I am watching a 2 year old dancing in only his diaper in the waiting room at the hospital. We are both here to get an immunization, but I am the only one of the two of us, who knows.
I wish I could dance while waiting for my shot.
I love being here. Seattle. I love the city and my friends. I love feeling like I am starting something of my own, and it is good.
I only miss the South on holidays when I know my family and friends are gathered together and I am missing their laughter and the growing moments of their lives.
Other than those moments, I love this new family I have, this husband I now do life with and our tripping over each other in attempt to stand up in Marriage, even for just a few moments at a time.
We make small, gigantic steps and we stop and smile at each other, with the tears still drying on our cheeks. We smile not because we are ahead of few and way behind others, but now there is a “we” and we are.
And a few months into it, it feels like we might learn the dance after all.
Marriage and Jesus have been dancing near us, Andrew and I are just watching, wondering if we will ever be able to look like that when we dance, to move with such grace and rhythm. To laugh and twirl, in the midst of stepping on the others toes.
Marriage turns to us and says, “Just let loose, be free.”
Andrew and I look at each other, wondering if we have ever felt that free on our own, better yet with each other.
Jesus reaches down to help us up and says, “The secret is, Marriage dances with freedom because she knows I will never drop her.”
“I will never drop you.”
Saturday, February 06, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Haiti
She is like a foreigner to me. Lying there in the stillness of the morning.
Silence.
Although what I fear, I crave. I want to be silent. To sit here on my 1970’s burnt orange couch and click away on my keyboard, spelling out words that mean less than I would like them to mean.
Haiti.
I feel you.
Torn down by your faulty infrastructures. Maimed by your concrete wreckage. Smothered and murdered by the earth’s trembling.
Haiti.
I am sorry.
How can I know you if I am not with you? And how can I think of you while I am here - it makes me crazy.
To know your breath is being stolen and I cannot find the culprit.
God?
Nature?
Evil?
You, Haiti, have been crying for so long now, maybe the shaking of your country was you yourself finally telling the world they cannot ignore your tragedies any longer.
Maybe you had enough of no one helping your hopelessness, maybe God heard your cry and He demanded the world to finally help His children.
Probably this had nothing to do with nature or some have said punishment, maybe some starving Haitian child cried out and God said; this is enough. You will be heard. You will be helped. I thought by now someone would have come to save you, but no. This time I will demand them to hear your cries.
And the earth quaked with their pleas.
Maybe this time we will listen.
And possibly we might be more aware and convicted to those in need so that God doesn’t have to demand us to extend our wealthy hands.
Silence.
Although what I fear, I crave. I want to be silent. To sit here on my 1970’s burnt orange couch and click away on my keyboard, spelling out words that mean less than I would like them to mean.
Haiti.
I feel you.
Torn down by your faulty infrastructures. Maimed by your concrete wreckage. Smothered and murdered by the earth’s trembling.
Haiti.
I am sorry.
How can I know you if I am not with you? And how can I think of you while I am here - it makes me crazy.
To know your breath is being stolen and I cannot find the culprit.
God?
Nature?
Evil?
You, Haiti, have been crying for so long now, maybe the shaking of your country was you yourself finally telling the world they cannot ignore your tragedies any longer.
Maybe you had enough of no one helping your hopelessness, maybe God heard your cry and He demanded the world to finally help His children.
Probably this had nothing to do with nature or some have said punishment, maybe some starving Haitian child cried out and God said; this is enough. You will be heard. You will be helped. I thought by now someone would have come to save you, but no. This time I will demand them to hear your cries.
And the earth quaked with their pleas.
Maybe this time we will listen.
And possibly we might be more aware and convicted to those in need so that God doesn’t have to demand us to extend our wealthy hands.
Monday, August 03, 2009
With me.
I fell asleep last night with a smile on my lips.
I am so happy inside, happy like I laugh when no one is watching and sometimes I dance a little while I am smiling…and I even yell out sporadically in my car with pure glee.
He loves me.
Andrew loves me.
He picked me to be his wife.
I carry his invitation around in my pocket like a little secret. A promise wrapped in white gold around my finger.
He asked me.
To grow old with him and turn all wrinkly together.
To hike waterfalls, cook dinner, buy a house, jump out planes, race go-carts and sleep in hammocks in the afternoon…he wants to do all the little things and the gigantic things…with me.
And that makes me happy.
I am so happy inside, happy like I laugh when no one is watching and sometimes I dance a little while I am smiling…and I even yell out sporadically in my car with pure glee.
He loves me.
Andrew loves me.
He picked me to be his wife.
I carry his invitation around in my pocket like a little secret. A promise wrapped in white gold around my finger.
He asked me.
To grow old with him and turn all wrinkly together.
To hike waterfalls, cook dinner, buy a house, jump out planes, race go-carts and sleep in hammocks in the afternoon…he wants to do all the little things and the gigantic things…with me.
And that makes me happy.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Dreamers who Overcome
I am excited to write this entry, sit back because you are in for a long one. It’s a bit of a story, an update, it is a little window into my everyday for the last couple of days, the last few weeks, the past months….9 months to be exact. That is when she called to tell me they were pregnant. I was getting on a plane to Africa for the summer so I was safe to tell. We had been praying for over two years for them to get pregnant….she wasn’t even sure if she would carry the baby through but she wanted me to know.
A lot can happen in 9 months, for me in the matter of these 9 months many things in my life changed – new dreams appeared, I graduated through stages, life and death occurred, my heart soared and fractured – but throughout all of this, a baby was growing inside of her….life was growing.
In a turn of events, my location moved from the East Coast to a house that when the blinds are open I can see the silhouette of my cousin’s belly as she walks through her own house across the street. These days have been priceless.
Many a morning I have sat with her and a cup of tea, as she cried over the baby’s stalling. I stare at her swollen belly as she swears to me it will never come….I think to myself, well where else is it going to go, it has to come.
It is similar in my life, in all of our lives, God’s promises, they seem to be swollen in my own belly as I scream at God and tell Him they will never come.
Labor began at home, with family all gathered and my cousin never looked more regal as we took turns holding her through contractions. Hours passed as I watched her coach her body to breathe through each pain. It mirrors to me our struggle, we are each birthing a story, and the only way it can be born is through pain.
Acelyn Nicole was born after 72 hours of labor.
Acelyn means Dreamer. Nicole means Overcomer.
I held her in my arms as she slept last night, thinking about the weight of her name. In each of our stories, through the pain of birthing greatness, we need more dreamers who overcome.
A lot can happen in 9 months, for me in the matter of these 9 months many things in my life changed – new dreams appeared, I graduated through stages, life and death occurred, my heart soared and fractured – but throughout all of this, a baby was growing inside of her….life was growing.
In a turn of events, my location moved from the East Coast to a house that when the blinds are open I can see the silhouette of my cousin’s belly as she walks through her own house across the street. These days have been priceless.
Many a morning I have sat with her and a cup of tea, as she cried over the baby’s stalling. I stare at her swollen belly as she swears to me it will never come….I think to myself, well where else is it going to go, it has to come.
It is similar in my life, in all of our lives, God’s promises, they seem to be swollen in my own belly as I scream at God and tell Him they will never come.
Labor began at home, with family all gathered and my cousin never looked more regal as we took turns holding her through contractions. Hours passed as I watched her coach her body to breathe through each pain. It mirrors to me our struggle, we are each birthing a story, and the only way it can be born is through pain.
Acelyn Nicole was born after 72 hours of labor.
Acelyn means Dreamer. Nicole means Overcomer.
I held her in my arms as she slept last night, thinking about the weight of her name. In each of our stories, through the pain of birthing greatness, we need more dreamers who overcome.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
seeing him again
The first miracle might have been the snow we drove through…I mean snow in Texas!? I was delighted yet my delight paled in the thought of seeing him. I was so nervous. After three outfits, the only certainty was my favorite red coat that I wrapped tightly around my frame. Would he like it on me? Would he still think I was beautiful? Had he found another to love him better? It’s the feeling you have deep in your stomach when you know that you are about to see an ex-girlfriend/boyfriend after a couple of years. The insecurities run rampant in your mind. The difference here is that I still talk to him all the time, but the last three years have mostly been in anger and pain, little love. I was so nervous.
I walked into the dimly lit auditorium; I lost my breath….so scared to see Him. I remember the night so well, leaving him, with his kiss still on my lips. My mind spun…What if He doesn’t even come to see me? What if He is with someone else, a better lover? My fears were lost in a moment, before I could see His face, I was in His arms. His embrace brought tears and He held me, and never let go. There were no words, no songs, we just stayed there. I in His arms. Tears ran down both of our faces. He held me, the one who had hurt Him so much, who wounded His heart, who has been so cruel, yet His love fell on me like tears, not of pain, but of longing. Why hadn’t He found someone else after all this time? Why had He waited for my broken, lacking love? I had chosen other lovers. This whole time, He was still hoping for me.
There are no arms like those of a true lover.
The worship surrounded us and as I raised my eyes to Him, His longing found my shame. He kissed my forehead, there was no reason for shame. This was perfect love. When the tears ended, I saw His name on the screen. I don’t know how, but as I stayed in His arms, I knew He was holding each broken soul: holding the defeated man, the cutter, the motherless wife, the starving woman, the unfaithful lover….He held them, just like me. See He had been waiting, waiting for each of us to let Him love us.
The only words I was able to sing that night…..“hope which was lost now stands renewed…”
I walked into the dimly lit auditorium; I lost my breath….so scared to see Him. I remember the night so well, leaving him, with his kiss still on my lips. My mind spun…What if He doesn’t even come to see me? What if He is with someone else, a better lover? My fears were lost in a moment, before I could see His face, I was in His arms. His embrace brought tears and He held me, and never let go. There were no words, no songs, we just stayed there. I in His arms. Tears ran down both of our faces. He held me, the one who had hurt Him so much, who wounded His heart, who has been so cruel, yet His love fell on me like tears, not of pain, but of longing. Why hadn’t He found someone else after all this time? Why had He waited for my broken, lacking love? I had chosen other lovers. This whole time, He was still hoping for me.
There are no arms like those of a true lover.
The worship surrounded us and as I raised my eyes to Him, His longing found my shame. He kissed my forehead, there was no reason for shame. This was perfect love. When the tears ended, I saw His name on the screen. I don’t know how, but as I stayed in His arms, I knew He was holding each broken soul: holding the defeated man, the cutter, the motherless wife, the starving woman, the unfaithful lover….He held them, just like me. See He had been waiting, waiting for each of us to let Him love us.
The only words I was able to sing that night…..“hope which was lost now stands renewed…”
Friday, January 04, 2008
trying to downsize
Hey guys...i am trying to not have to post blogs all over the place, so I am going to stop posting on here (unless I go overseas again) and have my myspace blogs updated - please go to
http://www.myspace.com/liquidlifeline
If you want to read my blogs!! -christy
http://www.myspace.com/liquidlifeline
If you want to read my blogs!! -christy
"hot yoga"
Bikram Yoga otherwise known as “hot yoga” has made it into my life this week. We rush in because our overcoats are leaking in 25 degrees air through our spandex. The warm air is a mild welcome to the instructor behind the counter who greets us in a towel! I suppress my laughter as I tell him this is my new favorite place to workout. We are calmly rushed into a room set slightly above 108F and “hot yoga” begins. Between balancing, stretching, and opening my chest “like a blossoming flower” – the detox is welcoming but what has stayed with me was two lines the instructor gave us repeatedly:
“Keep your eyes open, be right here, be all here. If you have can learn to be with yourself, you can handle anything.”
So I stared up at the water-damaged ceilings, and I was with myself. I thought about all the things I lack in and all the things I don’t, I thought about how I can’t stretch even close to as good as the girl in front of me.
“Be okay with where you are….remember, even if you move a millimeter, you have grown.”
This is good for me to hear. I am learning to be much nicer to myself as I grow. Allowing me to be not as good as someone else and still loveable. So I take a long, hot breath in and I think to myself, you have grown a millimeter and I am proud of you.
I smile to myself and then look over to see a very large, hairy man who is smiling with his eyes closed. Maybe we both think that a millimeter is just enough for today.
“Keep your eyes open, be right here, be all here. If you have can learn to be with yourself, you can handle anything.”
So I stared up at the water-damaged ceilings, and I was with myself. I thought about all the things I lack in and all the things I don’t, I thought about how I can’t stretch even close to as good as the girl in front of me.
“Be okay with where you are….remember, even if you move a millimeter, you have grown.”
This is good for me to hear. I am learning to be much nicer to myself as I grow. Allowing me to be not as good as someone else and still loveable. So I take a long, hot breath in and I think to myself, you have grown a millimeter and I am proud of you.
I smile to myself and then look over to see a very large, hairy man who is smiling with his eyes closed. Maybe we both think that a millimeter is just enough for today.
Monday, December 17, 2007
gingerbread shoe
The secret to our gingerbread dough was told to me this weekend, I have waited a long, long time to find out – well five batches later, I not only knew the secret ingredient (orange juice & cloves) but I had the recipe memorized!
It was a wild day in the hill country of Fredericksburg…Uncle Steve was at it again with his attempts to roast chestnuts on an open fire. We began the voting on Friday night, thus Old Woman in the Shoe was chosen and our engineers began early Saturday morning with chicken wire, measurements and sketching – our only other surprise was Aunt Jinx who surprised the entire family and showed because she can’t seem to miss out if there is a party going on!
The all-weekend event ended Sunday afternoon when the last gingerbread kid was secured climbing the shoelaces of the boot – we were done (check out the pictures and tune in for how we will destroy it Christmas day (and it if will actually make it 8 hrs. to Louisiana!)
Hope your holidays are just as fun!
Merry Christmas!
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