The Plank-Eyed Girl: The Plank-Eyed Girl: Hijacked Feet!

The Plank-Eyed Girl: The Plank-Eyed Girl: Hijacked Feet!: The Plank-Eyed Girl: Hijacked Feet! : Perching like a miniature hummingbird high in a pine tree, I gaze out over the throng of women. This m...

Perpetual Purging; Constipation; and Caustic Perfectionism!

      

My heart is a very delicate thing that must be perpetually purged of things that distract it. Therefore, I HAVE to write to purge my soul of all the feelings this journey evokes and of all the whisperings from my God.  I HAVE to write to remind myself, of His promises given to me.  I HAVE to write to allow others to know that they are not alone.  I HAVE to write because that is one of the things God made me to do.

Two hours have passed.  I sit keyboarding a sentence.  Deleting the sentence.  Trying again. Refusing to be defeated.  My mind is screaming at me to give up and go "DO SOMETHING!" The enemy of my soul whispers in my ear that I have nothing to say.  I feel constipated with words.  

I bring up a couple of blogs that I follow.  They are beautifully photographed; articulately written; and precisely perfected.  I feel the tentacles

of the caustic perfectionism octopus rising from the floor beneath my chair.  They adhere themselves to the marrow of my soul and slowly start their ascent to smother any creative thought that might exist. Does the caustic perfectionism octopus ever visit you or am I the only one?

Some of you have things you HAVE to do in order to feel normal.  For some of you, you run.  Others of you, shop. Still, others talk.  But for me, I need to select scrumptious words; construct fluent sentences; and formulate a cohesive piece of writing.  I want you to feel what I feel; see what I see; smell what I smell; and hear what I hear.  If I am honest, I just really want you to "Be" with me. I have never met most of you and yet, I am compelled to want to share my beautiful, messy journey with you.  

Maybe ... what I really want is for you to know that you are not alone. None of us are perfect. Truly, none of us have this life figured out and we all need each other and our Creator.   Here is what I know...He has an untangled view of our journey on this planet and will be with us.  So, today I offer you my words and an invitation to "Be" with me as I journey with My Creator.  You are not alone.

I would love to hear about your journey.  Feel free to send me your thoughts.

Until We Chat Again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl

The Plank-Eyed Girl: Hijacked Feet!

The Plank-Eyed Girl: Hijacked Feet!: Perching like a miniature hummingbird high in a pine tree, I gaze out over the throng of women. This morning, my foot is throbbing.  I ...

Hijacked Feet!

Perching like a miniature hummingbird high in a pine tree, I gaze out over the throng of women. This morning, my foot is throbbing.  I sit to massage it.  Attempting to elevate it, I slide it up and over the vacant chair in front of me. (Instantly, a voice from another era fills my head with directives for where my feet should go AND what they should NOT be doing. Amusing myself, I let my leg linger there while I continue to massage it.) From my vantage point, the humans below look like a freshly opened beautiful new box of crayons. I want to just savor the richness of these sights and sounds. The music swirls, twists, and dances through the air, but my attention is being hijacked. It is like someone is whispering inside my head.  I force my mouth  to stop singing.   His distinct whisper becomes all I can hear.  

Sitting until I can my feel my seat practically catch fire, I  am compelled from my balcony perch.  The voice is clear, "Go downstairs."  What had started as an unrecognizable whisper, is now fully recognizable, voice, so I go. 

Sadly, unable to locate the elevator, I find the stairwell. Grasping the right handrail tightly, my left foot does a braille move to

find the step below. I transfer my weight and my right foot follows. I pause to remind Him of my aching foot, but He persists, so I continue."

Arriving on the main floor, I step out into the lobby.  The whisper persists, "Go to the disabled entrance." I go. (Okay, truth be told, I went where a sign clearly told me to stay out of, but I decided that if I was stopped, I would tell them I was "sent").  "Find the girl with the service dog."  WHAT????  WHO????? WHY????? The whisper says nothing else. Becoming as still as a stone statue, I allow my eyeballs to search the entrance to the auditorium. I see nothing! Slightly agitated, He whispers, look down.  There, scrunched in a ball, like a hedgehog protecting her insides, she sits in a ball against the wall, with a tiny service dog in her lap.  Silently I ask the voice, "NOW what?" Hearing nothing, I continue to stand and take notes from the speaker.  She looks so fragile; so completely helpless.  

Like an old fashioned Jack-in-the Box, whose crank has been turned one two many times, she

pops up and bolts for the hall.  I follow her. Three steps in, I interrupt her escape with my words (and hand gestures). "Hey!  God got me up out of my chair in the balcony; sent me down three flights of stair; through a blocked off hall; to find you." Awkwardly, I just stop.  With the intensity of a rapid-fire rifle, I am internally peppering "the voice" with a desperate, "WHAT NOW?"  I hear myself saying, "God wants you to know that......" there is a Grand Canyon size pause and then faithful, like always, I hear one word.  "BRAVE". Time seems suspended. I am looking at her beautiful, anxiety filled eyes.  They speak volumes to my heart.  Hot liquid is leaking from her eyes. Suddenly, exhaling and I repeat, "God wants you to know that you are brave!"   The force of this one word declaration seems to expand as it leaves my mouth. Again, "God wants you to know that you are brave!" Sweetly her service dog helps himself to the warm liquid cascading from her eyes.  My heart is soaking in the sacred gift of this moment.

I have nothing else to say but I am simply unable to move.  Gathering her composure, she tells of her accidental overdose the night before (first night of the conference) on prescription medications;  she speaks of

laying on the gurney all night in the hospital asking God for a sign that she should continue leading the bible study; telling God all of her inadequacies and reasons that she is incapable; asking Him if she was even supposed to return to the conference on this day. There is a sudden new flow of tears as she mumbles, "The name of the bible study is - Brave." WHAT??? She repeats the word - Brave! The sacredness of this moment does not escape either of us.  Reaching for her, my soft jelly arms wrap her up and I whisper in her ear, "He hears you."  Tears of thanksgiving form and mingle together.  I whisper in her ear, "NEVER forget that He loved you enough to get a wounded warrior up from her chair in the top balcony and lead her all the way to you in order to deliver a message.  You are brave my friend; you are brave and you are called to lead."

As quick as the encounter started, it was over.  I turned and walked back to the stairwell.  Climbing the stairs, I arrive at the top.  Mindlessly, I head toward the door.  Like a news flash, I hear His voice, "Go back down and come back up."  I pause and Priscilla's words come racing into my mind,

"The only difference between belief and faith is your feet."  Smirking, I instantly turn and head back down.  With each step of the stairs, my left foot seems to function better.  On the second set, He whispers, "Move out to the middle and don't hold the railing."  Obediently, I move.  It is just He and I in the stairwell.  All other 2999 ladies are busy listening in the auditorium to powerful words from our Father delivered by His daughter.  By the bottom of the steps, my left foot is moving as it should be.

Thirty minutes ago, when I obediently rose from my chair, I had no idea that I would so quickly get to see experience first hand that truly the difference between my belief and

faith is both figuratively and literally....my feet!

What is God whispering to your heart to do?  Why not use your feet to make your faith a reality. Who knows how He really plans to use what He's asking you to do.  I would love to hear how your "feet" are taking your belief and turning it into faith.  Would you consider sharing your story?

Until we Chat Again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl

The Plank-Eyed Girl: Sloth Woman; Roller Girl; and the Power of Vigilan...

The Plank-Eyed Girl: Sloth Woman; Roller Girl; and the Power of Vigilan...: Like a lost meandering sloth, I feel the afternoon slowly inching toward quitting time, but today it is not fast enough for my insid...

Sloth Woman; Roller Girl; and the Power of Vigilante Red

Like a lost meandering sloth, I feel the afternoon slowly inching toward quitting time, but today it is not fast enough for my insides.     Internally, I am wrestling with an overwhelming sense of soul-sucking suffocation that has been present for a month. I am mechanically performing my duties.  

Glancing up, I see Roller Girl slowly sauntering toward me.  In her eleven years of

life, she has mastered the art of being bulletproof. She is smart, brave, funny, capable, wonderfully unique, and talented. Yet, she still feels alone and different in a culture that expects conformity.  

Approaching me, her eyes search mine for an invitation to chat.  I know this look well, she used it on me the second day of Kindergarten six years ago.  We have been riding this carousel together for six years.  I "get" her on more levels than she has any idea.  Yet today, the second to the last day of her elementary journey, here she is again. Aloofness is present and she is precisely choosing her words.   I ask her about graduation (awards ceremony). She shrugs and acts like it is no big deal.  I see other students walking around with family; leis around their necks; and other celebratory mementos of this event.  She stands in front of me with nothing. She has come to her "safe" place but is wanting me to use mental telepathy to know "all" of what is going on in that head of hers.  She makes an excuse and leaves.

In an instant, I know what I MUST do. The idea came fully formed and slipped under the door of my heart like a secret note.  I have come to understand that sometimes doing the unexpected is the right thing to do. So, picking up my phone, I call my hairdresser and make an appointment for the evening.  The sloth was gone and the spotted zebra was back!  

Arriving at the hair salon, I change into a black cape and slid into the chair.  Multiple times my hairdresser confirms that I really want to do what I am asking her. LOL!  (She didn't really believe me.)  Slowly, she starts the process.  Moments in she pauses and stares, but I simply nod in affirmation for her to continue. Several times she reminds me that this is "permanent" (for like a month).  Oddly enough, my mind is at peace with all of this.

Fifty minutes later, my hair is officially, "Vigilante Red."  It is bold.  It is fun.  It is radical.  I have been obedient to my Father's promoting and there is no other way to explain this deep joy that is welling up and causing me to bounce around like a bouncy ball.  As I drop the top of my car,  my giggles are audibly swirling through the air for all to hear. 

Wednesday morning, the last day of this school year, is here.  I am super excited to get to work. Sliding in early, I hide in my office.  School starts and my friend  retrieves Roller Girl.  I hear them enter.  Stepping out of my office, she freezes and our eyes lock. Her jaw drops open.  I stand as still as a statue with the grin of a circus clown plastered on my face. She squeaks out, "Is that really real?  Did you really do that?  Why did you do this?" Silence hangs thickly in the air. Seconds tick by.  Like a spark that suddenly catches fire, the realization made it's way to her consciousness. Rushing towards

me, I wrap my arms around her and hug her like a mama bear hugs her cubs. Moments slip by and she mutters, "You're the best!" I take the card I had penned and press it into her hands.  I have learned the power of paper and pen.  Paper is intimate and the written word is powerful.  Silently, she accepts the card, turns and floats out.  Pausing at the door, she turns and flashes a smile that I will NEVER forget.

The card holds my words of affirmation about who she is; my belief in her; and the safety that we will be here for her as she ventures on through her education.  Her grip on that card as she left tells me that the words penned will be guarded and held onto as oxygen for her soul.  She will be able to go back and re-read them over and over.

Yes, I changed my hair color to the color or her hair.  I became like her in order for her to thoroughly understand just how much I was "for" her.  I surrendered my identity to show how much I believe in her. This afternoon as she was leaving, she had my opened card tightly clutched in her hand. With one last hug, I watch her skip off the grounds and out of my sight.

In the shower tonight my Father whispered, "This is exactly what I did for you.  I sent Christ, as flesh, to become  "like" you, just like you became like Roller Girl. Just like you penned those powerful oxygen-giving words for Roller Girl, I have penned powerful, oxygen-giving words for you."   May I savor His penned words as much as Roller Girl savors mine.  

Until We Chat Again,

The Plank-Eyed Girl

The Plank-Eyed Girl: My Succulent, Silent Secret

The Plank-Eyed Girl: My Succulent, Silent Secret: As silent as a sleeping boa, I slide my secret into the bathroom drawer.  I am deliriously as  happy as a child with a secret stash of...