Five Minute Friday: Encouragement

I wrote this today in response to my friend's blog post in her comments section.  It just spilled out of me.  I share it with you, because as much as it was for her it is also for you.  The you who wonders why you bother to write.  The you who is knee deep in mess and hurt or maybe even so deep in it that you feel as though you are drowning and the mess and the hurt is gurgling up inside of your throat.  The you whose life is going well and good and you share from that space of joy and happiness.  The you who isn't sure that what you write really means all that much.  It is for all of you, because all of you have a story.  All of us have a story.  Sharing your story makes my life better.

In response to Why Words Matter 

I have been pondering the why a lot as well. My why is because the words need spilling. I fill and I fill and they need a place to empty out to. It is also to know I am not alone and to let others know the same. It is one thing to tell the story of from here to there tied up neatly in a bow, but it is quite another to tell the story of the getting to the there; the being in the midst of it deep and never fully knowing if there is even a place, but hoping that it is and that you will find it.

It is a deep bravery I think to tell this story, because it is now and in the moment. It is an opening of all that is raw and holy and messy and sinful and pouring it out like an offering upon an alter. Your writing is a place where other cave dwellers can meet for community around the bon fire of your words and find acceptance and grace and to say "Yes, somewhere, someday we will come to the mouth of the cave and find the light shining beautiful into our blinking eyes."

It is a place where those outside the cave can say "We are out here and we will wait for you, it exists, this there is real and when you make it we will rejoice along with you for the journey."

Oh friend how I love you and your words and your blinking in the light of there and for the days of caves and darkness and for being a bon fire for others like me to warm ourselves around.

You are cherished friend.


Keep sharing your words fellow bloggers.  Keep being a warm fire for others of us to warm ourselves with.  If you are in a cave of depression, shame, loneliness, anger, hurt, or any other hard thing, keep sharing.  If you are outside the cave taking in the wonders of light keep on sharing.  All of your words, all of your stories, they encourage me. 

Joining in for FIVE MINUTE FRIDAY

Escaping Repunzel's Tower

Our family went and saw the movie "Tangled" tonight.  It was really cute.  Surprisingly, I found a bit of myself in the character of Repunzel.  I could relate to being locked in a tower, afraid to leave, but not wanting to stay.  Unlike Repunzel though, my captivity is of my own making.  My walls aren't made of mortar and bricks like hers were they are walls that I have made from years of silence.  Carefully I have laid brick on top of brick to keep myself safe and locked away.  An unknown heart can't be rejected.

I don't have hair to let down and escape my towers with, but I have words.  I have words that need saying and writing sets them free.  For years I would hold a pen to paper and nothing would come.  It is like I was looking out the window of my tower and waiting for my hair to grow before I could escape.  So, now I sit with pen in hand - tossing my hair out the window if you will.

At this point in the movie as Repunzel slid down her hair she paused.  She paused just inches away from freedom.  It wasn't enough for her to slide down her hair, she had to go beyond that and set her feet on unfamiliar ground.  She had to let her toes meet and mingle with what the earth had to offer.

I, too, am dangling inches from freedom.  Holding tight to the escape of written word.  Words that are said in writing can only go so far though.  My "earth" is that of speaking and being heard.  I need to let my voice meet and mingle and see what listening ears might have to offer.

My time for isolation is over.  I need to drop into the unfamiliar and set myself free - words made with sound behind them.

In many ways, Repunzel was her own hero.  It was her hair that set her free and her courage that gave her strength to touch the ground.  She wasn't alone though, she didn't do it on her own.  Being a Disney movie she had her little constant companion.  Interestingly it was a chameleon.   It could change colors to reflect its surroundings.   Along with her companion she also had a guide to help her travel this unfamiliar road. 

I am wanting a hero, but I think that I am going to have to be my own heroine.  It is going to be my voice and my voice alone that can rescue me.  I don't have to do it alone though.  I prayed for God to send me a guide.  Someone to help me navigate this strange new tower-less world I am entering.  In many ways, I guess I could say that you all are my companion.  You match your support for what my surroundings need at the moment.  You are here to cheer me on and help give me the strength to keep on going. I also think that my new counselor will help to be my guide.  I think she will be the one to help me find my way "home"* and keep me from getting lost in the woods along the way.

It is still hard for me to talk.  I still struggle with "putting word on top of word with eyes that are looking"**, but I have a plan.  I have bought a microphone and I am going to start recording myself reading my blogs.  I am going to try and familiarize myself with my words being spoken.  Hopefully this will stop the words from getting frozen in my throat as I sit and look into eyes.  I am ready to escape from Repunzel's Tower.
*Ripping Away the Band-aids Part One
**Ripping Away the Band-aids Part Two, Section B

Damaged Goods

I am a ponderer, a wonderer, and a questioner.  I am analytical to a fault and often wonder who I am, what am I all about, and why am I here?  Answers to those questions don't come easily.  My search to answer them has spanned the last 20 years or more of my life.  The reasons behind the asking have changed with time, but the questions still remain.

I can remember when I was in Jr. High and High school.  Those were rough years for me.  I considered myself damaged goods and the general populace of my peers did nothing but reinforce that notion.  I can remember distinctly in my Junior year of high school sitting in class.  One of the boys next to me who I considered a friend of mine turned to me and said, "Why don't you just do us all a favor and kill yourself."
I can't remember what I said in reply, but he may as well have stabbed me through the heart.

I am amazed that I made it through those years.  I used to beg God to kill me.  To let me die.  I knew I shouldn't kill myself but I wanted nothing to do with living.  In those years I had no answer to why I was here, who I was, and what I was all about.   I just knew that I was and I didn't want to be.  I felt completely damaged and like no one could or would ever love me.  I certainly did not love myself.

Time marched on though and life and my future became a less scary place.  I wish I could say that my self worth was never again questioned and that I never struggled with hopelessness, but it wouldn't be true.  I know what it is to sob on a cold linoleum bathroom floor staring at the toilet and wondering if the water is deep enough to drown yourself in.  I know what it is to feel as if you can't go on and that you aren't worth the air that you are breathing.  Fortunately, God is good and I have gotten through those times. 

I still question who I am, what I am about, and why I am here.  I still see myself as damaged goods, but recently I have realized something.   I have realized that everyone is damaged.  Everyone has been hurt, has a past, has an issue.  I am not unique in that way.  I am not the only one.  Sounds pretty basic doesn't it.  It is amazing that it has taken me so long to grasp that.  What really is most important about this realization though is that even though I am damaged, my worth has never changed.  In God's eyes I am still His creation.  Tattered and torn though I am, I am just as precious and worthy to Him as the day I was born.  Nothing has changed in His eyes.

I think I have heard this illistration before, so it is not uniquely mine, but if you have a twenty dollar bill and you crumple it up, step on it, throw it in a mud puddle, and pick it back up it is still a twenty dollar bill.  Its edges may be rough, it may be dirty and damaged, but it is still worth the same amount. 

I am crumpled, have been stepped on, and thrown in the mud (sometimes I even wallow there), but God  picks me up, unfolds me, and washes me off.  My value hasn't ever changed.  I am worthy because He made me and I am here because He wants me to be.  I was worthy when I was new, I was worthy when I was crumpled, I was worthy while I was being stepped on, I was worthy when lying in the mud, and I am worthy when I am washed. 

I just want you all to know that you are worthy too.  Damaged or not.  Dirty or not. Whether you are still lying in the mud or not, God created you and you are worthy and valuable to Him. 


*As you read these postings of mine I hope that you never feel preached at.  Lord knows I am not one who can preach.  If anything, I am really "preaching" to myself, because I find myself needing to be reminded of who God is and how much He loves me even when I can't find any love inside of me for myself.*