I thought I’d drive out of the rain today…but I didn’t. Instead I drove IN the rain…every minute of 348 miles. Not one time did I turn off my wipers. Not for one moment was there a sun break. And I think I know why…

Jesus and I had a date on a stormy beach tonight.

Upon arriving at a quaint little hotel in coastal Oregon, I dumped my bags in my room and went over to have dinner in the resort restaurant. I sat alone at a table, facing a very dark sky over a very rough ocean. I drank red wine and at lentil soup and sourdough by candlelight. My head filled with thoughts of the weekend ahead…of being with family (which is both exciting and terrifying)…of things I feel I left undone at work that Amit, Chelsea, and Ramnath are having to deal with and how I can repay that…of my two best friends dealing with trouble and joy all at once…of a dear friend who is in the spot I was in a few years ago being forced out of a job she hates but afraid of what will happen.

As I took the last sip of my wine and wandered back through the chill and rain to my room, I knew that my next steps would be through my room and out over the grass to the steps that would lead me down to the water. I quickly donned a thick scarf, rolled up my pant legs, and zipped up my raincoat. As I stepped out into the storm I had to laugh at the fact that the rain pelting me was of little notice…yup…Seattle is wearing me down. 

I walked about 200 yards out over grass and dunes to wet sand. The clouds were dark and thick but their nearness, back-lit by stars, kept the night from being pitch black. Tears instantly blended with the rain on my face. I slid the hood of the coat down, lifted my face up to the sky and said “Hello! I’m here. Did you want something Lord?”

The small voice said “Do you love me?”
My voice replied “Oh yes. If I didn’t, I’m pretty sure I’d disappear.”
The voice said “Then relax. Relax into me. BE with me.”

I obeyed and felt my body relax. Then I looked down and realized a wave was washing towards me. I laughed and stepped backwards to keep my shoes from getting wet. In the silence the waves grew even louder. I knew it was for me. I knew in my heart that God was turning up the volume to drown out my fears, doubts, and questions.

I dodged another wave…laughing as I wept. Then without any hesitation, I lifted my hands to the air. “Lord…I’m yours. I’ve always been. I’m not able to be who I once was…but I’m this girl. I hope that’s ok.”
The voice said “You are my child.”

This phrase…”you are my child”…is a familiar one between me and God. God has been giving me that word…that testimony…that blessings…since my earliest days. I remember those words in the lemon tree in Hondurus. I remember those words laying my bed in a room covered in super hero wall paper. I remember those words as I begged for deliverance from the scariest years of my life.

As I heard them again a name…THE name…escaped my lips.

“Jesus”
“Jesus”
“Jesus”

I dodged another wave…running backwards. Each time as the wave just missed me I inched forward to dare the next one to get me. Each time it came to the toes of my shoes and I stepped back away from it.

“Jesus”
“Come and get me Jesus” I teased.

As you would expect…IF you know Jesus…the next wave was BIG. I couldn’t have gotten away from it if I’d turned and run the other way. 

So there I stood…knee deep in water…shoes soaked, pants wet, tears falling, and laughing outloud with my arms raised to the sky.

“You are my child”

“Jesus”

The next wave three waves went back to their pattern of stopping right before my toes. Jesus had come for me…made His point.

Loud and clear…

Once there was a little girl…

She was funny.
She was sweet.
She loved her sisters.
She loved animals.
She was smart.
She was sassy.

And she was vulnerable and an easy target.

Over the course of 5 years she went inside her own head. Roamed around in her own thoughts. Felt invisible. Was fearful and unsure. She was damaged but unbroken. That little girl’s name is Leah…but she calls herself LeLiLu because that is the singsong nickname her Dad has called her since before she can remember.

There is a woman…

She is funny.
She is kind.
She has grace.
She loves her cats.
She is intelligent.
She is capable.

And she is courageous and safe.

A year ago a ladybug landed on her hand while she was standing at the front door of her new home. She decided that day that any time she saw a ladybug she would stop, share a gratitude with the Holy Spirit, and smile. What she found is that ladybugs are everywhere. Sometimes they’d land on her or being on a plant in her home. Sometimes they would show up in a picture. Sometimes they’d be on a peice of jewelry or the side of a bus or as a barrette in a child’s hair.

Ladybugs are a sign of spiritual enlightenment, fearlessness, wishes fulfilled, rebirth, and feminine strength.

The little girl…LeLiLu
The woman…a lady bug

 

I’ve been thinking a lot about renting and renters. The renter in my house in Albuquerque is trying to decide if she wants to renew her lease. My landlords are getting a divorce and I may have to find a new place to light. Being a landlord and being a renter are easy one day and a pain the ass the next.

This got me thinking about something that I heard both Dr. Wayne Dyer and Joe Dispenza say at the recent Hay House event Cara and I attended in Vancouver.

The idea that we let other people rent space in our heads. People at work…our lovers…our friends…our siblings…strangers (seriously!? How dumb is that?) …our parents. In some cases…like with parents…they start renting space even before we are born. And in other cases…we continue to allow tenants to have the space, long after they have packed their stuff and moved into someone else’s brain.

Most of my friends know that I have a firm policy on opinions and advice. If you are not invested in me and my life on a regular basis, you do not get an opinion on my decisions. You don’t get to weigh in. You don’t have a vote. You don’t get a voice in this one-woman supreme court. And if you are in my life regularly, that does not imply you have shown you are invested…or invested in a healthy way. So you may STILL not get a vote.

I’m excellent at upholding that rule…I’m not always terribly great at evicting folks from my brain. But I’m getting better.

Letting someone rent space in your brain is equivalent to having a running dialogue with what you THINK they would say. It’s script-writing at it’s finest because though they are not in the conversation you can totally imagine what they’d say and get caught up in the ins and outs of it. You can let someone else’s fear steal your freedom. You can let another person’s darkness steal your light. You can let their sadness, depression, or just generally bad attitude, steal your joy.

Jesus said “I have come so that you might have life and have it locked up in fear and doubt”

NO…

What he actually said was “I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.” John 10:10

Even cranky old Paul thought we should not rent the space in our heads to other folks…

 

 

Vulnerability leaves you vulnerable.

Big…Fat…DUH!

In my search for living authentically…for having an open spirit…for being real and really being…I’ve been cracked open time and time again.

I’ve been broken open many times in the past 37 years. Sometime times the wounds have come from others. Sometimes the wounds have come from my own poor choices. And every now and then I make the right choice…to take a risk that might open an old wound…only to find that another person is willing to grab the sea salt and pour it right in the opening and rub it around with the pad of their thumb.

But it is in the hurting places that real friendship and love is forged.

When you are wounded your friends come in with the anointing oil of words and the holy water of acceptance. And they sit with you (even from 1000’s of miles away) while your wounds are stitched. Wounded but on the path to healing. Sometimes a scar is left and sometimes the healing process is slow…but always the Divine Creator of the Universe provides a help in the time of trouble.

The poet Rumi said “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”

I know that is truth.

I know because I’ve had the wounds. And I’ve had the Light poured into me from my loved ones…from the stories of others who have survived the wounding of the human experience…and even from Light that I have poured back into myself with self-love and self-compassion.

Wounded…not broken.

Being healed by Light to be the Light of healing on another day.