“What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, you cannot say, or guess, for you know only a heap of broken images, where the sun beats, and the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, and the dry stone no sound of water” – TS Eliot
its march 1st.
one month to go.
and what have i been DOING about lent.
i was reading about my friend not giving up food for lent, because she has struggled with an eating disorder, and i get that.
i gave up facebook cause i knew it took up too much time. and i went to it to write a message to someone who i hadn’t been able to get in touch with otherwise and then i went back to it cause there was a quote on a page i needed
oh how slippery the slope of giving something up and then slowly letting it creep back in with excuses that seem to nulllify what you are trying to do
and as i write those last words i realize i’ve got it all wrong. ‘what YOU are trying to do’
and i realize that in my own strength, this giving up, this changing of focus, can NOT be done. i’ll fail, i’ll fall, i’ll be tempted.
its only in HIS STRENGTH and reliance and eyes on him and everything in my hands surrendered that I can even hope to make this journey. and its supposed to be about learning more of him and less of me anyway.
so the journey continues. i don’t think i’ll ‘get it right’ but trying continues…journeying, surrendering, continues
Joining up with Lisa-Jo for Five Minute Friday. She says, ” why not take 5 minutes and see what comes out: not a perfect post, not a profound post, just five minutes of focused writing. So now on Fridays a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write without worrying if it’s just right gather to share what five minutes buys them. Just five minutes. Your words. This shared feast.”
If you want to participate, visit the link below, check out the other entries that are on the subject of the week, and remember to comment on the links before and after yours. You’ll get to read some awesome blogs of what flows when we’re just given five minutes to focus on one subject!
sometimes i feel so ordinary, plain even. i mean i look around and see all these other people around me tht seem to have such fabulous lives, such fabulous stories, such fabulous careers. i’m not where i thought i’d be in this life after 30 and perhaps that’s why i see my story or myself as just oridinary.
however i’ve never been called ordinary. no. that isn’t a word that others would use for me. i’ve heard wierd, strange, beautiful, funfilled, hilarious, good hearted, tender, etc. but never ordinary.
its so interesting how my eyes see me as something that has never been spoken into my heart and yet often do i believe the lies that internally i’ve told myself, rather then perhaps the truths as i hear and discern them from the Lord and others whom I trust.
ordinary isn’t something that i think most would desire to be. to me ordinary seems to just be someone who is there, who does’t make much of a mark, who simply lives day to day without a whole lot going out of order and things pretty much falling into place. i guess there is room for the unexpected, but its never welcomed.
and i think the thing that most bothers me about ordinary is the part where i think it means not making much of a mark. at the moment i’m struggling with why i’m here…what has God called me to. and i’m finding contentment where I am, after much struggle. and yet, i feel there is so much more that i could be a part of, so much more of who I could be. and i wonder…what is holding me back. and the answer that jumps out…fear.
fear keeps me from being more than ordinary…in my own mind and perhaps in reality too. this fear of what have i got to offer, what have i to share, what have i to do…keeps me from taking that step. and to think, my One Word is ‘BRAVE’. time to get some brave on…and start looking for ways to step out of ordinary, to start stepping on and over those fears….
the thing about imperfect prose is that they are imperfect. sometimes the desire for perfection keeps me from throwing my words out there, as raw and real and unrefined as they are. and so for now, i strive to write.
for me words are soul food. soul food is known as southern food, rich, satisfying and sometimes for special occasions.
i love words. i have from an early age. i have consumed them desperately like a soul drowning longs for a life preserver. and yet i have found, that sometimes words are too much for me. I carry them long and hard within me…and they don’t satisfy or comfort, but rather cause a bit of heartburn.
i am a sensitive person. I am an intuitive person. as such, i often come away from words, taking the journey with me, each word going down deep into me, shaping a bit of my thinking, the way my heart burns for issues, a little bit of learning to see myself in a new light.
but the food i want to stay with me is the comforting food, the uplifting lilting voices. the words that often stick with me are the wounded ones, the ones that speak words that my voice seems unable to speak or perhaps speak of journeys i can’t even begin to fathom.
and so like feasting on a good ole southern meal, there is decadence and such amazing flavour and my tummy gets full, but as I linger on that food and eat just a bite more, i sense my body rebelling and the heartburn begins. i believe the indulgence was worth it. but perhaps more self awareness of when i’m really full would be best. the same with my intake of words…i need to step away from them sometimes, feel the silence envelope me, work through those words that are causing such discontent within me.
only then perhaps it will be safe again to return to the heart quickening consumption of these words.