Some things may be fun to write about, talk about or even sing about.
I always see bunch of bloggers, hosts, siblings in Christ, even pastors talking about so many things, but at some point in life, words fall short to heal the pain or the grieve we are actually feeling. Struggles have a bittersweet taste once you see it after overcoming it.
But what about those times when not even the Psalms, the poems, the books, the never ending nights weeping heal? there’s such power in reading, being positive, but man, what about those times even when you declare the best, nothing makes sense.
It’s like yelling those words in the middle of a soul civil war in a devastated and bunkrupt landscape. It just echoes in the silence; and that’s it. It’s amazing pushing each other’s up, someimes I rather someone standing in completely silence, right there when it’s needed, but also a person who confronts me when I get too lost on self-pity.
When even though you keep talking to a person whose life, you know, is in God’s hands and you know that it’s up to Him to do what He’s willing to do. It’s really cool as a script but in real life hanging on what might happen, hurts. Or, when coming and going on the every day routine seems like a dizzy carrousel that doesn’t get anywhere, when it’s just staring now and there to people’s gaze on the subway, bus or train, and then fall sleep to repeat, the human race assigned to us.
Once, the storm is gone all the words of hope seems to wake up to the fact, that they are true. But in the while is all about doubt, grieve. A permanent pain the middle of your chest that makes everything harder.
When the gospel sounds a pack of cheesy consolations for the one who live is a full spring day. When it seems that God is just pointing us ready to judge. Even though we know and we had experienced His love, we feel otherwise.
I think that beyond answers, we want relief of the questions, those hurting arrows as a continous punches in our heart.
Today, this day, I can finally say I have peace, abounding in my heart, and I’m obliged not only to pass this to people about Christ faithfulness whenever we are, but also let people know they are free to grieve. We are free to protest and talk to God about our complaints.
There’s still unanswered questions, but there’s peace, and whatever comes, however we feel He’s faithful, being drawn yourself to Him in all the times is the best thing that could ever happen to us, wether we feel it or not.
I’m so ashamed.
My blog has became so moth-eaten and dust-covered that I’m obliged to say I’m terribly sorry.
Or maybe not.
There’s some times in life when you have to stop apologize for being yourself. I’m not talking about that time you made a mistake and “oh well, I beg you pardon” but those time when at some point you never get enough of apoligizing for who you are as a person. Your thoughts, your reactions and way of seeing things.
One thing I’ve found out that most of us, humans, we live in a cloud made of farts. Some may say tat they’re not but oh well, your fart may smell different, with a dishtinguable sound from mine but truth be told: they are all fart clouds. We fall short in recognizing it. It’s ok.
Too many things have crossed my mind lately.
2014 has been the most struggling year in my life so far.
There have been a lot of fears. A lot of forloness. Feeling like throwing everything right outside the window.
Psychologists have been visited. Talks have been talked.
And the thing is dude, is alright what I’m going through for God’s sake. Who can be all positive all the time?
And therefore, what would be the sense of the gospel then?!
In one hand, we have this thing that it seems we have to have it it all together because YOU know everything will be alright and you can’t and you want to kill people. But on the other hand, it’s necessary to keep in mind that humanity is flawed, therefore there will be hurting as long as people exists.
So, after being almost 14 years struggling and staining my bed with tears
hell yeah, it’s alright, it’s ok mourning for my battle with scoliosis, man. I had to leave a lot of dreams thanks to this beautiful struggle. I clearly deserve it
Lat but not least, for today no video, but I will definitely recommend picking the guitar and leaning on it as you play it and bosom the chords quiver.
I haven’t had to go to college since Wednesay, I’ve been staying awake all nights long watching Downton Abbey S2 because that’s how I roll it. I ended up weeping. NEVER AGAIN.
Anyway, I’ve been scrolling through my old tweets, the one from the early ’10, when I was like 19 and saying goodbye to the teenage recklesness, it was cool; much to my surprise it’s weird to read me swearing as if I was a storm drain (I hope that’s the expression in english, otherwise you south american peeps know what I’m talking about)
But one true sad thing, it’s my sense of humor was priceless back then; I used to laugh the hell out of me, I’m still a joker but I’m not so funny anymore.
This whole thing I think started when I started to get sorrounded by the wrong people at the wrong time adding the fact that I started to feed myself with the most poisonous pies. You know when you’re an anti-cliché girl like me, you try to avoid any kind of over-used thought, so as a result, and don’t ask me how I ended up thinking that by telling me bashing “facts” but ultimately true, I would be the opposite of the typical 21th century girl. That that’s better a hard truth than a lie.
But what happenes when the filter goes torn, and you get to a point when you don’t wether something is true or it’s false? When you’re just wounded and you keep prompting the acid thoughts in your head?
And even thought we have to support each other, we all know that but what if that other keeps pushing the worst of you. And they shout you out. And they tell you, you are wrong. And even with an admired person gives something that seems like aprovements that what they’re saying, you feel wounded. Really wounded.
That if something is poising 1) your relationship with Christ 2) the relationship with yourself, reconsider that Jesus wasn’t all peace yo and alright with everyone. Throughout His word I can see how He sounds so poured out in love and in other times we see how he takes way many things to His heart. He wasn’t scared of falling short of people expectations.
We were created with a mouth and free will but also self-control.
As JJ Heller song would say: “You have a voice, you have to use it“
The whole idea is love isn’t “I embrace everything because I’m a good girl“. It is, as Christ, I’ll set boundaries in love.
That can be good not only for you but for that person.
And what about now? I’m the funniest girl, again. Nope.
Detoxing your soul, should be as cleaning the heart for Him to place it.
“She began to realize that, cowardly though she was, there was something in her which responded with a surge of excitement to the test and difficulties of the way better than to easier and duller circumstances.. In some way the dangers of the storm had stimulated her; now there was nothing but tameness, just a trudge, trudge forward, day after day, able to see nothing except for white, clinging mist which hung about the mountains without a gleam of sunshine breaking through...” – Hinds’ feet on high places
Flashnews! I fell into the pit of self-pityn. Again. That one when with the one ‘why me?‘ ‘why to me?‘. I sound much really much like Walt Whitman, don’t I?
Concerning lack of hope, I’m all woman of the world, in regards in shutting up my self-bashing comments, not so much. These last months have been so misty, so senseless, you know, those times when you just rather live the secret’s life of Walter Mitty, than actually face real and world problems.
So, since I have a crush on drama, it dawned on my that while we keep on rolling the rat race, and our world is all about traffic, glaring ads and cynical sorroundings, we soon will go nuts, but it’s healthy to say “Stop, you soul. Calm down!“
Besides unanswered questions I also found out I had hidden poetry written inside my chest, just ready to be left out.
That these hands can paint the most soul-calming paintings about how we will get safe home.
How heart does not have to be the wheel of life.
It certainly will bleed in the way of my so beloved dreams, and when the love given to the people we aim to reach is not returned, but I’ve found that walking through this edged path gives me a kind of bravery that I would never find in my comfort zone.
That kind of bleeding that assuredly worths any kind of scar that they leave us. We are all bonded through hearts broken, sad stories, struggles, but for some way as our roads get crossed we end up being each others’ Timon and Pumba, putting in a funny way. The feeling of “It’s alright, we all go through this, it’s ok. C’mon, you have my shoulder if you need it“. Amiable souls are still wandering around the world, there are so many stories waiting to be shared.
Music can be the most epic kind of company if you know how to distinguish the flavor of brokenness and the masochism froma submissive attitute.
Stringed tunes can be the soundtrack of your life if you know how to play the right chords.
As soon as she closes the gate behind me, I make up my mind to take the wide bridge across her house, the one above the lake. Taking the cement path which makes the the way to it, I see a bunch of these stunning and snow-white creatures chattering in the lakes; those tiny legs, and a body shaped as the most loved living thing. I snap a picture. Zoom it. I snap a zoomed picture. And they are there.
Everything is alright since that day I made all this plan about sleeping over there with the excuse that I had to. Swolling pride, and feeling terribly ashamed for hiding I mumble:
“…and I just wanted to tell you that.” I say pretending that I’m not feeling uncovered.
“…it’s ok“. And then she keeps on chattering as if I wouldn’t have done nothing, she tells me about her family abroad coming town, and how it was just a detail.
The whole picture says “I’m sorry” while grace embrace hearts again, the warmness starts rebuild the garden and the hurting drains.
And how standing in your fierce position of this-is-who-I-am attitude comes along with bouncing hearts, smiley hopes. How walking in faith is the most adventurous, reckless and pleasing path you could ever chose; the path where you can see Him showing those wide smiles when we take heedless ideas, and we make them true by introduce faith with action. My fave otp ever.
But reality screams terms, family falling appart, relatives leaving town, hearts wearing, how I wouldn’t mind leaving home and these AngloSaxons notes to sit beside that lake and drink mate while reading this dead book that as soon as you invite the Helper in, it becomes the most alive pages ever.
But I can smile at gifts received from childhood friend, lonely times, and dessert.
Because downheartness can lead through a black deep hole, or can also lead you to paint on a Tuesday morning, to mumble your fave song when you see those eyes judging your radness, because it’s not only about attitude but wether I feel it or not, decide that blurry reality can rob my Shelter.
I’ve found out that if our faith is not rad or reckless, it soon will fade away.
My bones are dry.
My reason talks louder than hope.
And then I walk away.
This is for everyday.