Every Broken Heart...

 

Someone once said that for every scar there is a story of survival. And they were right. The stories written on scars are never pretty, they can be heartbreaking, incredibly hard to read and even harder to tell. But along the lines of every scar there is a story of survival, a story of grace, a story of overcoming, a story of hope and of life. Many people never tell their stories, for reasons most us are unable to comprehend. But for those few who let their heartbreak stories be told, they often find that in the telling, in the sharing of their story there is healing. Healing not only for themselves but for those with whom they share.

It has often been said that the most powerful ministry is simply sharing two story's, your story and the story of the one that saved you. Is it possible that the story of us at our weakest is the story of Him at his best? Is it possible that our worst scars can showcase His healing? Is it possible that every broken heart is a glowing light? Is it possible that through honesty, through sharing our scar written stories we can find our purpose, our greatest ministry, a journey of peace and healing not only for ourselves but also to those who are now where we once were?

"But every broken heart is a glowing light
He will find it out in the darkness
Every lonely song is a brilliant sound
He will hear it out from a distance"
Sky Circles, Falling Up

The beginning…

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There is always a beginning, a starting point. Literally everything has one, even a day starts in a moment. There’s always a first breath, a blossom, a scream, a thought, a look, a word, a touch, a kiss, a single spark and a point of origin. Whether Christian, Atheist or Agnostic all agree that there is a beginning. All we argue over are technicalities.

What happens when the sun descends beneath the horizon and what happens when we taste our last breath? Our beliefs shape our answers to these technicalities and our answers to these technicalities shape our lives. There is a beginning to everything, even the end. As for the answers to the technicalities of the beginning. To believe in a God, chance or a chemical reaction; it’s entirely up to us. I choose to believe that it all began with God. I believe that “In the beginning there was God…”

“With the possible exception of the equator, everything begins somewhere.” C. S. Lewis

Life illuminated...

 

Author and artist Henry Miller once wrote “Real love is never perplexed, never qualifies, never rejects, never demands. It replenishes, by grace of restoring unlimited circulation. It burns, because it knows the true meaning of sacrifice. It is life illuminated.”

The idea of real love can often times bring out the romantics and cynics in force. The romantics argue that true and 'real love' exists, that it lasts if only you find the right one/ones. The cynics (myself usually included) lean towards the argument that the whole idea of 'real love' is just a grown-up version of Santa Clause; a myth we've been fed since childhood to keep us buying magazines, joining clubs, and doing therapy.

Then there are those who argue that we have the ideal all wrong. In her book All About Love, Bell Hooks quotes Erich Fromm “To love somebody is not just a strong feeling – it is a decision, it is a judgment, it is a promise. If lover were only a feeling there would be no basis for the promise to love each other forever. A feeling comes and it may go.”

She goes on herself to write “How different things might be if, rather than saying, 'I think I'm in love,' we were saying, 'I've connected with someone in a way that makes me think I'm on they way to knowing love,' Or if instead of saying 'I am in love' we were saying 'I am loving or 'I will love.”

The argument of 'real love' is one of those things like grace; we will never fully get it. As much as the cynic knows we will never attain it in perfection, something in us continues (despite all opposition) to believe that life is better with it. Life is better when we are striving to accept and give it more fully, even if our all attempts are watered down reflections of the ideal. 

And maybe just maybe there is a 'real love' that is never perplexed, never qualifies, never rejects and never demands. A love that replenishes, by grace going on and on. A love that burns, because it knows sacrifice. Maybe there is a love that is life illuminating if we choose to search for, accept and offer it.

Christmas...

It's the crazy season. The season of stress, of overfilled malls, and maxed out credit cards; of fat men in red suits, of Christmas trees and a few seriously overplayed songs. It's also the time when people smile in the street, your grocery checkout lady looks you in the eye and for a few short weeks people's worlds appear to expand before rapidly shrinking back down to size in time for the boxing day sales.

Before you go and call me the Grinch I need to say that I love Christmas. It's the season of traditions and love; of looking past yourself and finding joy in giving it to others. The reason for my mixed feelings is knowing that even with all the good going around at this time of year tomorrow someone will still be lonely and the world will still be falling apart. The death's and births, joy and heartache associated with living will all be there. And for the majority the only hope this world has, the only hope this worlds needs will be standing in their front yard, wrapped up in Christmas lights hoping that one day we will notice.

i am more

i am more than painted lips in a dress,

i am words and thoughts, secrets and dreams.

i am more than images on a screen,

i am body and soul, spirit and breath.

i am more than face and weight and skin,

i am heart and mind, passion and lungs.

i am more,

i am more,

i am me.

Author The Dust Dances Too 

Balancing questions...

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A lot of my life is spent trying to strike a balance and missing.

I want to do and be so much. And I want to be good at it. I want to truly love and be loved. I want to be a good friend, daughter, granddaughter, sister, cousin, niece. I want to be a star student, an indispensable employee. I want to write something wonderful. I want to be intelligent, educated and informed; I want to travel the world, read all the books, newspapers, magazines and journals I can. I want to be healthy, fit and pretty. I want my home to be cozy and beautiful. I want to take photos, cook delicious meals, go to parties, have meaningful conversations, watch films, climb mountains, walk though galleries and gardens. I want to listen to talented musicians, surf waves, learn to dance and play guitar. I want to have a golden tan, flawless skin, perfect hair and stylish clothes. I want to impress people with my political insight, my emotional intelligence, my progressive ideas. I want to help those in need. I want to find my kindred spirits and let no one ever leave without making them feel better and happier and do my bit to make the world a better place.

I simply don't know how to do it; how to strike a balance I feel is missing and I'm wondering is there enough room in my life for me to be and have all of those things or does something have to give? And If something has to give; what is it that I am willing to sacrifice?

The stories telling...

The story alone is not the answer. For the answer itself lies hidden in the telling. Like words written on forgotten diary pages or lyrics lost in the melody. Pictures; words painted with emotion, so vivid they reach inside, grasping at some deeply held thread hidden for fear of daylight. A persons search for answers cannot end in another life's telling, among dusted pages and lyrics score. Your life's meaning can only be found in the mystery, your questions in search of the answers. Answers only to be found in your stories telling. The story alone is not the answer. For the answer itself lies hidden in the telling.

“Writers cannot provide The Answers, but we can bring a lot of other things to the table. Reaching inside and drawing out truth, from our own experiences: deep-seated shame, broken-heartedness, soaring love, secret longing. And then we can share the things we have done that have made us feel better, given us some comfort, sprinkled our lives with a little sweetness.

Better yet, we can concentrate upon telling the tales of what comes before the resolution. The sadness before the happiness, the storm before the calm, the shame before the self-acceptance. Because it's in the confusion, the fear and the failure that we are all united, and where the truth is momentarily revealed. Sometimes it's enough just to know that there are others exactly like us, feeling exactly what we are feeling. Often, answers masqueraded as The Answers just make us feel more flawed, and alone.

A story that leaves us hanging is one that leaves us thinking. Wondering, ruminating, looking to piece together the puzzle for ourselves. That's just how life goes; the mystery is never truly solved, the story never truly ends.”

Laura Valerie