Mission (not even CLOSE to being) Accomplished

From the time I could write,
I have loved making lists.

And from the time I could write lists,
I have made "Things TO DO" lists.

I tediously created lists as a girl with:

1. Wake Up
2. Brush Teeth
3. Get Dressed
4. Brush Hair
and
5. Eat Breakfast

often securing the "Top 5" spots--
mostly because I knew I would be able to
check them off
without much effort,
and I'd feel like I'd already
accomplished something
within the first ten minutes of waking.

And that made me feel good...
made me feel like I was off to a good start.

And then, at night,
I would take out my list again,
and see how many things I had been able to
accomplish
throughout the course of the day.
Which often,
typically
usually
wasn't very much...
despite my stellar first-thing-in-the-morning
start.

I still tend to do that.
Maybe not with an actual list anymore
(though sometimes I still make lists,
but more so to help me remember what I need to do
because I am forgetting more and more these days),
but I do tend to look at my day,
at the end of my day
and survey
review
assess
critique
what I have managed to
accomplish
in and with
my day.

But not today.
Not right now.
Right now,
I am thinking about a different kind of accomplishment.

I am thinking about what I accomplish
with my words
and my actions
and my deeds
and my demands
and my stands
and my declarations
and my confrontations
and my victories
and with the rights I exercise
and insist upon
and lobby for
and claim
for
my
self.

I am asking myself questions.
I am taking a moment to pause
and see the motive behind
what
I am wanting
to accomplish

and
surveying the fall-out
and
casualties
of what I am
actually
accomplishing
with my words
and
my actions.

What did I accomplish with that 'look?'
What did I accomplish with that statement?
What did I accomplish with those words?
What did I accomplish with that action?

And was it worth it?

And why did I do it?

And
most importantly,
to me
today,
right now
in this moment...

What else did I accomplish, while I was busy accomplishing for myself?

Did I hurt someone else? Or help with healing?
Did I make someone feel smaller? Less than? Not good enough? Or stronger?
Did I reject? Shut out? Or defend and protect?
Did I exclude? Offend? Or welcome someone in?
Did I make my point clear? And close my ears?
Did I stand up for righteousness? Or sentence someone with my judgement?

Did I push myself to be more, care more and be kind?
Or did I do it my way, and demand others do likewise?

Did I consider, forgive and show compassion?
Or did I only see my offense
and my rights?

Did I point out the obvious?
Focus on the fault?
Find the failure?
And 'rub their face in it?'
Or, did I put myself in their shoes
trade places for a moment
treat them how I'd like to be treated
love them
embrace them
and
smile upon them with grace?

And
Did I accomplish, just because I had a right to do it?
Did I accomplish, in the name of righteousness and justice,
what was really about something else entirely?
When it was about something within me...
like fear
or disappointment
or guilt
or anger
or revenge
or vindication
or a desire to control
or to make someone suffer
or to 'help' them get, what I believe they deserve?

Yes.
I accomplish things every day.
I complete tasks.
I manage to get done what has to be done
(usually)
But I accomplish
so
much
more
than simply what I do
or what I successfully check off my list.

I hurt people every day.
I wound.
I crush spirits.
I judge.
I envy.
I delight in downfalls.
I point out mistakes.
I am condescending.
I insist on my own way.
I declare myself right.
I condemn
and
I place myself, high above others.

And,
I am starting to think,
I might be
tougher
and harder
on people

than God is.

Because He loves
and He knows
and He forgives
and He heals
and He provides
and He cares for
and He protects
and He defends
and He sacrificed
and He restores
and He redeems

and
He completes
the work in me,
that He began.

He knows my ups and downs
and failures
and faults
and sins
and mistakes
and dismal attempts at goodness.
He knows the worst I have done....
and the many more awful things I am capable of
and have still, yet to do...

and He
has a plan
for my life.
And it is good.

He is for me.
His love
His kindness
His grace
His mercy
His forgiveness
His peace
His joy
His blessing
(and His blessings)
are mine.

He holds my future.
And He delights over me.
He sings over me.
He lavishly loves
and forgives me.
And He is faithful.
Even when I am
unfaithful
and faithless...
He is faithful
to me.

Even when others would prefer He not be.

Even when others would like to see
the price I should pay for my failures.

Even when others would rather see ill accomplished in my life.

Even when others do not forgive me...
He does.

He forgives me,
and has grace, mercy, love and joy for my days ahead.
He will accomplish what He loves.
And He loves me.

I really wish I was more like Him,
and less
like my
self.

I want my accomplishments
to reflect more
of Him...
and what
He is
accomplishing in me
and in my life.

I want to rest my head on the pillow at night
and my body at the end of my life,
on His accomplishments
in my life
through my life
and in the midst of my failures and faults.

I want His mission accomplished, in me.

Miss Understood

I've taken two days out of my
not-so-busy-life
to ponder
think
and
remember.

And,
I find myself reflecting
on past hurts
decisions
choices
mistakes
and
aches
in my life.

Some of which
were inflicted by others
many of which were
inflicted by
me.

And I am overwhelmed.
I am aware.
So
very
aware
that this life is filled
to overflowing
with
hurt
and pain
and sorrow
and
often,
secret
sadness.

We bear
our own set
of sorrows
which taunt us as night
whisper words of doubt
fill our heads with worry
flood our hearts with anger
and scream from beneath the pores
of our skin for vindication
or validation
or relief
or justice
or

forgiveness.



Life is filled with hurts
and hardness
and harshness

and mine,
for the past two days
has been filled
with
hindsight.

There are so many things I would change about my life
my decisions
my choices
my heart
me...
if given the opportunity.


If given the opportunity,

I would say 'no' when I said 'yes.'

I would say 'I am so very sorry'
and
'I have been so very wrong'
when I said nothing.

I would ask for help
rather than turn a cold shoulder

I would confess
rather than keep secrets

I would admit rather than cover-up

I would be open and vulnerable
about my deepest needs
and

I would fall apart weeping...
rather than hold in feelings of
rejection
disappointment
disillusionment
and
anger.

I would pretend less
and
confront
more.

I would confront more of who I really am.
I would confront more of my fears

and
I would accept love
better.

I would accept the love of others
better.

I would accept being loved
rather than
demand
I be loved
a certain way.

I would accept others
better.

And
I would think about
others
more
than I demanded they think of me.

I would
ultimately
seek
to
understand

rather than indulge
my own need to be understood.


And
in all of my reflecting
pondering
considering
and facing,
I have also remembered
what I have learned
and what I know
now
and
because of
how I have lived my life
thus
far.

I know...
truly
really
deeply
know,
in the midst
of all the hurts and sorrows
aches and shattered dreams
low moments
and haunting memories
gross oversights
grandest failures
and secret sadnesses

I know
His
beautiful
enveloping
soothing
healing
freeing--

Un-merited
Un-earned
Un-deserved
and
Un-believable

Forgiveness
Grace
and
Mercy.

I am loved.
I am understood.
I am known.
I am forgiven.

I have lived in the valley.

I have dwelled in the place where
Tears mingle with Relief
Ache blends into Comfort
Grief is coated with Grace
Failure is blanketed by Mercy
and
Healing
is fed
by

Forgiveness.

The Day After

I remember where I was, this day 11 years ago.
(as everyone else does, I'm certain).
But,
I also remember where I was the day after:

Disney World
and the emergency room.

On September 12th, we packed up
3 year-old Tucker
and 1-year old Tatum
and drove to Orlando, to take a trip we had already planned.
Our President had told us to "carry-on"
to continue living
and not let the horror gripping our nation
and our hearts
halt us
or keep us from the freedoms
we had taken for granted
the day before.

It was a difficult decision to make,
one I'm sure very few would have made.
But we went.
With broken hearts
and confused thoughts.
We went.

That night,
after we checked into our hotel,
we took the kids to the pool
and Tucker had an accident.
Sliced a gaping wound on the top of his foot
which needed stitches.
Hotel security called for an ambulance,
and Tucker and I climbed inside for a trip away from
"The Happiest Place on Earth"
to a hospital...
where I waited in a dripping bathing suit
for Tucker to get three shots and multiple stitches.
We were finished in no time,
and were ushered back to the hotel--
finishing out our trip.
Watching news reports and memorial services
in the hotel lobby and restaurants
with other guests
all trying to make sense of the chaos.

It was a
Surreal
Ironic
Stoic
and
Numbing
experience,
to 'vacation' while
mustering a
Forced Hopefulness
Determined Peace
and
Quieted Acceptance
in the midst of a very
Uncertain Tomorrow

But...

(not to diminish any of that...
not to take away from the remembering
and honoring
and acknowledging of the fallen
and the heroes
and missing
going on today...)

But,
I have been thinking
(again)
and connecting
(again)
today,
with how I felt then
and many, many times
since
then...

That LIFE is just kind of like that.

In this life
in today
in NOW,
there is confusion
and heart-ache
and devastation
and loss
and unexplainable difficulty
and out-of-left-field hurts
and blind-siding anguish
and shock.
And sometimes...
the hits just keep coming.
Sometimes,
even when we are doing our best to cope
and handle
and move on
and let go
and accept
and embrace...

we get kicked when we are

already

down.

And it feels like too much
and like there isn't even enough reason to
push through
and try.

But,
alas
as we know...

as we all know

we
are still
here
today

I am here.
I am looking back
at an anniversary-of-sorts.
My life has changed.
Life around me has changed.

And I am not
in
the
same
exact
place
I
was
before.

Life does go on.
Decisions are made
Memories are created
the sun rises
love begins
hope springs.
We grow
We reach
We see
We live
We continue.

Like
life,
I do not stay in the same place
(at least, I do not have to)
I can look for the good
set my face toward the sun
feel warmth
and love
and a renewed sense of purpose
and freedom
and destiny

Because,
I am
still
very
much
here
and
very
much

alive.

And I am going to
keep going
and loving
and feeling
and becoming.

I am not going to long for a
different
simpler
easier
more innocent
time.

I am going to look at where I am now,
what I have learned
who I have become
how I want to live my life
and where I want to be tomorrow.

Because
there is
always
always
always

a
day
after

and

I'm still here

to live it.

42 Going on 43 (Birthday Thoughts)

Happy Birthday Eve to me.

Tomorrow...
I will celebrate my
very insignificant
rarely celebrated
mild and bland
43rd birthday.

There are no big 43rd Birthday Parties.
There are no Hallmark cards with glittery "43"s on the front.
There are no invitations, plates, coordinating napkins or wall decorations
with MY age on them.

43 is just an age.
Not a big deal.
43:
not-quite
half-way
through the 40s
...to 50

But I am celebrating it,
nonetheless.
I am celebrating being 42
and
becoming 43.

I am still becoming.
I am still on my way.
I am looking at me
looking at my life
looking at my future
looking at my relationships
my family
my purpose
my wants and needs
and my heart.

I am looking back
and looking forward
with wonder
and questions
and hope
and peace
and a sense of being able to breathe deeply
about where I am
where I have been
and where I am going.

I lost my mother before her 58th birthday.
I had time with her.
I had time to learn from her.
I had time to listen to her.
I had time to watch her pass from this life to the next.
I was given the opportunity to witness her death,
to be taught by her,
how to face death and
even how to welcome it.
And leave this life,
this world
behind.
She taught me how to pass away,
with dignity and grace.

And I appreciate the lesson.
I value what she taught me.
But.

But there is a part of me,
that I know really would have liked to witness
her grow old.
I would have loved to see how she aged.
Not simply because I miss her.
Not simply because I long to have her in my life...
but because I would have liked to see
and experience
and learn
more about aging.
About how aging tempered her
strengthened her
gave her greater perspective
and deeper love
and who she became in her years beyond 57.

And so,
as I complete another year,
and look out at the year--
the age
on the horizon,
I choose to focus even more
on becoming.
I choose to focus more on listening
and questioning
and seeking
and understanding
and loving
and caring about
and knowing
myself
and
others.

I was given a gift,
when I lost my mother.
I was given the gift of perspective.
I was given the gift of appreciation.
I was given the gift of hope
and inspiration.

And I live with an understanding
that life is short.
Oh.so.very.short.
And that I have a life to live
and people to love
and a son to raise
and daughters to nurture.

Along with countless other life lessons,
My mother taught me how to die.
She taught me how to face eternity
and cross over...
I want to teach my daughters
To Live.

Not how to live...
but
to live.

I want them to see in me;
now
in the future
(and from the days of the past they have been witness to)
that I lived.
That I was alive.
That I was aware.
That I was awake.
That I worked on myself...

and loved the results.

I want them to see that I loved the results
of the life I lived.
Loved my crow's feet and smile lines
Loved my stretch marks and age spots
Loved my victories and embraced my failures.
That I loved the results of the risks I took
the people I loved
and even the mistakes I made.

I want them to see that
I forgave
and trusted
and welcomed
and cared.
That I was kind
and gracious
and classy
and open-hearted.
And free.
I want to see that I lived in freedom.

I want them to see that I was alive
and that I lived my life
with all I had
all of my heart
and all of me.

I have done my best with that so far.
I have learned to love 'being."
...love being a woman
...love being alone
...love being me.

But I want even more.
I want even more from myself.
I want even more for myself.
I want to be a better version of myself.
I want to keep growing
deepening
developing
and becoming.
Every day of this next year.

And so,
I am celebrating the past year.
And ringing in the next one!
I am wishing myself a very Happy Birthday!

And many, many more.

Happy Birthday to me! Can't wait for 43!

Daddy's Girl

I often write about my mother in my posts.
What she taught me
How much I miss her
The way she cared for me
and how, the woman I am today
is so much the result of what was created in me
by being her daughter.

But, she is but a part
of what has and who have
collaborated
in the making and forming of
me.

Her partner
in all those efforts
Her companion through the years
when she was mothering me,
turns 74 today,
and
I want to celebrate him
now
here
today.

I have often felt (and said)
that I had the best father
a little girl
and
teenager
could ever have.
I was loved
fathered
daddied
and "grown"
by a
strong
tender
loving
devoted
attentive
expressive
affectionate
masculine
good
Man.

He hugged me
held my hand
talked to me
asked about my thoughts
and my feelings.
He took me on dates
defended me
protected me
shielded me
stood up for me
fought for me
listened when I cried
helped with broken hearts
wrote to me in college
called me on the phone
bought me jewelry

and told me
I was beautiful
and that he was proud of me
and that he loved me
and that he liked me
and that he trusted me

He disciplined me when I needed it.
He was strict and steady
He spent time with me
built me a dollhouse
taught me to drive
helped me with the Science Fair in first grade
explained geometry
took me to the store for nail polish for my senior prom
painted my nails for me when I was five
brushed my hair
played Barbies when I asked
took me to the beach
made my brothers pour my milk because the gallon jug was too heavy
opened the car door for my mother
sold me his car for a dollar
and carried me on his shoulders when my legs got tired.

I love my father
my dad
my daddy

I have his shoulders
his frame
his Cherokee skin
his nose
his emotions
I have his temper
and his strength
my hands look like his

and
I believe
about myself
all the things
he told me
about me....
That I am worthy of love
that I should be cherished
and cared for
and taken care of
That I am strong
and capable
but that I need
and should
be
loved.

I cannot remember a time when he
criticized me
or put me down
or failed to support me.

I watched him love my mother
and spend his days off
taking her to lunch
and helping her with the grocery shopping.
I watched him vacuum the floors
and work on the tractor
and rig repairs on our cars
and clean out the garage.
I listened to him preach
and pray
and counsel
and train
and serve communion
and get hurt
and get angry
and lose
so much

and
continue.

I believe about myself
the things he showed me:
that I can be a woman
and still be smart
and confront when I need to
and take a stand
and stick up for myself
I believe, because of him,
that I don't have to be afraid
that I don't have to be weak
or ashamed of anything.
That I can and should
wait
on love,
but be ready TO love
all the time.

Because of him,
I know I can be me.
I can be 100% of ME
and not hold back
or tone down
or hide
or pull away
or change
or conform
or give up
my confidence
my personality
my uniqueness
because it might make someone uncomfortable
or feel threatened
or uneasy.

Because of him,
I am secure
and confident
and prepared.
And, long before a boy
or a man
ever said he loved me
or actually did love me,
I knew.
I knew I was worthy of love.
I knew I was love-able.
I knew I was loved.
I already knew love...

because I was
so
so
so
loved by my dad

and by
my Father.

I know the love of God
because I was loved here
by my Daddy.
He has pointed me to God
time
and
time
again.

He has loved me
the best
the most
and the deepest

and I love him
with all my heart

Always.
Happy Birthday, Daddy
I am thankful
I have had you as a father
and wouldn't want to have been
loved
raised
taught
protected
shielded
or daddied
by anyone else.

I am so grateful
I am
your daughter,

From your Princess,
Becky

On Being Ugly

Pretty is, as Pretty does.

So does Ugly.

I have come across a slew

a generous amount

a very sad heap

of Ugliness

lately.

I have been feeling

Ugly.

I have been

feeling

the ugliness

of

others,

the inner

anger

disappointment

sadness

unhappiness

and even

vengeance

of people who

are truly, deeply

without a doubt

riddled with 

inner ugliness.

And no,

they are not even being ugly to me.

I am not the target of their ugliness.

I am an observer.

I encounter them

in the lives

of people I love.

I had a wonderful, gracious mother

who, upon hearing me

speak badly of someone else

spout off a sarcastic remark

or belittle another person,

would simply say,

"Rebecca. Don't be ugly."

I'd joke in response and add,

"Uh, Mom. This is the only face I've got.

I'm doing the best I can..."

She'd sigh and shake her head.

Ugly is not a commonly-used word.

It's certainly not a polite term to use

in describing someone.

But

it's there.

They are there.

Women

Men

even some children

who are, for lack of a more delicate word...

ugly.

They are ready to fight,

claim their rights

complain

spout off

attack

mistreat

take another person down

destroy and reject...

because

of 

something

going on,

in 

their

insides.

We see the world

and react

out of

what is done to us,

in and through

our relationships

our work

our disappointments

our weaknesses

the way we are treated

and

everything else.

It's all based on

what 

is

inside

of us.

It's the "Glass Half Empty" Syndrome.

But it's our hearts, not a glass.

It's our past...

our hurts

our previous chapters

our broken this-and-thats

our neglected souls

our abandoned dreams

our 

disenchanted realities

unrealized hopes

unmet needs

and

drained expectations,

which siphon

our hearts

and leave us 

half

empty.

Which we

allow

to leave us

half empty.

We do have the power,

We are capable of holding on

to what is in our hearts.

We do have something else

that helps us retain,

even increase

what is in our hearts.

We are all equipped with stoppers

corks

and

plugs

to patch the holes,

stop the leaks

and keep our

hearts...

our selves.

Our peace.

Plain and simple.

Straight forward.

Blunt as I can make it...

forgive.

Forgiveness keeps our glass,

our hearts

Half-Full-and-Getting Fuller.

Forgiveness

Letting Go

Moving On

Accepting

Releasing

Loving

Allowing Change

Breathing in, Hope

Choosing Grace

Showing Mercy.

These

are

Beauty.

These are what

bolster my spirit

make me whole

set me free

strengthen my response

tenderize my words

light my countenance

and

manifest as beauty within.

These are the eyes

with which I want to view the world

the people I meet

the friends who disappoint me

those who hurt me 

and let me down

or weave themselves into my life,

taking what they want

spewing venom

delivering a cold shoulder

tossing judgements

withholding love

ignoring me or

spreading half-truths,

while

claiming righteousness

vindication

or justice.

I really don't want to be ugly.

I want to be lovely.

Lovely is even better than Beautiful.

Loveliness expresses herself in:

kindness

understanding

patience

compassion

strength

confidence

gentleness

dignity

and

class.

Yes,

Beauty is often only skin deep

and

Ugliness screams from the core of our hearts,

but

Loveliness....

Loveliness 

edifies

refreshes

smoothes and softens

harsh encounters with Half-Empty People,

with hurt and broken hearts,

who haven't yet learned to forgive and release

the past 

which drains them of their beauty and joy.

Today

and tomorrow,

and hopefully

even when I'm old and wrinkly,

I 

won't 

be 

ugly.

It's really just a choice.

I choose to do what 

I need to do

what I must do

what I can do,

to forgive

Now.

So I won't

ever

end up

Ugly.

I simply refuse to be ugly.

Love the One You're With

I've been thinking (again)
and feeling (again)
and choosing (again and again)
to love.

I am not one who has ever been closed
to love...
resisted
love...
avoided
love...
or given up on

love.

I have known all of my life,
that I am one who
deeply, deeply, deeply
needs love
thrives on love
seeks love
and basks in love.

I am one who needs love.
Needs to be loved
Needs to feel love
Needs to
give...

love.

And by love,
I mean
all
kinds
of love.

My connection to love,
my need for love
doesn't stem from starvation
or longing
or neglect
or emptiness
or having gone
without
or a lacking
within.

Love draws me in
calls to me
stirs inside
spurs me on
inspires
motivates
and moves
because...
because I am loved
I have always known love.

I have been loved by
loved on
loved through
loved openly
loved unconditionally
loved beyond
loved in spite of....
every
day
of my life.

Every, single day of my life,
I have known love
The Love of my God
The love of my parents
The love of my family
and friends.

I have lived a life of love.
Lived it.
Known it.
Experienced it.
Tasted and savored it.

And so,
I love.
I love...

And yet,
I have been finding myself needing
wanting
desiring
to increase
my
capacity
to love.

I know I am
(dare I say, we are)
capable of
so
much
more
Love
than we ever give.

I can love my children better.
I can choose to sit with them
and listen.
Really listen
to them.
I can stop.
Change what I am doing.
Check the tone of my voice.
Breathe in the scent of their hair after a bath
Search their snaggle-toothed smiles
Hold their dimple-knuckled hands
and love them.
I can tell them what I see that is good and growing
in them
and love them...more.
With more words of encouragement,
noticing them
watching them
speaking kindness to them.
Loving
Them....
who they are
what they feel
how they express themselves
in hurt
or anger
or dreams
or fears
or stories
or frustration
or questions.

I can love
my friends
my family
strangers in line at a store
acquaintances at a softball game
neighbors
co-workers
bosses
everyone

better.

I can be more loving.
I can be the best part of their day.
I can be the touch of love they need
the smile they didn't expect
the eyes that noticed them...
really saw them,
the laugh they didn't know was in their gut.

I know I am called to change the world
I know I can give my money away
I know I can take on projects
I know I can volunteer
I know I can serve
I know I can stand up and make a point
I know I can become more politically active
I know I can undertake some grand pledge
or make a noble sacrifice
or join a cause
or share a passion for justice
or gain attention for
things I do for Him
or in His name
or for His Kingdom
I know I can gain glory for
acts of courage
or
convincing speeches
or grand sermons
or demands for change and equality

but

now
today
so far,
lately
honestly
I am looking at me
and wanting
to
love

more.

I am wanting
needing
deciding
looking
for
love.

Ways to
tenderly
quietly
softly
sweetly
gently

love.

When I am gone
when I have finished this life
when my life is complete
I want people to say of me...

She loved me.
I want them to know
they were loved
by me.

I Don't Do Windows (Anymore)

I have been debating for a while now

just how long I have to wait before I can feel

happiness.

Again.

Not wondering about when I'll find happiness

or when I'll get to a place of happiness

or when I'll actually be happy...

but, wondering, debating and considering

how long it will be before I

allow myself

to feel happy.

Last year I went through a loss.

Not the same kind of a loss as I did when my mother died.

(That kind of loss was one which was placed in my life.

Placed in my life through the ending of her life,

and the continuing of mine without her.)

Last year,

I went through a loss that was

of my own choosing.

Mostly.

Almost.

Kind of.

At least, that is how it looks.

And while I didn't choose it alone,

it was a choice.

A decision.

An agreement to lose.

A final answer.

A breaking.

A losing.

A loss.

And,

because it was a loss by choice,

(a very public choice based on very private events),

it was a loss experienced because of a controversial choice,

a choice about which I made no grand statements,

issued no invitations for input,

offered no explanations

or answered any curious questioners...

I have dealt with my choice (and loss) mostly

in silence

on my own

at my pace

without many other voices

or ears

or arms.

And here I am.

The next year.

After the loss.

Many things have changed in the past year.

Many things about me have changed.

But many have stayed the same.

I am still a Pleaser

I am still a Worrier

I am still so overly aware of what I think people think

about me

about my life

about my children

about my everything

There is still something in me,

that lives my life in two ways.

I live my life on the inside....

knowing who I am

what I need

what I have known

what I am learning

what I long for

who I long to be

Who I long to please.

With struggles

issues

hopes

strengths

needs

loves

longings

aches

and

joys

and

I live this other life as well

(which I detest about myself),

which thinks about

dwells on

ruminates over

how I am perceived from outside.

I, long ago, placed myself in a fishbowl,

I bought
took up residence
set up my home
in a glass house
of my own fears
and insecurities

I live in this house and project that

everyone is standing beyond the walls,

with rocks in hand

sticks and stones

picks and hammers

ready to knock their way through

chip at my security

chisel away at the structure of my safety

Peck at, crack and shatter...

me

with their opinions

judgements

assessments

and

labels

In one breath, I can convince myself

that this is NOT the case...

that people, friends, even family

are not peering into my life with a set of eyes

wanting to see me fall or fail or be devastated for my choices,

while in the next moment

I know it kind of is the case.

I am not so naive as to think I am not being judged

and watched

by others.

So,

while I am sitting here

now

this year

in the moment

at this point...

I am moving forward

at a strong pace

with a sense of where I am going

with hope

and energy

and readiness for the rest of my days

But,

that life I live

in that glass house

of my own construction

is

holding

me

prisoner.

I am fresh out of Windex

I have exhausted my arms scrubbing away the smudges

I have hung curtains,

strategically placed the furniture

spruced up the landscaping

dimmed the lights

holed up on the inside, where I feel safe

to avoid the neighbors

the gawkers

the gossips

and people I have disappointed

or

who have been so disappointed in me.

I have stayed inside,

because of my fear of others

but.

today.

Today

I want the sunshine.

I want to open the windows and let the fresh air inside.

I want streams of light brightening the place

I want the warmth of the new day to fill my spaces.

I am well.

I am doing really well.

And I'm ready to let it be known.

I am loved by Him.

I am well.

I am living again

and not hiding it any more.

I am not hiding.

And

I am allowing myself

happiness.

I am allowing myself the freedom

to be happy

and the freedom to express it

regardless of the 

imaginary or actual

slingshots beyond my door

I have made another choice today

I am choosing

to cut a few holes in the glass

myself

I am carefully

etching my initials in the windows

tapping at a few spots with my own tools

letting a few slivers of glass fall to the ground

by my own hand.

Eventually, I'll chip away at enough

and let the whole thing collapse--

My Glass House:

my need for the approval of others

my anxieties about disappointing people

and fears of them not loving me anymore.

I'm not saying I'm ready (yet) to rent a wrecking ball,

but I am going to try singing the high notes 

and see if I can make this thing shatter
(or at least get the walls to shake)

No more hiding happiness.

And by the way,
I realize now
that my real question
hasn't been
"When will I allow myself to be happy again?"
My "Glass House of Fear" question has really been,
"When will other people approve of me being happy again?"
See how imprisoned I can be....?

It's time to tell the truth and bring the house down.