this place.

dark room, dark night, dark thoughts, dark deeds

solitude, sole responsibility

seven thousand miles, seventeen days

definitive end, possible beginning

yet, this

this time of days and minutes and hours and years

these unknown moments

stir up unmatched, inconceivable, undeniable ... fear.

peaceful memories

family

friends closer than family

challenge and fulfillment

respect and love

this place where we belong

this place we become strong

this place we know

this place where we grow

never heard your voice so clear

"the time has come...

the end is near"

good-byes uttered

without understanding

without explanations

that leave ends neatly tied

tears shed

with shaking heads

questions asked

without resolution

only this absolute

you speak

we listen

we wait

for a

place where we belong

place to become strong

place we know

place where we grow

the question was posed.
i waited.
the answer is still unknown.
did i miss it?
did i hear it and ignore it?
can you just say it again?
louder this time?
i don't know what you want me to do.
i don't even know what i want to do.
another day, another day, another day...
this can't be it.
there has to be more.
i've come to the end but i can't see the next beginning.
i see other people's beginnings, but not my own.
i see the tv.
i see my own reflection.
i see her and him and them and it.
i don't see You.
i haven't seen you in a long time.
have i been looking?
i'm looking now.
i still don't see you.
not for me...

writing...

I found a box of journals from my late teens/ early 20's. A thought crossed my mind as I was reading them -- I wonder if I will ever write for myself again. I wrote out of necessity. I wrote because I was angry and lost and desperate and alone. The writing itself typically sucked, but it was real. There have been comments on some of my blog posts about transparency and vulnerability in my writing, but really, I haven't written with either. I am so guarded, all the time. Even when I am revealing something about myself that is private and personal, it is on my terms. I determine what I reveal and I do so in whatever way I think might produce the reaction I desire.

My journals reflect my journey towards Christ. At first it was raw, emotional, personal, real. Then, the more I tried to become who He created me to be, the more my writing seems to have been written by someone else. And then my writing just stopped. Anything I write now seems edited, even though I never edit. I've lost myself in the search for myself, in the search for who I think God is.

I am absolutely confident in the fact that the person God designed me to be is more myself than the myself I am trying to become. Yet, I hold back. I keep everyone at a distance. I keep life at a distance. I've been on this journey for years and years and I still have no idea how to do it. I am walking but I'm stopping and second-guessing and back-tracking.

I can't be real because I don't know who the real me is. I've spent so much time trying to figure out who I'm supposed to be, I don't know who I was or am or will be. I don't know who I want to be. I don't know who God wants me to be. I don't know how to relax and allow myself to be who I am.

And really, who cares? I mean, I spend all this time worrying about who I am...instead of what I do. When I am gone from this place, I want people to remember me because I helped them, I loved them, I listened to them and showed God to them. What is this obsession with finding who I am?? I am Lauren. I am this person sitting on this bed typing these words. What is it that I'm even looking for? A title, a label?

Hesitant steps...

She walks slowly, hesitant steps, embarrassed glances...furrowed eyebrows, doubt etched into her face.
She stands silently at the foot of the cross. She waits, wondering if the reality could live up to the hype.
She looks at her feet, not ready to raise her eyes. The doubt that has kept her from this place has become her hope. The possibility of this place has kept her from giving up, but now, she knows at the moment she looks up, she will know if it's real.
She shivers at the thought of an empty cross. All hope for something beyond what she can see, for something that means something, for something that can make everything OK, would be gone.
But she has to know. So, she looks.
Her heart shatters, the tears roll down her face. No!
It can't be.
No one hangs on the cross.
There is nothing.
Just three rusty nails.
His hand touches her shoulder.
Child, I was on that cross for just a moment.
Just a moment in time to take all of your doubt, your mistakes, your anger, your addictions, your pain.
I only needed to be here for a moment.
I am where you are. I go where you go. I go where you've been. And I go where you will go.
So, spend a moment here, absorbing the magnitude and depth of my love for you. But, just a moment.
I have plans for you.
I love you, as you are, and as you will become.
You are my beloved, a child of the King.
Now, stand up, shake off the dust, and follow me.

where he doesn't belong.

raised hands and frozen faces
handshakes and pleasantries
plates of money and broken bread
flawless music and words of wisdom
watches set and tapped upon

one more sunday down, success again

broken hearts
and screaming minds
anger and frustration
doubt and disappointment
emotional confessions welcome vulnerability

people say someone caught a glimpse of jesus

walls may crumble
numbers may fall
songs might not sound so pretty
kids might yell instead of whisper
they might dance when they should be still

what's he doing here, anyway?

thoughts on marriage...

I've been thinking a lot about marriage lately.

I have been a huge fan of the show Jon & Kate Plus 8 since the beginning, especially after I found out they were "neighbors". I saw the fighting and the harsh way that Kate sometimes talked to Jon, but I also saw the way they joked with each other and how Kate lit up when Jon said something clever or sweet. It seemed to me that they understood each other in a way that no one else could and that there was a deep level of respect between them. Maybe they just had really talented producers on the show that were able to portray this to gullible viewers like me, but I don't really believe that. I think that they absolutely have what it takes to mend the marriage and to fully glorify God in the process. I'm praying for it.

My friends from church just got married last weekend. They are a fantastic couple who both seem individually secure in themselves, and unstoppable when together. That is the beauty of marriage, especially when the couple's desire is to glorify God with it. God moves and works in all of us and can do unfathomably awesome things through our lives, but two surrendered people are a force to be reckoned with.

Jamie and I have been married for 2 years and I am amazed at how my understanding of marriage has grown in that short amount of time. I have more respect for Jamie as my husband than I've ever had for anyone. I don't think that a few years ago I would have imagined that I would rather spend an hour in Home Depot with my husband than absolutely anything else without him. In every other relationship I have been in, I gave of myself and took of them, and when it was over I had absolutely no idea who I was or who I should be. I now can give completely of myself, take of him and come out more myself than I was before, and more of who I've always wanted to become.

I know that many marriages are not the safety net that I live in. In fact, many are true battle grounds. I am beyond blessed. I wish that everyone could experience what I've been given. I believe that it is worth wanting, working towards and spending years praying for.

surrender...and not.

we do what we want to do and then it becomes what we have to do 

i don't want to do it anymore

what i loved has turned corporate

heartless

i'm wearing a suit and i miss my pajamas

i miss my fear of the unknown

i miss the struggle

i want to rely on you again

i don't rely on you

but yesterday i laid myself down

face to the floor

again

finally

because i could not lift my head any longer

i had to admit defeat

again

finally

the tears fell

i was cleansed

freedom

and so i pulled myself up

and stood

on my own

and swore i would admit defeat to no one

so here i am

falling

on my face

again

finally...

what happens after too much nick jr.

well, now...it's been a while.

i feel like i've been living in a hole and i've finally poked my head out. like the groundhog. i'm saying it's no more weeks of winter. no more minutes of winter. i've had enough. weather winter and emotional winter. hmmmm, no it hasn't even been winter emotionally. it's been like hibernation. no, that's not it either. forget the weather. it's just a hole. i'm in a hole and i see the people that live in my hole and i do the things that you can do in a hole and i've even ventured out from my hole at times but everything is about the hole and the hole calls and the people that live in the hole come with me when i leave the hole so it's not like i am even really leaving the hole and even when i am out of the hole i feel like i should be in the hole because that is who i am now.

right. i guess i am saying that i am still getting used to this stay-at-home momma thing. i love it, i don't want to not be doing it. i'm looking for balance. i want to be the super great mom and also be a super great something other than mom. or not even super great. how about fulfilled something other than mom? or maybe i need to find a whole different outlook. maybe i need to see the super great mom as the important responsibility that it is. well, then i will just get overwhelmed and claim my resume does not find me qualified for the job. does that leave daddy in charge? uh-oh. pb&j every day! guess i better just spend more time in prayer than in front of the tv. what is monetize? oh, i see. ads. hm. so, i guess the problem is that i really want to start writing again as a way to find my inner super great/ fulfilled something other than mom, but my every day material is pretty mom-like. i can always dig deep into the depths of my past but then people think i'm depressed and become all concerned about me. i could write about flowers and beetles and sunsets. i really don't even like flowers. i do think it's pretty cool that my mom put some food coloring in a vase of dandelions that haven't opened yet and apparently they will become red now instead of yellow. that's sweet. but i don't know what rhymes with dandelions. the good news is that during the whole time i've typed this little mess i have heard no crying at all. god is good. i'll have to try this again tomorrow...

What If?

I'm sitting at my computer desk typing away on a project for work when my six-month old starts crying. Now, it's only been an hour since I put her in her crib for nighty-night time and this is the third time she's cried. Evie is not the best sleeper in the world (she wakes up a couple of times each night) but she does go to sleep on a regular schedule at bedtime. I expect it. I count on the hours between her bedtime and my bedtime to be mine. My time for work, my time for quiet, my time for dishes and laundry and picking up dirty socks off the floor. So, by the third time I hear her cry I find myself irritated as I walk to her room. I've tried rubbing her back, giving her another bottle, replacing the paci, making those calming shushing sounds and even letting her "cry it out". This time I ignore the "don't pick her up" warnings from well-meaning doctors and moms and I pick her up. Her little hands grab my cheeks, pull my face to hers and she starts sucking on my nose. She is so relieved to be in mommy's arms, she wants mommy as physically close to her as possible. So, I hold her. I rock her. I love on her. And she falls fast asleep. She just needed to know that I remembered her and I still loved her. I put her in her crib and watched her sleep. The thought crossed my mind, what if our goal in life, our sole purpose was to love? To love God and to love people with as much fervor as my little girl loves me. What if our jobs, deadlines, chores, plans and expectations were secondary to our focus on loving others more than ourselves? Or better yet, what if they were opportunities for us to love others? What if every time my baby cried I viewed it as an opportunity to show her love, instead of time away from things I wanted to get done? And when my eight year old disobeys me, what if I saw that as an opportunity to show her grace, forgiveness and wisdom? What if we went to work with smiles on our faces every day and went out of our way to make someone else's day easier? What if we worked as hard at loving people as we do at gathering stuff? What if we loved people even when it wasn't the easy or convenient thing to do, even when no one was looking?
Just a thought...

Words.

i cannot write happy smiling words
i may be happy
and smiling
but i cannot write happy smiling words
i write desperate sobbing words
rock bottom face to the floor words
no light at the end of the tunnel
no lemonade from lemons
words
dark and stormy
bleak and disturbing words
because i live in a world of these words
this world is not always a world of happy smiling words
for many people
many times for me
so i write for us
when we can find only one word
-- help --
so that maybe we can find words like
grace
forgiveness
sacrifice
love
His words are happy and smiling words
i hope i can make his words
mine.

The One

she's been here before
this space filled with faces and lists and doing
where silence is absent
noise is her anthem
yet she can hear nothing.
passion makes room for drudgery
romance succumbs to duty
joy is replaced by indifference.
master of to-do lists
capable to do it all
to every face she encounters
to her world
she is the one.

The One
however
does not need her
he WANTS her.
he sees beyond her constantly moving hands
beyond her abilities and her talents and her gifts
beyond what she can do for him
and he sees HER.

me.
you.

he sees beyond what they see
beyond even what we see.
he sees who we are when we have nothing left
the one he created
the one he intended you to be
the one we are when we let go of who we think we need to be
and just
be.

and that is the one he loves.

Jaida's Writing

My daughter (she's 8) and I were talking about creative writing, compared to writing for school ...this is what she wrote. (She gave me permission to share this!)

THE ONE AND ONLY GOD

How powerful he is, the one who created the whole earth, he created things beyond the earth, he created the solar system. He is the father, the son and the Holy Spirit. Everyone should believe in him, and believe that he is the one and only God. He is a mighty, powerful and wonderful God. Don't choose wrong choose right. Don't go to hell go to heaven.
by Jaida

For Jaida

Sweet girl, with eyes a lovely shade of pure

And a smile that causes the sun to shine each day for me

Your existence is not one of mere chance

Each breath you will take has been carefully planned by the One who created you.

The world would be lacking, without you in it

For you offer something that no one else can

You offer

You.

There is purpose in each and every day that you live

You have the power to change the world

If you choose to look beyond yourself

And see the world around you.

You have been created to serve the One who created you,

To serve the ones He has created

To live a life of love and hope and joy

You have been created to live.

So choose today to be the day

that you truly choose to live.

strength...

I can’t take anymore
The anger is building
I’m out of control
I yell and I scream
I throw myself down
I’m on the ground
Face to the floor
I lie alone with my tears
Darkness all around

His hand is on the small of my back
In his touch
I feel strength
Gentleness
Love and
Sadness
He says soft words
Words of understanding
Words of encouragement
As if he has seen into my soul
To the very message I was longing to hear

He is my best friend
The best friend
He is my helpmate
My husband
God comes near
Through his strong hand
Through his embrace
The place
I would rather be
The place
Where I feel safe

He is what I want
What I’ve never wanted
More than I’ve ever wanted
He is what I need.

The day...

I remember the day I decided to leave him. It was summer, a warm day, with a gentle breeze. I sat on the porch for about an hour, holding my little girl, so small and peaceful, watching the neighbors mow their grass and play catch. The mood was relaxed and it seemed that heaven was all around.

I heard the noise coming from inside the house and I tried to ignore it. How could such a perfect day be interrupted by such foolishness? He was home and he wasn’t alone. There were voices I recognized and some that I didn’t. I hoped they would leave before I went inside. They didn’t.

They were there, on my couch, in my kitchen, laughing and yelling and cursing. I greeted them, as politely as I could, and tried not to see what they were doing with the items they pulled from their pockets. Tried not to smell what was lingering in the air. Tried not to know what I knew too well.

I walked downstairs, to keep my baby from the madness. He followed me; he was high, again. He wanted to know why I never stayed with him; why I always wanted to be alone, why I always took our daughter away. We argued, the same words as the day before, the day before, the day before. I looked into his eyes and I saw my daughter. I saw the life that she would lead if I stayed. I felt the fear of life if I left.

I broke free from his gaze and told him I was leaving. He was too high to care; he didn’t put up a fight. As I walked out of the house, with a bag of clothing and diapers, a breeze fell across my face. It was the most gentle breeze, as if someone’s soft fingers had swept across my cheek, wiping away my tears.

That was the day I said goodbye to the one I knew, to surrender to the One who knew me.

A simple reminder.

Laughing and joking and smiling all day
No greater joy than a friend coming to play
The world was made for me alone
No harm meant for me in any unknown

Years later the unknown became too well known
My smile not as evident, more time spent alone
Longing for the safety of my younger years,
Looking for love in anyone near

A hardened heart and a cynical mind
A reflection of innocence left behind
Regret of opportunities missed and opportunities taken
Places I’ve never seen and too many places that I had been

I pause and look into the reflection
The same person I’ve been since the moment of conception
The person I’ve become through the mud and the dirt
Is the person I was before all the work

He created me to be the person I am
The person he created by his holy hand
I need to appreciate who it was that made me
for everything He does, He does perfectly.

she approaches life with caution
every step carefully thought out and planned
always aware of mines waiting to explode
and thorny vines longing to entrap her.
every spoken word analyzed,
considered an insult until properly determined otherwise.
it is a life she knows is not worth living
she has now simply accepted
the dark cloud that resides above her.
she cannot overcome her fear.
her mind drifts and wanders
into the dark space that he has created for her.
he fills her mind with thoughts of things
too awful to even mention.
she watches the images of evil
parading through her mind
but she cannot stop them.
she is a slave to his power.
“just stop thinking those things,
take control of your mind”
the voices on the outside tell her.
her grip on her own sanity
is growing weaker.
she feels incompetent
that she cannot control her own mind.
he has taken control;
she has given him control.
she must fight…
she will fight…
she WILL conquer…
she will…
she is…
Tired.

I believe. Help me with my unbelief.

Sinking into the depths of unbelief
Gasping for the breath that will set me free
I’ve fallen into the evil trap
Of believing just enough
Believing in the believable
not truly trusting the unbelievable
yet what is God, if not unbelievable?
what power would He possess,
if the power could be understood
or controlled by
me?
What freedom am I granting Him
In my life
When I am shackled by doubt
Self-doubt and God-doubt and people-doubt…
Staring at the same hindrances
For years
Wondering what affliction I must have
That after prayer
And tears
And desire,
These hindrances are still here
Knowing that healing should have begun
Long ago
Like an ant working his whole life
To move a building…
Eventually he must give up
For the task is simply
Unbelievable.
Yet do I not have
A power
Than an ant cannot claim?
If my hindrance is a hindrance
In the sight of the Lord
Do I not have the power
I need to free myself from that curse?
I do have the power
To free myself…
All I have needed to do
All along
Is to believe.

Fruit of the Spirit

“But the Fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control..."

When I think about
the kind of person I want to be
the words that enter my mind are ...
love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control

For so long,
I distanced myself
from you...
denying any similarities
in an attempt
to create my own identity
apart from you or anyone else.

Though when I think of the person that you are,
the words that enter my mind are
love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

Thank you for being an example of Jesus in my life.
i love you, mom : )

The world.

The world is so large
and untouchable
until it becomes real.
Sometimes the world
lives inside of you
moving and growing and being.

It's as if God took the entire world
and placed it into the 2 inches
growing inside of me.
As if suddenly,
what had no meaning
suddenly meant everything.

Who am I to have such an honor
such a responsibility
again?
Was anyone watching
what I did
the first time?

Yet, in the moments of peace
the moments of just being,
I feel joy.
Joy and contentment and excitement,
fear and anxiety and concern
every emotion in the world, inside of my world.

The world is growing
inside of me.