In the blink of an eye we can be forced to look ourselves in the mirror and ask:
'Do I truly trust?'.
Life can change in a breath. Between one heartbeat and the next something can blindside us and we have to decide whether or not we genuinely believe.
Are we willing to lay our Isaacs on the altar? Be on the verge of letting all the life that is in our Promise be ripped open and flow freely upon the ground - knowing that somehow God can resurrect it?
To be given glimpses of the Promise - and to be told to remain strong when the pain was overwhelming - that what was shown was true - that the dreams and promises should never again be forgotten because of their pain -
And then to be in the middle of shadowy days that could hold the crumbling of those foundations - or could hold the greatest move forward toward the manifestation of the Visions of Promise given -
Again, I'm forced to answer the question:
'Do I trust beyond all doubt?'.
The peace that enveloped me in the beginning - when I wondered if the beauty of the Visions of Promise were actually real - returns. Somehow I know it will come to pass. God can and will orchestrate the means to the end.
All I desire is that this time I get Plan A.
The past has been different, however this time Plan B would be seconds and scraps compared to Plan A. I had a chance at Plan B and I refused it for the promises and beauty of Plan A. Surely that sacrifice can be honored and all the joys and beauty and hope in the Promise I have been given can be given in its original intent. This time - I WANT TO WIN. No more getting second best.
And in the near-blinding fog of what the next few days will bring surround me, there is a warmth of peace that although in some moments the tears flow the comfort of God is nearest.
No more a hardened heart - there is greater blessing in mourning and releasing our frailty and being comforted than there is in not feeling any pain. The peace and comfort is all that keeps me centered in these moments.
Whether journeying to a place where the death of a promise is imminent or journeying to a place after a promise has died hoping to have it resurrected hope is never lost - and in the end, the faith in the Promise manifesting and remaining alive reaps deep rewards.
All shall be well, God will have His Promise manifested. I just don't want Him to have to defer to a Plan B.
©Kristen Garcia 2-3-2012
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
I Don't Ask For Much
I'm tired. I'm weary. My strength is waning.
It always happens in these moments. But there's something different about this time.
I have been patient, but lately it's been wearing thin. Thin enough that in the threadbare patches I've let my heart get the best of me.
I've seen through the illusions, through the past pains that have shrouded my vision and see what truly is, and in that my strength has returned, but, in this moment, even that struggles to fortify my spirit. Revelation leads to patience and peace, but at what point is it sink or swim?
And as I step back and evaluate where I am I realize - When I come to you with my hands out I don't ask for much.
I have not asked to be showered with fine sparkly adornments; I have not asked for the Red Sea to be parted. I don't demand that you do this or that nor promise you that if you do 'just this ONE thing for me' you shall earn my forever love and devotion.
I come with my hands out asking for greater than that. Things that no value of money could ever buy. Things that after searching out what brings you joy - what melts your heart - what rises up the passionate forces of your soul - those things become what I long for and I come with outstretched hands asking 'Please Sir, may I have sum'mor?'.
And even when I do come to you anymore, it is rarely for myself. I don't really ask much at all for me unless you've already said to me that you will give it to/do it for me. And even then, many times, I don't bother you often when it seems to be delayed. As persistent and stubborn as I am, I try to leave some things alone.
But, today, I'm tired. My heart growing exhausted at the highs of expectant joy and the lows of (silently, mildly) bitter disappointment. I don't ask for much in this area that is seemingly tarrying, but I'm asking now. Surely at some point I get to win. Surely at some point all the work I've put into others will be returned unto me. This cannot go on much longer like this, can it?
Too many more disappointments and delays may finally break me. Even though all strength in Heaven and Earth are mine for the taking I do have my human moments when I feel like I'm grasping in the dark for refreshment. This is one.
I know what you have promised, but in the toughest, albeit short, moments your silence causes more doubt than my own heart can create on its own. All I have are remembrances of what you have said to me and I have to trust in those alone.
If I could see it I wouldn't need faith, would I? I know what you have said over and over again, but could you say it just once more? That's all I need right now to get through these hours.
My frail humanity I loathe. I'm greater than this normally, so why is this so hard? Ease my heart, let me hear your voice with kind words of reassurance - tender melodies of healing strength that saturate my soul - a washing wave of peace greater than all words.
This is the only thing that will satisfy my fear, my hurt, my exhaustion, my frailty if I must continue on like this.
I don't ask for much, but could I have this now? Please?
©Kristen Garcia 1-23-2012
It always happens in these moments. But there's something different about this time.
I have been patient, but lately it's been wearing thin. Thin enough that in the threadbare patches I've let my heart get the best of me.
I've seen through the illusions, through the past pains that have shrouded my vision and see what truly is, and in that my strength has returned, but, in this moment, even that struggles to fortify my spirit. Revelation leads to patience and peace, but at what point is it sink or swim?
And as I step back and evaluate where I am I realize - When I come to you with my hands out I don't ask for much.
I have not asked to be showered with fine sparkly adornments; I have not asked for the Red Sea to be parted. I don't demand that you do this or that nor promise you that if you do 'just this ONE thing for me' you shall earn my forever love and devotion.
I come with my hands out asking for greater than that. Things that no value of money could ever buy. Things that after searching out what brings you joy - what melts your heart - what rises up the passionate forces of your soul - those things become what I long for and I come with outstretched hands asking 'Please Sir, may I have sum'mor?'.
And even when I do come to you anymore, it is rarely for myself. I don't really ask much at all for me unless you've already said to me that you will give it to/do it for me. And even then, many times, I don't bother you often when it seems to be delayed. As persistent and stubborn as I am, I try to leave some things alone.
But, today, I'm tired. My heart growing exhausted at the highs of expectant joy and the lows of (silently, mildly) bitter disappointment. I don't ask for much in this area that is seemingly tarrying, but I'm asking now. Surely at some point I get to win. Surely at some point all the work I've put into others will be returned unto me. This cannot go on much longer like this, can it?
Too many more disappointments and delays may finally break me. Even though all strength in Heaven and Earth are mine for the taking I do have my human moments when I feel like I'm grasping in the dark for refreshment. This is one.
I know what you have promised, but in the toughest, albeit short, moments your silence causes more doubt than my own heart can create on its own. All I have are remembrances of what you have said to me and I have to trust in those alone.
If I could see it I wouldn't need faith, would I? I know what you have said over and over again, but could you say it just once more? That's all I need right now to get through these hours.
My frail humanity I loathe. I'm greater than this normally, so why is this so hard? Ease my heart, let me hear your voice with kind words of reassurance - tender melodies of healing strength that saturate my soul - a washing wave of peace greater than all words.
This is the only thing that will satisfy my fear, my hurt, my exhaustion, my frailty if I must continue on like this.
I don't ask for much, but could I have this now? Please?
©Kristen Garcia 1-23-2012
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Lauderdale Roadside
Clouds and torrential rains swirl around me, blinding the way the road turns ahead of me.
An unfamiliar place, no place to run to safety, just forced to wait out the storm.
As the clouds move east the rains ease up I begin my journey again, the twists and turns of a country road laid out before me.
And then, to the west, a slice of light so powerful begins to dawn in the break of the clouds.
Its beauty and meaning strikes my soul so deep that it is all I can do to find a place to stop and just simply watch.
I lean against my car, watching the intensity of this dawning till I am nearly blinded and have to look away.
And there, on a deserted Lauderdale County Road - the Mississippi River just beyond the tree line - I realize that my soul has just been allowed a rare gift by God.
Like Simeon and Anna beholding the Christ Child as promised I know I have beheld the infancy of the power that shall one day shame the sun and drive us all to our knees.
©Kristen Garcia 1-2011
An unfamiliar place, no place to run to safety, just forced to wait out the storm.
As the clouds move east the rains ease up I begin my journey again, the twists and turns of a country road laid out before me.
And then, to the west, a slice of light so powerful begins to dawn in the break of the clouds.
Its beauty and meaning strikes my soul so deep that it is all I can do to find a place to stop and just simply watch.
I lean against my car, watching the intensity of this dawning till I am nearly blinded and have to look away.
And there, on a deserted Lauderdale County Road - the Mississippi River just beyond the tree line - I realize that my soul has just been allowed a rare gift by God.
Like Simeon and Anna beholding the Christ Child as promised I know I have beheld the infancy of the power that shall one day shame the sun and drive us all to our knees.
©Kristen Garcia 1-2011
Saturday, December 31, 2011
The Story of Us All
Written - 2-12-10
I turn the key and walk in, I can smell the sweet aroma of dinner.
You look over your shoulder from the stove and smile - a warm welcome.
I hurry to you and give you a quick kiss, hoping you can't tell.
But, even the smell of dinner cannot mask the smell of a man that is not you.
I hurry off to change, hoping to keep the evening moving along.
You call down the hall - dinner is done. Your voice's tone marked with a tinge of pain.
Dinner, a kiss, a long embrace, how can you not know by now?
But this is not the first time, nor the same lover - its become something of a sickly familiar routine.
But, it has been, what seems like forever since the last time. It is an improvement.
You never asked why and I'm not sure I could have an answer myself.
He wasn't a good lover - you know my body unlike any other.
His eyes didn't light up with anything but lust - no match for your tender passion.
He didn't even smell good - an old shirt of yours lays next to me when you're gone so I can sleep.
So why? I don't know. I never do.
Your friends warned you long ago - If she did it once, she will do it again - you simply said you loved me. They called you a fool.
And now, sitting across the table from you, I dare not see if that love still lingers in your eyes.
I hurriedly finish the meal - my favorite - and rush to leave, unable to bear my guilt and pain any longer.
But as I get up you reach for my hand, squeeze it gently, and let me go.
I retreat to the shower, hoping to at least get the smell of my lover out of my hair, my skin, my soul.
I look up from brushing my hair to see you in the doorway, watching me.
For the first time since I arrived our eyes meet; and yes - the love I have always known is still there.
You walk over and wrap your arms around me. You simply whisper 'I love you, my wife, my beautiful bride.'
My tears, my broken spirit, my weakened body say more in that moment than a simple 'I'm sorry,', no matter how sincere and genuine they would be.
There will be time enough for that later, but for now, I collapse into the arms of a fool, who, with all I have done to him, still loves me like the day we were married.
©Kristen Garcia 7/2010
I turn the key and walk in, I can smell the sweet aroma of dinner.
You look over your shoulder from the stove and smile - a warm welcome.
I hurry to you and give you a quick kiss, hoping you can't tell.
But, even the smell of dinner cannot mask the smell of a man that is not you.
I hurry off to change, hoping to keep the evening moving along.
You call down the hall - dinner is done. Your voice's tone marked with a tinge of pain.
Dinner, a kiss, a long embrace, how can you not know by now?
But this is not the first time, nor the same lover - its become something of a sickly familiar routine.
But, it has been, what seems like forever since the last time. It is an improvement.
You never asked why and I'm not sure I could have an answer myself.
He wasn't a good lover - you know my body unlike any other.
His eyes didn't light up with anything but lust - no match for your tender passion.
He didn't even smell good - an old shirt of yours lays next to me when you're gone so I can sleep.
So why? I don't know. I never do.
Your friends warned you long ago - If she did it once, she will do it again - you simply said you loved me. They called you a fool.
And now, sitting across the table from you, I dare not see if that love still lingers in your eyes.
I hurriedly finish the meal - my favorite - and rush to leave, unable to bear my guilt and pain any longer.
But as I get up you reach for my hand, squeeze it gently, and let me go.
I retreat to the shower, hoping to at least get the smell of my lover out of my hair, my skin, my soul.
I look up from brushing my hair to see you in the doorway, watching me.
For the first time since I arrived our eyes meet; and yes - the love I have always known is still there.
You walk over and wrap your arms around me. You simply whisper 'I love you, my wife, my beautiful bride.'
My tears, my broken spirit, my weakened body say more in that moment than a simple 'I'm sorry,', no matter how sincere and genuine they would be.
There will be time enough for that later, but for now, I collapse into the arms of a fool, who, with all I have done to him, still loves me like the day we were married.
©Kristen Garcia 7/2010
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Token of My Love
A lover far away with only a promise of 'soon' to when you'll actually be in their arms again.
Words from them you replay over and over again in your mind that bring a smile to your face.
A voice who's melody reaches into the crevices of your soul when time is found to enter into such conversations.
Their spirit you can feel from far away, through their words and their mere voice and it eases the pain of not being close enough to feel their true touch.
And then, one day a letter appears - a token of the lover's affection. Something you can hold that they held. Something that bears a mark that only they can place on an object. A piece of them you can put near your heart and in a moment, feel their embrace once more.
The preciousness of that object to the one who receives it is immeasurable. It is something they will never let go of. They will cling to it with all they have as it is the one thing from their lover that imparts a piece of their heart to their beloved - never to be released from their grip.
Whether a letter, a picture, a small token of any kind - the presence of the lover is still imparted. And for a moment, all the distance that physically separates two spirits is erased and an embrace across time and space is created.
Take and eat - this is my Body.
Take and drink - this is my Blood.
An embrace across time and space to my Beloved where all of Heaven and Hell and Earth can be erased for a moment and you can feel My embrace once more.
Soon. I Am coming to you soon, my love.
©Kristen Garcia 12/29/2011
Words from them you replay over and over again in your mind that bring a smile to your face.
A voice who's melody reaches into the crevices of your soul when time is found to enter into such conversations.
Their spirit you can feel from far away, through their words and their mere voice and it eases the pain of not being close enough to feel their true touch.
And then, one day a letter appears - a token of the lover's affection. Something you can hold that they held. Something that bears a mark that only they can place on an object. A piece of them you can put near your heart and in a moment, feel their embrace once more.
The preciousness of that object to the one who receives it is immeasurable. It is something they will never let go of. They will cling to it with all they have as it is the one thing from their lover that imparts a piece of their heart to their beloved - never to be released from their grip.
Whether a letter, a picture, a small token of any kind - the presence of the lover is still imparted. And for a moment, all the distance that physically separates two spirits is erased and an embrace across time and space is created.
Take and eat - this is my Body.
Take and drink - this is my Blood.
An embrace across time and space to my Beloved where all of Heaven and Hell and Earth can be erased for a moment and you can feel My embrace once more.
Soon. I Am coming to you soon, my love.
©Kristen Garcia 12/29/2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
A Skyline Drive
Toss me the keys.
Sit back and relax. Look all around you.
See that? How about that?
Look at all the beauty around you that you missed because you were too busy looking at the road ahead - hairpin turns, looking out for obstacles. So much beauty you didn't get to take in the first time around.
So busy keeping watch that you never got to enjoy the views and the simple, precious world around you.
Too focused to let go and let it surround you.
All that energy exerted until you couldn't see the forest from the trees.
Take a deep breath. Don't look forward at the curves in the road ahead. I know the road well.
Just breathe. Find the beginnings of comfort as I worry about the winding road ahead.
Close your eyes. Take a moment to let go of your anxiety - of your death grip of control. I won't let anything happen - you're safe when you're with me. Simply enjoy the places I will take us.
Maybe even rest enough - trust me enough - to maybe, just maybe, get a wink of sleep while I take us for a ride. Can you trust me enough for that?
Refresh. Restore. Let go. Breathe in deep. Soak in the beauty - let it move in your heart.
Will you let me drive?
Toss me the keys.
©Kristen Garcia 9/8/2011
Sit back and relax. Look all around you.
See that? How about that?
Look at all the beauty around you that you missed because you were too busy looking at the road ahead - hairpin turns, looking out for obstacles. So much beauty you didn't get to take in the first time around.
So busy keeping watch that you never got to enjoy the views and the simple, precious world around you.
Too focused to let go and let it surround you.
All that energy exerted until you couldn't see the forest from the trees.
Take a deep breath. Don't look forward at the curves in the road ahead. I know the road well.
Just breathe. Find the beginnings of comfort as I worry about the winding road ahead.
Close your eyes. Take a moment to let go of your anxiety - of your death grip of control. I won't let anything happen - you're safe when you're with me. Simply enjoy the places I will take us.
Maybe even rest enough - trust me enough - to maybe, just maybe, get a wink of sleep while I take us for a ride. Can you trust me enough for that?
Refresh. Restore. Let go. Breathe in deep. Soak in the beauty - let it move in your heart.
Will you let me drive?
Toss me the keys.
©Kristen Garcia 9/8/2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Baptize the Blaze
The older I get the more beautiful I become.
The fires and snares meant to scar have only refined away the layers that hid the life beneath.
Old is torn away and the new is smooth as river rock tossed by the waves for decades.
The softening of wisdom, the quickening of response, the warmth of a heart rebuilt.
Dreams that were forgotten - for the pain of hoping for them was too much to bear - renewed with a fire in an instant.
Tears of a wrenched heart baptize the blaze but never again shall the fire go out.
Incense dances up, filling the air with the lingering reminder of the promises made that remain ahead.
Nearly transformed - barely an image of the life before - unrecognizable to the things in the past. Changed in such a way that the chains from the old can no longer cling.
Days ahead of pain and joy, laughter and hurt, dancing and love.
Every tear; Every shattered piece of heart; every cry of deep-welled emotion - they lay the cobblestones to road that ends in peace - to dreams made real.
©Kristen Garcia 6/2011
The fires and snares meant to scar have only refined away the layers that hid the life beneath.
Old is torn away and the new is smooth as river rock tossed by the waves for decades.
The softening of wisdom, the quickening of response, the warmth of a heart rebuilt.
Dreams that were forgotten - for the pain of hoping for them was too much to bear - renewed with a fire in an instant.
Tears of a wrenched heart baptize the blaze but never again shall the fire go out.
Incense dances up, filling the air with the lingering reminder of the promises made that remain ahead.
Nearly transformed - barely an image of the life before - unrecognizable to the things in the past. Changed in such a way that the chains from the old can no longer cling.
Days ahead of pain and joy, laughter and hurt, dancing and love.
Every tear; Every shattered piece of heart; every cry of deep-welled emotion - they lay the cobblestones to road that ends in peace - to dreams made real.
©Kristen Garcia 6/2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)