Confessions of a Mother's Day Runaway

Deliciousful sun syrup, gently warms my softish caramel-colored cheeks.  Willing my eyes to remain closed, I inhale and hold the freshness of this new day inside me.  I drink deeply  of the newness.  I am safely tucked in the folds of my covers, my safe place. All is well and I am savoring these moments. 

Slowly my mind wakes.  Like a butterfly emerging from it's cocoon, I am orienting to this day in a slow manner, squeezing each thought fully awake.  A sudden awareness breaks in,   like a tsunami that has pulled back and then destroyed everything in its path,  I realize what day it is. The peace that I was savoring has simply vanished!  There will be no retrieval of what moments ago was a beautiful day. 

Mother's Day!  UGH!!!! Why does Hallmark have to ruin this otherwise wonderful day?  Pulling the candy apple red fleece blanket up over my head,  I wrestle with myself.  It is an ugly battle that gets more intense with every passing moment.  It is a battle that I am not a stranger to.  I lay here realizing that all holidays seem to bring this destructive, crushing feeling that is overwhelming and causes me to want to runaway.  I whisper this declaration, "I am not participating!" 

An hour has slipped by, I lay stone still fighting the tears.  Whisper yelling at God, I rasp out, "WHY am I like this?  WHY do all holidays make me crazy like this? WHY does everything in me want to runaway?"  Thirty more minutes tick by.   I can feel my body starting to relax.  The Mr. quietly tiptoes into the room.  I feel an odd comfort that he knows the struggle of these types days for me. Perching on the side of the bed, he quietly asks, "What shall we do today?"  How could I not pull the covers off my face and answer the man who has tolerated, loved, and given himself for me? Tentatively, I squeak out, "Starbucks and flowers for the window boxes?"  A silly grin creeps across his face, and he turns to leave, giving me the space and time I need to gather myself together.  For him, I will not run.  For him, I will mentally try to reframe the day.  

Three hours, and a couple of trenta iced teas later, the Mr. and I are planting flowers.  It is in this moment I realize why these societally imposed holidays are so difficult for me.  It is simple.  I feel they are fake.  EVERYTHING inside of me does not do well with "fake".  I live with such a deep zest and love for life; my family; and my friends that I detest the fakeness of all the hullabaloo!  It seems so inauthentic to my heart.  

As the day continues, I hear the Lover of My Heart whispering, "I made you this way.  Your heart is for authenticity.  Your heart is for real.  Embrace this piece of you.  Hallmark is a vehicle for others to get to real and authentic."  Then he posed the question that stopped me, "Isn't one time a year celebrating these type of things, better than none?" UGH!!!  I feel the truth of His words split my plank-eyed heart wide open.  "Yes, both are good," I whisper.    

Tonight as I slip in between the sheets of my safe place, my heart is thankful for the gift of understanding.  May you discover the understanding that your heart craves for the things that make you want to run away.

Until we Chat Again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl

*Just for the record, these feeling have nothing to do with the mother that are in my life or my own daughter. These women are all incredible and they are very gracious and understanding with me on these days.  

Exposed!

Rain pellets my face as I slosh my way across the camp.  It is cold, penetrating, and just plain nasty.   I use my braille skills to find my way to my assigned cabin. The darkness of this intensely uninviting night is making me have second thoughts about what I have agreed to.  My cabin mates are already tucked in and asleep.  Feeling optionless, I drop my coat on a chair and slide into my sleeping bag.  

Sleep is no where near.  I have a funny feeling that it is not planning to visit me either.  1:45 AM, my eyes refuse to close.  2:55 AM, I am still staring at the ceiling, counting the boards and wondering if any spiders are planning to descend on me.  My mind is as blank as an old black chalkboard in July.  4:17 AM I am trying to remember my outline.  5:30 AM the panic is starting to rise in my heart.  I am expected to speak to these ladies in just a few hours.  I have done my homework.  I have prepared, but I am blank.  6:40 AM I give up and unzip the sleeping and slide into my clothes.  There will not be any shower this morning.  Daylight is just starting to peek in.  

9:30 AM the women are gathering.  My heart  pleads with the Lord to use these moments for His purposes.  All I have to offer are my simple words that form my story.  The story of His grace and mercy generously poured out on me, a sinner. It will require exposure.  It will require authenticity. 

I stand alone in the starkness of the camp bathroom stall.  Whispering my worship, I am aware that He is standing here with me.   I am not alone.  I surrender my words and ask Him to use them for His purposes. Finishing up my private moments with my Abba, I deeply inhale and feel the moist frozen air rushing in from a cracked window.  Suddenly, my feet are moving in a slow cadence to where my story will now be told.  My audience will be these unknown fellow sojourners. 

Taking my place at the front, I turn my face toward these precious ladies. I slowly rotate my gaze from face-to-face, pausing to study their eyes. My heart is taken with the vastness of their pain and feelings of loneliness.  I silently ask the Lord to allow my heart to be exposed, knowing that my flesh WILL be uncomfortable.  

I hear the words gathering in my heart, the Lord is precisely piecing them together to be released for these daughters of His.  I barely glance at my outline and invite them to enter into prayer with me.  

I speak of my journey.  I speak of my shattered dreams.  I speak of the dark abyss.  I am vaguely aware of the clear liquid sliding down my checks. I continue.  My eyes are looking deep into their hearts and seeing their struggle; their pain; their need to surrender control and lay it at His feet. Their need to know that they are not alone.  Their need to experience His love and grace.  I speak of His amazing love poured out on me in my darkest hours.  I speak of learning how to stay facing Him when everything else is shattered.  I hear my voice, and know that these moments are sacred.  I see one sojourner silently  overcome with the realization of just how much she is loved by her creator. I observe another one take her neighbor's hand and wipe the tears that are cascading.  One gentle soul rises to hand me a tissue.  I am grateful.  An hour has elapsed. I know that my Father has woven our hearts together and brought hope, healing, and  His light.

If your heart is broken and you find yourself in the darkest abyss, just whisper His name.  He is there. Put your hands out and call out to Him.  He is waiting for you to surrender.  Then, promise me that you will call another sojourner and ask them to walk with you.  It is okay to be authentic and real. Life is hard and messy.  We are called to love each other and walk with each other through life.

Here is my hand, please take it.  I would love to pray for you.  If you prefer not to share in a public format, please e-mail me at: theplankeyedgirl@gmail.com

Until We Chat Again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl
  

FB Life Versus Authenticity

FB Life versus Authenticity

Frustration mounted.  My head started to pound. My stomach started to swirl.  I wanted to pick up the phone and back out of the commitment I had agreed to.  At the least, I desperately wanted to take the easy way out and speak to an easier topic.  I was coming up empty handed with how to address the topic I was asked to speak to.  

So....I did what any other person would do.  I opened my ipad and started perusing FB (Facebook).  Normally, I enjoy these peeks into others lives. I delight in being able to stay connected through words and photos. However, today I seemed to be ultra aware that all these lives seemed "perfect".  Pictures were of people having fun.  Everyone seemed to be smiling and enjoying life.  It made me a titch crazy.   

Closing my ipad and continuing my wrestling practice with the impending topic, I glanced at the clock.  Yikes!  Only 14 hours and I would need to have something solidified.  Once again, my mind started to run for the door.  As it was rapidly reviewing my "valid" excuse list, something whispered to my heart, "Don't run.  I will give you strength and words."  If I chose, relief could be only a phone call away.  Ugh!  Why did I believe I was strong enough emotionally to do this? Deciding not to make the call I dropped into bed.  

Throughout the night, I flopped like a fish.  Odd dreams coursed through my head.  As morning neared, panic was rising, like a ravenous dog chasing a meaty bone. It was slowly suffocating any hope that I had of saying anything intelligent.  Desperately, I called out to my Father asking for just a tidbit of direction for this assignment.  As the first light of morning peaked through the window, I finally gave up. Struggling to my feet, I got myself up.  Grabbing something comfortable, I dressed and headed out the door to my local coffee shop. Maybe a change of scenery would release something.

Retrieving my nourishment and liquid, I found a table in the corner.  Settling in, I heard my Father's ever gentle whisper.  Inhaling and exhaling, relief washed over my mind and I audibly giggled. Catching myself giggling only made me smirk more.  I am such a silly plank-eyed girl.  Of course, He would show up and deliver.  When will I learn this lesson?  He NEVER abandons me and He ALWAYS comes through.  

Perched on my chair and sipping my lovely beverage; I let my fingers fly over the keyboard and bring to life the words He was speaking to my heart.  Words to His precious daughters. Words of authenticity.  Words of  struggle.  Words of  hope. Words that will allow my fellow sojourners to realize that they are not alone and we are all traveling together.

What is the Lord asking you to do that you are hesitant to accept?  Growth begins at the end of our comfort zones.  Why not accept the offer of His help and step out, trusting that He will provide everything you need to accomplish what He is asking you to do.  

Here is my hand friend, take it and together we will walk.   

Until we Chat Again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl

If you would like to share what the Lord is asking you to do, please either leave me a message or e-mail me at:  theplankeyedgirl@gmail.com 

Facial Management (or lack of)

Strolling down Ali'i Drive one Sunday during a street fair, there were tons of people to watch. My eyeballs seemed to be darting from person to person taking in all the colors, sights, and sounds. Street fairs are horribly distracting places for us who are easily distracted.  Anyway, I was giggling to myself as I took in all these fun and colorful individuals.  It was pure and simple amusement.   I often think God giggles when He sits and watches us.  

That was when it happened.  An extremely pale; approximately 60 year old; distinguished looking gentleman rolled by.  On any "normal" business workday in the states, I am sure he would've not have stood out in a crowd.  However, as my eyes took it all in, I literally felt an explosive belly laugh episode starting deep inside me. As it was exploding upward through my body, I started to panic because I was totally aware that this was inappropriate, but I am pretty sure God was smiling too.  For those of you that have never been to Hawaii, let me share a little secret with you.  The Hawaiian Islands are stunningly beautiful, but they seem to bring out characteristics in us "mainlanders" that wouldn't normally come out.  Enough said about that. Anyway, this distinguished gentleman was sporting a high-waisted Speedo, with white socks and roller skates.  He obviously, at some point in his younger years had been a good skater. His skin had not seen the sun in a few decades and those days of a toned body had escaped him and settled around his mid section.  The topper was, he had ear buds in and was singing to a song as he rolled down through the crowds thoroughly enjoying himself.  I did notice he had a wedding ring on, but the Mrs's was no where to be seen.  All I could think was, "Oh my!  How did he get out of the hotel room?  Surely his wife does not know he escaped."  Suddenly I heard myself producing a stifled giggle.  This is the type of giggle that as one tries  desperately to control it, it explodes.  

Okay, truth be told, I was not the only one having difficulty with facial management.  Please understand, this was not a giggle of judgement, it was a giggle of admiration.  You see, I too, am a "spotted zebra."  I don't want to be like anyone else and I severely dislike it when people copy me.  This was just a "spotted zebra" of an entirely different tribe.

"Facial Management"  What a funny term.  In fact, just saying is makes me smirk.  Maybe I smirk because I am not equipped with this skill, no matter how much I try or practice.  You know, some people have an amazing ability to "manage" their face.  They are actually quite gifted in this area. Unfortunately, I am not one of these people. I have even tried practicing in the bathroom mirror.

I don't really try to watch people, but truly people are fascinating to me.  People's actions usually stand out to my kinistic awareness.  Sometimes it is their voices or what people are saying grab my auditory attention.  Mostly though, to be honest, it is their appearance that leaps to my eyeballs and holds my visual acuity.  I LOVE variety.  I think God delights in variety.  He purposely made us, His prized creation, in His image.  His image is stamped on each one of us.  We are as varied as the grains of sand on the beaches of this world.  We are made to be unique, by the Master Creator of the Universe.   Today, let's celebrate and enjoy our differences.

Until we chat again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl

Earth-Pod Girl

24 hours has never seemed like a long time to me, but yesterday it was.  Yesterday, I was cranky, discouraged, and frustrated.  Really not a good combination for anyone.  Honestly, I didn't really have any reason to feel this way.  I was telling myself to snap out of it.  I was explaining to my head that I had the gift of life, shelter, food, clothing, etc., but my heart was just not listening to my head.  I hate that when it happens.  It was just a storm in my heart that seemed to be raging.  I am glad that most of the time I don't deal with this kind of thing.  

I managed to get myself to work.  I even managed to get myself to worship.  (Where I am currently working on the Big Island, we have a fabulous all campus worship time on Monday morning.)  As worship drew to a close, I was completely unaware of the delightful surprise that awaited me in the next few moments.  As worship was nearing the end, I slide my feet into cushy flip-flops and proceeded to saunter back towards the kitchen.  That is when I encountered her again.  Earth-Pod Girl.  I had met her on Saturday.  In fact, we had even sat in a volcanic formed tide pool for over an hour and she spoke of her past; her passions; her heartbreak; and her desire for more of God.  I was enthralled with this amazing girl's story.  She was smart, plucky, fun, and wounded.  You see, we share a passion for using the world's trash in reusable ways to help the poor.  In particular, she wants to use recycled trash to build "earth-pod"  structures for the poor of the world to live in.  As we had parted our ways on Saturday, I wondered if I would have an opportunity to chat with her again.  Little did I know what God had in store.  

On this morning, as I departed the Ohana Court, Earth-Pod girl planted herself in front of me.  With a silly grin on her face and a floppy straw hat on her head, she said, "I want to encourage you this morning.  Can I pray for you?"  I just looked at her and heard myself say, "Sure."  Sometimes I am amazed at myself and just how detached I am.  Anyway, she started praying.  Well...really she was proclaiming what she was seeing in her heart and what the Lord was whispering to her ears.  She spoke in fragments, pausing as if listening for the next bit of words.  Each fragment she spoke pierced my heart and deflated the discouragement that had implanted itself and taken over.  Her words chased the crankiness out of the chambers where it had lodged and taken root.  Mostly though, her words took the pieces of my frustration and seemed to rearrange them in a way that let me get a glimpse of where the Lord and I are journeying.  

Thank you Earth-Pod girl for helping this Plank-Eyed Girl.

Enjoy the gift of today.  You never know when God will place someone in front of you.

Until we chat again,

Plank-Eyed Girl

Embracing the Adventure

An uncomfortable hush fills the space I am in.  A distinct rumble starts to invade the air and I find an odd comfort in it.  I can feel my body being pushed and held flat against the fake, blue leather chair I am perched in. A double ding clearly provides permission to connect to the wireless outside world.  This is the tenth time in the last 365 days I have lived this.  Each time I am utterly elated and simultaneously mystified.

Strangers surround me in this incredibly heavy, long metal tube.  They sit within inches of me.  My mind races wondering where they are headed and why?  Together, we are journeying to thesame geographic   island, yet no words are spoken and no eye contact is made.  40,000 feet up above the soil and water that comprise the planet on which I reside, I silently converse with God about all that I am leaving behind to embrace an adventure that I have no control over.

On this day, I am leaving behind so many things that define me.  This realization peppers my reality.  I am ultra aware that when I awake tomorrow, no one will know or care what I do for a living.  No one will know or care for whom I work.  No one will know or care whose mom, wife, or daughter I am.  I will be part of a mix from all over this terra firma that is merging together to worship and serve.

On this day, I am leaving behind so many things that bring me security.  My cozy yellow cottage, so warm and welcoming.  My black and currently topless vehicle that allows me the freedom to go where ever I desire.  My "studio" that is filled with precious childrens books, as well as, gleaned and foraged art supplies. But most of all, oddly enough, I am leaving behind my favorite, gently-used yellow cardigan.

On this day, I am leaving behind many people that are embedded in my heart.  The "Precious One".    The "Gentle One".  The "Humble One".  But most of all, I am leaving behind many "seasoned" friends yet to be introduced to you.

Today, I release all these "things" that I am leaving behind. With one hand, I timidly slide it into my Creators and with the other, I hold it out and wide open to embrace this advenure in front of me and pick up the new discoveries.

Come with me as I journey.  My writing might not be perfect and clean but I promise to share my heart and authenticity as I skip through these next seven weeks.

He's got this.

Until we chat again,

- The Plank-Eyed Girl.

Naked, Gnarled, and Beautiful

Naked, Gnarled, and Beautiful

     A feeling of warmth and panic rose simultaneously as the Humble One’s words floated to my ears.  She had posed a question that I desperately wanted to answer “yes” to, but instead there was silence.  Moments slipped by.  The sun was just starting to warm the earth after a long, gray Spring.  My skin was beginning to warm under the bright rays as I sat there bare-legged and shoeless.  The plastic smell of the new cushions slowly filled my head.  Suddenly, realizing that moments were lapsing, I turned my eyes to hers.  I realized she was waiting patiently for my response.  Turning my eyes away, I heard myself answer, “Okay.  Are you sure you want to do this?”  She didn’t wait for my questioning.  Instantly, she sprang up and bounded toward the house.

     Moments turned into minutes as I waited for her return.  My thoughts were racing all over the inside of my heart.  “Something has changed in me.  A year ago, I would’ve really wanted to say “Yes, please” but I would’ve ended up declining this gift being offered to me through the hands of the gentle one.  Today though, I was able to barely whisper a quiet, simple “Okay”. 

     Behind me the backdoor squeaks open, then slams.  The Humble One emerges carrying a metal tub of fresh, warm water; lavender oil; and two carefully rolled white towels.  I feel myself relax. My ears take in an slight sigh, but she does not notice.  She folds herself down onto the grass, as agile as a young fawn and I place my dusty, twisted, red toe-nailed feet into the water.  The sacredness of this moment races directly to my soul.  She reaches into the tub and gently takes one of them in her hands.  As she begins washing and massaging my foot, her words are barely audible to my human ears, but seem to be coming through a loudspeaker in my heart.  Her words are beautifully strung together and seem to rise directly from the depths of her being straight to Abba’s ears.  She is speaking to her Father and I am aware that this is an unexpected gift that will leave an indelible mark on my heart forever.  As I breathe in, I can feel a warmth rising inside of me.  The panic is gone.  I am grateful for growth and the Humble One’s patience for my answer.

     Thank you Lord for the gift of this Humble One and her hands of grace and mercy being used by you, to touch a girl like me.

 

~The Plank-Eyed Girl

Necklace, Tats, and Ms. T. “Sacred Moments”

Necklace, Tats, and Ms. T.

“Sacred Moments”

Written by the Plank-eyed Girl

April, 2013

   Silence fills her car as I drive it towards the unknown destination.  It is an address on a sticky note.  I am in a foreign state; unknown city; and odd place. My thoughts are like a dragonfly on steroids, zipping wildly through my brain.  Unable to direct them or even pause them and too tired to care, I just let the cacophony play.  Unlike a beautiful symphony, the chorus is dissident and erratic.   It makes my head pound, but I can’t stop it.  The vehicle reaches the destination that I was instructed to go to.  Automatically,  I get out of the car and hesitantly walk toward the only door in sight. 

   It’s a bare room with a couple of stiff, scratchy, hardened chairs and an old beige phone on the wall.  Glancing around, I am instructed by a small laminated paper tacked to the wall, to pick up the phone.  A bouncy voice greets me and I struggle for words.  With the comfort of a cowboy who is mounting his horse after a long vacation, the voice instructs me to go to the only other door and enter.  (How many times a day and night does this voice greet us who are scared and confused?)  I say nothing.  Somehow the phone finds its way to the receiver and I turn towards the door.  Entering, the intake nurse rises to greet me like an old friend.  Immediately I can feel myself deeply exhale.  I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath.  Everyone in this small room hears it and the awkward silence turns to a nervous laugh. 

I find myself in a chair next to the precious one.   Grateful for her and the fact she didn’t succeed.  Grateful for another chance at life.  Grateful that she is allowing me to walk with her through this.  She takes my hand and I instantly start caressing the top of her hand, like when she was a young one.  Suddenly my eyes are darting around the room, finally landing on the intake nurse’s necklace.  It is a cross.  My doubtful heart screams, really?  My eyes continue their journey and come to rest on the nurse’s forearm.  I can feel the tears starting to pool in the corners of my eyes.  I can’t seem to make my eyes change focus.  They have landed on a tat that says, “truth”.  It is large.  It is colorful.  It was purposefully unhidden.  The second “T” is made into a cross.”  My hand automatically springs to my check.  Clear liquid is cascading down my cheeks.  The precious one traces my gaze with her eyes and sees what I am seeing.  She has always been observant. She gently smiles a knowing smile.  God has reached into this moment and declared that He is with us.

   Each day is blending into the other.  I have no “normal” anymore.  Friends call to check on me.  Oddly, I am yearning for them just to talk at me about “normal” things.  I don’t have words to explain all that is going on.  I shove the thoughts out of my consciousness. 

   It is Friday morning and I want to thank the precious one’s colleagues.  I gather the treats and make my way to the facility and the people that she loves.  Entering, I am warmly received.  Seconds into the visit, a hand softly takes my elbow and I am steered out into the courtyard.  Ms. T sits me down in the gazebo and firmly states, “He’s got this!”  Without even skipping a beat she proceeds to launch into sharing the gospel with me and telling me that she has taken the precious one under her wing and is basically a surrogate mother to her.  Time seems to stand still and I am aware that in these moments, I am witnessing an answer to my petition over the last year.  Ms. T is the passionate pursuer of my God who has been walking alongside the precious one.  I stop her mid-sentence.  She quietly asks me if I am okay.  With barely an audible whisper, I squeak out, “You are the one that I prayed for all those days and nights!”  We hug and there is an unspoken awareness that this is a sacred moment.  God has reached into this moment and declared that He is with us. 

   Three hours have elapsed since being escorted to the conference room of this locked down facility.  My companions have been Dr. N and Mrs. B.  I have addressed all the milestones of the precious one’s childhood; teen years; and young adult journey.  They have listened and Dr. N has scratched notes.  At the three hour mark, we pause.  I am exhausted.  I don’t know what else to say.  Dr. N.  breaks the silence and states, “I believe she has been misdiagnosed.  Let’s go through some markers again.”  He states a marker, I give an example from the precious one’s journey thus far.  Out of the 35 markers, she has 33.  Mrs. B. raises her gaze from the table and says, “YOU are an incredible mother.  YOU have done everything right.  If it wasn’t for you and your husband, she would not be as high functioning as she is.”  A look of puzzlement streaks across my face.  The doctor catches the look and interjects, “She is a high-functioning Asperger’s”.  My jaw hits the top of the table.  My thoughts start racing again.  “How could I have missed this?”  “What kind of mother am I.”  Dr. N’s voice breaks through and I realize that he is speaking to me.  Regaining control of my voice, I hear myself say, “It all makes sense now!”  I am numb.  I am relieved.  I am confused.  I am exhausted and wish for arms to hold me tonight.  Dr. N and Mrs. B stand up, evidently the meeting is over and I am left to digest this myself.  Mrs. B walks me toward the locked double doors.  She is saying something to me, but I don’t hear her.  We get to the doors and she pauses, touches my arm and says, “Crystal, I have a 17 year old daughter who is a high-functioning Asperger’s.  You are not alone.  YOU have done a good job and showed amazing strength.”  Our eyes are locked on each other and I realize the clear liquid is slipping silently down my cheeks again.  She gently wipes my cheek and once again I am aware that God has reached into this moment and declared that He is with us.

   These are the things that have peppered my week with the sacred moments of God's amazing presence.  He uses ordinary people, in ordinary jobs, to be His hands and feet to those He brings along.  You may NEVER know the full extent of the impact of your actions and words on strangers and friends, but know that He using you! 

May we never walk alone.

I am with you on this journey!

~The Plank-Eyed Girl