I try not to do because it seems to steal my breath and energy.  One minute left. I upped the speed and flew but I watched the timer count down the numbers to zero because I wanted to stare my foe in the face. I wanted to stick my middle fingers so high and curse at the machine that had trained me and pushed me. I wanted this day to be a celebration! I had worked hard to be able to do it and today was the day. Fuck you treadmill. I thought  for today is the day, you get conquered.  I'd made it. 6 miles in one hour. That was the goal I made for myself and I had done it. 

I did it!

When I stepped off the treadmill, my legs continued to wobble and the sweat blinded and stung my eyes but nothing, nothing was able to ruin my high. My legs were sore and my hips hurt bad but I attributed it to the run. I did a simple stretch and with a smile on my face, walked out of the gym. I could do anything...   And then I could not. I didn't know it then, but I had badly damaged my hip while running.  I can no longer even walk long distances without it bothering me.  I can't use it anymore the way I'd like and that freedom to conquer the world went with it. 

Fast forward a year.  I'd been taking care of a woman who was miserable and bitter. I didn't much like her either and sort of resented her- through no fault of her own- because my friend had died and the old bitter woman was very quickly placed into the open room.  

She didn't want anyone to help her- she was bitter and mean and resigned to die.  I wasn't interested in arguing with her but helped her when she needed it (although in her mind, I'm sure she didn't need help).She had a tricky transfer process that was guaranteed by physical therapy which I innately just trusted.  This woman did not comply at the time of my transfer with her and immediately, I felt the pull, push and Pop in my lower back.  Damnit. Dammit dammit dammit. You know your body. I knew I'd messed something up. 

Not everyone can recall the moment in their life when something changed and allowed chronic pain to enter the picture. This is what I want to- need to get off my chest.. if only for the sake of my heart and heavy honesty I carry... Today was a bad day and writing is a relief to my soul when it wears heavy in my chest.

I can't remember a time when walking without pain was a reality. I can't remember being able to walk around my house without my shoes off. I can't remember a time when I didn't second guess plans because of my body. Pain. Chronic pain. It becomes you. 

Living with pain everyday is like hearing low static or electricity crackling in the background of your life. Sometimes it's so low you can barely hear it and other times it is so loud that it's all you can focus on. 

On the good days, I feel like I could reach out and grab my freedom again. I hopefully think maybe things are getting better. Maybe all my uttered curses in between prayers had finally paid off. Maybe I could be so lucky. But I stop the thoughts, too scared to think them in case they be true - surely, I could never be so lucky.  I stop the thoughts because I know they never could be true. 

In the midst of a bad day of pain, I find myself begging my body to work with me.  Tears stream down my face as I try to maneuver my back into some semblance of normal.  I cry and bend hoping it will help- for I have nothing left to try.  I fight to give into the pain - telling myself it's just a bad day but on the other side of my shoulder, I beg for the sweet release of death and nothingness. I claw and I cast my arms around me blindly looking for something ANYTHING to ease the fire running through my legs, wrapping around my hip sockets, trailing fire and electric current up my lower back. I beg and beg anyone listening in the universe to hear me and if not heal me to ease my distress. My silent cries the only thing I hear in return.Sometimes the pain is so bad I cease to function, not wanting to move, or hope, or cry.  

I feel mad and frustrated in a God who would knowingly let his child feel these things and turn his face from me. To know that I have prayed the same prayer in many forms and shades only to know it is a wasted breath.  To lose faith and pick it back up only because it is the only thing to hold onto if only to change the prayer to a pleading for an end.  It's enough to think to never plead again, because surely if God was going to take away my pain, he'd have done it by now. This is my burden and mine alone. 

The tears well in my eyes and I am frustrated that my pain causes them more often than not. I am frustrated and so woebegone in the middle of these pain bursts that I can't see an end. I live directly in the hot electric intensity that lives in my body. It haunts me, taunts me, scares me and makes me feel alone. I second guess my life and my job, my goals and my future. Bad days of pain have the ability to strip me of my strength until I am left feeling the harsh, bitter taste of reality.  I despair. 

It isn't something to go around talking about either. Pain is relative to the person who is feeling it so of course while people can sympathize- what course will change by talking about it to someone who could do nothing? And so my pain and I- we learn to walk hand in hand - stretching the boundaries of what I can overcome and how I can feel. 

On a good day though- when the buzzing is slight- I feel as though I could jump on clouds. I find myself running down the stairs, jumping over the last one and landing on the bottom just because it makes me smile. I find myself reaching a little higher and grabbing my freedom back. On the good days, I never cry or worry about what my plans will make. I live for the good days and most of the time, if I do everything right, I have more good days than bad.  The good days teach me to live full because I never know when the pain will come creeping back or what form and intensity it will appear.  

I have often felt judgement towards others to their standards of pain.  I have often wondered why they would give up and just take the pills and create a sedentary life half lived.  However, as I find myself grasping for those things on my bad days- I also find myself becoming excessively sympathetic to those who do because I have only fought my fight for a few years and my pain comes and goes in intensity.  To be stuck in my body while racked with pain everywhere, would be hell.  I understand their hell a little bit better and I am so so sorry I was so callous and so so sorry they have to feel their pain. 

I am sharing these sensitive things not because I want your sympathy. If I'd wanted that you would have known about it already.  No, no, I am just reminded through my experience that I will never know what kind of battle others are facing.  You will never know how my pain challenges me.  I will never understand the depth of yours - but God knows, I will try..   For now though, I will make it through the day with a small amount of tears shed, half a pain pill at the end of the day and the ease of soul that writing gives me.  

--Beloved. 

To have an abundant life or a thousand mile stare

I found myself, a couple weeks ago, sitting next to a woman with the saddest eyes and the longest stare.  She led a life full of the drink and it had clearly consumed her. She was volatile, moody and sad all at the same time. When I looked into her eyes, I saw a life that was dark and dreary.  I saw pain, the heaviness from a thousand scars, and hopelessness.  

As I sat with her, I asked her about the things she loved: flowers from her garden, her two dogs, a good day.  When she spoke of these things, her eyes lit up as if to restart her soul but the flame drew dim just as quickly as it flared up.  I spoke gently to her, rubbing her back, holding her hand. Trying desperately to speak life into her heart.  That thousand mile stare broke me. I just kept thinking why would anyone want to live that way? And then that still small voice spoke to me. 

John 10:10 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

I struggle to understand the way of the bible and Jesus' teachings.  I struggle to understand why we should follow all these rules and live a specific way but maybe it's literally as simple as John 10:10 puts it.  God tells us not to do certain things because he wants sometime different for us.  Us with all our scars and baggage. Us who fall prey to the easy answers. Us who in our ignorance are so cleverly deceived by emptiness wrapped in a bow. Man, what if god is just trying to give us a life we don't even know we could have? 

One of my theology professors from college told me that sometimes people choose a hotdog because they have never experienced the beauty of a steak.  We choose the hot dog because it is sufficient and sometimes great but a steak is a beautiful thing. When you have experienced a steak why would you want to go back to the hot dog?  Well, it's because we know and understand the hot dog. 

I believe God wants more for his people. If he really is a God of love, then his actions must be out of love.  God is constantly referencing how he will care for his people (clothing them like the flowers of the field, any good father wouldn't give his children a snake instead of a gift, the entire life of Joseph, etc etc).  

I believe that the richness that comes from following God is something I could have.  I used to have.  I have become so blinded by all the answers I don't know about this faith that I have lost sight of the things I do know.  God desires his people. But he doesn't just want a bunch of drones, he gave us the choice to love him.  He gave us the choice to choose him.  He gave us the choice to choose which life we could have.  

Do I want to continue trying to be a good person for the sake of it? Do I want a life that can be full in a way I still do not understand or do I want that thousand mile stare? Proverbially, we all have areas in our hearts where we stare.  If I could just let it go and let God in and allow him to trim my dead branches- what kind of life would I have? What kind of stare do you have? 

Our lives could be full and abundant, beautiful and loving. And even if those things are already there- what if they could be more genuine, real, and honest- what if by having all these things, we can disrupt those thousand mile stares In the people around us and share life? There is something bigger here. Bigger than us. I want to share love with everyone. I always wanted to be enough for everyone.  But I think what my heart desires is to experience the love of God, and then Share it. 

Our lives are bigger than we think, we are all connected and we can all affect change. I genuinely believe this.  And again, I know we can do this without a religion or a god to give us this awesome life or whatever, I am just arguing that perhaps God has a different way and perhaps his way is more effective. 

--his beloved 

When I opened my eyes, the scales fell off

I've spent a great deal of my time being angry at the church. Not the church per se but the people in it. I've spent nights just contemplating, deciding I didn't want to be a part of the things those Christians did.   I didn't want to judge people the way I felt judged and I covered my face in shame when I saw yet another Christian speaking on their authority about what God thinks and why that justifies hate. 

When I first became a Christian, I felt so happy to be a part of this family, this clique. I learned what my fellow youth group learned and I prayed how my youth pastor prayed.  I sang louder and felt my sins harder, I tried to be the best new convert you could see. I was being molded into the truest Christian, and I allowed myself to be so because these people were my authority. I didn't know any other Christians.  I figured to be like them was to be a Christian.   

But slowly, little warnings sprang up.  I didn't align my thoughts to theirs on a few things, didn't sing as loud as I could and challenged the questions.  I mean don't misunderstand- I loved Jesus more than anything. I truly had dedicated my heart to his message. I believed in him.  And then all those misalignments just built up and broke down. 

I had put my trust in people.  I looked to the Christians in my life to figure out how to act, feel, think.   While I engaged the bible, I still didn't really know how to even form my own opinion about it at the time. 

So when I stepped away from Christianity - I took my misaligned ideals and turned them into all the things I didn't want to be- jaded, judgmental, critical and unforgiving- and spewed my newly shaped ideals in every Christian's face.  I was respectful to all my "brothers and sisters in Christ" but inside i wasn't. I also just harbored this internal shame at being labeled one of "those" people. 

It wasn't until today that I realize that the reason I felt all those nasty things about Christians and all people who love God is because I felt let down.  I put these people up on some sort of pedestal when I should have been looking to God.  Those people were just people. Broken, broken people and not all Christians act like them. I am also sorry to say, I acted just like that as well, but I directed this brokenness towards Christians in particular. 

I have met some amazingly genuine people who love Jesus.  Some from the beginning, some though my journey.  Just really great people who act so much like Jesus, its beautiful. I cannot base my opinions on the backs of those first experiences with young broken individuals. And just like that, the realization is all I needed to change the color of lenses in my heart. This realization helped me be no longer jaded at the church, or full of shame at the word Christian.  I am just ready to start my journey back again. But this time, my basis will come from the bible. My ideals will come from my own heart and dreams and my prayers will be quiet and genuine.  

Maybe the people we put in a high place in our hearts fail us because that isn't the position they should be in anyways.  Maybe it's supposed to be God's spot? Maybe I have let people down too.  Maybe the people I looked up to weren't the best role models. Maybe they just sucked as people? If that's the case I'm glad that I'm far away from that "cliquey" feeling and those ideals. I just don't want to be the stereotype, Ya know? I don't want to follow something blindly and then look up when it fails me because I didn't make an educated decision. I don't want to be just another Christian doing everything the same way. I want to learn how to love the way the bible says God loves and I just want to try and focus on that. I think we should all strive for such things. 

I'm not the best at love and I feel like I need to learn it better but it'll take time. However, I won't learn how to give the love of Christ if I'm trying to emulate people around me.  I have to emulate Christ, right?  I have to love unconditionally and selflessly. Kind of like Jesus when he sacrificed himself for love. He Never changes his mind about whether he loves you, never talks crap behind your back, never treats you like a fair weather friend and gossips about what new sketchy thing you're doing.  But people do that, and Christians do that, and I've done that. 

An apology would even be appropriate. To those I let down, to those I harbored ill feelings for, to those I judged, to those who needed love and I refused it. What a shit head I can be.  I am truely sorry and hope to treat those from now in love. 

I think I've found some peace.  I want to walk into a church and celebrate that we are redeemed the same, and all struggle to "carry the cross" the same.  If I can learn to  walk in love- honoring my own convictions and just doing me like I feel I should do- I bet and I hope I can change lives if only for the smallest bit.  I want love to harbor in my heart- there is no more room for jaded bitterness. 

- his beloved 

tangible love pt 2

Growing up, I have vivid memories of bad things happening.  I have memories of people hurting me and leaving me to self-destruct. I have memories of myself hurting me, wanting to be brave enough to self-destruct.  When I was 17, I started a journey as a Christian.  I started really strong but I always got caught up in that whole trust portion.  In my experiences, trust was a bad word.  Trust did nothing but open and expose you to some potential pain.  Its been 12 years since I began that journey and I have spent a many number of years contemplating Jesus and his character.  I have heard the story of Jesus over and over.  I have read the bible more times than I can count.  I went to bible school, I went on missions trips – I did the thing.  What I took from all that time in the beginning is that while you struggle with things, you can only tell a few people that you really trust because the rest won’t understand why you wouldn’t conform.  I have talked to liberal Christians, and die hard old school Christians and you know where I see Jesus the most? I see Jesus in missionaries.  I see Jesus in people like my husband.  I see Jesus in some genuine Christians.  I see Jesus in people who don’t have anything to offer except their love. 

Missionaries are taught to contextualize.  It’s like the foundation to cross communication.  I can’t tell you what a spoon is if you haven’t seen it, but I can compare it to whatever the heck that thing you use like a spoon is.  Missionaries are taught to live amongst the people they work with and give like Jesus.  Missionaries HAVE to be close to Jesus because their entire job is to emulate him.   They have more patience, understanding, and love than most people I have met and I think this is because they aren’t there to make you become an American – they are literally there because they have a love for the people they live with.  They are literally there to serve people, live amongst people and love. Missionaries allow the Holy Spirit to change lives through them.  I have never met a missionary who has judged me for a thought, action or speech.  This acceptance is full of love.  It inevitably tells me that you accept me right now, how I am.  Tangible love rule #1 – accept people where they are, exactly how they are and know they deserve love.

My husband, in the wake of a recent loss in his life has made it a point to try and be a better person to others around him, however they need it.  In this change of his, I have watched him take care of our neighbors, bring his mother groceries when she didn’t have any, buy dinner for a local youth hangout to help support Fairbanks youth every week, and love me.  His love for me is what I want to focus on.  I have watched my husband get up when he is tired and make me dinner when I come home from work.  I have seen him choose me over himself in more times a day than I can keep track of.  Bring me flowers at work “just because”,   I have seen my husband visibly irritated with something I have done and choose patience instead of something more negative.  I have seen his heart when it comes to investing in people and making new friends.  All these things are tangible acts of love that I have been inspired to do for other people in my life.  His love for me and others has inspired me to love those better in my life.  Tangible love rule #2 – Loving other people consistently will inspire and change the world.  Love changes people.

The church I kind of go to has pastors that are genuine people.  They care, they call, they are available, selfless and uplifting.  They are smart and honest, devoted and driven.  They are kick ass people who love Jesus and spend a great deal of time trying to figure out what they can do for my community all the time.  The Jesus that I see in their hearts is what gives me hope, helps heal my heart from bad church experiences and keeps me going to church to find Jesus. Tangible love #3 – Love is a genuine thing, people know when you are full of bullshit.  Learn to love people genuinely and they’ll stick around.

Sometimes we get caught up in what we have, or how much we have.  Love is free.  I once had a conversation with a man from Sri Lanka and he asked me about having children.  I told him I wanted to wait to have enough money to have a kid to which he responded that if I end up having a kid before my plans, to remember that love is more important than money and will lead to a rich life.  Poor people know what its like to be poor and a lot of times offer what they can because its what they can give.  When I was in Egypt, I visited a family.  It is customary to offer drinks when guests visit you there and this family went out and borrowed money to get us drinks.  It was so humbling.  People show love when they have nothing else to give.  Tangible love rule #4 – Genuine love although tough to give is sometimes more appreciated than gifts or other things

I implore you to try loving someone tangibly for a week.  Not only does it make you happier but you change lives.  Love is just so powerful and beautiful. It takes a lot of hard work to love someone selflessly but it’s so worth it.