Psalm 34:8

Life to me used to be a list of probabilities. Not literal mathematical pursuits of chance, just roundabout ones.

What are the chances that I'll ever be a size 7?


What are the chances I'll ever be a DI athlete?


What are the chances of me ever fitting in? 


I'd easily settle for just flying under the radar. The driving force of my ambitious lifestyle was to somehow hide parts of myself that I believed strangers could see. Since I knew I couldn't ever pass for normal, I decided to mask myself with extraordinary. Maybe I wouldn't actually achieve the things I aspired to but I would at least allow them to dominate my identity. When you wrap yourself around things like a starfish, you can't weigh the odds of being found out... of being revealed. If you slow down the blur around you settles too, this world can be pretty scary in the light.

I've been lucky to experience some amazing things, they filled a huge void in my life and I'd like to say I heeded His warning about the whole "Thou shall not have other gods before me" thing... but it would only be drown out by the echo of the many doors that so graciously slammed.

Subtleties are there. He whispers. He calls us away. His word. The words of people who warn, who beg and plead. "Don't go down to those rocks, don't wrap your heart around something it was not made for". We get tossed around once, twice. We wander. We forget the words. Forget the path. We isolate... and then we begin to receive lies like they are the water we are so desperate for. It's bitter but we don't care. We thirst. He knows we thirst... doesn't He? What does He expect?

Believe. Obey. Worship.

My life has been spent weighing my options yet somehow, by nothing short of grace, He has taught me the importance of being still. He has coaxed me down from some sheer and dangerous cliffs and romanced my heart in a way that makes my obedience feel nothing like shackles.  I look back at the treachery from a distance and it fans to flame a desire to love fellow starfish.

Have you ever been ripped from the rocks?

It is true that He loves us right where we are. The beautiful truth of what He did on the cross is that He loves us too much to leave us there.

When I stand on His word, believe in His promises... I look beyond the limits of logic and can almost hear the excitement in His whisper,

"Just wait til you see what's next..." 






Oh, taste and see that the LORD is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him! ~Psalm 34:8

Pray.

What is one to do when their passion is violently thrown from a place of comfort and security into the unknown?

Pray.

I seem to use this answer a lot lately. Advice I use to cringe at is now the response I give to friends, my own inner voice, and in some cases complete strangers.

Part of me can’t help but wonder if I have by accident, despite all my non-conformist efforts and rebellious nature, arrived at the ‘Christian Cliché’. But then I remember that me and my puny little mind cannot possibly understand the direction of my life from an exterior viewpoint. Whether it be ‘cliché’ or not, I can no longer afford to view my life through such an old lens. One that does not take into account the complete mystery and sovereignty of the very real and living God. 

Pray.

See, there are so many voices I’ve listened to. Had ears for. I may not even be aware of how I take in the ideas and opinions of the world, but there they are. Filters. Filters. Filters. Even the most beautiful words can be tainted through an ugly heart and once you have become accustomed to the opinions and viewpoints of this world what began as mere ‘awareness’ can turn to ‘dependence’.

We HAVE to know what people think. About… everything. Not only do we have the technology to prove it but also the tendencies. Have you noticed how we avoid stillness? We have even renamed it, deeming all moments void of conversation as “awkward silence”. I would have never realized this unfortunate personal quality until I befriended someone whom I was actually comfortable with in complete silence. Of course with most friends there are those valleys between conversation where we breathe, stretch, maybe get a glass of water or use the restroom but for the most part we are filling our time with talk and then its time to tweet about it or leave. I’ll never forget how unusual it felt when I was finally comfortable just sharing some space with someone.

Two people in the same room who have complete peace.

For me, this is what prayer does. I seek God with something(s) on my heart and the most amazing thing happens. I hope more than anything you know what I’m saying (without saying it) not only because I am oh so terrible at explaining such important things but because it is this intimacy with Him that there are no words for.

Pray.

I get on HIS page instead of trying to pull and push and drag Him onto mine. (I never quite accomplish that btw). The truth of his sovereignty is so liberating. God’s will wins battles over my own, every time.

I’ve learned that submission and obedience are better than any battle I could ever win on my own (even the most seemingly righteous ones). I’m done fighting the blessings He has for me and the only wars I have the desire to take on are the ones He calls me into. I’m not so sure what they may be, but right now I am thankful for the stillness and peace in my heart from spending some time in a silent room with the lover of my soul, my savior, my best friend.  

I pray you practice seeking Him. I pray you come to ENJOY it thoroughly

la flamme en ma coeur

I keep looking in this dark room for you. I stand in the doorway and lean in with both hands on the frame. I'm not there to save you. I must have just walked out a moment too soon because half a beat ago our hearts were home. With permission granted and the beauty of utmost simplicity we breathed to life the last words of what we already knew to be.

There was a slight pause, that moment when life just turns on its axis and you are about to begin moving in another direction... and for the most beautiful four seconds of my life, my feet rested beneath me.

Now you're gone and my own hand never felt so empty; almost foreign.

I can't seem to help that while I dream I peer into the darkness looking for you. A reflection of light off your eyes, a sound. I call and hear my own voice echo back, "it was just a dream."

There has to be a reset button for times like these. Everyones heart malfunctions every once in a while... right? That's when I think how fortunate I am to have a brain that pulls me into lightning and a heart that calls out for the love that was never there.

I wonder if I will always feel lost for you. I know its pathetic but if love were truly divine would it depend on such games of appeal?

You said that I made your heart glow in the dark.

I feel extinguished, and still smile when I think of you off somewhere being brilliant.

Jehovah Rophi

There is so much ugly.

There has been so much ugly.

Almost enough to keep me hiding.

Almost enough to keep me in death, in darkness, in sheol.

But He has been the expression of your love for me.

and I think I finally get it.

You won't let me go.

You would have never let me drown.

I am free to walk with you.

Free to love you back without wondering if you will leave.

I am Free.

Easy to Hold

There is no rest from this ache.

Not yet.

Too much of our hearts still remain in-tact.

Pleading with your smile

to sweep over us again.

Tides of your LOVE touch, no crash

these solid stones of warm memories. 

They do not budge.

Rhythm of unrest and I detest the false sense

that we somehow agreed to accept your recession.

Confession?

You're the breathing light of a family on fire. 

The wire tied tightly to places within

known

only

by

u.

How did we miss such truth as this.

you ARE the call to love.

Brilliant, stretching out beyond us,

teasing us,

to come and play

in eternity

with you.

~ How I miss you Haley Paige. xoxox

Pancake Mondays

It wasn't the accents, the hitch in their walk or the noisy spurs of the cowboys in the booth beside me. Perhaps it was the familiar twang of achy breaky heart playing over the radio that nudged me from my early morning nostalgia, flinging me back into my body that sat in the small booth of the "downtown" ihop in Wichita Falls Texas. Wichita as in "you aren't in Kansas anymore Dorothy", falls as in... there isn't a scene of cascading water in sight, Texas as in... Texas. By that I mean you could throw a rock across some creek a couple miles North and hit the even dustier state of Oklahoma.
 
Prior to last nights apocalyptic thunderstorm, 100 degree days had broke every standing heat record known to man and the terrain had literally forgotten how to absorb. Instead of the hint of fresh soaked earth, the air laid heavy with moisture between the endless sky and stubborn red clay dirt. All of this made up the world outside my window. My life that I had wound up in, almost by accident it seemed, but for right now I held on to whatever sanity was left in the off white coffee cup in front of me. Desperate to delay my return to planet Texas, I played the acronym game with the letters in front of me. "I-H-O-P"... As in "I hop-e today doesn't kill me", or... It was a short game.

I evaded to sifting through the lives of the strangers around me. The lone taxi driver of the "city" complained of his cold eggs, two medical students taxed over study questions, and my waitress seemed to wish she were anywhere but here. The differences in our affliction were, as she dreamed of places beyond her experience, I longed for places I had vivid memories of. It is a disturbing question to ponder, whether the pain would be less if born blind or to lose your sight after knowing the beauty of color. I would guess that being left with momentary flashes of vibrance as my only company in darkness would leave me unspeakably bitter. I thought of it a moment and returned to my gaze outside the window. Cheesy animations of cheap cartoon ghosts and bats floated around my vision of the barely lit sky. Time was an unclear concept these days, but these bright invasive faces reminded me of my birthday just around the corner. I thought of the last, it's contrast to the one before that and couldn't help but sense the crack between them which my 26th would lie in.

I remembered the horrific weeks and days leading up to my 24th, wishing I were literally never born, and the cruelty of being forced to celebrate another year of life.  Within a year I was celebrating my 25th with a new-found appreciation for life. I could not yet determine what this one would encompass, I shrugged it off thinking it was all the same to me now. I no longer existed in this space where time mattered. I only made effort to follow along hoping to not disrupt the tempo of the lives around me. The big and little hands of my life followed something much different. I knew the hope I once had of that ever changing was up to something far greater than chance.

Storm.

Abba,

I'm tired of sour words. Tired of arguing against the distractions I've allowed my heart to fall into, tired of the vanity and pointlessness of being heartbroken. Tired of looking for truth, even hoping for it, from places you warned that only destruction would come from. This is exhausting. It is insatiable, worst of all... It isn't YOU. I miss who I was with YOU. I miss waking up thinking of nothing other than how it FEELS to know my father in heaven loves me. You are still sovereign, you are STILL so UNBELIEVABLY INCREDIBLE. I know these things with my mind but my heart is so stuck. I am so hopeless without you. I feel like Elijah must have when he begged you to end his life, that he was no better than his ancestors. You are so awesome and these struggles are so pointless when I try to hold them up to you. I remember thinking how petty it would be to whine over a broken heart when there is such destruction in the world to break for. This doesn't compare. Please put my focus back to you. Please save me from myself. Please show me how to walk out of darkness and never look back...

I would walk on water.

You will catch me when I fall.

I would get lost into your eyes,

Everything would be alright.

Whoomp, there it is.

2 Cor 12:9

why truth?

because it's the lies that our hearts won't let go of.

Episode 39 (or somethin)

"So like I was saying... the captain of the Enterprise decided in classic Star Trek fashion, that it was a good idea to move towards the black hole, which they knew nothing about. It happens every other episode, every time they approach the "unfamiliar" object things get all crappy...."

I think it was the combination of words not often used in everyday conversation that brought my attention back to his story.

"I'm sorry, are you talking about Star Trek... were we even talking about anything remo--"

"No, but I've learned that if you transition with 'speaking of which' or 'on that note', you can plug a Star Trek story into just about any topic."

It had been a long day and the emotional roller-coaster I was on had my world spinning. It felt something like a bad dream gone worse, the lap bar holding me securely refused to release and I was left to make sense of the blurs around me with this crazy motion of my heart. Spiritually speaking, I was slowly being set free, yet at the time all I could feel was the re-breaking of bones that had mistakenly set. Not breaking. Splintering.

..."and it was ridiculous because Data was slowly... and ...."

Embarrassed by my more than usual inattentiveness I was thankful not to be the only one in Sean's audience. I hoped he didn't notice as I tried to catch up nonchalantly. My eyes refocused to the booth we had been lounging in, I sipped some sweet tea and tuned in just in time to hear him wrap things up.

..."so in the end, after all the drama of trying to escape the physical pull of the vortex, they decided to just go through the black hole continuum."

"Right," Courtney had gotten comfortable now, relaxing out of necessity. "What happened?" I assumed she was just being polite. Three nerds had to be above the capacity for one booth, especially one in a college town sports bar.

"The weirdest thing, nothing. After they passed through, everything on the other side was exactly the same. After all that fighting it, the chaos, and confusion with the crew, the projected damage to the ship... they came out unaffected."

I wondered what it was all leading up to. I'm sure we all looked, for a moment, like members of the Enterprise... hoping the far off look in the captains eyes didn't mean what it had in the past.

Full speed ahead. Aye-Aye, captain.

"This totally wasn't where I was going with the story but it just made me realize, that sometimes you can't help but surrender to the circumstance. And when you do, when you let go and hope for miracles, that's when the tragedy ends. It was their fighting with uncertainty that did the damage."

At that moment I knew Sean had received a promise. By obeying the prompting of His heart, stepping out on faith, and sharing his struggles to a group of college aged strangers... he had been set free. He may not have sensed it, his heart had been on a crazy ride, but the guy sitting in front of me was no longer bound to the uncertainty of his struggles. I've loved him as my brother, but now there was an excitement for him, for his life. Maybe it was life I was seeing. A moment of lifted torment, it was brilliant.

I was again taken back by the mysterious way God moves. How he speaks through us to one another, sometimes so that the speaker them-self can hear the needed truth more clearly. With our Abba's infinite power and unrelenting love for us, how do we ever think He wouldn't be blowing us away in things like Star Trek tangents?

Why are my expectations so small? He whispers and by His miraculous grace and love for me...

I hear Him.

It was later that night when I felt myself exhale since... well, since. While twisting my rebellious love-locks, unable to sleep I felt the all too familiar sensation of His peace wash over me. I ache for these moments, have never dictated them, they are a gift every time. I had been thinking of Sean's story, replaying the night. His testimony, our conversations, the many things I've felt God doing all around me. All beneath the gripping, pressing, and dissolving of my heart.

Go ahead. Grind away.

Earlier that day, I was dwelling in my inability to survive the ride; my own two feet would not carry me from this wreckage, not this time. All I felt there was left to do was grip the cold bar, do my best to keep breathing, and ride it out. The blisters on my hands were no match for the jerks of the track and my once kung-fu-death-grip on the now metallic crimson bar had gone slick, to the beat of my slowing pulse. I could have sworn I had calluses for such an occasion but they were long gone. I had been soaking in the love and freedom of complete surrender before the ride began, and the scars of my past had been slipping off me day by day.

I had given up ever fighting a battle such as this and prayed the day would never come.

But now, after fleeing the space time continuum abyss where not even light escapes the pull of the vortex,
I liberated my hands.
Held them trembling to my heart.
Fell to my knees and between sobs fell words only a father could understand,


"All I want is you.

All I want is you.

All I want is you."

Only a Dream

She has no desire to be called beautiful

or hold some affinity in your eyes

Beauty begs to be captured then caged.

Ravaged then tamed.

Like a verse to refresh

our collapsing minds

with the syntax, rhythm, and rhyme

of a sultry silhouette.

an eager moment of

skin

deep

ecstasy

who's climax a prodigious kiss by fire;

to consume and expire.

Taking all but the fading memory.

Call her, "the intrigue who knows well

the tempo of postprandial dissipation".

Beauty carries neither power nor affluence.

It is the cold hand that laces down her spine.

Invasive.

Cryptic.

She can hope for warmth.

Plead for truth,

but has no desire to be found

then lost

beautifully in your eyes

Those eyes...

but to be loved,

to be loved,

to be.

and yet, it was only a dream

a snapshot of life escaping the grave,

the final breath of fate miscarried.

and you can't help but say

she's beautiful.

Beautiful Things

The true beauty I’ve come to know in brokenness comes from beyond me.

When the experience of pain shifts from the slight enjoyment of feeling “almost dead” and therefore more “alive”, to a plea for non-existence. 

Honesty.

When the deepest words fall light and easy, their weight evaporating before reaching my listener’s ears.

Simplicity.

By the same tired breath, walls come crashing around heavy arms and I realize that I’ve been the one holding them up around me. 

Effortless.

I thought I was safe inside my own prison of hopelessness and despair. 

Bondage.

The uncertainty of walking in freedom is no longer enough to keep me bound. 

Escape.

The lie that there would be hope for my heart within these walls has been utterly and painfully disproven.

Surviving on faith.

A promise made between a little girl and her savior has been kept. 

Believe.

I’ve been called “gorgeous”, but would much prefer dust… 

Identity.

And tonight I can’t help but feel that beautiful things are right around the corner. 

Miracle.

Psalm 103:14

now... we can get started.

Im sitting in an empty room. My skin is warm, touched by comfort... like drifting still in a steady tide. I'm holding my breath not out of longing, or even hope... but because I'm afraid to make waves as I float through this empty canvas. It's taken the better part of 25 years to let go of my life. To surrender to the current with my Savior on speed dial. I've even learned to find rest in this place as others look on in terror. Why? I don't know. I suppose I disrupt some equilibrium they've been incubating in... my hand seizes as I paint that last line. My mistake... wipe it clean? 

I've been living this past year in this tempo where I forget that I wasn't made, created, designed... to know everything. My nature is to create rules, lines, boundaries, systems to fall on with every possible circumstance. My nature tells me that this is comfort. The lover of my soul has proven different. He reminds me to keep my eyes on Him. Coaxes down my weapons of battles passed and floods me with His love. Engulfing me. This is where He heals me, more than that... this is the one place where I can beexactly who I was made to be. Everything else ravages my heart, the scars ofmy forgetfulness are many.

There is a story buried so deep inside me. A voice. It isn't filtered well through reason, logic, or any man's theology. Doing so only creates more layers to sift through. Lies and attempts to explain, define, paint a picture or just draw a line to justify my very beginning. It is so far from me. Every time I have tried to handle my elephant(s) in the room, I'm left on an empty stage. Broken and hopeless. 

He reminds me... He stills me... He gently pleads... "Let me be the one you go back with? Let me navigate you through this? Let me be the one to show you how beautiful you are, please. I've been waiting..." He acts like He doesn't know, this is what I've always wanted and never knew how to ask. Now, I'm desperate to be free from the image people paint and call my life, from every rebuttal I throw up against them in adesperate plea, "Can I just be?" My voice is shrill. Desperate. 

I'm trying to survive this empty place alone... No one hears me. Everyone tells me what I'm saying through their filtered, comfortable, incubated heart. No one tries to understand. Truth is, no one can. 

Call it into question. Your nature tells you to do so. Begin to search for some truth or solution, something black and white. Go ahead. It's what you need to feel at ease. But out of love I ask, wouldn't you rather be free? 

My heart refuses to get back in your cage. Not out of stubborness or spite, but because I have something greater than your trained ability to reason me there. I have Him. I'm doing a giant cannon ball into His relentless river and looking forward to it sweeping me far away. I'll pray you follow soon after, love you regardless, but I have nothing left to keep me here... not even the hope that by my power I could take you with me. For this and every bit of the brokenness I am thankful.

Warrior Child

 Sometimes I wear bandanas. It's a little harder to get away with in Wichita Falls TX... but I endure the stares every once in a while. There are some activities I have a difficult time doing without wearing a bandana, or at least a headband. Studying, painting, and definitely playing. I wish I could wear them every day. Some people find this strange but quickly chalk it up with everything else they expect from Californians. Just another 'granola' characteristic of mine, like being vegan and not liking to wear shoes. Regardless, I sometimes feel like I need to explain myself, just to reassure them that it's not because I'm a pot smokin youth rebellion leader. Maybe I watched karate kid too many times growing up, or I just like to dress up my pony tail that I sport 24/7.

If I were to guess, Id say it's because I've always had this sense in me that life was a battle, and I was a warrior. Tackling a project, or even just my day without it feels like being an on-duty soldier without their uniform, or stepping on the court to play vb without my knee pads. Just doesn't feel right. It reminds me how things feel when I step into a certain battle, school, dealing with family, or work without inviting my heavenly father to be a part of it. 

Took this pic in San Fran. I think he felt about his cape how I do about my bandana. 

Some habits never die.

I wonder how many people feel this way... that's why I LOVE this song by Tal & Acacia, a letter written from God to one of his little warriors. 

Here's to you, Warrior Child. 

<3 Laurén

Warrior Child ~Tal & Acacia

The day is ended and you're not even dressed

Its taken all you have to just get out of bed

the war has kept you on your knees and you confess

I am tired

there's nothing left

when all you had was given in the raging fight

you fear your life has been wasted here in this cold night

empty and alone you cry those precious tears

warrior child

I'm still here

forsaken

not my warrior child

abandoned

never will I forget you

my child I love you so

and someday you'll finally know

but until then

please be strong

you've carried soldiers on your back to get them here

the wounded broken ones you fought for all those years

you fed them all you have and now you're weak and faint

loved you are

in heavens gaze

forsaken

not my warrior child

abandoned

no never will I forget you

my child I love you so

and someday you'll finally know

but until then

would you please be strong

forsaken

no not my warrior child

abandoned

no never will I forget you

my child I love you so

someday you'll finally know

but until then

please be strong

To go... or not to go. Is that the question?

Church. (I'll get back to this, promise, promise.)

Over the past couple years, researchers have become more than curious of my beliefs and values. Not mine alone, but those of my generation. Come to find out, there hasn't been an inquiry of this magnitude among human science experts since the 60's (Baby Boomer generation aka my hippie parents). One of the main trends within their findings reveals that like our parents we are a 'counterculture' n. A culture, especially of young people, with values or lifestyles in opposition to those of the established culture.

In the 60's this coupled with a political climate filled with controversy, and of course drugs. Lots... and LOTS... of drugs. In the broad scheme of things, I see my parents' generation as being one whos hearts conflicted with world turmoil in a way they could not deny.

I know... I KNOW. The 60's was just an era of political up-rise that a rebellious generation took complete advantage of by getting lit. There was absolutely nothing meaningful to it. Drrr... Right?

As I change gears, I want you to think about something. Do you always KNOW why you do something? For example, why do I make 'that face' when I put on eyeliner? It DOESN'T aid me in the process. Why do I sometimes blow on my spooned ice cream like it's hot soup? Why do dogs have to walk around in that little circle before they can lay down? How is it that I can drive a whole two hours, arrive in my driveway to realize I was suppose to go to work? I can't even remember a moment of the drive...

My auto pilot terrifies me sometimes.

Creatures of habit we are. Human beings are capable, and even encouraged to live within our warm, squishy, cozy routines. The scary word for this is Hedonism, defined as characteristic of seeking pleasure and avoiding pain (weird, I always thought it had something to do with voodoo dolls). What it means is, we have the tendancy to go with the flow of what's around us...

SO... what was up with the 60's? Is MY generation really a counter culture? and does this maybe have something to do with the our aversion to church?

These three questions alone will cause an UPROAR among culture warriors (and somehow, politics). BUT lucky for me I'm more of an inquirer, not much of a debater.

Going by what I have felt as a (recommitted) church goer, I'd have to say that the cultural view of "Christians"and "Christianity" may correlate with the lack of young people in the church. I believe that the conversations or comments I would overhear growing up, from the mouths of "Christians" who for whatever reason weren't being very "Christlike", had the power to turn me away later in life. A little older now, I know that sometimes people have bad days. Or bad YEARS... and that really when people are being hateful about another group of people, judgmental, or even cynical, in that moment they are not acting out of Christ's love. I truly believe these people need prayer. They are hurting over something, and truly need some agape.

I don't have any answers to these hot topics. In no way am I a social genius, but I do wish that at times of my life I would have been brave enough to not avoid church. I think of all the heartache I could have been saved from, and even the opportunity my true brothers and sisters in Christ could have had to support me, to LOVE me at a time I really needed it the most. (lets be real, I'll ALWAYS need it... praise God.)

Beloved, I believe that when we make Christ the true source of our hearts, people won't be able to deny the love that pours out of us. To say their isn't a NEED to show His love would just be ignorant. But, if you are a Christian, and your reason for not attending church is that you don't approve 100%, or you aren't comfortable I pray that you take a closer look and rethink it. The church wasn't meant to be a 'cultural' reflection of the actions of Christians, but the place where we come together to lick our wounds from battle. Where we find restoration in refocusing ourselves completely on Him. Please, PLEASE don't allow the cynicism to keep you from being part of the body of Christ. He is yours, you are His. I desperately Hope and Pray you find a place to FEEL this, and that your desire for Him grows to outweigh what you have come to know as comfort.

In all His love,

Laurén