Tag Archive | Rage

All You Need is Love

Today I sit to write about something that’s been on my heart for at least a year, perhaps even a little longer.

Fear is the block.

Fear mostly in that as much as we say we don’t care what people think, we really do. It is our nature to want folks to agree with us.

This year, I have learned though that we can disagree, and not be nasty about it. So I can say what I have to say, and not be afraid of what you think.

I want to think. I want you to think.

When two men always agree, one of them is unnecessary.” William Wrigley Jr. (Quote Source)

All that said, to say this;

Last November we elected a new President, and here is what I’ve observed.

I thought the hate talk would die down after a bit, but alas, it has not.

I don’t care which side of the aisle people reside on, Democrat or Republican, liberal, conservative, Christian, Catholic, Buddhist or Muslim, male, female, or LBGTQ. I have observed a type of speech that quite frankly breaks my heart.

This speech comes from those I know, and those I don’t, virtual friends and people on the street.

Here it is; They want to love, love, love. Run the world with love. Be love. Speak love.

And the moment someone says the name of our President, the spirit of wrath, and vitriol comes out of their mouths, obscenities that I cannot personally utter. In the next sentence, they are back to love, love, love.

Some leaders even stand in front of microphones and say awful things about those who voted for him. Excuse me, but wouldn’t that be over half of the nation that you’re bad mouthing?

Can I just say, leave the man alone and let him do his job? We have all heard the viciousness of verbal attacks launched on the President and his family. Can we just stop?

I have not always agreed with our previous Presidents, even the ones I liked. I didn’t bad mouth them, I used my voice in the voting booth.

I seldom have these conversations due to the angst and anger that is spewed after they begin.

I won’t. I can’t. My heart can’t take it.

Perhaps we need to begin some civil dialogue? Or not.

I can always use my voice in the voting booth.

 

Where a Poem Belongs

“Where a poem belongs is here, in the warmth of the chest;
out in the world it dies of cold.” by Rumi

This was the introduction to a writing prompt today

The prompt itself was; What poem does your chest/breast/heart long for you to write. Give it voice now.

I am often surprised by the out come. 5 minutes. Who knew it would be enough to open up a heart?

I don’t know if it’s a poem just yet. It’s more a sense of belonging. Of safety. Of being right, even when you’re doing it wrong. YOU are right. The thing you did was not. You are free to express yourself without fear of someone’s critical retort.  As Rumi said, it belongs in your heart. In your breast. To stay warm. Not to feel the stabbing cold of … disappointment? No. Judgement. From ones who don’t understand. My poem will be of this. A safe place, where there is freedom to say what is real.

I am grateful I have found my hiding place. Peace now fills my heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Drama Queen



Have you ever thought of yourself as a “Drama Queen”?

Or has someone else called you that?

I don’t need a show of hands, so come on, tell yourself the truth.

Being a DQ is kind of cute.

When you’re five.


 

After that, it’s not too cute at all.


Have you ever just responded in tears to something, so totally over the top that you embarrassed yourself?


Worse yet, have you realized later that you didn’t even realize you were over the top?


How mortifying is that?


I’ve had seasons in my life where I could cry at stop signs.


During these times, there was great release for my heart.


A time where God did something in my heart, a touch of healing you might say.


I’ve also had seasons though, where tears would not come.


The wells seemed to be dried up.


Unfortunately, these times were more abundant in my life than the stop sign times.


The DQ was nowhere to be found.


The problem is that my heart was dried up too.


After long periods of dryness, I would erupt at the slightest provocation,


or no provocation at all.


The DQ would be back, but she took on a different form,


not so much with tears, as with anger and rage and bitterness.


This recalcitrant little girl stomps her feet and screams.


This little girl will not be denied her place on the stage.


There’s a problem though. This little girl isn’t five.


She is big enough now, that others better not get in her way.


Now, she should be mortified.


I had always seen my tears as a weakness.


God showed me recently that tears were actually a gift.


The hot, angry, mad tears, were actually a cleanser for my ravaged soul.


When those tears are allowed to flow, healing could begin.


No DQ required.


The ugly cry.


Just straight up, truthful, exhausting, healing, cleansing tears.


After that, I learned I was able to cry a quieter cry.


Tears of humility and repentance.


He is our God, and He is big enough to handle them.


In His hands they are truly a treasure.


Here’s the truth that God showed me on a particularly weepy day;


He will not waste our tears. He saves them in a bottle.


Why would He bother saving them, if they were useless?


Psalm 56:8 AMP ~ 8You number and record my wanderings; put my tears into Your bottle–are they not in Your book?


Psalm 56:8 TLB ~ 8You have seen me tossing and turning through the night. You have collected all my tears and preserved them in your bottle! You have recorded every one in your book.


Psalm 56:8 GNT ~ 8You know how troubled I am; you have kept a record of my tears. Aren’t they listed in your book?


No matter how you say it. We all have those times, those times when we cannot stop the tears from flowing and those times when tears just won’t come.


Don’t be afraid to cry.


God has a purpose for those tears.


He will one day show us what they were all for.


He does not save worthless things.