Accessorized With Grace

I've Been Used

2011-01-10T13:22:00.001-08:00

I'm always shocked and humbled when God takes something from me, hot mess that I am, and uses it to help someone else. So when I recently wrote a message to a super-awesome group of ladies, who deserved my thanks for helping a friend in need, I didn't expect it to minister the way it did. I've been used in a lot of ways. It's nice being used for something good.

Here's a copy of that message for those who wanted to share, and also for you, my beloved readers, who deserve more gratitude for your support and encouragement than you know...

I am believing with YOU, yes YOU, that your harvests will be plentiful this year!! Each of you has invested not only in me, but in the lives of others. Even if you weren't able to give gifts, you gave of your talents and love!! I've been blessed by every single one of you more times than I can count, but God knows. That's the kind of friend He is! He counts all the ways you glorify Him, just as He counts the hairs on your head!! He notices all the secret ways you honor Him, so don't ever let that nasty devil convince you that you're not appreciated!! Let me say that again, don't you ever, ever, let the devil feed you pity when God wants to fill you up with heavenly rewards!!

Our Compassionate Savior is replenishing your lives in every area that feels dry and weary. He sees your struggles. He hears your cries. I believe the holes in His hands throb every time your heart aches. I dare you to take Him at His word this year and see if He doesn't shake the fear and hurt right off you. I urge you to feast on His Truth and swallow the goodness that nourishes everything. That's every thing. Everything you've lost, given up, cried over. Your energy. Your joy. Your relationships. God is making them all new!! All new!

You girls are spreading love over the hearts of the needy like jam; sticking all their broken parts back together. So for all the ways you made a difference for someone in need, and for all the attention you pay to the details of others every single day, THANK YOU!

Are there any unexpected ways God has used you? Got a special someone you want to lavish your thanks on? I'd enjoy hearing about them.

I Love Me

2010-04-23T15:17:00.000-07:00

When I was recently with my family, my dear precious nephew, Malachi, said the prayer over our dinner one night. After he thanked God for our 'yummy food', he added this: "And I love Daddy, and I love Mommy, and I love Esther, and I love Nanna, and I love Aunt Laura, and I love Malachi." What beautiful words from a five year old. Not just because he wanted to tell God who all he loved, but because he included himself. He pointed his sweet little fingers straight at his heart and said, "I love Malachi."

How often do we forget to love ourselves? To thank God, of all things, for ourself? We praise God and offer thanksgiving for so many wonderful people in our lives, but we neglect to offer praises for our own life. As Malachi made his declarations for each person at the table, I sat in anticipation at the chance of hearing him say my name out loud. I couldn't wait to hear my name attached to the words, 'I love'.

Then I realized I don't have to wait for anyone to say they love me. I can hear those words anytime I need. All I have to do is open my mouth.

"I love Laura! Thank you, my dear sweet savior, for making me. Thank you for my awkwardness and my sensitivity for people. Thank you for my passion and my clumsiness. Thank you, for me. I really do love Laura Logan."

Wow! My ears and heart are leaping with praise! I do hope you can attach your own name to those two, powerful, penetrating words. I really want to encourage you today. I want you to know you are special and deserve to be loved by even your greatest critic...yourself! So go ahead, tell yourself, "I love you." Say, "I love me!" I promise it won't hurt. It may feel odd at first, but the words will taste so sweet in your mouth you'll want to say them more :)

If you can't say I love you, why should anyone else?

Not a Princess...An Angel!

2010-04-16T11:49:00.000-07:00

Last week I had the bittersweet privileged of seeing my precious niece who lives far away. It was bitter because the family gathered together to bury my grandmother. Sweet, because we were able to share in our loss as a family, instead of separated by the long miles.

One afternoon I watched in awe as my niece sang her thoughts aloud and pranced about as if she didn't care who heard the melody of her play. I couldn't help but say a quiet, 'Thank you,' to my sweet Jesus for showing me the bounty of life, just after the fragility of another was laid to rest.

I called out to my niece, just wishing for a moment to tell her how magnificent she was; to express my joy in simply being near her. With a smile that woos the heart, my darling soloist ran across the living room and planted herself, head first, into my arms. Oh how delight shot through my spirit at the chance to hold onto a little piece of heaven!

"You are my beloved cherub!" I said. "Do you know that?" She grinned wide, as if those pretty teeth alone could solve all the worlds worries. And I believe they could. Then she looked me in the eyes, accepting my words even though she didn't know what they meant.

"Do you know what a cherub is?" I asked. With another smile shooting straight to my heart, she shook her head. "It means little angel. You're my little angel, Esther." Oh the glee that washed over her face! She leaped across the room, scooped up her dolly, and twirled as if she was in a funnel of candy.

Then she continued playing as usual.

I watched her as long as I could, until I was called into the other room, doubting she even paid attention to what I said to her. The day and night came and left without another mention of cherubs, and soon my little piece of heaven was having sweet sleep in her cozy, canopy covered bed.

The next morning, the door to the room my nephew and I were playing in opened, and there was my cheery delight. "Good Morning, Princess!" I exclaimed, since she'd just come from her pink princess bed, in her pink castle room.

"I'm not a princess," she stated. "I'm an angel!" And oh how angelic she was!

I told her she was my beloved little angel, and she believed me. It was that simple.

So why is it that when God, our very creator, tells us we are the reflection of His glory (2 Corinthians 3:18), we don't believe him? If my two year old niece can believe the words her Auntie tells her, an Auntie who did not create the world, a mere mortal who did not sacrifice her life for mankind, then why can't we believe God's words?

When people call you a sinner, repent, then tell them, "I'm not a sinner. I'm forgiven!" (1 John 2:12; Romans 4:7)

When your enemies call you a loser, say, "I'm not a loser. I'm more than a conqueror!" (Romans 8:37)

When the world says no one wants you, tell it, "I'm not unwanted. Even before He made the world, God loved me and chose me!" (Ephesians 1:4)

When life convinces you no one cares, that no one is on your side, shout out, "Christ is on my side! He speaks to the father in my defense! He's at the right hand of God, interceding for ME!" (1John 2:1; Romans 8:31, 33-34)

When you feel alone, remind yourself, "I'm not alone. God is with me always!" (Matthew 28:20)

When you look through family albums and wonder why you have such a dysfunctional family, open your true family heritage and read the words, 'But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood...a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.' (1 Peter 2:9)

When you feel lost, tell yourself, "I'm not lost. His Word is a lamp for my feet! God knows the way that I take!" (Psalm 119:105; Job 23:10)

And when you believe you're unlovable, cry out, "I'm not beyond love. Nothing can separate me from the love of God!" (Romans 8:37-39)

So be like my two year old niece, and when someone who loves you very much tells you something wonderful...believe them.

Can you believe God's words to you? I'd love to hear what's on your heart.

Monday Mourning

2010-04-15T00:22:00.000-07:00

I can't quite catch my breath
in moments of sadness,
but oxygen comes in waves of joy
like the lyrics in the hymns you sang-
like the bellowing organ notes you played.

I am torn between grief, for you, my grandmother,
whose middle name matches mine,
but rejoicing that you're finally at peace
at the same time.

I said goodbye once,
when dementia carried you away.
Do I say goodbye again,
or celebrate your freedom
from confusions grip today?

I choose the latter.

I will fall back
on days of strawberry mash
and singing to the melody your fingers
danced on the piano
not so long ago.

I choose, celebration, over sorrow.

He is Risen...So What's the Big Deal?

2010-04-04T11:51:00.001-07:00

Okay, now that I wrote about the price paid for a treasure like you, I want to turn my focus to the fact that, when Christ died, just for you, just for me, He didn't stay that way! Thank you, Lord, for coming back for us! He is risen...

...but why? Why did Christ come back after He laid down His life for us?

Because He wanted to redeem us! That was His plan all along: to redeem man. He loved us so much He gave redemption so we could have eternal life. It was the plan from the beginning when Adam and Eve ate the fruit...God wanted to redeem them! The resurrection was a physical symbol of what God did for our souls. Christ took all our sins, once and for all, so we would no longer have to practice Old Testament rituals. Believers used to bring pure lambs into their homes, treat them as family, then offer them to God so He could wash their sins in the blood of the lamb. That was the only way they could be forgiven. But not us! Christ was our lamb. In His one, unfathomable act of grace, He took our sins and removed them from our lives, passed them through His resurrecting power, and drained them out clean, forgiven, becoming the ultimate Lamb of God.

Now that's a big deal!!

That is how much He wants us to live our new life in heaven with Him. Our father wants His children to come home. What a beautiful display of affection from our creator; our redeemer!

Easter is the day when Christians celebrate Jesus’ eternal life, and our own, by believing in him. And oh how I believe! I am proof that the mouths we've wrapped around man's lies and used to spit out their rebukes can be washed out with the blood of Jesus! The same mouth I've used for despicable things, is the same mouth I now use to worship my savior! Praise God for His gift of redemption!

Have you accepted your gift of redemption and eternal life from Christ? If not, I'd love to talk with you. If so, I'd love to hear about your journey from forsaken, to forgiven.

An Easter Gift for You!

2010-04-04T10:58:00.000-07:00

Be encouraged, my beloved treasure. I have a gift for you today. It's not a new gift, but it's precious and dear to me all the same. It has been used. It's been battered. I found it abandoned, lost, searching for what, I'm not sure. But there it was, shinning bright beneath a layer of filth. When I placed this jewel beneath the living waters, I watched a stunning gift emerge. Are you ready to accept it? Here it is...

...YOU! YOU are a gift who's price was costly. Death. But it is because Christ paid so dearly for you that He wants your eyes open to the truth of your worth. Precious. Priceless. The sum of God's glory. That is what you are.

My gift to you can only be accepted one way...

Walk away from the computer screen, leave all your insecurities behind, and go stand in front of the closest mirror. Hurry- it is important that you don't let this gift pass you by again. Now, look deep into your eyes that were created in Christ's image and repeat to yourself, "I am a treasured gift. I am a treasured gift."

Repeat it again.

"I am a treasured gift. I am a treasured gift. I am a treasured gift."

Let it seep in how valuable you are. Don't you dare walk away from that mirror until you feel the weight of your words. Until you believe them. You are a treasured gift and it's about time you started acting like it.

Did you accept this gift as truth? Let me know, I'd love to celebrate your Easter gift with you!

Exfoliating the Hard Places

2010-02-19T15:38:00.000-08:00

Lately, I have met so many women who say they've been hardened by life. It's no wonder. Life is hard. It rubs up against us and leaves a new rough spot with every trial, every heartache, every tribulation, every loss. I've met these women in the isles of the supermarket, behind a counter in the mall, sitting next to me in a coffee shop, and at the sink in a restroom. Young, beautiful women who love life, but are struggling to enjoy it. I am encouraged that each of them, sometimes after involuntary tears, others after long hugs, and one, after a breakdown right there in front of other shoppers, said they were trying not to let the hard places remain. Oh the joy I felt when I saw their eyes moisten with hope! And even though I didn't want to stop the happy tears, I knew exfoliating off their hard places wasn't going to be easy. I know, because I've experienced the softening of my heart. But as difficult as it is in the beginning, when your all good and warmed up in God's grace, His peace passes all the pain and causes you to melt in His goodness.

You certainly don't forget all the hurt, how can you, for it brought you to where you are today. But, somehow, it no longer makes a difference. All that matters is where God brought you to, not where He brought you from. And then you keep wrapping yourself in His grace and goodness until you can make it out of bed. Then out of the house. Then out in the world of scrutinizing eyes and tongues that hiss with judgment and sympathy. Then, out of pain, and into your new normal. I do not believe we can just adjust our attitude and move on. I think it is impossible, without first grieving our losses. Our lost loves. Our lost dreams. Our lost plans. Our lost promises. Our lost futures and the visions we held so dear, believing they were all we had going for us...that we were nothing without them. When we do that; say goodbye to what we hoped for and acknowledge what we are now, then we can move on. We can wake up, look at our new faces in the mirror, hardened eyes and all, and let God make something beautiful out of what's left of us. He always paints a much prettier picture than anything we could have imagined. And it's a good thing too, because I don't believe we'd be happy and satisfied if He left us in our old picture of perfect.

God IS Enough- working link!

2010-01-20T09:11:00.000-08:00

Here is a re-posting of my Dec7th blog with a working link :)

I really wanted to share this with you all. I was moved by this pastor's message. He speaks my heart...that God is enough...in ALL things!

Video from Matt

God IS enough!

2009-12-07T12:52:00.000-08:00

I really wanted to share this with you all. I was moved by this pastor's message. He speaks my heart...that God is enough...in ALL things!

http://hv.thevillagechurch.net/blog/hvpastor/

(You will probably have to copy & paste the link since I couldn't get it to copy. It is worth the extra few seconds, trust me. The video I want you to see is from December 6th, so if you are catching this in later weeks, you may have to scroll down to find the video labeled, 'DEC 06- Video From Matt'.)

Indention of The Cross

2009-11-30T22:52:00.000-08:00

Glory Maple, standing amongst naked limbs. Fire-red, shrinking inward before I crunch beneath your rubber winter souls...for mine still clings to a trunk of sap-filled lies, waving with the wind in denial that you still see me. Begging that there's still photosynthesis for torn-apart leaves, that I can still make oxygen to help your flock breathe, instead of giving off rage for them to seethe. I place tissue paper over my dried veins, rubbing lead frantically atop their patterned pain, praying they scratch a mark in my bark-covered universe. Shaped like a heart, but smelling of cheap regret and costly tales. Pressed between pages of your Word, bleeding in verse, crying in song...This is how I fall...In the knowing that you are the gentle breeze, carrying me from limbs of change, blowing me in the direction of your narrowed path. You are the metallic, marking me L O V E D. You are the only air I need, for you bled in grace, and carved forgiveness on my rugged tree.

That Man

2009-08-16T01:54:00.000-07:00

I want to talk about someone everyone is talking about
but no one is ranting about
while they rant
about
going on about man
the man
everything that's wrong about
a man
your man bashing lyrics
are tired
but you spit them anyway

so its my turn
to talk about a man too
a good, kind, honest, loving man
I want to rant blessings over him
a man
who calls just to say hi
thinks I'm hilarious when everyone else thinks
I'm just high
or delirious
lays hands on me when I'm sick
brings home action figures to say 'feel better'
because he knows I don't like flowers
'they are already dead when you bring them home'
I said
the first time he bought me someone else's idea
of romance
he reads every single thing I write
and thinks it brilliant
seriously
he goes on and on about my words of passion
when all I wrote was
'walk me down the isle of life
and give me away to my dreams'
because he cherishes my dreams like they are his own

and what about his dreams
the ones I promised then took away
but he never mentions to spare me the pain
all he wanted
was to hold his own flesh & blood in his arms
name his son 'the third' to follow his 'Jr'
look in the eyes of his daughter
to see the eyes of his wife
so he can call her 'Jewel'
and protect her with his life
only to lose those tiny dreams
he held only in his heart
when I
who promised him the world in my youth
lost my womb
lost my hope
in the world I promised
still in my youth
no longer knowing what to do with my youth
barren in dreams in my youth
with a man who speaks life into my youth
still in his youth
saying, 'It's okay. I love you'
and is telling the truth

what about that man
who devotes his time to caring for me
the ill of body
of spirit
of mind
who never complains
never blames
or wishes for change

what about a man who
knowing everything I'd put him through
all the ways I'd break his heart
still wouldn't hesitate
to say I do
all over again

a man that ten years ago
slipped his promise around my finger
sliding it deep into my heart
and still honors our covenant
morning by morning
from his chafing knees as he thanks God
despite everything, for me

what about that man
the one who provides nourishment to my
body and my soul
who still can't help but smile every time he says my name
stays up late just to talk a little longer because he
likes what I have to say
then lays awake watching long after I'm asleep
just to see if I dream of dreaming again
because he still believes in me
still believes in us
still believes I'm beautiful, more so each day
still believes I won't hurt him
because he sees my good when I only see shame

what about the man who knows I can't look him in the eyes
only seeing the pain I put in them
only seeing the tiny dreams I took from them
yet he forces me to look up
seeing his love for me in them

what about that man
the good man
the man of integrity and character
the man of God
why does no one talk about him
about this black man of strength and power
who uses his strength to lift me up
and his power to fight for me
for my life
for our family of two
what about that man
what about
that man
what about
that
man

Use Me

2009-08-14T15:01:00.000-07:00

You say you want to use me. But you are God. Can't you see I am useless? Worth less? Less than some other woman. Less than any woman.

Can't you see all those pretty, dainty, sweet women, who don't even like to swear? Can't you see there are other woman who are far more humble, meek, sincere, kind and worthy of you? Worth more than me. Worth more than a hundred of me.

How can I tell them how much you love them, when I won't accept that you love me? Can't accept it. Can't believe you offer it. Can't believe you offer it even after you look inside my heart and see me. Can't believe you want to see me. Want to love me. Want me. Me. You know who that really is, yet you pursue her anyway.

Oh my precious Jesus, please don't look at her. At the woman who's shattered pieces stare blankly back at me from mirrored glass. At the me I see. Not yet. Not like this.

Look at one of those women who don't like the way a wine glass feels in her hand or the tingling of champagne in her mouth. Who doesn't hold disdain in her mouth. Speak pain from her mouth.

Surely she can love you in the open air and not hide behind clean floors and polished nails. Surely she won't hide under her sparkling personality or beg you not to look at her when she cries, when she's naked, when she's scared.

You want a woman who won't think rafters and plaster can hide her from you. Hide her from the world. Hide her from her.

Trust me, my magnificent savior. I know what they need. I know what they want. I know. Know I am unworthy. Know I am unclean. Know I am not what they want. Not what they need. Not who you want. Not who you need.

Trust me, sweet gracious maker, you must be trying to speak to the lady next door. You know, the one who works in children's church. Heck, you might even want to talk to the woman across the street. I heard she has weekly bible studies over there. She even knows how to cook...and likes it.

Surely that's who you are trying to call. It's not my call. Not a call to talk to your creation. Not a call to spread your love.

All I have is You. You. You, my darling friend, are all I have left.

What? You mean that's enough? Your kidding right? I mean, your funny like that sometimes, so I'm just making sure. Oh. Your being serious.

You want me to trust you. Trust that I can still be used. Trust that I am wrong about you trusting me. That I am worthy of your love. That's why you died...for me. Even me?

Trust you. Trust that you really want me. To know that what I know is wrong. You do need me. Need me to tell them how much you love them. That you died for them. Especially for them.

Even when they are naked and ashamed. Even when they are afraid. Afraid of you. Afraid they are not worthy. Afraid they are useless. Worth less than others. Not worth your love.

Won't accept your love. Can't accept your love. Can't believe you are pursuing them. That you want them. You need them.

Even when they are unclean. Even when they are broken. Even when they hide from your grace. You will find them, fill them, use them, save them.

Oh my loving master, use me. Help me introduce them to You. To the One who made me, saved me, and showed me a mirror that only sees You. Help me reflect Your love.

One-Stop-Shop Prayer

2009-08-03T01:12:00.000-07:00

Last night I found out that two of my favorite people in the world are moving far away from me. I won't go into how deeply this information cut into my heart. I will say that as I type this post, I am still watery eyed with emotion and trying to recover from the two and a half hour bawling session I had in bed after they broke the news and left. I know I'm going about this like an infant. I don't care. When it comes to love, I fall hard, and I smacked myself good with this couple from the moment they entered my life. I fell in love instantly. You know how once every three decades or so there is that person, or that couple, that just gets you? Those people who share your same dorky obsessions and humor and tastes for life and God. Those people who both you and your spouse get along with (which almost never happens)? Well that is the couple I will soon be loving from a distance that feels bigger than the universe.

But the thing is, I asked for it. God even prepared me, but I still feel like I got the wind kicked out of me. I still cried when they told me, and I still ache for them even though they haven't even left yet. No matter how much preparation we are given, we sometimes get caught in a wave of desperation and cry out in sadness or anger or confusion. And that's okay. It's what makes us human. It's one of the ways we know we need God, because it's gonna take the kind of comfort only He can give to get us through the night. And it's gonna take God to remind us that sometimes, we asked for our own heartbreak. Now I'm not saying God wants to cause us heartbreak or pain, so don't send me hate comments just yet. I promise God is still the superhero in this tale. What I'm saying is, His intention wasn't to break my heart, but in order to answer my prayers, separation has to come. And that is where my heart gets broken; being separated by several states from someone I love.

In a pathetically desperate cry to my savior to rescue my saddened heart, I asked God why he bothered introducing these people into my life if he was just going to take them away. It seems like a pretty stupid plan to me. I mean, I'm not God, so I'm just throwin' this out there, but isn't that kind of like giving a little kid a puppy, then once they've got it trained to bring them cookies and milk and do their homework and give them advice about those mean kids at school, you send another little kid to his house to take the puppy away and say it's best for the dog? Cause that's exactly what happened. Just when we perfected the art of friendship, God told me it was best for my friends to move closer to their family. He knew they could help bring all those prayers I'd sent His way into fulfillment. So like I said, sometimes, we ask for our own heartbreak.

Since the first day I met the woman of this fantastic duo, I've asked God to heal her body. To give her satisfaction and fulfillment. To break through her bitterness and help her see how very much she is loved and appreciated. I asked for Him to strengthen our bond and help our friendship be a source of strength. I also asked that I would be the kind of friend she needs, not the kind of friend I need. I wanted all this from one prayer. From one relationship. It was a 'One-Stop-Shop Prayer'. I wanted God to do all those things within the walls of my abilities and understanding. I expected that what was best for her was me. That what was best for her health was to stay in Tulsa with my friendship at arms reach. That all she needed to get through her issues was the relationship we share. But that's not how we're supposed to pray. We aren't supposed to put limitations on God. Why would we even want to? Can you fathom how much better His solutions are than ours?

As I was crying, my heavenly Daddy revealed to me that, gasp!, He cares for my friends and family just as much as I do. And more. Let me say that again in case you started daydreaming during that last sentence: God cares just as much as you do, and infinitely more, about your loved ones. When you pray for your family and friends, God isn't just thinking, 'Oh, that's so sweet of you to think of them.' He is listening. Making provisions. Bringing the plans He already has for them into action. He is answering your prayers. And He is doing it with their best interest in mind, not the interest you had in mind when you thought the plan out in your head as you were saying those controlling words padded with scripture. He is healing them with His authority, not ours. His.

After I stopped crying from sadness, bless my husband's heart, I started crying from overwhelming joy. I was so happy because Daddy showed me that my friend will not only be getting healthy like she needs, she'll be surrounded by so much more love and support than I could ever give while she does. Also, her and her husband have an amazing business opportunity that's exactly what they've dreamt about since their marriage began. Hmmm...sounds like some satisfaction and fulfillment coming their way to me. She even went home for a visit recently and definitely felt the love, support and appreciation from her family that she needs, and in letting God work His miracles, answering every aspect of my prayers and giving me strength, I have become the kind of friend she needs too...the kind that lets her go. Had my prayer request been fulfilled my way, my friends would still be living near me, letting me rub my friendship potion all over their lives. We would get to remain close, and the healing would have come, but that's all. Because God knows what's in their best interest, and it's not JUST to get healthy or see a breakthrough. It's to receive miracles!

So as I sit, anxious to see all the great things God has in store for my friends, I wonder where I ever got the idea that I could pray one giant prayer, with a million requests, and have God answer it with only one miracle. He could do it. But He desires to do so much more. He isn't in the convenience store business, offering up answered prayers through simple, one step miracles. He is in love with us, offering up His grace, for an intricate plan with many, many miracles. I am teary eyed again, aching with joy, as I thank Daddy for showing me He still answers prayers. Even mine. Even yours. Even when they aren't answered the way we think is best. And even when it hurts to accept. The point is, He answers.

(I am) God's Perfect Song

2009-07-24T12:53:00.000-07:00

Angels dance upon my heart
their wings bouncing to the tune
of God's rhythm being played over my life
I hear them giggle as they connect
the notes of my destiny
and see my songs triumphant chorus
They shout in praises
for they know my final verse
humming it's melody God's sung into my breath
from the very last to the first

Playing with the Devil

2009-07-21T14:07:00.000-07:00

I had the pleasure of babysitting two of my favorite little guys yesterday, Jack and John. What I love about watching little ones is their absolute curiosity and fearless nature. Children always let you know what's in their heart and on their minds, and Jack always has something spectacular on both of his! So in our playtime, he wanted to play Bible stories. I love that the Bible is what Jack wants to act out. That those are the stories he's familiar with, jumping in and out of his imagination, forming his character and understanding of the things of God. Here's a chat we had...

Jack: I built us a boat! Let's play Jesus and the devil. You be Jesus!

Me: No way! I don't want to play with the devil!

Jack: Okay, I won't invite him on the boat.

It was that simple. A child knows if you don't want to play with evil, you don't invite it in.

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Matthew 19:14 (NIV)

From Where Do We Speak?

2009-07-18T14:45:00.000-07:00

Okay, so it seems like an obvious question. But we've all heard about men thinking with a specific body part instead of their mind. Well, the same thing goes for how we speak. No, not with that body part. Our heart! Are we speaking from our heart, or our hurt? Are we really speaking the words of love and encouragement that we know are bubbling from deep inside our heart? Or are we speaking words of judgement and hate oozing from our hurt?

When I started writing my latest book I included humiliating stories of abuse and lust and the confusing journey or trying to feel wanted and loved. I wrote the typical disclaimer that usually reads, 'The names and identifying characters of actual people have been changed.' Only mine said, 'Any similarities or characters in this book that resemble actual people is intentional. I want you to read about yourself on these pages and squirm just like I did living through it.' Then I had to go back and hit the delete button. That is not what I want my book to convey; humiliation and condemnation. I was speaking from my hurt.

I want the book to be from my heart. I want to help people find healing and peace in their walk through this sometimes paralyzing world. I want to tell people that God is so in love with them and if I can wear His grace, anyone can. That is my heart. But my hurts want to judge and make examples out of other peoples mistakes and miseries. Miseries that very well could have been my own. Mistakes that pale in comparison with so many I've made myself. But that's the problem with speaking from our hurts. They are usually louder than the love and forgiveness and hope in our hearts. If I speak from my wounds, my words will be bitter. If I speak from my heart, God can make them sweet.

Do you have a specific hurt (or hurts) that seem to make you say things you really don't want to? Do your words sometimes (or a lot of times) cause division when you really seek connection?

Daddy, we lift our hearts to you right now and speak restoration over the areas we desire change, but end up injuring with our words instead. Strengthen our hearts that they may speak louder than our pain. We love you so much, Lord! Thank you for helping others to see us as we are in our hearts, and not as we've spoken from our wounds. So be it.

Little Girl, Little Sword

2009-07-16T15:24:00.000-07:00

I watched 'The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian' last night and was overwhelmed by the message it burned in my heart. (If you haven't seen the movie you might not want to read this until you do.) The scene that stole control of my emotions and left me whimpering like a puppy who just realized he ate all his food and his master will not be home for hours, was the screen shot at the end of the movie. We see young Lucy appear before an army, alone. She is standing there, in total peace, as she pulls out her tiny dagger and stands ready to fight.

My husband and I laughed because she looked so cute and pathetic just standing there with her miniature weapon. She is just a little girl with a little sword, who can't possibly take on the massive war that is raging before her. Then Aslan appeared. That was all it took. He opened his mouth and roared with a breath that devoured Lucy's enemies. End scene. But the end of the battle did not end the ache I felt lit in the depths of my heart. As I watched Lucy face an evil she knew she could not defeat, I felt as if I was watching myself. That I am merely a little girl, with nothing more than a metal nail file clutched in my palm, trying to win a fight with impossible odds. But the odds are not impossible for me. They are impossible for my enemies.

Lucy stood, then Aslan conquered. That was it. She trusted in the end result because she trusted in her protector. I see myself on a flickering screen before me and wonder if I have the courage to accept my own understanding of God. I know with him all things are possible, but am I willing to stand before evil and really know that my God will defeat it. To just stand there. To wait on God. This is what it takes to trust unconditionally. To stand in front of an army. Then God. That's it. Then God. I am alone, then God saves me. I am afraid, then God calms the waters. Then God restores my soul. Then God makes a way. Then God. Period.

A King Dies.

2009-06-25T22:04:00.000-07:00

As bloggers flee to their keyboards to peck a Michael Jackson story like vultures, and reporters sprint to the presses in hopes of breaking the ribbon of seeing their name in the headlines under that of a legend, I can't help but wonder if this is what it would have been like the day another King died. No, not the "King of Rock 'n' Roll", but the King of Kings. Jesus. What would the headlines read?

Would writers lace up their sandals and join the tabloid race to label him blasphemous and insurrectional? Or would they take a more positive spin and compare him with John the Baptist as they paired Jackson next to Elvis? We all know how far and fast Jackson's fame spread as he moonwalked his way into our culture, but what about the popularity of a man who could public speak the tie off another King, Martin Luther. And Jesus could heal people. He performed miracles. Did you hear me? He performed miracles! He made blind people see and paralyzed people walk!

And Jesus had no photographs or radio or TV or Internet to spread his fame mind you. All he had was a reputation that spread widely and people who flocked to him, following him around everywhere he went. They even planned on making him king. Not as cool as being the King of Kings. But it was a nice thought. A thought they apparently forgot about. Because a week before the Passover they paraded him into Jerusalem on a colt, spread clothing and palm branches on the ground in front of him, and only a week later chanted, "Crucify him!" And we thought our paparazzi was cruel. Today they throw around shameful pictures. Back then they thew rocks.

Whatever the headlines read, they wouldn't have been able to scribe words powerful enough to describe Jesus' life and sacrifice. He did so many things the last verses of John says,

"If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written."

Wow. Just Wow. Think about that for a minute.

The word "king" signifies someone who possesses supreme power. And we've had a lot of King's. Martin Luther King, whose speeches and progress on civil and human rights will live on forever. Elvis, "the King of Rock 'n' Roll" and Michael Jackson, "King of Pop'", who left behind their music; sounds and moves that transcended time. But Jesus, THE KING OF KING'S, is the only King who died and rose again to tell about it. He is the only King who is still alive today!

"Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen." 1Timothy 1:17

"...God, the blessed and only Ruler, the King of kings and Lord of lords, who alone is immortal and who lives in unapproachable light, whom no one has seen or can see. To him be honor and might forever. Amen." 1 Timothy 6:15-16

*Thanks to cameraphonejunkie.com for this amazing pic!

Rainbow for Me!

2009-06-25T09:23:00.000-07:00

God is just that cool. He's the kind of friend who, while you're in the car talking about His promises and how the flood you've been trying to doggy-paddle your way through is just about to consume you, He sends a rainbow. A big, splendid reminder that He promised the earth and everything living on it would never again be destroyed by a flood. By a flood of emotions, a flood of failure, a flood of fear, a flood of anger, a flood of anything that overwhelms us and keeps us from God's goodness and grace.

What rocks about God is that he not only makes solemn promises to us, his creation, but he KEEPS those promises! Now that's the kind of authority I want on my side- the kind you know you can trust. Check out with me in Romans 8:28 what God does when we love him and accept that we are here for a reason...

"And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose."

Wow...when we are gasping for breath under a flood of doubt and circumstance, God will work it out. And, what's awesome about our Daddy is that he will work it out for our good. He doesn't just make things happen, he causes them to work in our favor! Now, I can work me some issues out, believe me, I've had plenty of issues, but I cannot, no matter how hard I try, work them out for my benefit alone, every single time. But God can. He benefits us, if we'll just love him. Even I can handle that.

So God, knowing my husband and I were smack dab in the middle of a discussion concerning our current flood, sent a rainbow! Just for us. It was perfectly timed. Like all things with God are, and was a magnificent reminder that he will not let us be destroyed. He is fulfilling his promise. Won't you let him do the same for you?

Your turn. Is there a time when God did something just for you and it was perfectly timed? Share your experience in the comments below. I'd love to hear about it!

Secret to Youth & Long Life...Really!

2009-06-16T13:28:00.000-07:00

In a Chinese Valley near Bama, there is a longevity cluster. It's a village with only 500 residents, where six of them are centenarians. Tourists, of course, are now flocking to this village trying to get their hands on the secret to long life. There is some kind of magic that runs throughout the valley. The supernatural potion is in the water. Or the home grown food. Maybe in the soil or the grass or the air that surrounds a mysterious magnetic field. But it is there. Somewhere. These thousands of people believe it is anyway. That a magical key that opens the door to lengthening our very mortal days is just waiting to be unearthed. Hotels are going up. I'm sure that will help. I mean, what a better way to preserve their simple, organic way of life than to bring in skyscrapers and souveneir shops. They are now marketing the villages all fresh and natural foods in a variety of packaging (kinda loses it's freshness that way doesn't it?) and bottling their special, sometimes unconventional, serums in the brand new businesses now springing up.

The thousands of tourists stay for weeks and months on end just to drink the pure blue, low alkalityity water, eat the home grown food, and hang around the magnetic fiield all hoping to absorb some kind of physical preservation. My favorite part is that these tourists spend hours watching, yes, just standing around gazing, as the villagers go about their day doing their chores. Doing nothing. Brilliant. That will definately help you live longer. What I love about this 'news' story, is that the Western scientists who study these longevity clusters say it has nothing to do with the lifestyle or surroundings many credit for the added decades of these villagers. It's what the villagers were born with. It is in their DNA. This is how they live so long, they were simply created to. Bummer for all those hoping to learn some secret for long life, eh? Well don't despair just yet. I know how you can add length to your days.

The answer was found on ancient scrolls.

They were written just for you.

You too were created to live long beyond your years...

You were created to live forever.

So how the heck do we get the answer!?

We ask for it!

Seriously. It's that simple. We ask God to save us from death. We ask Him to live in us, to guide us, to give us length of days, for ever and ever. He gave us His word, the Bible, which contains all the answers on how to live eternally with Him. And what do we learn from His word? To ask. To ask Him into our lives. Once He's there, in every aspect of our life, He will direct our paths and help us make right decisions by following His commandments and using the words He gave us in the Bible to gain understaning. Through Wisdom we will prosper with eternal life in Heaven. We will mess up. Absolutely. Positively. Everyone of us does. But we can be saved. Not as a liscense to sin, but because Christ loved us so much He already gave His life so we could live ours forever. The bonus, as if there could be one on top of eternal life, is that God wants us to be renewed in our physical bodies as well. That's right! He wants us to live in health during our days one earth. Our days mind you, that He will lengthen!

Don't believe me? Read for yourself:

Psalm 21 (For the director of music. A psalm of David.)
1 O LORD, the king rejoices in your strength.
How great is his joy in the victories you give!
2 You have granted him the desire of his heart
and have not withheld the request of his lips.
Selah (weigh these things thoughtfully; pause to reflect)
3 You welcomed him with rich blessings
and placed a crown of pure gold on his head.
4 He asked you for life, and you gave it to him—
length of days, for ever and ever.
5 Through the victories you gave, his glory is great;
you have bestowed on him splendor and majesty.
6 Surely you have granted him eternal blessings
and made him glad with the joy of your presence.

Proverbs 3 (The Rewards of Wisdom)
1 My son, do not forget my teaching,
But let your heart keep my commandments;
2 For length of days and years of life
And peace they will add to you.

8 It will be healing to your body
And refreshment to your bones.

16 Long life is in her right hand;
In her left hand are riches and honor.
17 Her ways are pleasant ways
And all her paths are peace.
18 She is a tree of life to those who take hold of her,
And happy are all who hold her fast.

21 My son, let them not vanish from your sight;
Keep sound wisdom and discretion,
22 So they will be life to your soul

Proverbs 4:4
Lay hold of my words with all your heart;
keep my commands and you will live.

Psalm 103:5
who satisfies your desires with good things
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.

As christians...we ARE the LONGEVITY CLUSTER! Ask for your eternal life today. God is listening. God is able. God wants you to have it, so take hold of it right now.

Daddy, we come before you today and ask for your wisdom. Breathe her into every area of our lives. May she guide us in every decision, every direction, every thought. Come into our lives and fill us with your presence. Help us worship you with our actions and tongues. We ask you Lord, as David did, for life eternal with you. If any of us does not already know you, may they ask you into their lives right now. And for those of us who claim we do, may we come to know you better. So be it; truly. We love you Lord, you are so good!

Daily Walk

2009-06-16T05:14:00.000-07:00

foot to concrete
concrete to soul
repeat
repeat
repeat until your heart is pumping with promise
repeat until your breath is the sound of earth's pride
pause
smell the petunias
chase a lizard
turn up the volume of your soul
sun to eyes
eyes to sky
sky to beauty
beauty to Christ
Christ to mind

feet to pavement
pavement to spirit
walk
walk
walk until you meet who you've become
walk until you read beauty on the pages of your sorrow
stop
find yourself in a new day
rest your thoughts in God's hand
drink in the restoration of your spirit
mind to God
God to peace
peace to sweet
sweet to dreams
dreams to fulfilled

Broken Earrings

2009-06-15T15:41:00.000-07:00

The last few times I've worn my favorite earrings they've flown off whenever I hug someone...or get too animated...or dance around suddenly...and if you know me you know I hug everyone, long past the moment where it becomes uncomfortable for the poor stranger I am smothering, and my gestures tend to span the entirety of any space I dwell...and I am always, unashamedly, breaking out into sudden robotic moves paired with a little move I like to call the 'Running Rabbit'. Not the Running Man. Not the Roger Rabbit. The Running Rabbit. I do a little jig of each and they combine for a mind blowing display of sweetness! At least in my mind.

So you can see that a person of my, shall we say, energy, cannot go around stabbing people in the face with a runaway earring every time I breathe. The last time I removed my illustriously large silver hoops, I paused before placing them back in their bed of foam and felt. I considered tossing them in the tin trash can next to my jewel tower. My heart skipped a tearful beat at the thought of never wearing my prized circles-of-silver again. But they could no longer serve their purpose. They were broken. Worthless, really. Certainly not worth saving.

As I swaddled those precious metal loops in my hand, taking a moment to honor the joy they always gave my ears, I thought about my own purpose. I too was like those broken earrings once. Worthless, and certainly not worth saving. I felt so broken that I assumed God would simple discard me, toss my calling aside, and replace me with a more Godly, virtuous woman who could actually serve her purpose.

But God saved me. He scooped me up, wrapped me in His healing balm of grace, broken dreams and all, and loved me into His own precious gem. I was not only repaired, but restored. He gave me back my dreams. He returned my purpose. He put my weakened spirit back into existence so I could be used again. Only this time I could recognize the image He made me from...His. I was made not only whole, but stronger, more compassionate, more confident in who I am as a woman of God. With my leather bound toolbox, I continue to use every implement God gave to continue His healing over my life. Those scriptures make me feel refreshed, at peace, and once again able to see that I am, despite all the times I still stab people in the heart with my runaway attitude, able to be used by God.

My favorite earrings never made it into the trash. Instead of tossing them aside, I wrapped them in gauze and set out to mend the weakened clasp that could no longer hold the post in place. I got out my tool box and tightened the prongs, so once again, they could serve their purpose. I then took the time to meticulously clean every inch of those silver hoops, making them better than they were when I bought them. And just like me, they are restored. Purposeful. Worth more than rubies. Sparkling with pride simply because they were given a second chance. A chance we are all offered, if only we'll seek God, being confident that He who began a good work in us, will carry it on to completion.

My Child

2009-06-08T15:53:00.000-07:00

Okay, Jesus did not say the words written in the book of Timothy in the Bible. For those of us who dropped out of Bible school, we know this simply because the words are not printed in red ink. I know, it took some serious research to figure that out. My unholificated soul just wanted to make sure I was not about to lie to you about the things of God as I do not intend on getting struck down by lightning today. Or tomorrow. I admit I do not wish to ever, including today and tomorrow, plan on getting struck by lightning or dropping dead from taking communion or offering up an unholy sacrifice. If that happens, it would suck. Mostly for me. But at least I know I would get to go to heaven, even if I did mess up a few theologically doctrinated facts.

So, as I relay to you what my Children's Bible says, with no drawn out 'interpretations' or difficult to understand theories(not to be confused with the sometimes difficult to understand theologies), please to not immediately close my blog and dial up God to tell on me. I'm pretty sure he already knows where I stand on Biblical principals as we do talk everyday. He's actually the one I've been doing my Bible study with, which, I know, will not get me an accreditation from a big Seminary or University and I know my certificate is not, in fact, in the mail, but I have decided to forgo my theology diploma and just trust my relationship with my Father on this one. Well, on everything actually.

Since Jesus, aka, God, did not scribe the letters to Timothy, we find out through a very yawnful historical parade of detailed facts and background, that 1st & 2nd Timothy (along with the book of Titus) were in fact written by the Apostle Paul. I say 'yawnful' above not to discredit, disrespect, dishonor, disholify, I think I got them all, the amazing history behind the Apostle Paul's ministry, but because, seriously, you are already about to fall asleep on me & I haven't even gotten started. So, for the sake of length, I will leave it as 'yawnful' for now. Okay, for forever. I am not coming back to this post & rewriting it with a longer, more fact-packed version, so no need to check back, secretly, every day, every hour, like I know you want to.

These books of the Bible provide details of three letters that Paul wrote, one of which was to Timothy. Hence this book of the Bible's name, Timothy. Seriously, it's taken me years to try and figure out why all the books of the Bible were not simply named after the person who wrote them, but then again, I did not write the Bible. Clearly. Or it would not be such a bless-ed, anointed, life changing book of facts describing events that led to our salvation through Jesus Christ and the ability to have a relationship with our very own creator. Had I written the Bible, I wouldn't have gotten the facts exactly the way they happened. I would have colored the Word of God with sarcasm and fabricated stories where I always came out looking heroic and holy. I definitely would have written myself into the character of David.

"And she stood, bazooka-esque-sling-shot in hand, whirling it with a powerful yet graceful swing directly towards the crotch of the beast they called Goliath. Then, the mighty, majestic, Laura Logan, with her incomparable beauty, brought the giant to it's knees where it begged her to have mercy on it's wretched soul. Having no such compassion for the weak buffoon, the awesomeness of the magnificent , Laura Logan, kicked Goliath right in the..." and you see why I was not chosen to relay God's message of hope and love and wisdom to all mankind for generations to come.

But Paul was. He was a reputable, reliable kinda guy that God could trust to carry the baton of His Word into the hearts of His people. And Paul did not, as we've all done...especially,head bows in shame, me...take that baton and shoved it where the spirit doesn't shine, and by default, miss the heart of those God was trying to reach! All in the name of God, right? Well Paul did write in the name of God. He wrote a very heartfelt letter to his young protégé, Timothy, who was not happy in his church in Ephesus. Sound familiar? I don't know anyone who hasn't disliked their church at some point, including pastors themselves. Anyone who says otherwise, lied.

Timothy was, or later became, one of Paul's most constant companions to whom Paul wrote in his letter (which later became known as 2nd Timothy 2:1):

You then, my child, be strengthened by the grace that is in Christ Jesus.

But they were not just words from Paul written to Timothy. They were God's words, speaking directly to us. Paul was an instrument God used to get His message to us, his children. A message that calls us out by name.

It wasn't the part about grace that caught my attention in this verse, or even that God is telling us to be strengthened by the grace in Him. It is the two words, 'my child', that struck me. I love that God takes the moment to pause in His sentence to call us out in such an endearing way. It is as if He is calling us by name saying, 'You then, Laura, be strengthened by my grace.' He does this also, because later in the chapter He gives correction and direction to 'His children'. How does a parent interact with their child, they draw them in, get their attention, specify who they are talking to, so they can get through to their child.

This is where some argue saying that this wasn't meant for us, today, to get some knowledge from, and by saying God is speaking to us, I am doing the very thing I said I wouldn't...interpret the Words of the Most High God. But seriously? If it was originally intended to be just a private letter to Timothy, why then would they bother saving it, translating it, and publishing it in the Bible? Obviously God knew how many people would suffer the same struggles as Timothy. He called us to be held accountable to the same standards and purpose as He did Timothy and His church. God knew, eons later we would be reading Paul's words, God's words, from our living room in a reader-friendly version bound in leather. He is our Father. He was reaching out to us through Paul.

God paused to call us His Child. It seems like more than ever we are being disappointed by man. We are hurt by the evil actions from the pure intended. We are being hurt by the very people we are supposed to be able to trust and rely on. We are being hurt. But not by God. Not our Daddy. He is protecting us in His fatherly embrace, calling us 'my child' so we'll understand how it is we are able to be strengthened...like a child learning to walk whose parent holds their hand as they wobble along; like a parent feeding their child nutrients so they may grow strong...that is how we make it through the hurts, how we are strengthened even when we feel defeated...by looking to our Father to hold us up and keep feeding our spirits with His love, and with His peace, and with His wisdom.

Next time you ache from disappointment, listen for God's pause. He truly knows everything we endure and cares enough to tell us so by sending His fatherly grace as a source of strength just for us, His children. He pauses for you, simply to say your name!

Poetry Month's Farewell

2009-05-01T16:45:00.000-07:00

April is over
Poetry Month has gone
I wish she could have lingered
so I could scribe life onto her pages
wrap my words around her figure like a silk sash
trust her with my systematic jewels
align my glass rocks for her pleasure
just once more
her thirty shiny days
vanished into May
shattering the delicate lucidity
the power her presence gave
I pick up the pieces meant to adorn
tucking them between worn
leather bound beds of parchment
protecting their beauty from
the Honored One's withdraw
until Aprils return
when I'll celebrate her rhyme
one more time

Out. Let. Connection.

2009-04-20T14:08:00.000-07:00

we connect to the outside world
from inside
while we're connected
to an outlet
energized
by electricity
tired out from
life
the sun drains us
blinds us
burns us
so we wear hats
sunglasses
SPF
and carry an umbrella
to shade our squinted faces
skin
souls
from being graced by life
life
who no longer powers our souls
only gets in the way of our plans
lets us down
who's tale we only watch from a TV
laptop
movie
screen
life
who sings
a glorious song we only hear through
speakers
earphones
phones
that kill us with a power strip IV
'my way, now' mentality
humanless community
we communicate via text
email
blog
making voiceboxes pointless
useless
less
so we can be
lifeless
making a network connection
asking the net worth question
what's my house worth
my car worth
who cares about my worth
we have online friends
groups
status'
but no lifeline
no life
life
who we let wither away
while we blog about her importance
beauty
experiences
that we never actually experience
outside our world
from inside
connected to an outlet life support
only without the life
or the support
who's only
out
is to
let
life in

What's Your Porn?

2009-04-13T22:21:00.000-07:00

Okay, so porn is pretty much just porn. It is merely looking at something you know is wrong that makes you feel guilty, but you look anyway. You're compelled to scan luring images that promise to satisfy your hunger, just one more time. Or maybe two. It waves it's 'satisfaction guaranteed' banner with a declaration to thrill beyond shame. A promise, of course, it can never fulfill.

It's just a click away.

It's compulsive.

It's addictive.

It's junk food for the eyes.

It's a dark, beckoning secret that promotes unhealthy isolation and interferes with the very relationships we need for nourishment and growth. But we all have our 'I know I probably shouldn't be doing this' moments. Usually followed by, 'Well at least I'm not looking at porn'. But are you? Is there an image that constantly pops up in your mind? Money, chocolate, a video game maybe? A website that you feel compelled to 'check out' several times a day? A TV episode that you must watch or you can't seem to relax? Your form of 'porn' can be anything that prohibits your productivity, slowly robs you of your creativity or interferes with your relationship with Christ or your family. Just because something isn't stereotypically labeled as bad, doesn't mean it isn't bad for you. My porn of choice is Ebay. I collect action figures and am lured in daily with the promise of a 'first appearance' figure in original packaging. A 'rare' comic book character who will make an appearance in the next movie re-make of a classic superhero. I have to keep looking for the best deals. I can't miss a chance to find a real treasure whose owner has no idea what they have. I seek a million dollar collectible with a ninety-nine cent price tag.

I click.

Compulsively.

To the figures I am addicted to.

To consume more junk food for my eyes.

I spend countless hours in front of my laptop, searching, hoping, bidding. Basically wasting time. Time in which I always end up feeling guilty about. Time I could have spent with my husband. Time I could have spent talking to God, listening to God, reading the Word of God. Time I cannot get back. Porn is any distraction that takes time away from our interaction with God. He is our bread of life. What we need for daily edification. The 'porn' we accept as part of our daily routine gives rise to willful addictions. It separates us from our purpose.

For some people I know this can even mean knowledge, trivia, anything they can read or research to make themselves feel empowered, like they've taken charge of their own mind...until their mind tells them they need more wisdom, more facts, more study time so they can feel the release of tension once again. We get lost in the candy dish of technology whose ingredients rot our spirits. Our porn is whatever makes us feel in control of our own life, but in reality controls us. It is what we wake up thinking about, go to bed wondering about, daydream while we go about our business. It is what makes us secretly feel weak. It is anything that right before we do it, we think, 'I should be doing something else right now'...but we do it anyway.

Our porn is any negative behavior we've unconsciously made a habit in our daily activities, scheduled in our minds, or anticipated during stressful moments. As Christians, we'd never admit to looking at pornography. We push all subjects relating to sex aside for the perverted. Instead, we've developed a nice tolerance for judging others. Like people who look at erotica. But we have our own dirty little habits that keep us from reading our Bible or taking time to talk with God. We blame our children, our pets, our spouse, our busy schedules, our hectic church activities even, yet we never take responsibility for the actions we do in place of the ones we should do. We expect a million dollar inpouring from a ninety-nine cent outpouring.

So next time you just have to check out the stats of your favorite team, watch TV to see who got voted off which show, obsessively log into your social networking account, play to one more level on your game console, surf the web for 'just a few more minutes', make sure you didn't get outbid on Ebay, send yet another text, or consume one more bite of junk food, remember that you are mentally getting off on knowing you independently used your time, in your own way...but satisfaction is never guaranteed. It only lasts until the next time you stimulate your addictive behavior. Eventually, you'll feel the void of consumption pulling you farther from God. Shame will expose your filthy little time wasters.

What then? Treat yourself to the same wisdom they share with people addicted to actual pornographic images. Stop making excuses. Stop listening to modern morality that claims you can continue negative actions without continuing negative reactions. Stop tolerating a reward system for bad behavior. Stop feeling guilty...God isn't mad at you. He knows your only human. He knows your weaknesses. He also knows you were created in His image and can do all things through Him. We all crave some type of junk and give in to a form of porn. But we also have the God-given strength to confront our problem. We have God on our side who won't allow us to walk down paths of unrighteousness loaded down by shame any longer. Start a good habit of communicating more with God to replace the poor habits you've so freely practiced.

He's just a conversation away.

He's compassion.

He's affluent.

He's nourishment for the soul.

Change Your View

2009-04-08T14:26:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I am still thinking about yesterdays post. As a writer, this is not uncommon. I obsess over every single word I type. Then, I read, re-read, and read them again until the flow of my sentence is etched into my mind...all so I can rewrite it just one more time. Once I publish a post, I always go back a few times to edit my editing, until finally, I write something else and become excessively preoccupied with it. So the thinking about the actual post isn't what has my mind captivated. It is the subject of the post that's bothering me. Okay, not so much bothering, as, it's left me wanting to say more. Me? Wanting to say more? Shocker I know. But I really wanted to touch on the 'view' aspect again.

What I left out of my 'Thanking Dreams' post was that after I watched that show, I caught another episode the next night. Again, there was a couple who wanted nothing more than a place with a fantastic view. Only this time, when they were weighing their options and drooling over the custom-tiled, walk-in shower with modern fixtures and admiring the huge floor plan, the husband said something that stuck with me. He said, "You can change a house, but you can't change the view." And they got the house with a view! Once again I was yelling at a screen to people I don't know, "YES!! I love that house! I knew that's the one you should get!" Sure they heard and accepted my congratulatory cheers. And the happy ending I wanted so desperately for the initial couple, came when it showed the new couple eating breakfast from their towering balcony while they watched the ocean sway back and forth in front of an amazing sunrise.

"You can change a house, but you can't change the view." I think this is true for people as well. We can cosmetically change our appearance, but we are still rooted in the same mindset. We can plaster on a fake smile, when in reality we don't even remember what a sincere one feels like. We can lose weight, pump up our muscles, get hair implants, breast implants, lip implants, butt implants (I really want that one), but we are really only inflating our deep fear that we are not enough. That we will never find our 'house with a view'. So we settle for what looks more appealing in the moment.

I've done that. I daydream about a nose job and chin-chisel all the time. It would be awesome to see a picture of myself I didn't absolutely hate. But it would be even better if I could look at myself, just the way I am, and love what I see. Love what God uniquely gave me. If we could look at ourselves, and instead of seeing the lust, constant desire for more, and see past our addictions, we could see the power, love, and sound minds we already posses. We accessorize ourselves with shame, fear, hurt, anger, and even misplaced love, instead of the grace of God. If we only see our faults and pain, we can't see anything else. We have to get out of our current situation in order to see what God and life have to offer. Turn away from our distractions and look for the picture window that overlooks our faults and only sees our beauty.

Don't settle for the house with closet space, go for the house with a view! Don't be content living your life just like you always have, doing the same things, saying the same words and seeing yourself through the same mirrors. Surround yourself with people who see you as the gem God created you to be. See yourself from their view...from your maker's original blueprints and not the ones you've revised to make room for all your mental and emotional junk.

Thanking Dreams

2009-04-07T14:18:00.000-07:00

I was watching HGTV the other night, and a couple on the show was looking for a house with an ocean front view. The places they saw had great indoor spaces with tons of space, open floor plans, enough guest rooms, but no significant view. No breathtaking glimpse of the glorious ocean nearby. Now, they wanted a place with a view. That was their only requirement. A home for relaxation. A home where they could enjoy the sounds of waves and see the sun reflect off the shimmering water. Then, they finally saw a place with spectacular balconies, offering picturesque views of the waterfront and surrounding nature. But when they got inside they didn't see all the indoor amenities the other homes offered. Now they were second guessing their dream of outdoor luxury to consider closet space.

Ocean front access, the sounds of water dancing across the pristine beach, huge upper and lower balconies to partake in the wondrous scenery of trees swaying in the wind, or an extra room with a closet for Aunt Gerdie when she comes to visit once a year. Tough choice, eh? Well guess what they chose? The most expensive home with a bathroom for every bedroom and a kitchen with an island. They could have had a view of an actual island, but they chose counter space and toilets over their dream of a home with a view. I was outraged! I yelled at the TV, to people who couldn't appreciate the passion in my voice, "Listen to the ocean!! How can you give up the sounds of the ocean!?" But they did. The show ended with them in their new living room, sitting on the couch with some family, Aunt Gerdie no doubt, and everyone was just sitting there eating food served off their majestic island. No, not the real kind, but the kind with drawers and granite counter tops. I didn't understand how they could have given up so easily on their only dream of a house with a view.

I was stumped, pathetic I know to contemplate the choices of complete strangers who were on a TV show, but the decision really made me wonder what dreams I've quickly given up because something else seemed grand in comparison. I see the house the couple chose as just more toilets to clean and more money spent on junk to cram in all those closets. They saw it as a chance to spread their wings and their hospitality. But at the end of the day, after the guests leave and all the extra rooms are cleaned, their left with a view of the TV and the sounds of announcers, broadcasters, and actors, filling the minds of their already cluttered lives. I don't want to do that; give up one dream because I was taunted by another. I don't want to be sitting, with my new dream in hand, still wondering if my old dream is out there.

So I turned off the TV, got up, and sat down in front of my own view from the large windows in my living room. I scanned the horizon and saw birds swooping down into the trees and a plane flying across the pale Royal sky. I heard leaves rustle in the wind and felt the sun warm my skin. To have a view. This was my dream too. So why do I sit and enjoy its beauty less each day? Why do I close the shades at sunset when the lowering sun glides through my windows and illuminates the whole apartment? Because it puts a glare on the TV, that's why. What a way to enjoy my tiny dream come true. When my next dream forms, how will I thank it for coming to me? How do we thank our dreams? By enjoying them. By living them each day and not forgetting what life was like when we only had the dream, of our dream.

Meeting Paul Young

2009-04-02T22:08:00.000-07:00

I just got home from meeting Paul Young, author of The Shack. I admit, I was so excited for the opportunity to meet him that I couldn't think of a thing to say or a single question to ask. He gave me a big hug when I approached him, then I just stood there, staring while he signed my book. I was in the presence of greatness. He's a man who's inspired millions to see God in a new, amazing way. His words, along with God's grace, have healed countless hurting souls. He is humble, down to earth, and a genuinely nice guy who talked about his grandchildren and spoke blessings over everyone he met. After a second, God-filled hug, I happily posed while my friend took a picture, which I, in turn, neglected to take for her. I was still dumbfounded. I wanted to soak up every millisecond of that moment, taking a chance that just a taste of his anointing might rub off on me.

After my face-to-face meeting, I had to sit down and regain my thoughts, which untimingly came up with a flood of questions and comments for my favorite author. Of course. Isn't that how it always works? I was reflecting on the opportunity I'd just had and wanted to see what he wrote in my copy of The Shack. I picked up my friends book by mistake and read his words to her. I assumed my inscription would say the same thing so I didn't bother looking right away. But when I did, his words jumped off the page and into my heart. The words in the front cover of my copy were different from my friends and read: 'Laura, Grace...whispers of relentless affection...singing your name!' How perfect considering grace has been the one word God has been speaking to me over and over the past several months. Also, like the name of this blog, Accessorized With Grace, is the title of the latest book I'm writing. I didn't even tell him I was a writer, let alone that I was writing a book about grace, so I know God speaks volumes, literally, through Paul Young's willing heart. And even though he probably has three or so phrases that he shuffles and uses on every book he signs, his pen scribed the one's that meant the most to me...and isn't it just like God to take every opportunity to show us that He cares about every aspect of our lives...celebrity encounters and all!

Quiet Change

2009-04-01T00:00:00.000-07:00

It happened slowly. It was so sudden. It was subtle. I can't believe how obvious it was. I cannot fathom the complexity of it's simplicity. But in it, I changed. I would say it was the change itself I recognized first, but it was the quiet. The quiet led me to the sonic chaos I now face. I always loved sound. Any sound. Anything to create noise in the dooming silence that surrounded my core. Music blaring. Drums beating. I hated the quiet; the stillness; being left alone with my own thoughts. I never would have believed the quiet would reveal its strength to me. Not me. Not a woman so full of loudness.

I'd used the volume of my noise as a drug since childhood, and the drug as a way to shout over the noise of my loudness. It sounds absurd. But that is what happens when you abuse a drug like distraction, it diverts you from the silence and makes you forget your emotions. But, today, today I remembered mine. They trampled very quietly back into my core and broke the loudness. My emotions told on me. They told myself that I could feel again. That I should feel again. And that is how I recognized it. In the quiet, for the first time in a decade, I sat, in silence, and just breathed in. I inhaled the feeling of pain. Then I exhaled the numbness I'd been addicted to for so long. I inhaled sadness. Then again I took in the deep, penetrating breathe of pain. And I sat. I just sat. In the silence I sat and never once tried to tune out the feelings with music or the TV or my own voice blabbing on about insignificant tales to hush the hurt warming my frost bitten interior. And that is when I knew I'd changed...when I welcomed the sweet sounds of nothingness.

I don't know how long I just sat there, feeling every emotion that had led me to this day. It wasn't long enough, however long it was, because with every breath came the same sensations of loss, deep sorrow, fear and pain. Then, as if in rhythm with my tearing heart, out came the chaotic cries of my brokenness, accompanied by cascading tears beating on my cheeks like drumsticks to a cymbal. My heart kicked as if it had been jump started. I curled into a ball, holding my chest with my shaking hands as my body rocked back and forth until I went limp, sending me dead-like to the floor. And I wished I had died. That my heart had exploded and I was lying there waiting to face the judgement of God instead of facing my new life. I didn't know how to do it. How to be this person. How to live as this new woman who allowed feelings to dwell within her and not fight against the ache she felt in every moment. I didn't know how to continue being still, in God's presence, and just feel the weight of emotion come upon me. I preferred the numbness. The noise. The deafening pitch that covered my cries.

But I had changed. I let silence in and peace overpowered the pollution. I turned on the voice of God and rested in his warmth as the bitter cold of my past was awakened. My emotions became a strength and diversion was no longer the substance I craved. And this, this is where it all began.

I Know That He Knows

2009-03-31T01:10:00.000-07:00

guilt overpowers me
can't reach for God's hand of safety
afraid if He gazes into my eyes
He'll see my heart of confusion and lies
I know that He knows
I know that He sees
I know He doesn't care
how far I followed sin
He's there to forgive
this war raging within

bathing in lust
clothed in transgression
He already knows
how far I've jumped in
the waters of temptation
drowning my soul
I reach for His hand
but always let go
I know that He knows
I know that He sees
this guilt that I carry
is killing me

He sits & He waits
for me to rest on His knee
like the child I once was
as I'm created to be
He tells me He knows
He says that He sees
but He doesn't care
He forgave long ago
I reach out with my life
and take hold of His word
I was forgiven
I was washed clean
I breath in His compassion
no longer suffocating

I know that He knows
I know that He sees
I know He doesn't care
the past is behind me
I know He knows
I know He sees
He doesn't care
how long it took
He welcomes me back
with the same tender look
He's glad that I know
glad that I see
I can always come back
and drink of His mercy

Grace

2009-03-30T20:45:00.000-07:00

I cannot say I understand all there is to know about Grace, but I have learned that I would not be here if it weren't for God's grace over my life and health. Grace has nothing to do with our deeds or earned worth or proved goodness, it is simply a gift from God. Grace is an 'enabling power sufficient for progression. God's sovereign favour for humankind'. Grace is also defined as 'an indispensable gift from God for development, improvement, and character expansion. Without God's grace, there are certain limitations, weaknesses, flaws, impurities, and faults humankind cannot overcome'. When God first started talking to me about grace I was all, "Okay God, I appreciate the challenge you've offered to develop and improve upon myself, but I DO NOT need anymore character at this time, thank-ya-very-much! I've been called a character my whole life and I certainly don't need one more issue of health to overcome as a way of expanding my horizons!" But despite my protests and prayers, I did experience another pain to overcome; a hurt so profound it became hard to breath. A hurt God knew was coming.

God knew I would lose my dream of ever getting pregnant. But He also knew I would trust in Him enough to come out on the other side of sickness and thank Him for his gift of grace. He didn't let it happen because He couldn't stop it. He didn't watch me struggle because He didn't want to prevent it. I believe that when they cut into my stomach, they cut into His heart. When my husband held me in his arms, God held us both in His. When I wept, God wept. And when I finally found peace in all that occurred, it was God who removed the chaos of emotions and provided rest for my soul. He did not in any way just sit back and watch me suffer. He let me live. He let me live my human life in my human body and experience human things.

I cannot blame God for letting me be the very thing He created me to be. If I wanted Him to take away every bad thing that could possibly go wrong in my life He would have to take away all the good things too. I would have to hand over my laughter and my grand love for life and my family. I would have to stop trusting in God because I would no longer need to trust in Him. I would no longer need Him. I would no longer need life. Because life, without actually living it, is death. And no one needs faith once they are already dead. I love that God is the kind of friend who believes in me. He trusted in me enough to go into battle and fight, knowing that He was with me the whole time. He knew my strength. He knew my passion. He knew me. He knew me better than I do, which isn't saying much because I admit I change so often I can't even keep up with my ever changing likes and nuances. But God can. I need Him. I need His goodness and His protection and His undeserving grace. I like needing Him. I want to need Him.

Just have to say it...

2007-04-16T14:12:00.000-07:00

Lying next to my husband, being face to face with his handsome, intoxicating features, that is my favorite thing. Watching his eyes slowly close shut and his full lips separate as he quietly inhales through his mouth in a drifting, peaceful sleep. I am blessed to be at his side, clothed only by his lingering affections and prayer. I am in love, deeply, completely. I want to talk and laugh just a little longer under the glow of land stars sneaking through our window. I want to caress his chest and feel his beating heart as it keeps time with my own. But I do not want to wake my lover, so I silently speak blessings over him and turn to my side, knowing his frame will instinctively turn into mine, covering my unveiled figure with his own, submerging me in his arms of strength and tenderness. I want to breathe-in his fragrant being and saturate my soul with his. But to do so would be like pricking my own two fingers, rubbing them together and making a blood covenant with myself, as we are already one. Our chests rising and falling together, our bodies meshed in God’s gift of forever. I whisper into the harmony of night, “I love you,” for my darling is asleep and cannot hear my confession. I cry out to the angels, to God, to my past, to the future. I make my declaration to the whole earth, to the universe, that they may simply hear and know. I just had to say it. I love this man.

Welcome Me

2007-04-12T18:32:00.000-07:00

The earth’s breath galloped into my living room beneath the metal front door and cantered its way down the chimney, swirling around the room like a horse beckoning me to take it for a ride. The breeze rushed across my toes and nudged me toward the window where a hawk harnessed the wind and soared upon it’s back. Leaves corralled together on the limbs of the grand tree that stood below my balcony, summoning me with their restless sway to join in their motion.

As I pulled on the chilled door handle a cool gust pushed it’s way in, zigzagging in figure eights around my cheeks and neck. I wished I’d grabbed a jacket, but somehow, the stir of the air caressing my skin and playfully trotting along every hair on my arms was exhilarating- as if my soul had been awakened for the first time in weeks.

I saw the hawk again. His feathers racing the very current on which they took flight. He steered downward to the waving leaves and reined a branch with his talons seeking rest. As he basked briefly, a gentle flurry dashed across his beak and he turned in my direction, as if he too, had been renewed by this moment.

The hairs on my head hurdled the sweet breath as it wrapped me in a ribbon of refreshment and whispered, “Welcome to spring. May you feel my tender tug on your heart, pushing you onward through another season.” So welcome spring. Welcome change. Welcome me.

Politically Incorrect

2007-02-19T17:20:00.000-08:00

A fog of stupidity has smothered the part of our brain that holds common sense. A steamy mist of delusion has covered all reason. We've let a cloud of misguided beliefs settle over our society, yet no ones willing to blow enough of their own smoke to push the looming blob of ignorance away. Well, my lungs are full of fresh carbon dioxide just waiting to be exhaled, to create a whirlwind that removes any residue of hatred, racism, or our fear of offending everyone and anyone if we have an opinion contrary to theirs. So I'll start by blowing out this simple question: Since when has being honest become something we must apologize for? Since when has standing up for ourselves become something we can only do as long as we don't go against someone else’s stand. We can't reject a specific group of people yet they can reject us. We allow our own opinions and beliefs to be scrutinized, but we are afraid to scrutinize the beliefs and opinions of others. We have to watch our mouths, bite our tongues, coddle the sensitivities of every minority group regardless of their race, age, sexual orientation, religious beliefs or unbelief’s, but we aren't allowed to be sensitive about our own issues, beliefs or social stands.

How is this possible? This is America. This is the year 2007. How have we allowed ourselves to be so infected with fear? The fear that we’re going to hurt someone’s feelings. The fear that we no longer have the right to free speech. The fear that we won’t be liked. What do we care? We’re American. No one likes us anyway. So why are we so afraid of words. Beautiful, powerful words. Obviously we care about words or they wouldn't make or break so many careers today. But in the end, they are still just words. They are still just someone’s opinion. Someone’s belief. Someone’s take on life. So why do we treat them like they must be ours too? Can't we stand on our own truths, building a solid foundation for ourselves and leave everyone else’s shaky platform alone? If we focus our energies and passions on others, we too will be left standing on a weak foundation. And if we're all firmly believing from a delicate stance, then whose standing on a firm belief?

Chap Stick Addict

2006-12-26T12:32:00.000-08:00

It’s like crack-cocaine for the lips that darn tube of Chap Stick. I don’t want it. In fact I hate it. I hate needing it. But every time I stop using it, my lips get all cracked and dry and cry out for the tingle of Dimethicone 2% and Octinoxate7.5%. They crave the soft stick of moisture to spread itself upon their deep caverns of longing. To submerge themselves in SPF 20 protectant and a light, silky layer of candy coated wax. Nothing screams, soothing, like a dab of Propolis to my aching kissers.

What is this miracle balm I speak of you ask, why it’s a wax-like substance made from flammable, plant secretions, yes, I said secretions, that are used in varnishes, printing inks and plastics, that’s collected by honeybees from tree buds then used as a cement, yes, I said cement, to seal cracks in a hive, or in this case, my chapped smile-bearers. Cement? Well, there ya go. No wonder I can’t get enough of it. Who doesn't enjoy spreading a urine based, rock like substance directly to their lips? I know I do. My love-transferrers long for it, to be transformed from a pale, dull shade of peach to a shiny hue of rose. They get excited when my hands reach for the smooth barrel of refreshing toxic waste and position themselves in a pout, ready for just one more hit off their precious cylinder. The funny thing is, there’s a clear warning on the back that says you should stop use if irritation occurs. Well, I’m irritated. Irritated at my secret-whisperer’s dependency on a chemical blob of lies.

Listen up Crack-Stick, I do not need you. I do not want you. But oh how I desire your touch. I cannot stop using you. I carry you everywhere I go, tucking you silently in my pocket, my purse, my drawer, my nightstand, hidden behind my keyboard, and yes, even in the cushions of my couch. I am trapped by your relief giving power. Weak to the way you make me forget about my pain. I try to quit you, but you keep coming back to me disguised as a colorant or gloss. You even mix yourself with flavors of cherry, mint and vanilla to trick my lips into believing they've moved on. But they haven’t. They will always need you. They will always pucker at your lure. I wipe you off, but the agony always advances, louder, dryer, more chapped than the application before. Oh, cursed tube, I do not want you. I hate you. Come to me once more.

CHRISTmas What??

2006-12-15T12:39:00.000-08:00

What is it about Jesus' birthday that gets us so wound up? We spend the weeks prior to His big day all frantic about whether or not everyone we know and have known for the past two decades gets a reminder card about His party. But I'm pretty sure everyone already knows because stores start reminding us in September and everywhere we look there are clowns dressed up in their red and white outfits and snowmen saluting the babe from the front lawn. Yeah, I'm pretty sure even those who don't get a reminder card that says you're thinking of them will be able to celebrate His birthday just fine without it. So why do we worry so much about the preparations and gifts and food. I doubt a kid born in a barn is concerned with the placement of your tall green birthday shrine or the arrangement of the lights and ornaments you hang on it. I bet He'd be happy you remembered His birthday at all. You did remember Jesus' birthday right?

The Big 2-8

2006-12-14T10:54:00.000-08:00

Okay, so 28 isn't 30, but it certainly isn't 20 and definitely isn't 16. I turn 28 in a couple of weeks and all I can think is, "Thank God". I love getting older. Every addition of a year brings a new confidence; a new discovery about myself or a fresh attitude that I think is quite lovely. I know some of you well beyond my age are probably thinkin', "Gosh, you're going on about your age and you're not even 30 yet? Come on, wait til' you've lived a little before you go on about how great your life is or isn't. How dare you talk about how old 28 seems when you're still a baby." You might not talk exactly like that, but the general thoughts are the same. I know because I've heard it before. Only I'm honestly not complaining about my age by saying I'm NOT complaining about my age.

I sincerely enjoy every year better than the one before. What I gain in a number is always complimented with a tasty bit of awakening in my spirit. I would love to find the person who said high school was supposed to be the best years of our lives and just laugh at them. Well, that wouldn't be nice, I'd probably feel sorry for them first, then laugh behind their back like a good girl. You couldn't get me to go back to those awkward teenage years even if I could bring my body back with me. I was confused, angry, hormonally dysfunctional, and plain ol' unhappy. No way would I go back to those chemically unbalanced years just to erase some embarrassments. Those moments of humiliation made me who I am today and I really like me. The cloudiness of confusion had been cleared with purpose and now when I get angry, I get angry. I don't try to hold it in and become resentful or bitter. I put it out there, whether there's an immediate solution or not. At least there's an immediate release of tension I can let go of so I have a free hand to hold on to something else, like hope and calmness and yes, even tears. Sometimes embracing those little, sometimes very large, eye droppings, (because lets face it, that's what crying is, releasing all those toxic, crummy feelings and emotions through the most sanitary hole possible) is the most freeing sensation in moments of despair.

As far as hormonally dysfunctional, well, I would have to say that I haven't found balance in that area yet, but God is doin' His thing and I'm okay with that...now anyway. At first I struggled with not having everything I wanted when I wanted it. I desperately wanted to have children by now, but I was following my time frame, not God's. He knows the desires of my heart, hello, He gave em' to me, but He also knows a gazillion other things I don't so I've stopped trying to make my life happen and just let it happen. No historical time lines to follow, no socially acceptable time frames to oblige by because this is my life, despite how far I have or have not come. I am not trying to make history or secure some 'Citizens with Reasonable Accomplishment Plans' medal because that would mean crap (literally, I'd be trying to get a C.R.A.P. award). I just want to live my life, one great year at a time, and be in love with the choices I make and the people I make them with along the way. I don't want to live a life of idolatry, making God out to suit me and my beliefs. I just want to live out His best life for me. If I believe I have to have so many children within so many years and by a certain age and so many books published by certain companies by a certain date then I am only as happy as my accomplishments. Not that we can't set goals, we just can't live our life according to them alone, as if they are Holy, and anything less would be unacceptable. If we live like that, then happiness becomes a concept.

It is not enough for me to know the concept of happiness, to know how to have peace and become fulfilled. I want, I must, experience it for myself. I must be happy, be at peace, and be fulfilled. I will let God lead me to the promises of His word and surround me with His peace and joy and love. I will not reject the life God gave me or waste it away with complacency or misery or regret or bitterness. I will genuinely live. I will not have a concept or a theory. I will simply have.

Bowl O' Butter Anyone?

2006-11-28T11:21:00.000-08:00

So I'm eating at a buffet with my family and on the dessert cart I scooped up what I thought was vanilla mouse and piled it on my plate. Next to it was a bowl of whipped cream, so I shoveled on some of that too. When I got back to my seat I sat down, delighted about the french vanilla goodness I was about to partake, and proceeded to spoon it into my mouth when ...ugh... yuck... BUTTER!! I had eaten a mouthful of butter! Butter? That is so nasty. Who puts a vat of butter on a buffet? Are we so fat as Americans that we now have to saturate our butter-filled cookies and butter-filled cakes and butter-filled pies with even more butter? Or are we now consuming it, with no apology, by the heaping spoonful. And the whipped cream I found next to the bowl of butter? Are we spreading it on top and eating it like a pudding parfait??? Who are these people? Who's eating butter by the bowl? Who said that was okay? Sanity people, you should consume some sanity.

2006-11-28T11:13:00.000-08:00

My dreams are my biggest jewel!
~LauraLo

To Truly See

2006-11-27T13:50:00.000-08:00

To sit
To stare at your splendor
To marvel at burnt-orange, cherry-red,
canary-yellow and deep sage-green limbs
waving at me from their rooted posts
To see them standing guard
protecting
shading
To look upon their expanse into the sky
where they meet up with pale-blue
laced with billowy cotton fields
To truly see
To set my gaze on the spread of the horizon
is to see the hand of God

Raging Whore Moans

2006-11-09T09:09:00.000-08:00

I lay here like a whore every morning I come to this job. I moan about it in the shower. I moan about it while I skip breakfast. I moan about it during the entire commute. Yet I’m the one who gives a piece of myself away each day while they leave the money on the nightstand. I spread my legs for them willingly so I can fatten up my bank account only to purge it later on a nice mani and pedi to go with my new shoes and fancy car to match my luxury home. I’m whoring my life away for a dream. The American Dream. But what idiot American came up with this nightmare? It wasn’t me. This isn’t my dream; to wake up each day and go to some corporate desk job for ten hours so I can be too exhausted and stressed by the time I leave to enjoy my dream world.

This dream is raping my soul…only it’s not, because I’m giving it away. I spread my legs one last time while you eat me out of everything I have left: my hope, my freedom. May it leave a sour taste in your mouth knowing I have nothing left. There will be no more feasting off my failure. When in reality I failed to fail. I keep succeeding at the same thing, over and over and over, like a headboard beating against the wall, and over again. I succeed at dangling my life from a cage unable to reach reality. I succeed at stripping off my dreams one by one until I stand, naked, swaying to the rhythm of a time clock, unable to see my destiny. That is, if I have one left. Desperate to clothe myself with purpose and only able to grasp rage. Raging at the whore I moan about becoming. Raging at failed dreams. Raging at fulfilled dreams with no complacency. But mostly raging at me. I beg you Lord, unlock this whore house I’ve built and clothe me in robes of righteousness. Purify my life. Freedom God, I’m raging for freedom.

2006-11-08T19:53:00.000-08:00

Walk me down the isle of life and give me away to my dreams~LauraLo