Only orange? Come on now, Liv!

God told me to write a blog entry so I am going to write a blog entry.

Recently I have been eating orange foods. Yesterday the only food I consumed was a whole bag of gold fish, apple cider, and half a piece of pumpkin pie. Mucho Anaranjado. And today my breakfast and lunch was 5 baby carrots. Then I had a dinner of normal not orange foods. But then just now, I consumed two whole oranges. Can I just give a shout out to all the ripe oranges out there that YOU ARE WORTH THE WAIT. All that peeling and delayed gratification has VALUE. Oh yumm, those were the best oranges I have ever had in my long 19 years.

Back to the thought of orange foods though, no I am not starving myself or on some middle-aged-woman diet by only eating orange foods, I have just been BUSY in this week of death (alternative name for dead week) to prepare for finals, and I have been choosing sleep over food.

No Eating orange foods has not been on purpose, BUT it does remind me of my kindergarten art class when I thought my friends and I invented the color pink. I am not kidding when I say this. I thought my generation of students were brilliant: "WE MIXED RED AND WHITE AND HAVE DISCOVERED A NEW COLOR! We might as well quit school and retire now at the old age of 5, for we, in all our brilliance, will be richer than fools by opening the eyes of the world and every nation to bubblegum, flowers, old lady sweaters, fingernail polish, flamingos, shrimp, and let us never forget Victoria Secret's brand of clothing!"

I'm not sure if I missed the day when we learned the colors--but I had no idea somebody had already claimed that flamingo patent. But isn't that the same when God discovers us though? It is as though you believe your life is made up of your home, and school, and family, and friends, and cousins, and post offices, and supermarkets, and metal door handles, and not stepping on the cracks in the cement, and your ipod's music, and the bluish hue of a cloudy day, or the way your back hurts when you first wake up, and you think your heart is meh-full. (meh-full is the definition of a gray life of mundane materials which fill up the space around us).

But when we find God, or better yet, when God finds us, the veil is removed and all of the sudden the sky is no longer attainable because heaven might just be right beyond it. And the green that fills a leaf has new meaning because this God, this glorious loving God, gave that leaf it's spreading veins and it's hydrated natural tinge. And you realize that you have veins and that you have a soul again, and you ask this God, oh this saving God, if a scientific angel of sorts dissected your soul if it would now be the color of this leaf, this lifelifelifelifelifelifelifehaving leaf??? Because some new believer part of you believes that God now exists because you allowed him into existence. And if you chose to stop believing in HIM, he would disappear. Just like how I misunderstood giving birth to the color pink. But like colors, God has been around for a while. And like colors, even if we stopped believing in them, they would still be there within every object--just needing some light to appear. Without God and color, our lives are far more dull and full of ignorance. But We all need more God in our lives so we can see Him clearly, don't we?

But We do see glimpses of God even if we don't know him. How else can you explain music? Or the way a winding, blowing wind can change your whole life for a split second, because for a fourth of a second you think you may be returned to dust and be blown away, morphing into small particles of the wind. How else can you explain why people stare at the ocean? What is it about the right words or the right touch at the right time can make you feel more loved than you ever had before in your life!? I believe those moments are just camera flashes of the life GOD HAS PREPARED FOR US. I say camera flashes because for a second a whole room is filled with light, even if from a very small place the light bounces off every object in the vicinity and produces life for the picture. Yes, indeed, we can all describe times when God has shown us a camera flash worth of what kind of life he offers. And with each camera flash, with a considerable amount of extreme light for a brief moment, color is captured again.

So my advice is to not ignore the camera flashes of your life, to not pretend the color does not exist. This means when it's raining -- I want to give away my umbrella. And this means when God opens up a door to Addis Ababa, I wanna walk straight through it and into that humbling adventure. This means making friends with whoever checks out your food or clothes or whatever, because that job sucks after a 7 hour shift, right?! This means learning a few words of a different language just so you can say 'hello, how are you?' to an international friend. Or knitting at village inn just because it draws people who are over the age of 65, to see a group of 19 through 23 year olds teaching each other how to knit (our experience last night).

Because even if you are as naive as I was as a 5 year old thinking I invented a color, it doesn't change the fact that I was wrong! When God is here I want to PAY ATTENTION. And when I don't know he's around, I want to do something about it! I want to get off my orange-eating food habit, and give to the relationships I am in! haha--that sounded like polygamy, I meant friends/family/nonbelievers/brothers/sisters -- We've all got some color exploring to do. Because when I die I don't want God to say "well done good and faithful servant, I gave you the whole spectrum of colors but you only chose to eat orange and "claim to" conceive pink...nicely done... NOT!" I just made God sound like a sarcastic boss, that was not intended or an accurate portrayal of him.

I have taken this time to write this entry when I am supposed to be writing my British Literature essay and working on finishing my theatre final. But you know what? I don't care. Because following God sometimes looks like procrastination or a waste of time or money or material fancies. Some people will have you believe that following God is a waste. And if it is, then let me pour out everything I have within me for the task. Let me break my alabaster jar at the foot of Jesus and waste everything I once had but now no longer want.

God once told me that I was going to have everything I ever wanted at my fingertips, but I was going to refuse it in order to follow him. Even though that scares me, strangely enough, this fast from dating/crushes/men is reshaping my entire world and is showing me how to sacrifice and to truly drop everything. And I am no where close to it not even remotely! OBVIOUSLY. I need his GRACE, his full GRACE, for that. I am a prideful, self-absorbed human like the rest of us. I still have food (orange foods, at least --ha), house, windbreaker, coat, friends, a happy family, pleasant memories, socks, music, computer, ipod, virginity, cell phone, health, trash, sanity, laundry, bracelets, school, keys, pens, three bags, and free bus rides. I have a lot, and some of the things I have corrupt my insides. But despite all of this, I am fearfully and wonderfully and worthily made in the sight of our Father God, and so are you. "For this is real love – not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his son as a sacrifice to take away our sins"

P.s. I don't actually own a windbreaker– I just like the word, so no worries about that one eroding any part of my soul's desire to serve Jesus and to Love his people mightily. Amen.

Piano.

I watched her place each fingertip

on an antique ivory key

to hold the piano’s hands.

To her, this practice was routine

—her mother’s voice calling her from chores,

a foot upon a creaking church floorboard,

a screen door slamming shut

by the wind—commonplace.

But I did not hear this,

so I closed my eyes.

In my mind, her practice came as far off rain

—immersing wet the grounds of flat farm fields.

Our screen porch door charging open,

calling me out for the summer storm.

Her base notes thundering

echos for miles,

I keep walking.

Passed the barn and windmill,

and passed our wooden swing,

a narrow path of tall grass

lie down to point toward the pond.

With each note of her treble chord
a full droplet slips down a strand of uncombed hair.

Entering into the raindrop splashing pond,

waist deep in murky water,

confessing everything,

I spread out my arms, and drop backwards

into tepid waters.

Amazing Grace, I once

was deaf, but now I hear.

The rain passed,

but left a pair of hands

embracing ebony.

Awake, O Sleeper! Rise from the dead...

I have written this blog entry once and deleted it because I want to start over. This is a conglomeration of legitimate emotions and frustrations.

Moral dilemma: being willing vs. action.

I have this problem with my words not lining up with my actions -- and I really am beginning to hate it. Example:

Me--God, I want to serve your people.

God--Then, GO!

Me--I'm scared.

God--(silence).

And then, conversation OVER.

I have to pray against inaction in myself. In some ways, slowing down and doing the logical thing has been really great for the situation and I have NOT regretted things because I have stopped myself before they happen. IN OTHER WAYS, it has led to even more sin by ignoring the command of caring for "the least of these." And I really am a hypocrite about this because I get frustrated by the lack of action in other people -- so I should be even MORE appalled by my own sloth-like move toward helping someone other than myself. The moments I have felt closest to God are ones that have required me opening the door when I hear his knocking -- unlike the women in song of songs who waits a while and then when she finally makes it to the door, her lover is gone. I mean the difference here is that I think God waits at the door and keeps knocking -- but OPPORTUNITIES ARE MISSED BY MY INACTION, or by placing other priorities above the HOLY ONE's.

I mean, even now, I enjoy sitting in my dorm room writing a blog entry rather than going out in the world and being brave and socializing and spreading THE ULTIMATE love. Honestly, it's more COMFORTABLE on my baby couch with my blankie and an ice pack for my recently-broken-neck. (sidenote: my neck is not actually broken, but yesterday all the muscles on the left side contracted and stayed that way.) But who wants a life that is made up of COMFORTABLE MOMENTS?! I don't. Who wants a life of air-conditioning mediocrity when God is offering a life of sweaty, rainy, hot LOVE and COMPASSION and SELFLESSNESS?? I want my days to squeeze me dry of ALL of the LOVE Christ has placed in my heart. I want God himself to say: "Well done, good and faithful servant!" right before I fall asleep every night. Purposeful living! He is going to love me the same either way, but I want to PLEASE THE ONE I LOVE. I do not believe in a faith-based-on-works God, but gahLLEEEY, I want to live a life of dedication to HIM and to LOVING others.

"For this reason i also suffer these things, but i am not ashamed; for i know whom i have believed and i am convinced that He is able to guard what i have entrusted to Him until that day."

"Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings. and the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself RESTORE YOU and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. amen."

"Remember those earlier days after you had received the light, when you endured in a great conflict full of suffering. Sometimes you were publicly exposed to insult and persecution; at other times you stood side by side with those who were so treated. You suffered along with those in prison and joyfully accepted the confiscation of your property, because you knew that you yourselves had better and lasting possessions. So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised."

I'm an English major who is sick and tired of words. They have become (empty) and hollow and concave and CHEAP. Awaken me from this sedated death-like sleep! Be ALIVE in me, God!

We would.

We could change our names you and I. We could.

And then leave because there was nothing left for us here.

We'd take one backpack and fill it with nothing. Maybe one granola bar. but maybe not. Even that might be too much.

We couldn't take any money, because it'd be too heavy.

And we couldn't bring my camera, because they'd find us.

An extra pair of socks can be worn, not carried.

And we'd leave. With a single backpack strapped up on your back.

I would miss them, and you would miss them, but we'd say "we'll come back here someday."

Both of us knowing we never would.

We could walk. Then take turns carrying each other. When we needed to cross the ocean, we'd joke about swimming, then consider it silently. Then we'd ask for a plane ticket. But none would fall from the sky. So we'd ask for two plane tickets. one for me, and one for you. But nothing would come. So we'd ask for two boat tickets. one for you, and one for me. And a elderly woman in a fancy car would offer us 500 dollars to drive her to the coast. So we would, knowing that we now had two boat tickets. While we drive her, we'd find out her name was June, and she had lost her loves. And we'd tell her our story, of how we gave up our loves. for this. And we'd tell her about our Dad. How we learn more about Him, when we give up everything, and keep moving. And June would understand. June would know, because she needed to see our Dad by the ocean. the sounds of crashing water, the smell of dry tears, and the wind, oh the wind. The wind alone could blow away memories tumble-weeding around June's kindred mind.

We would thank June and tell her we'd see her at our Dad's house someday. And she'd ask for our names and we'd say we were brothers, or sisters, or maybe married, or young children but then realize we'd left ourselves behind, and we didn't know the answer to that question anymore. Then, she'd name us something that both of us would eventually forget.

Then we'd get on our boat and curtsy and bow to the land we'd never see again except in dreams and memories. And the ocean might stand up and clap its hands. Or it might not.

And we wouldn't be able to sleep when the moon was barely out, because the stars would be too distracting. And I'd tell you my explanation behind for the stars. That our world at night was just a black beach ball that our Dad had poked holes in, and nights like these His light shined through each tiny pinprick. And you'd think I was crazy; and I'd tell you that I didn't remember what the real reason was behind the stars anyway, because that other world was too far away. And you'd agree, that other world was too far gone.

Yes, we could leave, friend. We would forget our names, and keep moving toward our Dad.

BAM! and then change happens.

Loneliness sneaks up on you. It is unexpected and generally a surprise.

One minute you are enjoying your time being alone doing something you haven't done in a while; and the next minute, BOOM! some dark presence looms over your heart and you are 'lonely'. And then, unless rebuked in the name of Jesus, he stays for a while. Loneliness pops up his tent and starts finding dry twigs to start a fire. It doesn't really matter if you are suddenly bombarded by people, Loneliness will just sit there vacationing in your spirit.

You can always kick him out. That usually works with a phone call home, or some prayer time, or to drive or run or walk or bike somewhere, anywhere where you know somebody who lives and breathes and communicates in some way.

But sometimes, you just let Lonely sit there for a while. Because it seems like his company is better than no company. Then Lonely, he is quite the partier, he invites his friend Pity. and then, before you know it, on a friday night, You, Lonely, and Pity are partying it up by yourselves.

Pity is talkative and has a really great memory. So he tells you about the times your friends didn't call. And then he brings up conversation about your lack of communication skills. Then, before you can stop him from saying something, BAM-in-your-face, HE MENTIONS: relationships. Does this sound familiar: "Oh, you're still NOT in ANY kind of relationship?! Man, how long has it been? How many months? years?? You'd think by now, I mean, come on, you're young -- live your life!"

And you try to defend yourself, jumbling up some mutterings about how God has a plan for your life and how God has someone for you, and even if he doesn't, you'll be happy because you and God are super close and you think you're in love with him.

Which Pity responds: "Is that why you're here with us? Because God wants you to chill with classy guys like us? Right..."

Then with that remark, you realize that you have been sitting around an imaginary camp fire with Pity and Lonely as your only closest companions. At which point, you stand up, rake your hands through your hair and swear your favorite profanity OUT LOUD and it escapes through the cracks of your fingers that are smothering your face. then you tell your shitty friends to leave, and that they aren't welcome, and that you'd rather camp with Alone than Lonely. And that you'd rather have deep talks with God, instead of Pity. And they take off because they know and you know, the King's love should not be messed with, that royalty and deep romance has infallible power and if the unwelcomed guests didn't scram, they'd probably end up dead, or in a herd of swine, or something worse.

Meanwhile, you grab your bike to converse with other servants to the great I AM. but something stops you. And you decide to just write about how this Great King, this Lover of yours, has changed your entire life. How He has created something new from the old you, the old things you used to do just don't seem worth it anymore--and you can't believe you ever listened to Pity's lies. But none of THAT even matters anymore because just the look of His eyes, melts your heart. Just His eyes. Not to mention His holed hands. And you, without a second thought, ask Him, beg Him, if He can be with you forever. You want to marry Him, but even that wouldn't ever be enough because it's too mortal and too lowly compared to Him. You ask Him how this bond, this relationship, this all-consuming passionate LOVE, can be rooted deeper, and wider -- you ask Him: "How can THIS love last forever? How is that possible? How does this fire NOT burn out after all these years? What if someday it all comes crashing down and you decide to leave? How can you promise it will be for forever?"

And He says:

Because you were created to be with Me. You were made missing something, so that I could give you it. It lasts and it burns still today because you can't live without me, and I sure don't want to live without you.

And all of the sudden, somewhere between the lines of the page, you realize this moment within your friday night, has become one of the most special of your life.

Choose: me or him.

The past week or so has been a struggle. I will not pretend I have been happy-happy Jesus-follower. I will not pretend I have been obedient to God when He has asked me to do particular things. I will not pretend to have it all together. I will not pretend that I paid attention to the needy and was kind to the ones closest to me. It has been a spiritual/emotional/selfish struggle. I will not pretend I have been slow to anger, because I have not been. Thank God, for forgiveness. Thank God, for friends and family who forgive me when I hurt them with my words, actions, and inactions.

Off-track and off-balance and not listening, I was/am scared. I am scared of something. I think I am scared of abandonment? And not just God abandoning me, but also scared of me-abandoning-me. Which I shouldn't be scared of because it is exactly what God calls us to do: (check out the scripture quoted in the column to the right, next to my name). Taking up my cross to follow Him. Self-abandonment.

God has told me some things that wreck my old dreams and plans. His words knock over my tower of pride and self-success. And I LIKE that he has done this; I LOVE HIM MORE for doing this. Yet, at the same time, it scares me, because of how much trust it requires of me. Trust, for me = HUGE tug-of-war with God and in my close relationships. (I realize I am not alone in this and everyone struggles with trust in different ways).

I am being vague.

Last night was a great night of worshipping God. He kept saying 'I AM here.' 'I AM here.' 'I AM here.'

And then he gave me a word which is a similar quote from the movie the Notebook, yes God is that intimate. Keep in mind, that I have been disobedient to His voice, I do not deserve what I receive; yet, he loves me anyway: "I WANT you. I want every part of you today, tomorrow, and forever. Stay with me." Then he told me about the life he's offering: "Give up the other man. If you want money, go with him. If you want a big house and shiny rings and the American dream, go with him. You won't have those things with me. But, if you want love. If you want forgiveness new every morning. If you want me always next to you. If you want my dancing, joyful love. If you want my life to be yours. Come, come away with me! Come away, love. Let's climb to the highest point of that mountain and jump off into the ocean, Beloved. Leave your skeleton dreams behind, and come, I have a different kind of life for you."

We are all called from something different than the world offers. I am still asking God what kind of life he wants and what that looks like, but I know I'm being changed.

He wants me. He's been calling after me even when I was far off. and I want to sit at his feet and hear his voice. I want to serve Him. I want to let go of my rights of riches and comfort.

Teach me how to let go, Father.

"Come, follow me." Mark 1:17

Confessions.

Warning! You may be offended by honesty.

Things only God can love:

1.)

2.) I have pride issues with thinking I'm right. I want to be humbled. I grew up with a lying problem, I want to tell the truth all the time; but I don't.

3.) I consider never leaving the country a fault of mine. I have never left the country.

4.) I hate this fast somedays. Other days, I don't mind it all. I'm always thankful for it. I break it everyday by not taking my thoughts captive. Sometimes I tell God: "but God, if I fully give these desires to you, you'll never give them back." And then he says: "show me a place in the bible that a man was not given back what he fasted." I am still looking for one to prove Him wrong. (sidenote, no one can prove God wrong .) We wrestle.

5.) I know I am in a waiting period for several things in my life. But I know I am not supposed to act like I am waiting for something to happen; things are happening right now! But I think I act like they're not. Maybe everyone does this?

6.) I have not been doing all of my homework this semester. I spend too much time on Facebook, and I need Laura to take my password away again.

7.) What is keeping me from getting a job? Laziness or loving free time or fear of failure?

8.) I don't want to ever go back to wanting my old dreams of settling down for a family and house in the U.S.

9.) Sometimes I can hear the Lord tell me not to do something because he knows it will hurt me, and I do it anyway. and it does hurt me.

10.) I am still really struggling with weight/beauty issues, and I need prayer.

11.) There isn't a day that goes by, that I don't think of the mountains. I am not keeping my heart where my feet are. Maybe I was made for higher altitudes.

God is gracious. I NEED his grace and mercy. I NEED it just as much as everyone else in the world. I have been trying to be more honest and open with people, because a sin of mine has always been pretending I have everything together: pride. I don't have it right. I don't. I don't. I don't. I want to honor God...most of the time, but I don't, I don't, I don't. And this is OF COURSE not a complete list of everything I do wrong--that would be far too long. BUT HERE IS THE GOOD NEWS: God has got it right. His mercy is wide for our failure and shortcomings. Confession is one of the most healing processes there is. But sometimes I don't feel convicted to change, like to stop listening to songs with swearing or thinking of climbing mountains too much. But there is forgiveness for that too.

Confirmations...

I have been so concerned with my college life currently. I was telling Molly this morning that if God opened up the opportunity to leave for mission work, I would. I was discontent with my selfishness of spending thousands of dollars on tuition and food I end up not eating. I want to be following the Lord's will. But lovely Molly reminded me that the college is a missionary field in itself...just a very expensive one.

But I asked the Lord for another confirmation that I was in the right place, a reason why I am still here and not selling everything I own to go to Ethiopia.

And he gave me one. How cool is that? Seek and find Him.

I felt really called to go on a bike ride today. God was blessing me with his joy and peace as I raced along the park's bike trail. I was praying and he was loving on me and I was loving on him. It was all perfect; until...

Until I passed by an older homeless man fast asleep on the park bench. My heart dropped with a deep deep aching. I thought 'we're in Ames, ia, there can't be a homeless man in ames, ia' But I have been blind. So blind to the people who need him most, turning a deaf ear toward how I could be used.

So I passed by him wishing I had some food or wishing he was awake so that we could talk. or something.

I had just bought a water and I thought I could give him that. But fear stopped me. FEAR!!! I'm ashamed to admit this, but FEAR of all things gripped at my heart.

I did another loop around him wishing there was something I could do, and convincing myself I had nothing. I biked away. I. biked. away. from. the. man. i. was. convicted. to. give. something. to. I did. (How hypocritical of me because I have been telling my friends how I am excited to do mission work, but i couldn't leave my water bottle for man???) I'm ashamed to say it now, but I left.

I was trying to tell God to explain myself that I didn't have anything to give, and that it wasn't safe to walk up to a sleeping homeless man. And GLORY TO GOD, he removed his spirit from me for a split second. for a split second, i felt complete hopelessness. i immediately stopped my bike to turn around.

I can't live without my God. I can't live without His spirit. I turned around and asked God what he wanted me to give him. And he told me that my bible was in my backpack. a few weeks ago i bought a daily message bible and I had brought it with me today.

I sat down in the nearest park bench opened up my new bible and wrote: 'Sir, I hope you are enjoying your sleep. This is the only truth I know, that God loves you. Love, a follower of Jesus Christ'

Nothing special or ornate or profound, just the complete truth.

Then I left my bible with my water on top of it at the feet of the man.

God honors obedience so fully. He LOVES when we listen to him. he LOVES it! When we sacrifice feeling weird or just a little awkward or comfortable, he can work through us so much clearer.

Then God gave me a joy like I have never felt. I am so fully in love with Him. He has changed me so much since I have been fasting. I am not the same person. Thank you for your prayers. In a few more days it will be two months. It seems like longer than that.

I'd spend the rest of my life single with the God who knows how to love me best. I would have NEVER said that two months ago.

God wants to know you. and he wants you to know him because he knows how his love will change you forever.

Beloved, just let him love you.

I am not fishing.

I felt like beauty was being attacked today and yesterday. Why DOES this happen to women? Is our beauty so terrible a thing to the enemy that he must tear us down behind every unsuspecting corner? Are our outward appearances so fearsome to the devil? I want to say 'no. outward appearances do not matter and it's what's in the heart' That is true in a way, but I CAN'T accept that as the FULL truth of what's going on spiritually.

BECAUSE when I feel my clothes do not fit from weight gain or probably just from dryer shrinkage problems, my immediate thought is : "Geez what is wrong with ME? I have such a problem with food. I have no self-control. Food is my idol. I thought I was getting better with this." Then my thoughts progress to thoughts of skipping meals and wanting to fit into my jeans from when I was 13. AND WITHIN A FEW MINUTES' TIME, I have talked myself into an anorexic attitude. By the grace of God, when these thoughts transform like this my warrior-hero-Love intercedes to speak truth back into my spirit of how I am a carefully made piece of his creation. But what does someone do if they do not know this truth?!

THIS tells me of this deep deep deeply rooted spiritual issue. And how important it is to ignore our culture's view on beauty. It is safe to say you can remove most of it's advice about being beautiful from your mind. But even if I grew up in a place apart from mirrors or pop culture, I believe I would still struggle with the issue of being desired and sought after and utterly captivating. Because let's face it, WOMEN ARE BEAUTIFUL CREATURES. We are enthralling! WE are ! We are ! If you are reading this and thinking 'yeah so many are, but there are exceptions to everything, and i would be that exception.' That is a lie that the devil has convinced you is true. Or maybe you read that and thought 'yeah I am pretty, but i'm not anything to stare at.' Although that is far more subtle and clever lie by the devil, that TOO is NOT the truth.

Ask God what he thinks of your face? Ask him--I dare you. i swear you will not be disappointed.

When i went home a few weeks ago, I was telling my mom how I was frustrated because none of my professors remembered my name. and I told her that I didn't blame them because I just have one of those forgettable plain faces. (You have to know my heart when I was saying this, I truly believed it. I was not saying this to fish for a compliment, I was just talking without thinking about my words.) My mom looked at me with a concerned face and said "THAT is not true." And tears welled up in my eyes because I realized I had been tricked into thinking I was just another face in the crowd, nothing special, nothing to remember. If you have ever felt this way, can I be my mother for a second and renounce the lies poured into our heads. YOU radiate. YOUR smile lights the entire room. The stars cannot compare to YOUR shining eyes. You, my dear, are beautiful.

If this spoke to you or you need prayer or if you have advice to give on this issue, please feel free to leave an anonymous comment below.

Wild Fire.

I will never know the Lord enough. For a thousand ways, He is so dang attractive because of this. Because his LOVE and his HEART are worth getting to know deeper and

deeper and

deeper and

d

e

e

p

e

r

.

For class I read ancient epics of multiple gods whom are swayed with human emotions and weakness. And I often look up from my reading to remark on how hopeless life would be without my God, without the hope for salvation, without a peace that surrounds you in the dead of night all alone. Because even in times when I had strayed from God and felt at the bottom of the dark valley, I knew God would pick me back up and brush me off and we could start over again. What hope is there without the hand of the father, the grace of our Jesus, and the comfort of the Spirit? Many believe it is only a story. a story! a story! a story! I have written stories. Stories have an up and a middle and a down and a solution and a conclusion. Fictional stories are created to show a greater truth about unattainable ideas like love or pride or death or truth. THE LOVE OF GOD IS NOT just a story. Fictional or nonfictional stories speak of truth. But God is truth speaking truth. Truth breathing truth breathing truth. Father, Spirit, Son.

I don't know where I am going with this.

God, show me how to share your love.

God God God is filling up this place!

Two days ago I decided I need to go to Nicaragua this spring with our Harvest Vineyard church in Ames. Yesterday a 'missionary' on central campus told me that God would never call anyone to go to college, and because of this I wasn't a true follower of Jesus. When I told him of my Nicaraguan plans he told me that mission work in ALL of Central America is unaccepted right now, and that the only place to go to is South America. I do not know the heart of this married couple or their family, but I pray in the holy, righteous name of Jesus that they did not preach their message to anyone else on the Iowa State campus. THank you, God for discerning ears and hearts for YOUR truth.

ON a BRIGHTER side, yesterday morning and the night before that, I prayed that God would give me words to speak to strangers and that I was a light in a dark place. Having a more intrinsic, introvert personality, it is difficult for me buck up the gumption to talk to people all the time. But I prayed that God opened not-awkward opportunities for Him to be a presence in people's lives through me.

Amazingly enough (I say that sarcastically and literally), yesterday was a hilarious day of talking to strangers ALL. DAY. LONG. And I didn't even initiate HALF of them! I talked to a 70 year old lady about the weather and how it was time to break open the chili, and she told me all about her daughter and her son-in-law wanting to go camping before it got too cold. Then I felt called to go and talk to those 'missionaries' on campus; which I did for around 25 minutes--I shook their hands and left GLADLY because they were not speaking biblical truths. After that I talked to a friend who I haven't talked to in a long time (that isn't a big deal I realize obviously, except the past few days I had been too afraid of awkwardness for some reason). Then I hugged a weeping stranger girl because she fell off her bike and she was afraid her computer was broken. Then I told a different friend that I missed talking to her. I also raised my hand to answer questions in all my classes. Then I talked to a chef about sushi for a while. Then a random group of boys told me I looked good in purple and I told them 'thank you' and then they laughed like as if it was a joke--but I do look good in purple so I didn't see what was so funny.

That last one was supposed to be jokey. But it really did happen.

Moral of the story: when you ask God, you receive. I asked God to help me talk to strangers and not be so awkward all the time, and he, in turn, opened up endless doors to practice this newfound skill.

Second conviction: The world needs to know us quieter folk. If you struggle with self-worth regarding your voice, practice by speaking up! God loves to hear your thoughts and desires.

I love you. and 1000x1000x1000 more, He loves you.

My Rocky Mountain Challenge

So friday night something cool happened, so I feel inclined to share the story. But first let me say that God has been training in prophecy and showing me which voice in my head is His. His still, quiet voice tells of things too beautiful and hopeful for me to think of on my own. For

example, (this isn't the cool story I want to tell but this is an example of what God has been doing) right when I got into bed one night last week I was thinking about how fun it is having my new bike at school, and

thanking God that he gave that gift to me; but when I was dozing off I kept having these visions of me crashing my bike or getting hit by a car. And then I thought, 'oh my mom is probably right, I should get a helmet so that I don't crack my head open while riding my bike around.' And I sent a text message to myself that said 'buy a helmet' so I wouldn't forget. So I was a little more awake than before so I got out my bible and asked God what he wanted me to read. And he said 'Ezekiel' and I asked him any particular chapter and he said '3' and then I thought he just wanted me to read the whole chapter so I was opening up my bible and then I heard him say '9.' so I said 'okay, I'll go to Ezekiel 3:9. I was thinking it would probably be a verse from God about starting something new because of the new school year or something like that. But when I read it, I just started laughing/crying at God's comforting father-like character. The first part of Ezekiel 3:9 is 'i will make your forehead harder than any rock so do not be afraid.' haha, doesn't that just make you laugh joyfully?? I hadn't even asked for any sort of comfort for my previous fear of crackin' my head open from my bicycle, and yet he provided.

Anyways, so God has been doing cool things like that for me this week. But the story I REALLY wanted to share is what happened friday night.

There was a worship concert on central campus and Shane and Shane were playing and I was telling God that I thought it is difficult to worship with such distraction (because ever since my fast has begun I have been tempted twice as much as I have ever been). So I was praying "God help, I want to just worship you. How can I move forward when the world's tempting claws are pulling me backwards." And then I heard his voice say 'You just have to keep going. keep climbing.'

Then he brought me to this place I had never been before. I was all of the sudden hundreds of feet into the air on the side of a mountain. And he showed me how far I have climbed or metaphorically how far i have come from the bottom. And then he said when you are climbing sometimes you have to stop and turn toward me and my beauty and strength for the will to keep climbing up the mountain (which is a symbol for my fast). So i just stared at this beautiful vision he was giving me of this picturesque landscape with the sunrising and tipping the tops of the trees with gold. And I was praising him for this gorgeous place on the side of the mountain and i was resting in this place and telling him how i love being up here with him and thanked him for putting me on a fast so I can be closer to him. But then I asked him -- 'But God, your word says that in your name we can move mountains, we can throw them into the sea, so why am i climbing up this obstacle?" And his response made me joyful 'You do not want to throw this mountain into the sea. On the other side of this mountain your Beloved is climbing up too. You cannot see him, and he cannot see you, you cannot speak to him and he cannot speak to you, but when you are both ready you will meet at the same place on top of the mountain. This is why it is important to stay the course and do not look for

others and to keep climbing.'

So at this point, I was at first incredibly joyful and it gave me such hope for God's plan. But in a matter of seconds that joy morphed to doubt. I became afraid that I was breaking my fast by thinking of the future, and questioning my vision if it was from God. Because I was thinking God was the one who told me to not make future plans regarding men -- so why would he show me a vision about him.

It was then I opened my eyes and recognizing I was back at the shane and shane concert, and thinking that I had once again let my thoughts get carried away with false hope. But then God confirmed his word through something very real. Directly in front of me was a guy's back of his tshirt that said 'rocky mountain challenge--humility, adventure, trust, and dependence' and then it had a picture of a mountain with climbers on it.

Then I laughed and was joyful again because I knew the vision was from God and not from myself. Then God began to confirm in other ways that He had provided. Last summer when we were driving to Colorado, I asked God for a song about my future spouse and he gave me the song 'meet you there' by augustana and I never understood it because it has the f-word in it and the lyrics do not make sense. But the first line of the song is 'climb up a mountain' and the chorus is "when the world is right, i'll drive all night, and meet you there someday." The rest of the song's lyrics still do not make sense but I think God was just confirming his promise in my life.

So it is an uphill battle and it is teaching me: adventure, dependence, humility, and trust. But I am learning more about the LORD during my rocky mountain challenge.

Dancing.

Sunflowers turn

their heads toward

the Sun,

from east

to west

every day.

the Sun's rising

and f a l l

i

n

g

in your world is false.

the Sun is carrying and revolving and

spinning gninnips spinning

you orbit about the dancefloor fire.

Hold on tight, little flower.

Just thoughts.

I would like to explain my current life in simple terms through my humble eyes:

My baby-man brother starts his high school experience in roughly eight hours. In a few days I am moving back to Ames for another year of college. Today I spent time in a coffee shop editing photographs of a beautiful married and pregnant couple. There was a coffee man who sang to every song that came on the oldies radio--including 'Let's get it on.' He wore a hat. I was entertained. In two days, it will be a month anniversary of my year fast of men. My sister took the limo service to Chicago; the driver's hair and teeth were pearl white. My best friend is moved back to school already; she has already had her second day of work at her new job. My mother painted the front of our house the exact shade of my eyes, an earthy green. I told her green was my favorite color, so I couldn't be happier with the change. Tomorrow, I will help her with the rest of the house. Yesterday, I bought a brand new guitar named Jasmine. She is wooden like a tree but she rings like a bell; I like her. She is the third guitar I have owned in a little over a month, due to two previous broken ones.

But amidst all these trivial and monumental moments I couldn't help but feeling stagnant. On sunday, I laid in the grass staring at this group of clouds. I had never seen clouds so still. motionless. stationary. They spread across the blue sky like unmoving spilt milk. I almost cried over the spilt milk in the sky and how it mirrored my own life currently. Everyone else scurrying about in search for a towel or a mop while I motionlessly ponder this incident. I want to be moving about like my friends and my family and my God.

I do not have a solution or an answer tonight. Let me know if you do.

"Where is your faith?"

There is Peace in this storm.

He is just below deck somewhere, sleeping.

I'd like to join Him--find warmth next to His side, under His arm.

But I can't.

These whale-infested waves are scaling higher,

shattering and leeching ice beneath my skin. And the captain,

the captain is prophesying our death, capsizing our sinking spirits.

But who is this man sleeping within the torrent,

disobeying the screaming wind?

Who is this still dreaming amidst our nautical peril?

There is Peace nearby,

I think I'll wake Him up.

God lives.

God is expanding his presence in my life. I can hear his voice again crystal clear. Last night when I was opening up my bible (because I hadn't in a while) I asked him to encourage to me through his word. He told me Isaiah 41. "Don't be afraid, for I AM your God. I WILL strengthen you and help you. I WILL hold you up with my victorious right hand."

He is my God. He is strengthening me and helping me. He is holding me up with his victorious hand. Can you imagine a stronger more trustworthy more perfect hand holding you up?

Tonight, we were swimming. And because of my challenges vertically, there were places in the pool where I could not reach and if I did not know how to swim and if I would have been alone, I could have drowned. But of course, I have known how to swim since I was 5 years old. But I imagined God could have saved me multiple ways. Because his right hand holds me up, I imagined his hand pushing me up into the air, up into the oxygen I needed for life. I imagined him underwater with his outstretched hand, giving his life to keep me above water. But he already did this on the Cross, so I knew that wasn't accurate.

But then I thought about how he provided me with the knowledge of swimming to keep from drowning. Although I know God could have brought in his hand physically like that, what if, instead, he used the years of practice I did in previous times in my life?

And then I thought about this year and this fasting and this time-tithe to the Lord. How much greater is it that he is having me learn this way, rather than just providing the correct emotions/mindset/heart toward him and toward a possible spouse. It's like having to work all year, rather than winning the lottery with the same amount of annual income. I'd choose the work. Jesus endured all 40 days of suffering and temptation on earth with demons as companions, to prove his perfection. God is proving to me that I can be worthy enough to be called Christ-like. I will not reach perfection, but I can run the race. "Don't you realize that in a race everyone runs, but only one person gets the prize? So run to win! All athletes are disciplined in their training. They do it to win a prize that will fade away, but we do it for an eternal prize. So I run with purpose in every step. I discipline my body like an athlete." (1 Corinthians 9) I want to wake up every morning to run to God even when I don't feel like it. To offer any kind of surrender of sin or of self to God in order for him to fill up any dark place within me, to fill up any hole within.

To fully submit myself to God as a wife would to a husband. "The wife gives authority over her body to her husband, and the husband gives authority over his body to his wife." (1 Corinthians 7) Jesus offers us his body over and over again: "Jesus took some break and gave thanks to God for it. Then he broke it in pieces and said, 'This is my body, which is given for you.'" (1 Corinthians 11) Paul commands in Corinthians 7 for the submission to be mutual. If I am married to the Lord, then every single day I want to offer my life to him, that he is free to use me for his will. These are my vows.

Come Away by United Pursuit Band - a word from the Lord.

Come away with me, come away.

It's never too late. It's not too late for you.

I have a plan for you. I have a plan.

It's gonna be wild.

It's gonna be great.

It's gonna be fully me.

A PROMISE-so be it.

This is personal. If it was up to me, I wouldn't share this in my blog. But when the Lord compels us, do we really have a choice? The answer to this is yes of course, but why would I want to deny something the LORD of the UNIVERSE is compelling me to do?

First, an explanation. If you know me at all you know I love men. I love man friends. I love brothers. I love old men. I love young men. I love sons. I just love 'em all -- not in a creepy way but in an admiring way. I love their brave, wild hearts. I love their natural craving for adventure.

But for years now, there has been a terrible habitual pattern taking place in my heart: every time a new man walked in my life, I walked out of God's arms. It was like clockwork. New guy, no Jesus. New crush, no Bible. New close man friend-i-thought-could-be-husband-potential, no more quiet time with the true LOVER of my soul. And it ALL LED TO HEARTACHE. I wish I didn't have to be this honest, but there is no holding back confessing this kind of truth.

So after another round of this heartache this summer, I knew God was going to soon convict me of something big, really challenging, but worth it all. After seeing Christ-followers in Colorado who were willing to give their lives for God overseas, something in my heart changed. I suddenly knew that if God asked me to be a martyr for him, I would. But here's the strange catch, I became willing to give my life to him til death, but I was STILL holding on to the fact that I wanted to get married and have all my sons. That doesn't make any sense really, but just understand that is where my heart was at.

After worship Friday morning, the Spirit kept saying to me "I am here. I can't leave you. You are not alone." Just all these different phrases about how I was not alone. (Note: all this freaked me out because I knew God was going to soon ask me to do something which involve me feeling alone or solitary.) So on the drive home sunday, I was thanking God for the amazing trip and all that jazz, and asking him how can I stay close with him this coming school year with all the distractions of schoolwork, and of course, men. I kept asking him for a solution for me to be able to love Him and a man. I was asking him this over and over again, but I kept shutting down God's voice anytime he would try to speak, because he was going to say something I didn't want to hear.

(Yesterday) Monday morning came, and I felt at the bottom of a pit of despair. It was this incredible heavy ache within me and clogged my thoughts and my will. THIS led to me finally truly turning to God in surrender and asking his WILL be done completely in my life. Then, at last, I let him speak.

He asked me to have a year long fast of men. Sacrificing emotional attachments, dating, crushes, creating future marriage plans in my head, EVERYTHING for a year. This meant if someone were to ask me if I wanted to get married and have children me replying, no. And then he told me, in turn for me giving him those things, HE would expand my world. Then, he asked me if I was in. The God of All was holding out his hand like Aladdin and saying "do you trust me?" (And yes, I totally referenced God to a middle-eastern cartoon character just then) I hesitated. And I told him I would think about it, because I didn't want to commit to something I wouldn't follow through with, and He said "fair enough."

So yesterday throughout the day, God kept reminding me of things He had shown me in the past that were coming together to make sense now. I had been reading a book where the guy took a year off to KNOW the Lord. Really to know him, in the biblical way, inside out. And also God had told me once that my relationship with my future spouse was like a pearl. That it was going to be tossed around and scraped and shook and formed into something else entirely before it was ready to be removed from its place into a beautiful pearl. So on my way home, I knew I was going to commit to this deal, but I didn't know how it was possible because this would mean (in my eyes) that I would be lonely for an entire year. But then, Baylee came over and gave me something perfect for my birthday. It was a promise from the Lord that He and I could do this thing together and it was going to be amazing. Baylee had been praying for me (while we were in different states mind you) and got a word for me from the Lord saying, "I Promise I will never leave." Then she created this piece of art with pearls and keys and pages of an antique book that says this word. I am looking at it now hanging from my window just amazed at its effect on me. Every time I have come into my room looked at that, I have been filled with peace. Here's why: God is all about PROMISEs. If you do not know this, read the Bible. God likes people who make promises and keeps them. God makes promises and keeps them. He fulfills any PROMISE to his people that he has previously establishes. and the God of the universe is saying, I want you to take off a year of men, because I want you to be fully devoted to me and I PROMISE I will never leave. I PROMISE I will not look at you a few months from now struggling with this fasting and then just walk away. "I PROMISE I will never leave."

So, why I am sharing all this to my internet journal which is often publicized by my sister and my facebook profile? Because I need accountability. If you read this, know that I HUMBLY admit I need prayer for this endeavor, not only to give up on men but to use this time to solely get to know the Lord again. And who knows what will come of all this. Maybe after a year God will say okay another year. Or maybe after a year, God will ask for seven more years. Or maybe God will tell me I am ready to meet whoever he has for me. I do not know, and I know he will not tell me til the time is right. But in this conviction is another truth, God has said this will be the last man. In my past, I thought that I would date loads of people before I was married; but I no longer feel this way. I believe God is saying, if it his will I ever marry, that it will be the next man after the fast is over, however long that may be. Perhaps, that is why I was so worried about being waited for in my previous entry. Everything is piecing together; that is another sign this is all from the Lord.

And if you are reading this and you like someone or are dating someone KNOW that there is no condemnation in Christ Jesus. And that I don't believe this is the right way to live, I think God knows I need a strict diet of him without men emotionally involved, in order to change me. BUT KNOW THAT NOT EVERYONE IS THIS WAY.

So today is the end of the first day of the year of our Lord -- just 364 more to go -- KIDDING, I am not counting down. I was telling God that I wish I could go to an all girls school for the next year. He told me that that would give me no opportunity to learn from being tempted. For an example, it is much more of a beautiful thing for an alcoholic to give up on drinking not because he is stuck on an island with no alcohol, but because he is a bartender and he wants to kick the addiction square in the jaw with his abstinence. In other words, if I was not tempted then that would not make this year much of testimony at all.

Anyways. Now that I have written all this down, I would like feedback, in my vulnerability I ask for your vulnerability. If you read this, please leave an anonymous comment below on your opinion/prayer of this matter.

God PROMISES to never leave us. So be it.

Will you wait for me?

On the pieceofamani list is lyrics. I just love them. Justlove'em. I am not sure why a picture of a raspberry ended up here except that sometimes lyrics of songs grow on me like fruit on a tree; first, the tiny blossom blooms and of course it is beautiful, but then the fruit of these words grow and they are... satiable. Like this raspberry here.

And like this song by Alexi Murdoch

Feel I'm on the verge of some great truth
Where I'm finally in my place
But I'm fumbling still for proof
And it's cluttering my space
Casting shadows on my face
I know I have a strength to move a hill
I can hardly leave my room
So I'll sit perfecty still
And I'll listen for a tune
When my mind is on the moon

And if I stumble
And if I stall
And if I slip now
And if I should fall
And if I cant be all that I could be
Will you, will you wait for me

Cause everywhere I seem to be
I am only passing through
I dream these days about the sea
Always wake up feeling blue
Wishing I could dream of you

So if I stumble
And if I fall
And if I slip now
And lose it all
And if I can't be all that I could be
Will you, will you wait for me

And wait for me
And wait for me
And wait for me
Won't you wait for me
And wait for me
Please wait for me
Please wait for me
Won't you wait for me
And wait for me
Please wait for me
Please wait for me
will you wait for me?

I have found myself asking this question recently. I believe it is a legitimate question. If I mess up, am I still worth waiting for? It is questioning grace. If I do this, and that, and the most horrible actions you imagine, can your love still be expanded further in my life? If I sin, and hate, and lie, and lust, and cheat, and make mistakes will you still want me at the end of the day? Is your blood enough to cover ALL of me?

I like to ask God questions because he always answers one way or another. His reply: Does the earth sustain from the saturation of this rain? Does the ocean run out of water? Does the desert run out of sand? Does the sky always fill the horizon? In this same way, I am fully enough for you.

Or how about poetry? I love poetry.

THIS ONE IS MINE.

Someone put/ You on a slave block/ and the unreal you bought/ you.

Now I keep coming to your owner/ saying,/ "This one is mine."

You often overhear us talking/ and this can make your heart leap/with excitement.

Don't worry,/ I will not let sadness/ possess you.

I will gladly borrow all the gold/ I need

to get you/ back.

Or quotations?

"Your love should never be offered to the mouth of stranger, only to someone who has the valor and daring to cut pieces of their soul off with a knife then weave them into a blanket to protect you." I am a sucker for romance. This quote is roMANtic (emphasis on the MAN, heh heh--I crack myself up). But I am waiting for someone with this sort of valor. And I know this sort of love exists. Because I have seen it happen in others, for others, and in myself, and for myself. But will you wait for me? Cause everywhere I seem to be, I am only passing through. I dream these days about the sea, always wake up feeling blue,

wishing I could dream of you.

Adventure.

High up on the list is one single word with around a hundred different meanings: adventure. I love adventure; this is a learn-through-experience-love. God has been showing me how to let go of some of my fears, to enjoy instead His adventure he offers everyday. So I could try to write about all the different adventures I have had, or ones I hope one day to have, but I don’t think that would be sufficient. The only necessary thing to say, is that if my brother wants me to do anything with him or for him, he just has to tell me, “Come on, Liv, it’ll be an adventure!” And then I’m hooked. Convinced. Utterly Persuaded. I am pretty much terrified of dancing in public, but if someone tells me that there is a possibility of missing out on an opportunity of an adventure, most fears are subsided because I can feel the righteousness of God’s hand in my life through adventure.

I know I have said this word around 27 times now, but I don’t care. I grew up with too many fears in my heart to keep them there now, there has been too much strength and trust poured in my soul, to keep me from all the things I thought of doing but didn’t do. God has transformed me too much, I can’t go back to fear, my flesh clings to it, and my spirit resists it.

In declaration I am an adventurer scouting the world for whatever I am supposed to find: love, family, broken dreams, monsters underneath beds, broken hearts, children, a spouse, God. The enemy calls this foolishness. His demons whisper my “immaturity.” Satan attacks what we are meant most to do, God encourages what He desires for us. Thus, in the paradox of this Jesus faith, I reject fearfulness, and cling to the fearless heart of God.

Pets: dogscatsturtlesfishiesandmore!

Pets made the list, so I must write. I love these animals. They are scoundrels and killers, but I just love them. This is Gracie Full Leacox and Luke Studguts Leacox. In my lifetime there has also been a Sammy, a Sophie, a Jack, and nameless kittens, and the Regulator cat who still visits every once and again, and Harvey Wallsucker (fish), and tens of other fish that were once named but I have now forgotten. How about Burnt Marshmallow--who was one of around thirty baby turtles we have temporarily owned, rescued baby owls, a crushed baby snapping turtle named Snappy, three baby opossums, around twenty quail, bright blue robin eggs, and at my old house we had chickens and roosters galore. When I was younger, after it had rained on a summer afternoon similar to the one today, I would pick out a worm friend for a play mate that day, I think the typical name for my female worms was Amy and for the male ones it was Max (don't ask me how I decided the sex of the worm, I have NO idea, just a strange imagination).

Yesterday, a mayfly was stuck in a pool of gathered water on the kitchen counter, I named him Tucker, picked up one of his stick legs, and led him to his safety outdoors with the other bugs. My family mocks me for this. I am aware that the average lifespan of a mayfly is not very long, but some part of my heart hurts a little bit when someone crushes the little guy for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I know I am ridiculous, but it's just a quirk I guess.

Anyways, I have grown up with many non-human companions in my lifetime and have lost all but two of them now. That is a strange thought. Maybe this is morbid but I say this in complete sincerity, having small doses of grief as a child opens up a thousand different lessons on growing up. Realizing that we do not live forever on this earth is a big one, and that when we do die something far greater is in store for us. And I do not care what theologians theologize about, there are animals in MY heaven, and they'll be worshiping right along next to me to the most high king. Even my little Snappy who I only knew for three seconds, I hope he is there.

My sister was telling me she didn't know if she ever wanted a dog again just because she feels slightly traumatized from all the loss, but I disagree. Not that pet to owner relationships are THAT strong of a real love, but it is still a giving and a receiving of comfort and affection. So LOVE is a dangerous dance. So much extreme joy or extreme hurt can result in this crazy back and forth. And especially if you give out your heart to a thousand different people, mathematically, the opportunity for you to get hurt is at least a thousand times. But let's say you only love a hundred different pets or people, then lucky you, only have the chance of being hurt a hundred ways. YET!!! Let's say the first person is only hurt by half, that means they are LOVED BY 400 more people if the second person is loved by 100% of their pets or people or whatever-beings. That was confusing, but the point is: It's a gamble. Everyone can admit it is a gamble. Whoever said loving is easy, was lying to you (hopefully nobody ever said this, but just in case). It may be easy in a sense that at times it is beautiful, and breathtaking -- yet, when was the last time you were gasping for your life-giving breath, whilst simultaneosuly thinking: "This is a piece of cake!" -- sorry bad joke.

I don't know if any of this had a point, except my mother once told me something I will never forget. She was saying that after she had my oldest sister Lindsey, and then found out she was pregnant with my other sister, Kelsea, she was so nervous because she thought she could never love anyone as much as she loved her beautiful daughter, Lindsey; she was terrified of not having enough love for two children and a husband. But then she said as soon as she had Kelsea, her heart grew double the size and she was overwhelmed with love for her second child. And she never had that same fear again.

One of my favorite quotes by one of my favorite authors speaks on this matter as well: "To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possible be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket--safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell." -- C.S. Lewis

The point is, Love Expands the heart. It stretches and grows. Love does not shrivel your soul into an 880-year-old dead skeleton, in fact, the lack of love can accomplish that one. Ask God for more of His love to give for yourself and for others and perhaps a pet or two in there, he has unlimited supply, I promise. Ask God for more compassion. Ask God for strength to handle this new love and compassion. Ask God for wisdom. Jesus, our Savior, said ask and you shall receive. Let go of the fear of pain, and give and receive a little from Him and hopefully me and hopefully a spouse and hopefully a puppy or a kitty can fit in your life quite pleasantly as well.

When I asked God to speak to me last night He told me something about this acceptance of our questions. He first told me the verse that says come to me all who are weary and I will give you rest. Well, he said to me: come to me all who are lost, happy, defiant, peaceful, here, loud, quiet, working, sleeping, smiling, stressed, bored, faithful, tired, and ten other adjectives, and kept saying every possible character trait of a person, and then he just completely stopped and said: Come to Me All.

Come to me all, He says. This is the good news.

What to say about this day.

This summer, I am starting a photowritingartproject. It will be HealingHealthyandHappy. It will be called PieceOfAmani. It is a pun (I love puns). Amani means peace in Swahili. So it is a piece of peace.

Even now I am chuckling at myself chuckling at the alternative spelling and definition. Chuckling is not the right verb -- what is a word for a half-turned up mouth exuding sporadic chuckle-puffs?Now I am actually quietly laughing about the new created phrase chuckle-puff. But you have all heard the chuckle-puff. It is the laugh which occurs when something isn't funny, but only slightly entertaining. Chuckle-puff. Say it out loud, use it before the week ends, I don't mind.

I am off course; I must return! A while back I started making a list of things of this earth, or not of this earth which I love. Some are things everyone loves like hand-holding or the ocean, but others are uniquely gifts from God, like my love of dirty feet. The list is about 140+ long and I want to photograph or write about each one before 2011. I originally was only going to photo the project but then I started adding things like "the blood of Jesus" and "the Spirit" and "Doing crossword puzzle with my mother" and I realized some things are better written about. The reason behind all these "wild and whirling words": I want to use my blog as a vessel for some of pieceofamani. This will hopefully keep me accountable to keep practicing photography and writing.

But,

I must say this evening has been all together...(looking-for-the-right-word-pause)...strange. Off. Atypical. I am going to tell a story and emphasize the unconventionality of this night's events. The strangeness all began weeks ago when I told my mother I would be the photographer for my brother's eighth grade formal dance (she told me there would be some sort of small monetary compensation, because after all, they ARE eighth graders). I wore khaki pants and a button up dress shirt, and I kept putting my hands in my pockets like my father does when he is listening to someone drone on for a long time, you know the guy who over-explains the same thing in seven different ways, kind of like what I am doing now. Bless my dad's soul, he always nods his head upwards and keeps it there, all while his fingers feel around for keys or a wallet in his pockets--I kept doing that, but I only had lint to play with. Anyways, after my mother and I had entered the nostalgic arena, complete with my ex-leprechaun-principal not recognizing me--I think I misplaced those hyphens--she is my former principal, but she is still a leprechaun--I realized that it was going to be a very strange night. And it was. I was called bitch by an eighth grade boy who did not know the reason behind muttering something under your breath is so no one else can hear it. Despite my adult-attempting-to-look-professionally-legit-apparel, I was asked by countless teens if I was the photographer. I think they get confused with the contradiction of my young baby face and the fact that NO ONE ELSE AROUND WAS CARRYING A CAMERA, they kept asking me "are you the photographer?"

Alas, I am portraying them in a poor light and that is unfair to the unripened bunch of squaggly hormone-hyped gaggle. There were many well-behaved kids there -- but honestly, who wants to read about them in a story? The naughty ones are 10x more entertaining. Yes.

Something else weird: the stark contrast I felt between myself and the little chitlins. (I am using the term 'little' here referring to young, NOT their actual size because most were heads taller than me.) I didn't necessarily want there to be a line between myself and them, because last week I jumped off the swing while going too fast and high and scraped my elbows and hands. And two weeks ago, I tried to fit my entire body in trunk which could probably only hold a five year old. And just a few days ago, I cried and cried after a truck ran over a baby snapping turtle on the road near my house. My point is, there WAS no distinction between me and them, and yet, the separating line was broad as daylight in the dimly lit cafeteria. Of course, I could blame this on my mother (like most human daughters do) who was close in proximity and kept telling the chalk-full of energydrink jumping boys to "Settle down, please." Okay, now I am actually laughing; I wish everyone in the entire world could one day meet my mother. I know NO ONE like her. No one. Each time I posed a different couple or group to photograph, there were two boys who were entertained by jumping in the picture right before I snapped it. After this behavior was repeated , my mother physically removed them from the picture (pun intended). Neither one of them repeated their action after my mother laced all ten of her fingers around the smaller boy's forearm and drug his back across the tile flooring.

Anyways, the truth is, I think I was much worse than them in 8th grade. I didn't know the Lord and I hated myself a little bit, so I was cruel, and I cheated, and I faked, and I lied, and I, and I, and I, the list is endless. It is strange to return to the place where you were once someone else entirely. It was like I could still see the skinny thirteen-year-old Livi running amuck, being disrespectful and blindly selfish and peer-pressured to kiss amidst all the other junior-highers.

But that Livi is very separate from myself today. And that, my fellow friends and brethren, despite all the absurdities, is a damn good feeling.

fiction.

Broken Sink

The knobs on my mother’s bathroom sink

spray and spurt squirting water when twisted on.

Hot or cold--the pure porcelain, worn silver-trimmed, farmhouse handles--

spew cloudy well water on their nearest user.

In my last encounter, I swung open the door to shout toward the kitchen,

Mom, when are you going to get these fixed?

She did not respond,

but a faint whir of bubbles popped in her boiling water

as I smear my shirt with a blue hand towel.

She then said, there’s a sweet spot, honey, you just have to find it.

Back to the sink, I spun the four-pronged knob with force,

only to be puked upon again.

Frustrated,

I grasped the sink and looked up at the mirror

to see my father’s frustrated

eyes staring back at me.

Their watery blue hue reminding me of the loss and his absence,

and her loss, and why the broken sink handles stayed broken.

I left the bathroom and responded,

you claim there is, but I have yet to find it.

iambic pentameter

This morning I untangled bedsheets wrapped
around my restless body. Only home
pulls back the blankets, the alarm alarms.
While walking back, tall rows of trees surround
my path. Their bending stature leans to glean
attention, branches finger through my hair.
Brunette-hued earth perfumes and paves in waves,
his easing breeze inhaled within my lungs.
The handsome sky above me tells of rain
so sweet seducing buds to bloom--persuades
determined hearts from logic to desire--
decays my will to keep from arms I left.

Healing

I would like to say a word about healing because God has been speaking to me about this. There is nothing easy about letting the God of the universe take all my/your physical, emotional, spiritual pain away from me/you. I like to pretend that if I have pain then I can use it as a sort of covering from others. That, if they know I am emotionally scarred, they won't hurt me as much. But this is not the way of the Lord. The God of the universe tears down the walls of pain. The God of the universe removes my self-protecting-umbrella of pain I carry with me, in order for me to receive the fullness of his love. The fullness of his Blood. Does this make any sense to anyone? Am I the only one in the world that wraps myself in pain for people to know that I do or don't have problems of my own I struggle with daily? I know I am not alone. But it feels like it some days. I am like Adam and Eve who cover themselves in the bushes to hide their sin against God. Yesterday I wrote a poem about a young girl with an abusive parent who tries to cover herself with things that are so close to Jesus, but are not Jesus. I think that is what I do with my old scars. In a way, Jesus and my past scars have a lot in common. But they are IN NO WAY the same. Yet, they both have protected me from bad choices. They both have led to my salvation in some way. But my past sins and hurts are from this world, and the blood of Jesus is not. I'll share the poem because I think it better relates to what I am talking about.

Red ribbons wrapped in her young hair
Tied up anger in his tight fists
Sinking tears on her cherry cheeks
One fatherless father

Hiding behind closed closets
His alcohol stumbling search
Covered by the crimson, hanging dress
Her tiny feet seen by clouded eyes

Her swollen face and hands
Reaching toward the sky
Heaven’s red rain cleanses
Nothing left uncovered

Although, I have never endured the pain of an abusive father, like this young girl I have tried to protect myself with objects that resemble the blood of Jesus, but are NOT THE BLOOD. I believe the enemy puts worldly things in our way to resemble THE WAY THE TRUTH AND THE LIFE. Such a masquerade. God is the only protector. God is the one true father. God is. God is. God is the ultimate provider. God is. God is. When I speak this out it reminds me of the truth in the old testament when God says his name is 'I AM'. He is. He is. He is. He is my healer. He is changing me so I stop hiding my sin from everyone. If you are reading this, and you know me, you know I do this. I am humbly stepping in front of the Lord and receiving the fullness of His Grace and forgiveness through the blood.

Recently, this is what God has been pouring into me. The grace and forgiveness offered. Even though I have long since accepted this, it wasn't until recently that I am knowing the full extent of his forgiveness of my sin. And I feel like this is the first time in my life that I can offer this grace to others. And what a WONDERFUL feeling -- that through God, I can offer a little piece of radical grace and forgiveness and lack of judgement. and WHAT A WONDERFUL PLACE TO BE. What freedom comes with our Father in heaven. Amazing Grace. I remember when I was probably five or six years old, I was on my mom's lap and she asked me what my favorite song in church was; and I told her it was the one about being blind and then seeing again. And she told me she loved that one too. Amazing Grace. Children are beings full of grace -- they do not care about your past, they just want to receive and give love. This is the heart of Jesus.

This may be too vivid of a picture but I am going to use it anyway because I feel like it best portrays how I am right now. When there is an infection on or in the body, in order to remove and cleanse the wound, you have to cut it open and replace the infection with the something that will fight against it. (I am no science person but I know but I know that you can't let wounds just fester because they will spread) This is going to sound so creepy but just bear with me. Well, for the longest time when I worshipped I would get this vision of being cut open. It wasn't gross or gruesome but it was like I was being opened up from toes to head, and then from my arms spread wide from hand to hand. And then I would feel like the cross being put into these cut marks. And I always just thought that this was God showing me what it was like to hang on the cross. But it wasn't until now that I realized that this vision was something completely different. God has been opening me up for me to release my sin so he can replace it with his forgiveness. Me holding in my sin was infecting the rest of my body, so during worship God was cutting open my wounds to put in the fighter of evil in: the Cross.

Amazing grace
How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now I'm found
Was blind, but now I see
'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear
And grace my fears relieved
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed

My chains are gone
I've been set free
My God, my Savior has ransomed me
And like a flood His mercy reigns
Unending love, Amazing grace

The Lord has promised good to me
His word my hope secures
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures

The earth shall soon dissolve like snow
The sun forbear to shine
But God, Who called me here below
Will be forever mine
Will be forever mine
You are forever mine

James 5:16 Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be HEALED. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.

It's time for healing.