One Word (?) and the Unexpected

From December 1 - 25, 2015 I've been a part of a writing project called 25 Days for Peace. It was set up by a person I barely knew and I decided ok lets plunge. I did it. I wrote or contributed something those past 25 days. I used to be (and still am) a person who will start something and then let it go. This though IS something other.

For the past year and a half I have been under construction. It's been a tearing down of sorts. Nicaragua is still my heart. And since then many, many wild things has happened. Many too many in fact. But isn't that the way God works. He works in the small ordinary ways to the big, blazing in the sky ways.

Instead of doing a resolution this year I am picking a word. I did it last year and was intentional in the fact that I was aware of the word and looking back I can see how the word has been used. I did not actively pursue it but it became a choice. The word was love. This last year has been one of love. Not the fuzzy, comforting kind but the kind that dares you to give more than you have and to connect with people. As a confessed introvert and fear of attachment girl was a challenge. Yet. When I chose loving, connecting...risking it was a pleasant surprise. I prayed for God to show me love. I did not announce it to anyone because I would (in my head) be considered crazy. This year though for 2016 the word is *voice*. I have considered others...bravery, freedom, risking but what I keep coming back to is voice. I've not written Nicaragua Calling for a year and a half because I lacked confidence in the said voice. But...after the 25 day challenge I found it returning. Risking. Last night I posted something on Facebook about spiritual abuse. I was scared to say anything about the topic because of my past. Instead though I knew I had to put my heart out there. So I did it.


I have 3 entries from 2014 that I did not publish. I know why. I was afraid. Afraid to risk. Afraid to speak. Afraid to voice. Today? I will speak, I will risk, I will voice. God is like that. Healing...risking, loving. I read Psalm 4 this morning. He is the Glory and the Lifter of my head...giving me the wonderful gift of using my voice.

He will cover

Wings. Birds. Life from death.

trembling naked
me a child
hurting pain
that was hidden in the inner
part

Wings, Birds. His life for my death.

heal me
from this ugly
that mutes my voice
deadens my
soul

Wings, Birds. His life for my life.

hindsight blinded
into an early
coma that was
not my choice
until

Wings, Birds. His life for my breath. His life for my voice.

Broken Pieces

I am shy to even mention this. To even note what God does in my life. (But isn't it really His life?)
With healing comes questions. I have been meditating on Psalm 139. It says that He knew us before we were born. He knows all of our days...and that I cannot escape His Spirit. Never can I flee from Him. Never!
So I have been thinking on this. And I am angry. But it is a detached, dejected, wimpering little girl...angry. And I dared to voice it to my Father.
While talking with a friend yesterday we were talking about brokeness and a vase. (reminds me a bit of the potter and the clay in Isaiah 64) She dared to say that all the pieces of my life have been smashed. Shattered. In the back of my head I am saying to myself- my pieces so small I don't know if even I can find them. I then tell her about the general patching of broken vases with gold so that they are made stronger. More precious because of the cracks being filled with gold. We talk a bit more on the subject and she exclaims OH...I see this! YOU ARE A BEAUTIFUL GOLDEN VASE!!!!!! I am like huh what? She says yes those tiny pieces that were broken and that don't really fit are surrounded and put together with gold.
My God sees me as this...MY God sees me as this...My GOD!!!!!

And during this conversation my phone vibrates and I choose to ignore it.
On my way home a friend sent me a random text at the exact time my friend and I are discussing this.
And the text is of the now infamous Kitsukuroi..to repair with Gold...

And to put the proper Christian spin on it. I am bought with His blood. Spotless. BLAMELESS. How much more precious (and I mean this with all my heart) is that which was bought by the Lamb. I am humbled that despite when I air the brokeness His love pours through...