Ugly Beautiful

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Her words sliced the air between us.  To the casual observer these words would appear innocuous at best but between her and me they sliced as deftly as newly sharpened knife.  Her anxiety and frustration found release in her words and dredged up something long since forgotten in me.  It was as if these words were a scalpel in the hands of skilled surgeon.  One who knew exactly where to cut to cause the most pain.

While I am sure she knew the bite with which she spoke. I doubt if she will never know the depth to which those words cut.  Now, I am left struggling with the aftermath in silence.

Yet, I know my silence, in this moment, is for the greater good – hers, mine and ours.

Community isn’t easy because it is made up of us – the broken and the fractured.  Amidst the splinters and the shards perfection will never be.  Yet, even in the most brittle bits the ugly-beautiful is sure to be found.

“The cure for pain is in the pain.”  (Rumi)

Her anxiety mixed with my past was heavy laden and if Rumi is right, the healing is there for the both of us.  It requires the moxie to dive in and hunt for it.  To get wet or get dirty is a necessity to lay hold of the needed cure and we can’t find it for anyone else but ourselves.

Community demands more of us for the love of others.  In the more, we must give less.  Less of our baggage, our hurts and our ills because if we are carrying those what can we really give?

Community pushes us past our limits.  It breaks open out hearts – splays them wide for all to see.

And yet, even in the mess it is ugly-beautiful.

 

 

 

 

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The Velveteen Me

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I sit here in the waffling mix of emotions.  Tomorrow bears the pain of a friend.  Yesterday bore the weariness of my soul.  Today is just a mix of all.

Life is too short.

And yet, I sit here.  Midway, if not more, in my life and wondering if what I have done is good enough and if what remains will be full of more than I can ever imagine.

Midlife does this to you.  It is a mind game of wonder.  Introspection and regret becomes a dual edged sword.  It cuts through to the soul to expose the real and the lie.  The pain comes not from the cutting but from the discerning.

Who am I?

Some lies I have held so long their roots tangle deep.   It is hard to distinguish their forgery.  They have settled long and appear too real.

Yet, they are not – real.

Oh my God.

You whose artisan hands created me in the recesses of my mother’s womb – You who numbered my days and set my course – You who breathed life into my lungs – You who have carried me through my days, my years – forgive me.

Forgive me for settling for a less than existence in a more than life.

Forgive me my holding tightly to the whispers of “not good enough” than standing in the promise “in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.”

Forgive me for choosing to live a guarded life when You have destined me to live abandoned.

Cut the pretense and the self-protection away.

Expose the real.

This is who I have longed and yet, feared to be.

Welcome…

I am looking forward to getting to know you.

 

 

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