Created

I'm back!!

2007-03-29T01:45:41Z

I forget to post. I'm not sure I have anyone to post to. I'm not even sure why I'm posting now. But I am after 2 months of suspense for my devoted fans. . . ha. Who am I kidding? :)

I have a job now. I'm working at the American Red Cross. It's great so far! Lots of opportunities to reach out and help people beyond my little bubbled world; which I am still very much a prisoner of in some respects - A creator and willing subject in others. Is there a difference between being a prisoner OF and a prisoner TO something? Is one based on fault of the prisoner and the other the fault of the captor? Random question.

I have learned quite a lot in the past 2 months. . . about trust and respect and the cracks where faith alone cannot keep the flesh from leaking through. Can you end a sentence with a preposition? That is a lesson I have learned but cannot remember; Very much like me, I admit. I tend to be forgetful.

Is there a reason people spill their hurt onto others?

I haven't decided if I want to know that answer yet.

So I find it interesting-

2007-01-17T23:47:34Z

How Christians. . . or so called Christians. . . think you are judgmental if you are against gay marriage. So, I am judging if I say sin is wrong? You're dang right I'm judging then! That is what Christians are called to do. . . judge between sin and truth.

Since when is it my God appointed politically correct duty to pat a homosexual on the back and say, "hey good luck with the sin thing man. I gotta hand it to ya; you've got the right and the boldness it takes to get by in America!" Yeah. In america is right. . . we can handle this stuff here. We like sin.

I, on the other hand, want nothing to do with this wicked form of Christianity americans have polluted the precious name of God with. Read 2 Timothy 3 and take it deep to heart.

I plan on accepting the sinner, but not the sin. And if you have an issue with that, you can take it up with God on Judgment Day; because it's not by my standards that these things are measured.

Better check your 'religion' again I think.

Oh the joy. . .

2007-01-15T21:14:27Z

I'm a rich woman.

Rich beyond anything I ever could have earned. . .

Praise YHWH! I am truly blessed :-)

it falls again

2006-12-10T01:44:02Z

It must mean something to get to that point where all you see is the mask. I've looked in the mirror to view my true reflection. . . it's not what I'd hoped to see. I'm not sure what I expected. Honestly, though, I didn't intend to look in the mirror at all. It jumped in front of me again today, only this time I didn't move fast enough. I may have hurt it in the process of viewing my appearance. I don't always have the prettiest of complexions underneath. I'm outgrowing this particular facade I think. Too much was showing through. . . hence the mirror's pain.

It's slightly devistating. I love it too much to cause a crack. I'm blessed enough to have something to see my reflection in, and that's an understatement. If only for the mirror's sake at this point, I have to do something about this.

kudottu @ 2006-12-03T10:38:00

2006-12-03T15:38:52Z

My soul comes alive with certain music. Orchestra, to be precise. But just the strings... quite possibly the theme songs. There is an indescribable intimacy between the bow and string that plays my heart's melodies with such grace. The weight of my daily struggles melt in the midst of it, and I find my Savior there, whispering to me behind closed eyes.

I imagine the most delicately powerful interpretations when I listen... a dancer moving fluidly to the emotions behind each compositioned chord; my emotions, as if I were influencing each bow position. I feel as if I am creating every inflection of movement.

It builds me.

And somehow I don't think much of what makes me come alive.

His love endures.

2006-11-29T16:08:12Z

My family is here, spread throughout the fingerlakes, but further away then I would like sometimes. I've come to understand how families work over the past near 4 months of beginning one with my husband. They're here for me if I ever need them. They're always loving, always accepting. They love me for who I am. That's foreign. . . and incredible. Two people in this ugly world know my deepest secrets, and haven't turned their backs on me for them. I don't recognize that as often as I should when my carnal nature feels hurt by whatever trial I have mishandled.

Then there is my gene pool. It's probably not entirely right how much I want to "come out of them and be seperate". I tend to avoid the things that scrape at my heart so painfully. Wicked words are more than words. That's a concept too difficult to practice, it seems. At times I think I would enjoy a hearing impairment. Then again, there is little to no such thing as a complete lack of communication possibilities. Perhaps I simply need a transplant.

Then again, isn't that what I've been given? It's hard to explain or understand why we've let ourselves fall so far away from our original purpose.

Lord, keep me from striving.

My God....

2006-11-20T03:32:59Z

Who is that God we all imagine as a brown eyed blond man with nothing but a submissive stare into heaven?

I've realized tonight that my God is a warrior... a God of dangerous adventure and risk who will grasp onto my wrist and pull me out of the mirey clay. Yes, He is a gentleman, a servant and loving man. But He is fierce, His gaze like fire, His voice like the rushing wind. Wild, untamed by man, bearing the pain of nails driven through His flesh to break the bonds of satan over my life. He walked through hell 3 days, He sends His children into battle, He appeared to Moses in blazing wilderness, He speaks the storms into submission. Imagine the terror of His enemies in the last days as He brings all things beneath His feet. He will crush the head of the serpent as He is even now, but once and for all.

A man that will fight for you, a God that would die for you... sacrifice... sacrifice is bold and risky and difficult and He invented it. Read Job and listen to Him tell us about the intricately designed and WILD things He created. He is a God of passion. . .

And we sit on the sidewalk afraid to cross the street until someone is there to hold our hands or stop traffic. How many times do we dip our toes into the water to see if it is colder than our skin desires to feel... JUMP IN!!! It's exhilerating!!

Praise YHWY

2006-11-15T15:38:46Z

There are wet leaves pasted all over the front half of my driveway. They are practically unrakable...simply lying there, faces down, defeated. It was their season to die; the old orange things. They served their purpose to give me hope for warmer weather in the spring, to give me shade from the scalding sun in summer. They've blossomed into full beauty, captivating me with the vibracy of their intended purpose. And now they wilt and float, malnourished, to the ground.

Life has seasons, as I'm learning very intimately. Blessings, miracles, anguish, trials...

But the Lord will bring all things to completion whether it is painful or not. There comes a time when we must simply plant ourselves deep and endure. Nothing will ever come my way that Christ does not strengthen me to handle (as a beloved Brother of mine reminded me last night). His love endures forever. When I think of enduring, I'm convinced that something cannot be endured unless it has ups and downs, a mountainous terrain to press onward in spite of. If it were always an easy thing, there would be no need to persist. What would there be to endure through? The Lord loves me throughout, regardless, in addition to...up and down the rolling sea of the storms in my own life, His love endures.

And these leafy trials? They, too, shall pass. It's to my benefit now to focus on their purpose.

And once again. . .

2006-11-14T15:38:37Z

it all begins to fade

will it ever be easy?

Blessed be Your name

2006-11-13T16:51:38Z

Yesterday at church Pierre retold the story of the prostitute who washed Jesus' feet. I've never heard it told that way before. I tend to read the Gospels and not put much heart into them. I learn what the Lord opens my eyes to learn, but I don't find much passion in them. . . that's really only my own heart needing to be tilled.

He gave us the background of the times. . .the practices of foot washing and anointing honored guests at banquests, the kissing on the cheeks in greeting... and how none were done to Christ by Simon His host when He entered. Then there came the woman who, having her sin revealed at some previous and not so distantly past point, weeping and anoiting her Lord's feet with her life's work washed them with her repenting tears. . . such a taboo for an uninvited quest let alone a woman like this. And Jesus loved her for it.

It has become, to me, one of the most beautiful recounts of Truth I have ever heard. My heart felt entirely ripped open. I love when God rearranges my compsition.

I am feeling led in certain directions spiritually since then. . . a vague answer emerging to all of my questions of where I am headed and who I am supposed to be. It will be a while before I entirely understand or at least grasp on to it all. But whatever hinders me from waiting patiently will not stand before the presence of my God any longer. Sometimes to simply be silent is my greatest sacrifice.

kudottu @ 2006-11-11T13:48:00

2006-11-11T18:48:16Z

My heart is filled with so many dreams.
Psychology. . . I want to be a psychologist- a counselor for teenage girls, for hurting people. . . for hurting Christians who just know they need to sort things out.
Missions. . . I want to be a short term missionary to starving countries- a servant for those in the depths of poverty, even to the homeless in the streets of Rochester.
A servant in the church. . .

who says I can't do all those things?

But where is the Lord leading me? And when do I see the difference between my heart's desires and His?

So I was thinking. . .

2006-11-09T21:47:54Z

If I drew a set of fingerprints, each different from the last, would there be any one person in this entire world to share the pattern of at least one of them? I mean, no human ever made or ever to be made will have the same fingerprints. So, can I draw something that God couldn't create? Because if He used any one of the ten patterns then they wouldn't be original anymore: not unique at least. Does that matter?

And it's interesting to me that there is nothing left to discover! There are lots of things we know nothing of yet, but we know the genre and category of everything we've ever discovered. Think about it. . . we have animals, plants, chemicals, colors, and even those have subcategories. So anything we discover from now on will not be unknown as to WHAT it is, just new. I can't imagine we'll ever look at a new anything and ask ourselves, "well what in the world IS that?" No. Ecclesiastes said it very well. There is nothing new under the sun- which almost saddens me.

It seems that the only things that can remain mysteries entirely are the things of the Lord which He has not yet revealed. And that isn't a bad thing. It makes me curious. I guess that's the point. :-)

This side up

2006-11-08T20:55:55Z

Life is fragile. The more I think about it, the more fragile the word even sounds. It's icey.
I've been completely awakened to this reality. It took long enough, all things considered. My emotional fence has been kicked in a little today.

Interestingly, though, this new realization doesn't make me think of the people I've loved and have lost. I can only think about the people I love and still have. I would give my life for my husband. Strange how a life for a life eases the sting of death a little. Death itself holds no power, no sting, but life without him sounds more than painful enough to handle. I don't know how some people do it. They're so tough. I think my wall has crumbled, finally. And then come these firey tears. . .

I can't wait for Ronnie to come home from work. He always soothes me <3

Sometimes I wonder...

2006-10-30T22:53:39Z

I do this alot. . . I sit here thinking about my past and how far I've come in life. Everyday I figure out something new. What did I learn today? That I like accuracy. I learned how to use a concordance! And I realized that I have a very hard time emtying myself out, even before the Lord, my God. I'm so uncomfortable not knowing who I am. I need an identity, a purpose, a reason even. Finding my identity in Christ isn't so easy if I'm unwilling to let go of the identity I've built for myself. I don't even know who that is, but it's how I know me. . . if that makes a molecule of sense.

Surrender seems like it should be easier than this, especially for having been a Christian for so long.

And that's where I falter. . . what does time have to do with it?

Beloved. . .

2006-10-20T16:26:28Z

That, too, was covered.

Praise the Lord!

kudottu @ 2006-10-19T10:16:00

2006-10-19T02:22:50Z

This entire journal thing is pointless. I seem to use it for two things: a billboard and a therepist.

For the first, it has significant purpose. I can throw my ideas and my thoughts and my thankfulness for a faithful God all over the screen, and it's out there... a nice change from my transparent voice in the real world.
As for therepy, this has nothing to offer. Writing is always a good means of coping or self analysis, or self destruction. But there is no therepy in letting others swim across the pool of my own emotional drownings.

So I wonder. . .

which is more valuable in the greater scheme of life? Sometimes my questions only make sense to the pains in my head at the time. But maybe, just maybe, someone out there is a seeker and not afraid to look beneath the layers of self proclaimed Christianity without feeling as if they have committed some taboo wickedness for not being "good". Since when did 'goodness' and individuality become such seperate phenomena?

Anyway, this partially robotic mind is going to bed.

Tabula Rosa

2006-10-11T14:15:25Z

A tantalizing cup of coffee, an open minded canvas, a basket of paints, and a normally creative mind. . . drawing a blank.

White is sometimes an overwhelming non*color for me. I almost hate to disturb it. How often do I look at a barren whiteness and wish color all over it, while forgetting the loveliness in its purity and innocent potential? The possibilities are infinite, and yet none come to mind. I would wrestle with the thought of hanging the untouched canvas on the wall if I weren't the only one to understand it's purpose and beauty. It has strength, imagination, obstacle. . . fear. Yes, it strikes a string of fear in me. A fear of failure, a fear of disaster. One wrong stroke, and the entire picture could change.

Then again, is that not the point of art? There are no mistakes, only challanges and new ideas born and reborn.

And now I am inspired. . . to leave it alone.

the wicker burns. . .

2006-10-09T23:28:32Z

I find soothing in the silhouettes of these broken strings;
the lullabies of pristine memories invented,
cradled,
tucked safely in.
Peering between the fogged glass, I see you
whispering your ghostly voice into
my lungs - apparitions
of life drawn dreams
seething through clenched teeth
cracking with your wicked words.
I crave the drenching of a frozen rain
crawling down my skin
and peeling at the contents.

I am surrounded by this persistent hammering,
the endless emptying of an hourless day.

Say it just won't be.

kudottu @ 2006-10-07T14:29:00

2006-10-07T14:40:23Z

I'm just tired of this mindless sheep mentality carried by most Christians. I will follow Christ, my Savior, but I am even hesitant anymore to label myself as Christian unless I am truly living my life by the definition: Little Christ.

There is much richness and depth in the darker colors of emotion. A very beautiful and wise friend of mine once pointed out to me, in yet another deep valley, that those emotions are the hues that give my life painting its depth (paraphrase, of course). How lovely would the finished masterpiece be if it were merely bright and sunny colors. Where would the outlines be? The shading? The definition?

I just know I'm not ready to climb the walls or leap the great presipices yet. There is alot here on the floor that I need to discover. Getting down and dirty. . . who ever told you life with Christ was supposed to be constant happiness and jump up and down joy was obviously not living in Truth or reality. You can have joy in sorrow, and joy in mourning, and joy in suffering. I guess what I am the most tired of is other Christians hearing me talk like this and thinking, "wow, she's really slipping", or "oh no, I have to help lindsey be a good little Christian again." Was I ever? No, I don't need a pat on the back and a "let go and let God" response. He is with me, and He has me already. I'm not letting go of that. My question for YOU is, why are you so afraid to admit that walking in His footsteps doesn't always produce a comfortable life?

I'm just being real for once.

Life's not all fun and games, children. Pick up your cross and it won't be at least.

That's an order, mate

2006-10-02T16:49:59Z

Read Jonah!

hmmm

2006-10-01T14:34:05Z

I miss college. I think.
Is it that I miss the classes and the learning new things and the studying until my brain is about to fall out, or do I hide behind those things to keep me safe from failing in the working world?
There is only ever an option to fail, but I keep hearing the lies that I am nothing without a career. Thank you, world. You have corrupted what God began for good.
I love to work. I would love to work in a place where I can do mighty things for the Kingdom. Maybe that is the main reason I want to go back to school for psychology. It's funny how I have the ability to do mighty things for God anywhere, and still I lean towards the perception that it has to be done in a specific type of setting.

Then here I am, afraid of going back behind my shield because THIS time, I am afraid of failing at what it takes to become what I would love to be... in the world I may have been hiding from in the first place.

It's a sick cycle. When did I become so underconfident in my Savior?

Some ground needs to shift here.

These Burning Questions

2006-09-30T14:55:06Z

I keep thinking of all the jobs I would love to do and the training involved. Everything requires money that I don't have. So what breaks this vicious cycle and what is most important?

There is a place close by with Phlebotomy training classes. That would be interesting. But are they in need of Phlebotomists? :-)
I could, Lord willing, get enough financial aid to go back to school soon and finish my degree with Psychology. I'd only have roughly 2 semesters left. But how are the job opportunities for Psychologists? I need to really look into that one. It's my dream job.
I could get my LPN and eventually my RN, but science classes murder me everytime. I'd love the work, but my right brained thinking capacity couldn't handle the grades.

So there you have it. . .

Now what has to be done?

kudottu @ 2006-09-29T13:55:00

2006-09-29T17:56:48Z

I would like a job.

Time is a gift. . .

It'a almost frustrating

slowly. . .

2006-09-27T13:45:02Z

It isn't wrong to realize your needs. . .

And acknowledging them isn't selfish and does not make you any less of a Christian. Is the act of keeping it all to yourself and pretending you are always doing well for the sake of not complaining or lacking faith categorized as pride? There is no point in being a creature made of steel.

I will figure this out one day.

Portrait of a life

2006-09-26T13:48:41Z

I get these snapshots in my head sometimes about what life may be like in two years, or four, or ten. Ha...it's those photographs that draw the corners of my smile a little higher. I can see it now: snowed in and closing the doors from the living room to capture the heat inside, snuggled up on the couch and wrapped in a soft red blanket and my husband's arms, the snow staring in from the back deck; This precious little blue eyed princess running through the house laughing, dirty blond hair waving over her shoulders; A home beneath a stunning mountain view in Montana; Worshiping the Lord together, still, in our wisest years.

I have to stop and think, at times, how my Dearest Love and Closest Friend has clothed me in armor and garments of praise. Even the clothes He creates me are stunning in power and passion. I am to be a warrior and a worshiper, a lover and a servant.

His name gets me every time. I hear it or say it and my heart does back flips. I almost cannot say it in its fullness of majesty, and yet it flows from my heart and over my lips like water, like living water. I am likely to die without even a taste of it.

Father, You are all. . .