Cry baby cry…..

insta simple

I’ve had my heart broken,
the air knocked out of my voice
so it’s been quiet here for a little while,
giving myself instead to the work of breathing in and back out
and then repeating all over again.
And I’ve given myself over to the tears which
seem to flow unchecked and without warning.

I’m wildly grateful for the sunglasses I get to work behind,
the way my work lets me wander and wobble without fanfare,
and for the spilling-over-healing wonder of the tears themselves,
as if the sea finds me exactly where I am
and strokes my cheek with salty fingers
in the spacious,  windy way that I love.

I’ve given myself permission to let the sad be,
to let the tears rain down comfort,
let the petals be crushed
and the kleenex disappear extravagently.

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And as I’ve cried it out,  not pulling away from the pain
but letting it say it’s part in this story still unfolding,
I’ve been reminded to stretch wide my other wing,  too,
the one that lets beauty sing her grateful joy
until they’re both unfurled,  these powerful wings,
both joy and pain in harmony,
making music that pulls me deeper into life.

Life.  My God,  how I love it.
Raw and unscripted and teeming with things that scare and scald
and heal and delight and stretch and surprise and shave our rough edges smooth.
Life lived bare with the soundtrack unplugged
and the feeling turned up strong.

Tears unhindered,
smiles unforced,
heart unguarded
and freckles wet and nourished with saltwater peace.
Life not false.

Unblocked.
Unsunk.
But unbroken?
Hardly.

And my hope and I are okay with that:)

insta playful heart


I want to share a tool I’ve been using,
something offered by  Mandy Bird,  the gifted and compassionate grief counselor
I’ve been working with.  You can recieve her wise, intuitive care,
along with her collaborator, Chris Saade,
in their DVD series The Model of Heart-Centered Grief .
It’s a tall glass of hope and help for the hurting.
I so recommend.  Worth every
shiny penny.

“Our efforts to disconnect ourselves from our own suffering
end up disconnecting our suffering from God’s suffering for us.
The way out of our loss and hurt is in and through.” -Henry Nouwen

I’ll be drawing a name from comments to send a care package from my heart to yours. For the love:)

of pots and pans and wings…..

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It’s been long hours driven inside from the cold
and I’ve been cooking to stay close to the fire,
making food with love for body and soul
because sometimes it’s the only way I know
in the muddy places
and so there I stand,  heart a little shaky,
hands solid on the shiny purple of the onion
that I slice through crisp
as the tears run down a healing tide

and I breathe in deep the smell of sunshine crawling up from fresh split peppers,
and the heat climbs,  too,  from my hands soaping dishes
in a sinkfull of prayer poured out over steaming water
and I hear again the sound of singing river
grooving slow across the buried things inside
until the song opens true
and captive things break loose
and I feel it stilled,  the quaking
of this heart running scared.

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and while I pour another lazy stream of olive oil
I pour out,  too,  the song that’s getting unstuck down inside
and a warm breeze grooves across my heartstrings
until my feet have to scoot and slide
and  I feel again safe-held
inside wings that don’t force or squeeze
and heaviness slides off into the water
as I tug free the drain.

I wish you oil and warm and water and light
and a fresh song rising:)

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“What’s lost is nothing to what’s found,
and all the death that ever was,
set next to life,
would scarcely fill a cup.”
-Frederick Buechner