Alabaster Box

Enough is Enough, it Really is

2018-10-26T12:19:00.001-04:00

You say I'm not enough because I don't chase a dream you have for me. I don't work a 9-5, have 2.5 kids, a little blue house with a white picket fence. Dreams are different. When I go to bed, I hope for all of our needs to be met. I don't necessarily dream of big money, adventures, or the best of things. Nothing is promised, so having our needs met daily is a BIG deal...and to some, basic life needs are a dream.

I'm not enough because I am only a homemaker; I'm not "educated" or "skilled." Or maybe I don't meet your level of motherhood because I have a career; I don't "invest" in my children. What you don't see is the grind, the dedication, all the cuddles, kisses, and hugs that go into my days. You don't see the work it takes to balance everything so I can make my home happy, safe, and full of our basic needs.

I don't have money to frivolously spend. You may not see me with brand new name brand clothing or lots of bling. You may see one barely drivable car and one reliable car. My home will not win any prizes for it's landscaping. What you will get is love, a place to sit while telling me your heartbreak, shared laughter, a ride when your car is broken down, food to fill your belly. Money will not give or get you those things.

I'm damaged. Confused. Searching myself while looking for the Creator of my being. I am just like you, except I don't hide behind the propaganda of what or who one should be. You're not a bad person because you hide. You are a scared person. Find out who you are. Own it. Tell it. You do not need to be ashamed because the measurements taken by anyone in this world are false, an assessment of who they "see" or most likely their collapsed expectations of you.

He says I am enough to save, to love, worth His time taken to create me in all my imperfections. When an artist creates a piece, much is poured into it. The work is done bit by bit, stroke by stroke, line by line. Artwork is molded, put through the fire, looked over multiple times throughout the process. Sometimes it is even painted over. Despite the process, eventually the creator sits back and deems the work good. It is proudly displayed. And maybe not everyone can interpret what they see, but it matters not. Those who see you, love you.

For all those voices who have said I am not enough, I am absolved. I have been set free from your expectations, even some of my own. I was created to be a masterpiece in the end of all the workings. My mold may change shape, but it never becomes something totally different. My colors may change, but they are only getting brighter. My lines are becoming more defined. With each stroke of life's brush, I am changing. Yet, no matter what stage of work, I am enough. I'm enough when my colors run or dull. I'm enough when I cave on the wheel of life. I'm enough when I unravel. I am liberated from anyone's expectations.

Overcomer

2018-09-10T16:37:00.000-04:00

Her hair ablaze in the wind

Feet planted on the mountaintop

With her arm driven toward the sky

Her stance declares war

With the confident claim of victory to be made

First Impressions

2018-09-10T16:31:00.001-04:00

Bare feet propped up.
Poised with her cigarette in hand,
Sophisticated, yet relaxed.
She listens with depth
As he walks his way into her world.
Sipping his coffee, he fumbles through his words unsure of what to say;
His hands making gestures that make her laugh.
That's all she needs.

Daddy Dearest

2018-09-10T16:21:00.001-04:00

Pretty in pink with eyes of blue,
I'm your little girl.

To me those things you should not do,
For you have shattered my world.

I shouldn't have to tell you that,
I'm your little girl.

In you lap I have sat,
For you have shattered my world.

To you, happiness is what I gave,
I'm your little girl.

You tried to use me as your slave,
For you have shattered my world.

The worst I cannot mention now,
I'm your little girl.

I look at you and ask you how,
For you have shattered my world.

HIS

2017-04-24T22:46:00.000-04:00

i am my beloved's
and in his arms i rest

i am sealed and set apart
no more can sin infest

Cracked

2015-12-08T11:31:00.000-05:00

When whole, the teapot provides a warm drink that brings joy, comfort, and relaxation through the drink it pours out. When the teapot is not cared for and becomes broken, the performance and provisions change. Gluing the teapot back together is possible, but it no longer is the same nor will it ever be the same.

Even though you try to fix it, it still has small pieces missing between cracks. You know those small chipped off pieces that cannot be put back during the gluing process? Those pieces prove to be important. Without those pieces, the teapot is not whole anymore. That teapot is no longer the same.

The teapot wants to be full in order to fulfill its purpose. You want to keep filling it with expectations for it to be the same, but it isn't. What you pour in most likely will leak through small openings the glue could not strengthen. Therefore, what the teapot pours out may not have the same effect. It may not give you that same satisfaction you had once when it was whole. Even after carelessly breaking it, you expect it to GIVE you what YOU desire.

While you are angry and curse or blame the teapot, you have to think about who broke it. You broke it. You are angry because you want it to be the same. You want it to perform the same, give the same contents. It won't. We take care of things so they don't get broken. We value the things that bring us joy in order to appreciate them for years to come. The once fragile teapot is now more fragile than ever.

Despite its brokenness, you can learn to look at it through the eyes that once saw it in its original beauty. You can learn to accept its changes as part of your responsibility for breaking it. And you can learn from each crack to be gentle so as not to break it beyond repair. While your cracked teapot may not pour out the same drink you once loved, you can learn to value its new contents. That drink may have a different taste, but maybe you need to change the ingredients you put into it.

Hurt

2015-01-09T23:40:00.000-05:00

You forever carry a stamp on your heart.

Some days that stamp works like a gavel for justice,

and some days that same stamp feels like an electric prod.

Vagabond

2014-05-17T00:24:00.001-04:00

I walked into the station
so weak, so tattered, and torn.

It was time to check in,
someone had sounded the horn.

I turned to wave goodbye
to those who drove me here.

They stood so far away
refusing to be near.

With my baggage in hand,
someone called my name.

I looked up and He asked,
"Have you anything to claim?"

I laid upon that runner
my sin and all my fear.

He told me not to worry,
that all would disappear.

He handed me a ticket,
first class and just one way.

My heart was so relieved,
now I had somewhere to stay.

Welcome to the Kingdom
that once you did not see.

For this is where you'll live
for all eternity.

Help-less to the homeless on purpose

2013-07-24T00:38:00.003-04:00

A friend of mine shared a story with me tonight about a pastor who dressed himself as a homeless man for the introduction to his new congregation. Of the thousands, only three acknowledged him. Not one would spare him any change and he was asked to leave the front seating for a place in the back. He stood to his feet when his introduction was made. Shame fell upon the people.

As I thought about people's actions, I realized how many people I know who will not give an extra dollar from their wallets for a man on the side of the road for fear. The fear of being cheated out of the dollar because it may be spent on booze or cigarettes. It's shameful. My statement in response to my friend's story was this:

"I say you can never be cheated. Either you have fed someone physically or you have planted a seed of God's love and fed them spiritually. That person will think at one point, 'He (or she) gave me money without insult. Who loves like that?' Jesus does. Who cares about being cheated out of a dollar? We should be thinking about how we are investing that dollar."

When Cain denounced his position as his brother's keeper, he had in word (not just deed) contributed to his death. When we refuse people, we contribute maybe not to their death, but to the death of brotherhood, the death of humanity.

pitiful

2013-06-19T00:43:00.001-04:00

the shame is out for all to see
it's been made known what you've done to me
lower your head to hide your face
you lost your honor to much disgrace
a shriveled old man whose face is worn
you'd like to forget the day you were born
leave this place so we may forget
no longer remember your appalling debt
hurry now, don't make haste
run to the land of ruin and waste
feeling your sadness, unable to cry
in the dust, forever you'll lie

A Wanderer of Sorts

2013-06-19T00:40:00.000-04:00

Being called his "little gypsy," my husband has made me realize things about myself. As humans, we seem to strive to be the person we think we are meant to be. Typical, but I am led to wonder what molds our thinking to know who that person is or the role to be assumed in life. For many years, I have been laughed at, looked down on and been thought of as someone who was incapable of completing things.

Being thought of in those ways is hurtful. Incapable of completing something is not the problem. Life happens. As it does, I go for the ride. What is meant to be will be. Sometimes we fight; other times, we surrender. For where I roam, whether in body, mind, or spirit, I am in a new place. Each place is another experience. Each place is a step to completing my life. Therefore, as a bystander may see an individual task of my life incomplete, that task is just a small part of a whole. It is but a small step in my journey. This life is complete only in death. What is meant for me to do is completed not just in accomplishments approved of by society, but in the stumbles of reality. For anyone can regurgitate what society teaches, but not one can teach life.

So, slam on those brakes! What in the world is wrong with a bohemian view? So I don't think conventionally, live in a recycled/upcycled world, and enjoy the things given by God and sprung forth from the earth. What bad thing can be said for someone ready to give up their material things? Or for someone wanting to get his or her hands dirty with the rawness of life? I find seeing or hearing about the world through another's eyes and ears to be quite fascinating. All the more amazing when you are doing whatever it is yourself! Then, and only then, can you really tell the story.

If one choice leads to another, let it be. Some reason lies in the change of venue-a correction in the path, a stepping stone building up to another level, or possibly a tool to strengthen what has already been accomplished. Having thought hard, looked deep into myself, I have to say I am who I am. If that be the label of a gypsy, a boho, or non-conformist, I am glad. I can rejoice knowing I think for myself. God created freedom. God created love. God created the most beautiful of things. And God created me.

Time of Change

2013-05-08T23:35:00.001-04:00

As my original intention for this blog was to post only my written work or other forms of art that inspired me, I have decided that is too limited for me. Although my mind is constant in reason, it does not always produce by way of rhyme. I am hoping this change will allow me to open up and post when I am inspired so that I may pay forward what is given to me. Blessings and wishes of wellness to all!

2013-01-29T14:26:00.001-05:00

People are who they are...let them be.
Life takes us all on different routes for journeys specific to each.
If you are giving direction for someone else's path,
you will get lost on your own.

I Can Be

2012-10-27T21:00:00.002-04:00

You mock my feelings,
make common my words.
My heart is persecuted by your revelry.
Your insight to me is that of poor.
Truth that I am poor,
yet do not lack.
Only hunger
for that which is more.

Beautiful - MercyMe | With Lyrics

2012-10-27T20:53:00.001-04:00

Satiric Affliction-something that causes hurt but reveals the truth

2012-06-02T11:11:00.001-04:00

Remember the first time you saw that wounded bird? Didn't you think you could catch him? He was unable to fly away, his parents weren't able pick him up to take him home. So, it seemed easy. Yet the closer you got, the faster the little feathered mess would run. He was hurt, but too scared to realize you were trying to help him. You thought if only you could catch the bird, you could fix him. You would feed him, water him, make him well enough to fly away someday. You would help him to be free. But then reality set in. You could not catch him, nor could you fix him. Because your new found subject in distress was beyond your grasp, you felt sad, frustrated and worried. Then you realized, it's even more difficult when you are the bird and the one trying to fix him.

2012-05-29T12:29:00.000-04:00

Having no idea what to title my blog, I chose to temporarily use my own name. There is much to describe the person that sits behind that name, but no one description filled my heart with assurance of who I am. I've thought about what is important to me, what my purpose is. Finally, my mind took me to my favorite scripture about the woman and her alabaster box. (Matt 26:7)

Having said that, I neither think of myself as always self-giving or so much as good. What I have come to realize is that I want to be the alabaster box used for a purpose, filled with precious oil that overflows unto a world of hurting people. May I be a vessel of submission storing precious words for whom I serve.

Jennifer Knapp sings in her song, "From glass alabaster, she pours out the depth of her soul."

Things I Miss

2012-05-29T11:04:00.002-04:00

Mud pies
Fireflies
Hide and seek
Saw you peek
Sweet tea
Scraped knee
Ring around the rosies
Pocket full of posies
Ballet shoes
Rainbow hues
Monkey bars
Mason jars
Rhubarb pie
Swinging high
Cartwheels
Training wheels
Teas sets
Dandelion bracelets

The Fruit of Man

2012-05-29T11:02:00.001-04:00

Who is man
but a whistle in a barren land?
And what is time
but a forgotten whisper?
Yet what becomes of him
is a legacy.

When the wind carries a man's tune,
what song will another hear?
Shall the music of the heart
be on display for all to see?
Not just to be heard,
but to really be seen.

The music is in the
healing of the hands,
the feet that walk beside a stranger,
the jingle of spare change.
And the beat changes
every time the wind blows.

So much means so little
in one man's life.
Yet, the little means much.
The seed of one life
becomes the harvest of a people.

For every season is the turning of an age.
Through death, there is life
and sometimes even redemption.
For every man that dies,
a new creation becomes.

Love Like This

2012-05-22T00:40:00.000-04:00

Another hot night deep in the south. Air so thick, it sits like a weight on her shoulders. With a crack in her handheld mirror, she stares deep while brushing her frayed hair. Debbie sees beauty in that woman staring back. Throwing her head back, she dabs her neck with watered down cologne from the five and dime. Debbie is just as fancy as they come. Rouge on her cheeks, stain on her lips. She grins and winks at herself while slowly drawing from her cigarette. Already half drunk, she is ready to dance.

Debbie arrives at Timmy T's Lounge pretty as a picture. Just before walking in, she remembers how mama used to tell her to cross her legs and always be a lady. With that, she walks through the door. The bar room is filled with the smell of sweat and beer. Ah, yes, the sweet aroma of love. Well, the only kind of love she has ever known. But not tonight. Tonight is different; she is tired of being used.

A man walks up to Debbie asking her to dance. His ever so gentle demeanor quiets the room for a moment. Breaking the silence, a voice of mockery yells out, "Just-buy-me-dinner Debbie is getting what she deserves tonight!" The Gentleman raises his hand and says, "This is true. I will not borrow you to give you back to this world. I have already paid for you." He lifts her chin as a black tear rolls off her face staining her shoe. This Man doesn't care about where she has been. So, again, He asks her, "My love, will you dance with me?"

Jason Gray - Remind Me Who I Am (Official Music Video)

2012-05-21T17:55:00.001-04:00