What Moves Me...

There are mornings when I feel glued to the bed... like there's a thousand pound weight on top of me that I have to throw off before I can get up and get going. It's not that I feel in utter despair or constrained to linger in laziness. Instead it's the impluse to simply "take today off," sip virgin margaritas on my self created, sun filled, tropical beach... watch the sun creep up over the skyline, dig my bare toes into the warm sand, read a good book, pick some fresh berries off a near by vine, go for a long run along the water's edge and basically bask in the glow of one single solitary worry free, stress free, opposition free day... Awwwww.   A familiar cry breaks me away from my comfortable daze and I stare up at the ceiling. Less than a minute later another cry joins in, both cries pleading for my love and immediate attention. I give out a long sigh as if I was seriously considering just day dreaming the hours away in bed, even though I know darn well I wouldn't really allow for it. That's when the powerhouse of motivation begins to stir up inside of me and the thousand pound weight is gone and before I know it I'm on my feet and facing the new day like it's my birthday... all illusions of my peace filled, secluded island are replaced with thoughts of two defenseless boys, begging for their mother's touch. But are they really defenseless? In many ways yes. They are physically vunerable, susceptible to the earth's elements, absorbed with their constant needs to be met and any of their discomfort to be handled and cured. But in other ways, greater ways, they are more armored, qualified and prepared than me.   It is this thought... the knowing that I am living and caring for spirits hundreds of years more mature than mine, that I am moved. I am moved to disconnect from any selfish haven I might wish to give way to. I am moved to bathe them, wash a soapy rag over their little bodies and rinse them clean from any filth or contamination, while they replenish my desire to cleanse my own soul from the rampant spiritual infection clammoring at the walls of my heart. I am moved as I hold a small hand and dance around the living room in circles, watching the smiles and laughter of a seen angel, wanting to capture this moment and revert back to it every time I need to rid myself of discouragement or fear. I am moved as they happily declare unjudged acceptance and favor to every person we come in contact with as if everything good is illuminated and anything negative is inconspicuous. I am moved when I see them looking up at a crowd of birds flying overhead, curiously searching and exploring their new environment with awe and wonder as I have to work hard to hold back my cynicism and conflicting feelings towards a human climate that pollutes our culture with chaotic promiscous grime and unrestrained vulgar corruption. I am angered, fed up and enraged at the dishonesty of a planet that teaches so many wide spread falsehoods about what is most valuable and important in this mortal, temporal state. But then I am moved to peace, moved to softening, moved to hope when I hold my little one as we talk with the Creator of us both, the Holy One who trusted me enough to raise, love, cherish and lead these two spirits. But as I lead them they are also leading me, teaching me, guiding me, reminding me of my purpose here... and always, when the stubborness and unyielding tendencies of my pride attempt to take root, to set up camp, to find anchor in my heart and leave me empty, alone and unreachable, they move me.

Still Going...

(A little something I wrote on Body Image and the constant battle women face to seperate themselves from society's false belief of what true beauty is)

 

My mind races almost as fast as my heart as my feet hit the asphault and cold air hits my lungs. It's another day in January, grey, brisk, naked and still around me. I close my eyes to imagine the cold away but it doesn't go anywhere... it lingers the way my uncomfortable thoughts linger like an unwanted stranger at the front door. It's weird how thoughts can feel so mixed up and disfunctional one day and sorted out and clear the next. What changes? Why do we sometimes see things with blurred, clouded vision and become paralyzed to find our way to anywhere outside the world inside our minds? It's like being put behind the wheel to find some unknown destination while thick fog closes in on all the street signs and the road becomes just a shadow engulfed in smog. But today I don't feel that completely lost feeling. I'm still moving, still searching, still breathing. I know I can let this frozen breeze of winter solidify my heart, keeping me hard and unemotional, alone and unreachable. But I won't stop here. This isn't what I came to find. I am not looking for an escape, but a stepping stone that leads to higher ground, freer ground, ground that doesn't shake and tremble beneath my feet. As I focus on the movement of my legs and the rythum of my heart, I push a little harder, a little faster, as a symbol of my commitment and resolve to be better than this, to fight with all my guts to win this battle. I won't go down this easy. I can see the deamons on the sidelines laughing at me with their artificial smiles, smiles that fade with the day as they chase their prey into the dark corners of the street where misery is their only allie. But I have something better. I have something to give that they don't... something they will never have. That is where their resentment lies. Everyone here has it, but the human race has become so corrupt that for some, our reflections no longer reflect our Creator. We have masked the light and forgotten the truth. We have distorted the beauty and overlooked the glory and majesty of mortality. Why do we curse His name and abuse this gift? When did the world take sacred out of a woman's body and replace it with the disgust and disgrace of tainted, degrading images scattered across screens and pages and mens' infected minds? How far will we go to satisfy our cravings, desires, addictions, pleasures? But are we really satisfied? Are we satisfied with the recognition we get for our painted faces and revealing appearances? Can we feed our addictions long enough to ever really fill the void and end the need for more self-induced intoxication? Where have all the believers gone? The ones who will stand up and shout and protest against the pandemic of corruption and deceit? Who will rescue the souls inflicted with sickened values and unhealed hearts, confined within the walls of their distorted minds, not knowing where to turn for release? Who will be a deliverer of peace in the midst of a very real war going on constantly around us and inside of us? When will we say enough is enough? I am only one but I am one left among the believers, one that will not stay still, one that will not give in or give up or give way to the pull of the powers of evil enticing and capturing so many hearts. We can no longer be content to sit on the fence and observe the Saints while attending weekend parties of self indulgence. We can no longer be double minded, having good intentions but excusing weakness for momentary pleasure. As I come to the end of my run, I am nowhere near the end... my heart slows but I am not relaxed. My adrenalin kicks in as I confront the opposition of the day. My mind clears and I am not afraid. As I pass a mirror in the hall I see something different, something that has changed since I first walked out the door. I see something beautiful, someone made from the hands of the Master of the universe, someone created in the image of the Father of mankind, someone who has something to share and to give and to offer this world. I am only one, but I do not walk alone. He is there beside me, taking my hand and guiding me. And I will not be still.