I took a picture with my eyes.

I took a picture with my eyes today. Framed in my mind. Tucked away in my soul. It was my daddy.

Looking out of my windshield at him looking back at me with teary eyes.

"Love you Boog. More than you know........." He paused. "You're a part Of me."

He stood there with a water sprayer in his hand in preparation to wash off the dogwood blossoms from the hood of my jeep. They had fallen on it from the wind of the spring rain.

"The petals will stain if we don't get them off."

I had my hand on the handle of my open door in preparation to leave. Back to Nashville.

"I love you too daddy......You're a part of me too"

I often say that one of the best gifts my daddy gave me was his tears. One of many. Strong Men Cry. Mighty Men. Men who aren't afraid to feel. Courageous. He taught me not to fear my tears - and I don't. They come freely as of late.

I closed my door and watched him spray off the white blossoms. Giving attention to get every one - rarely giving attention to Anything except maybe where to shoot the buck or the turkey standing in front of him. Apple doesn't fall far......

I watched him in his gentle strength. He is not an overly successful business man - though he has run a business. He is not a world-renowned speaker - though he has Shepherded many churches. He is not a wealthy man -though his wisdom is among great riches. He is........a man.......of God. And in so many ways he has taught me to be a Godly woman. Failing so often along the way.

His deed was done and he looked at me through the windshield - spraying my face as close as he could between water and glass. And he smiled. And I smiled back. I brought my fingers to my lips and kissed them.....waving goodbye. He waved back. Still smiling.

I drive away knowing that there will come a day when my only memories of him will be the ones that I have taken with my eyes and framed in my mind and tucked away in my soul - much like my Heavenly Father. Not so far away.

Unable to touch Him or hug Him or even meet Him with my eyes. And I wonder if he would say much different that what I heard today. If God had a chance to speak words to my ears -

"I love you, Boog. More than you know.......

You are a part Of me."

And I am. And He is.

My daddy taught me that. A gift. One of many.

Returning to Life

It is morning. Early morning. Dark actually. Eyes open. Unable to move. Bound by wrappings so tightly that the body seems as one piece of flesh. Senses come to life. The smell of spices, myrrh, and aloe is overtaking. Breath......Deep Breath. And then a smile. Freedom.

This is it. Words spoken for centuries coming to pass. Life.After.Death. The air smells sweeter, the senses more alive, touch is - well, odd, actually. A bit numb. Hands.....Feet.....sore and aching. But it matters not - home is a few days away.

He rises....He Rises. Resurrection. What does it mean - really? It means this: The act of rising from the dead or returning to life. The state of one who has returned to life.

There is something about Returning. Renewal. Something about Newness. Freshness. Second chances. Second lives. This meaning (among so many others) is what this day represents to me. Some say that we all have second chances.....we just have to know when to take them. The problem is - we often don't take them. Maybe because we don't think we deserve them. Maybe because we don't think it will be any different this time. Maybe because we feel - bound. Tied up. Sealed in a cave - stone in place. In bondage. But are we? Really?

If we are surrounded by pure oxygen, but we refuse to breathe - will we not suffocate?

If we are immersed in rainbows, but we never open our eyes - will we not forever live in darkness?

If we are saturated by the grace of the cross..... if we are clothed in the newness of mercy..... if we are surrounded with millions of keys, all of which fit the door to unlock a second, seventh, and seventy-seven chance, but we refuse to reach down and pick them up - will we not live in a barren frozen mummified cave forever?

He is there. I promise. p r o m i s e. He is on the other side of the door. Cave open. Stone rolled away. We have the choice: Lay as dead men....imprisoned in our own rags of self bound shame and hopelessness OR we can lean over and pick up a key, walk out of a dark cave, or take an outstretched scared hand. Sharing in His resurrection: Returning to a life of truly living. We were not created to exist. We were created to live. If we are not truly living then we are existing, and if we are only existing then we are truly dead.

It's worth it. I promise. P R O M I S E.

So today. On an Easter Sunday. May we Rise Up And.....Walk....Run...Dance. Twirling in a newness of repentance. Of all things new - new way of thinking, new way of living, new way of being. N E W.

A L L T H I N G S N E W......

So reach with me for the key. Take that first step out of the cave. The opening may be a little tricky. The light blinding at first. The other side a little scary - but you won't be walking out alone. Especially not today. Not today : )

Much Love to All -

Happy Easter.

b

F A L L

A nail around my neck. A bead around my wrist. A tear in my eye. A pen in my hand. I sit. Looking at a flameless fireplace - the taste of Grey on my tongue - surrounded by an empty hearth. Submerged by a chair of purple velvet... and I listen

"Love is a poor man's fool." He says. Do I believe him?

mmmmmmmmmmmmmm I think not. 

What is my life should I not loose it and what is being found should I never fell lost?

And what is lost?

What is lost?

It amazes me to watch how we attempt to fill in the blanks in our lives -  in the search for a significance for which we were never intended. I wonder what would happen if we just sat in our own insignificance....letting HIM BE our significance. Embracing our inadequacy instead of fighting against it. Allowing Him to finally make us whole. He Alone. 

Some of the most beautiful carvings of my soul - the most painful - were created when I was lost. When I was immersed in my own insignificance, depending more on Him for my soul's value.

And slowly the light began to fade in, slowly. My spiritual eyes adjusted, slowly. And, slowly, I became found. Not because I was ever lost - not really. 

Can you be lost when someone always knows where you are? 

You can Feel lost - in the depths of your core you can feel lost. But are you......really? Maybe its not that we are lost - maybe it's just that we can't see we have already been found. 

Maybe we are just blind.

Remove our scales, Lord - may they fall from our eyes as leaves from your Tree of Life. In the colors of Fall. By the sweetest breeze of your lips. Carried by the grandest wind. 

May they fall. And may we....

Fall.