;Life

life__s_highway_by_alancross

i want to Live…

Yet,

i want to die.

Can i live somewhere in between?

i want to feel, yet,  i desire to be numb

Why can’t i just accept that life isn’t perfect, whether I’m numb or present?

Evil thrives in the presence of facades, yet, Grace illuminates through my Truth.

i like to keep my poison private, my beguiling friend, who binds and gags me.

Trying so hard to convince me to take darkness by the hand and pour another.

I want to Live because He died.  And oh what a waste it would be for me to exist hidden behind the mascarade of my lies.

The Truth has already set me free.

Through death, He Overcame

So that I may live my Life in the Light

;

My Life goes on, past the darkness and into Eternity.

Stardust

 

 

Recall your darkest moment. One of the bleakest periods in your life that you feel define the brokenness inside you that is really hard to heal.

Those moments may come in flashes like a cool April thunderstorm. Wakes you up in the middle of the night like a boom of reality when you least expect it. Brilliant light against the wall, a commanding crescendo fighting the perfections of everything that tells you “all is well.”   You fall awake to realize that, “all that is well isn’t so well…”
When we keep it all together due to a fight inside of us to prove to the world that we are in fact “okay” despite the sorrow and hurt that has fought so hard to break us, there are going to be those times. The essence of darkness where bolts of light will make us shudder at the fact that we are not okay. People that who shouldn’t have failed us.

Sickness has come overtaken our bodies.

Hands have been put on us that should have never been there.

Words have fallen on our ears that should only exist in the pit of fire and brimstone.

Yet, somehow we have borne it all, we’ve taken it in and become the best part of us that we could have become.  Come what may…and we have risen above!  We’ve gone through the fire and materialized into something deeper than the hurt…past the agony and into what wasn’t able to be done right by us.

Life wasn’t good enough for us, as we bleed a broken heart in front of God.  He didn’t take it away because He needed us to be able and ready to be here in this moment. To answer the call…

A woman cries with a moaning sound that only a woman who has lost can understand. You are able to comfort her because you’ve buried a baby.

A young man in anger lashes out because his father has left not only him but his mother and younger brother. His fist becomes his only redemption leaving blood at every turn. Yet, you see it and know his pain because your dad wasn’t enough either, and after the lashing, he has on your face your cry with his tears he hasn’t been able to release.  After that he see’s the love of God and enters into a union with you that will continue into eternity.

Dark circles fill her crystal blue eyes as she puts on a pretty face, yet you can see through it.  Prisms of light shine in you that she is drawn to even though she has no idea why.  In that, she lets you in one dark night where she has a gun by her bedside that was her last call. But you were there because you have had hands on you too, that should have never been there. What was supposed to be enough wasn’t, but because of that you were able to hold her still and share the healing hands of Jesus that save her that night from the shame, disparage, and the fate she had proclaimed on her life.  

God can move any mountain in front of us. He really can.

But sometimes He doesn’t for a reason, and I can resonate with that throughout the decade plus three I’ve been on this earth… (you do the math…)  I have experienced…

Parents divorced

Sexually abused

Beaten

Left alone

Accused

Emotionally allocated for things I didn’t do

Depression

Anxiety

Anorexia

OCD

Fear

Failure

Success

Divorce of my own

Faith

Turned my back on God

A sick child I almost lost

Buried two infant babies

Anger

Substance Abuse

Anger

Fear

Failure

Success

….

Tonight I found myself on my knees. Not like the usual, “God. Help me I’m struggling….”. No, it was different. It was a bleeding of my soul…a reckoning of why? And He told me,
I am able, I was able.

But I needed you. To go through this.

Life couldn’t be what you needed.

So you could be enough for Me to use you.

Colors flooded my tears in the form of a rainbow and I saw my children. They haven’t felt the sorrow and hurt that I have because I did.

I held a child on Wednesday night who has been abandoned by her father. Words were able to flood from me like a tsunami because I knew her hurt.

A girl I know admited recently, she throws up after she eats, I listen, hug her, then tell her she is good enough. The food she is purging from her body has nothing to do with being “thin”. It’s about control. We talk, she opens up, and the dialogue leads us to a place of neglect. I hold her as her tears flood with absence of her mother.

I know He is able.

I know He is strong.

Yet, it doesn’t always work that way. Our darkness isn’t always healed so that the residue can drift off of us into a beautiful array of stardust to bless the next.

All of Me

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Close your eyes and try hard to imagine what you were doing one year ago today.  I know it can be hard when a monumental thing may have not occurred at this time 365 days ago, but for me it did.

One year ago, I had just quit dream job, something that I had literally worked my whole life for.  Being a publicist for a national company, writing recognized magazine articles, public speaking, social media marketing, making great money,  it was everything I hoped I would become.  In that moment in time, I was living my life purpose…so I thought.

If it was so great then why would I quit this so called “dream” job you ask.  An office with a view came with a price.  A title with a grand business card was slowly stealing my soul as I reported each and every day to a boss that chose to belittle me yet praise me.  One who knew no boundaries and promised to equip me with fear yet accolades.  I just never knew which antidote I was going to receive.  He yelled, found joy in me, belittled, laughed, changed his mind, then back again, and finally pushed me too far.  For I had made a promise I was destined to keep, that I would never let a job ruin me again.

Two years prior that very occurrence came to pass.  I was loyal, obedient, and taken advantage of.  I had many chances to stand up for myself, yet, I stayed quiet and allowed the lashings to keep on coming.  My health deteriorated, my mind was dizzy with anxiety, and my self-worth demolished.  All because of a jealous and horrible boss who had it out for me in the worst of ways.  I took the bait and became her scapegoat.  Eventually, to save myself, and my family, I walked away.  I left.  Exited the building with my head held high in pursuit of my greatest dream, to become a published author.

I accomplished this goal, but my head wasn’t as upright as I wanted people to think.  I was beaten down, and the worst possible thing I could have done,  I isolated myself.  I wrote constantly, marketed my name, my purpose, sleeping little, and drinking a lot.  I mean a lot.  I clung to a numbing mechanism that took what I thought to be my demise away.  Got drunk on the good life, while the past slowly ate away at my bones making me weaker every second I continued such a life.

I ended up at Rogers Memorial Hospital because I chose to.  Dual diagnosis.  Depression and alcohol abuse.  Now that’s a tough card to read for a perfectionistic person who really wants the people around her to think she’s super great.  Humbled, I spent seven days detoxing, in counseling and meeting some amazing people who years earlier I would have dubbed as “losers.”  Titles cause pain because the back story isn’t taken into account, the seeming drug addict who is unable of quitting has a story.  I had a story.  They all had a story.  And in that our tales mingled in the midst of all the demons we were fighting.

After finding my way out of the darkest hole of my life the light started to shine again.  I published my first book February 20, 2015.  A romance novel about overcoming the most impossible of odds to find a destiny in the midsts of pain.  Sunset Vibrations, my first go at fiction was a great success, and I hadn’t touched a drink in months.  I was finding my way back, forward, and all around the turmoil,  my life had brought me thus far.  After the painful burial of my infant babies, childhood trauma, poor adult choices, I was finally choosing to cocoon myself in a wonderful sense of peace.

Four months later I published a little memoir titled, The Return to Happiness.  Accounting my experience of losing two infant baby boys within the span of eighteen months.  I never held back, shared my soul, my despair, flooded a bucket of my tears, yet eventual hope.  After I hit the icon on Amazon, iBooks, and Barnes and Nobel that says “publish” I ran into my bedroom and hid under my covers.  Terrified of all I had bleed over the pages of my book I was afraid that the people of this world who saw my big smile, and wonderful children, and husband…what would they think when they found out the truth?  That I sucked at turmoil, and I gave into methods to numb myself ; what would the world think of this imperfect girl?  An agonizing hour later my husband pulled the covers off telling me I had to come downstairs right now!

Looking at the sales analysis as an author and seeing you are in the top 100 best sellers list is a moment we all dream of.  The Return to Happiness was sitting at number sixty nine and I dropped to my knees and sobbed.  Joy, pain, exhilaration and pure gratitude flowed through each and every tear that hit the floor.  I was a best-selling author because I dared to share my darkest voyage through grief.  I had made my greatest dream come true in the midsts of vulnerability and courage of my deepest weakness and pain through loss.

Slowly, I was finding my way back to the top of the water not drowning underneath it.  In my youth, I had a fervor for God that could shake the mountains.  I praised Him wherever I went, loving and breathing the breath of salvation with every passing air.  Yet, I turned away in my mid-twenties.  That is for another blog, but indeed I said goodbye to God, I’d figure it out on my own.  I’m good.

One year ago today I took my turn at reconciling the black color of the past decade plus five of my life.  After leaving the dream job of my life I told my husband, “this time we are doing it right.  I’m not isolating myself.  I’m not drinking myself into a stupor.  We are going to church with the boys.  We are going to make this work.”

My older sons were deeply embedded in Journey Church near our home and I felt the calling to attend after not being part of a church since I was twenty-three.  

It was a Saturday night, much like tonight.  We sat towards the back and the message was about “The Prodigal Son”, a child who had left and returned after so much time and pain.   At the end, I told my husband that I need a minute.

Standing on weak legs, I found my way to the stage…alone.  

My head bowed.  I pleaded, “God, I’m back.  I want you.  All of you.  Take me back.”

I exhaled pain, regret, sin, anguish, and then inhaled…love.

Forgiveness.

Acceptance.

A home.

That was me one year ago tonight.  365 days have passed and my world has exploded in a way I could have ever imagined.  I have matured as a wife, mother, friend, author, and woman more than I knew possible.  God instantly healed me from one of my biggest nemesis’…anger.  The rage inside me dissipated that night I stood at the altar of my church.

I’ve given up vices that I thought I needed to get me through.

God has given me a renewed relationship with my mother.  Also, I’ve been able to forgive my father which I never saw possible.

The beautiful love of a couple who were called to take me into their hearts and lives acting as a surrogate mother and father came to me almost instantly after prayer for such.  Grandparents for my kids, unity for my family.

I’ve been called into a job where I serve people with debilitating pain on a daily basis and have the opportunity to bring a smile to their faces.

One year ago I came home.  After loss of a career that I thought was my everything.  But was my everything.  Because if I hadn’t left I may have not found my greater purpose, my chance at rebirth, growth and righting all the wrong that I had done and that was done to me.

God has a way of doing that.  He takes us in, no matter how far we’ve traveled away, or what may transpire in our beautiful and angry minds.  One year ago, my life changed.  My struggle continues deep into the night, to not rely on things that promise me hope yet bring me darkness.  I’m still drawn to the mystery of wanting to take control, take the wheel.  The thick liquid that numbs it all still calls my name and at times I answer it knowing of its false healing powers.  Yet, the grace that grabs my hand over and over again tells me that no matter how much I fail…no matter how much I succeed…that  I am His.  And He is Mine.

 I am running fast forward toward all the purpose He has.   For me tomorrow and all the healing He will do for my yesterday.  The all of me that He is healing and creating because of the all of me that was, and is to come.

A Forever Love

12299291_1706064462972839_7662594365277638010_nThe great love awaits.

I can feel it, on the curtails of the winds, and time.  It is coming.  Just like it was promised.

Small pigtails hit me in the face as a little girl, found my way to the mirror top, glaring into my small eyes, I just know my prince is coming.  Because that is what the fairy tale tells me.  Tilting my head to the side I stare until my legs give way.  Blue prisms of confusion don’t understand why such a prince would save this laden princess.  I mean, I have no Tierra, no castle, and no bright frilly blue dress.

The great love awaits.

Mustering up enough courage to ask my twelve-year-old counterpart to the junior high dance, (yes that’s how old I am we still called it Jr. High), he rejects me.

Echos fall off the walls of the old school as laughter jeers its way past me, yet deeply into my heart.  Rejection exalts itself inside me and all that I am.

I think I heard him say the word,  ugly.  A Dog.  A big fat joke.  My head bows in submission to the lies of this world.  The Valentines joke is on me.  I show him all that I am, and that isn’t good enough, so I gather my things, stand up, and move forward.  Brokenness and all.

…A great love…awaits…Right?

Standing in the mirror where I am tall enough to see what stares back is telling more than what is real.  I see a girl whose smile doesn’t reach her eyes, downcast and forgotten after I had tried out for the high school cheerleading squad, and even though I had the most amazing split jump I wasn’t chosen.  Was it the clothes I wore, my makeup not on point?  Or that I didn’t enslave the right friends.  How out of touch am I?   My head drops and the last glance I have in the reflection is a large chasm of tears that pour down my face into the drip of a faucet below.

My love has come!

Finally, he holds me in his arms and tells me I’m his everything.  His strong touch and soft scent lull me to sleep as he declares me as his only one.  I am the princess he had dreamed of if only I give him my everything.  If only…

I drift away….

Handsome green eyes look upon me with favor.  Large strong hands cling me tight, and I feel the safety I’ve sought my whole life.  He asks for my everything…but it feels like it’s not enough?

What do I do?  Give or take?  All I see in that moment is the eyes of a younger vision of me wanting nothing but…love.  The promise of an escape, to be born again.  Away from the dark valley and the afraid version of me that sleeps every night.  He says he’ll offer me the world.

But something tells me otherwise.

The great love awaits.

Pushing myself up from his bed I shake off my feeling that I need to run home, look back into his loving and enticing eyes, and I fall into his kiss, which finally feels like coming home.  Warm, inviting, accepting, telling.  I am beautiful.  I am his.

Hands follow further than I want them to go, I panic in a reach inside me to realize what I truly want.  Is this home?  Is this what I want?

Pardoning his advance the look I’m given is of frustration, like when I was a child and didn’t obey my father’s orders.  My mind goes black.

All I want is…The Great Love.

Backing up, retracing my steps, I grab my integrity and gather myself out of the fluff of pillows and blankets that were meant to comfort me. Somehow, I stand.

I stand.  

Grab my jacket off the chair and say goodbye.

Leaving his room the cold meets me in an imminent arousal of test and reach.  I breathe easy knowing that my Prince is the Prince of Peace.

/ / Just You and Me / /

/ / Across the Sea / /

John 14:27l

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.

Tears prickle at my soul as I realize what could have yet didn’t happen.  That I am not ready to beg for a love to save me that is at the hands of a man until I accept the power I can embrace that truly sees me.  A shore that casts only for me.

I take His hand, make Him mine and dance until the wee hours of the morning knowing that building myself up through the Love of my Savior and myself I will find a Forever Lovee that awaits me.

The Upside Down Masterpiece

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Imagine yourself being able to create a masterpiece of astounding art.  One that prickles at the skin of any onlooker, a painting so intense that you can’t think of NOT staring at it.  Now, captivate in your mind this very undeniable piece of art being painted…upside down in front of your eyes!  Brush after stroke, having no idea how it will all turn out.

I recently embarked on a 21 day fast (a period of time giving up something) that distracts me from focus, prayer, and introspect along with my church.  For some, this may be food, wine, soda, or swearing, but for me, my great distraction is Social Media.  Oh, how I love to demonstrate to the world how I am loveable, I have talents, my children’s smiles and a great batch of cookies that turned out on par splattered all over a platform that allows me to.  I love the likes, comments, and affirmation that I am accepted.  Like a drug, it can take up time, focus, and has the ability to rule my thinking; creating a pendulum of reality and a facade.  After deciding that I would only eat fruit, veggies, and nuts for 21 days, and then almost passing out at work due to low blood sugar, I had some OJ, concluding I was eliminating the wrong distraction.  For, when I was hungry and irritable for the first two days of my fast, I found myself scrolling endlessly on Facebook, looking for some answers, I mean this is the internet, right?  Immediately I knew I was giving up the wrong distraction and deleted all social media apps from my phone.

An urge swelled, a deep desire to post a picture of my adorable kids coining a quirky and loveable caption on Instagram, occurred pretty much the second I swore off my fix.  I put my iPhone down and actually lived in the moment of their laughter and joyous play.  Okay, I can do this.  Live in the moment instead of foreseeing the likes that could pour in after a second in time played out in front of me that I will never see again.  In that, I realized that every stage in time is bottled up waiting to explode in a brilliant color.  Quite possibly anticipating to expand our hearts and reshape our thinking.  Day one of fasting a venue that I love so much was a success.

Moving on to the next level of what a fast truly calls us to was a bit of a challenge.  God’s purpose for a fast is to cling to Him in prayer and His word when our belly groans, or in my case, a surge of online approval screams.  My first Saturday night without such pleasure, I found myself lying on the floor of my bathroom, while I would have usually been wasting my time scrolling away… but this night I found myself…praying.  

Focus Ami, you can do this.

My mind wandered…what will I wear to church tomorrow?

Focus!

Okay, God, I’m here, and kinda want to…talk.

In that introverted moment, I rallied all of the courage I had been meaning to have for months asking Him to reveal something to me in past that I know I’ve blocked out.  A security blanket of black, to protect a fragile little girl who wasn’t ready to peer into the mirror of an iniquity seeming to be far too reaching to process.

Lord, I’m ready.  Let me see it, all of it.  No matter what it may be I know you are here…with me.  

In the essence of vulnerability, He allowed me to remember.  He showed me a vivid vision of my four-year-old self-experiencing an intrusion I’d obstructed from my memory bank, yet somehow knew had always taken place.  Jumping up off the floor I instinctively cried out for the one person in the world who I knew could make it all better.  My husband.

“Alan!”  A shrill astounded throughout twenty-three hundred square foot home.

Two seconds later, he appeared.  “What is wrong, baby?”

“Just hold me.  God will do the rest.”

I didn’t sleep into the trenches of Sunday, wondering if this really was a good idea, as I couldn’t erase the image from playing out in my mind over and over again.

Monday brought more unveiling of anguish, un known battles that were being fought while I lived in bliss.  I felt as if what I relied on for affirmation was punching me in the face, talking behind my back, and shunning me at every avenue.  Unbeknownst to me apparently I wasn’t doing as great of a job as I thought, mulling through my everyday routine.  There were things I could change, improve on, love more, talk less, and humble myself before.

Sunday at church I sought out Pastor Kevin as soon as I saw his six foot five frame gleaming at the door of our large church, waiting for someone who may need God’s provision.  

ME, yes please HELP ME!  I ran to him.  

“PK, is it normal to have the enemy attack you big time during this fast?”

His steely introspective blue eyes met mine and a smirk covered his face as he quipped,“Tell me something I don’t know.”

So this chaos is normal in my obedience?

 In that realization, licking my fresh wounds I decided, fine, I’ll just be like everyone else.  During my uncomfortable state of being called out by God…on what seemed to be pretty much everything, I drafted a version of me that wasn’t even close to who God made me. If I act different, I will be loved, right?  Sullen, downcast, introverted, not to mention pitifully sad, I dragged myself through the next three days.  Those around me couldn’t help but assume I was sick, filled with an anguish of a lost loved cat, or by chance they rejoiced at the apparent lack of my usually annoying joy.

Embarking on week two of this painful and deeply confusing fast, it became clear to me that I was not only being beat up Rocky Balboa style by the enemy but also by myself.  Like a brick slammed into my face-God showed me that I was clearly missing the point.

For, this time was intended for me to sacrifice, turn inward and run closer to God in order for Him to allow me to stretch.  Further than I could have ever imagined, as we rarely spread our wings to the point of ache in times of contentment.  I surrendered to the power of Truth and found the smile on my face once again, no matter the revelations of past pain, inequities I may be responsible for, and decided to take ownership of it.

Pain has been given when I didn’t deserve it, and I have brought some storms on others.  So, in prayer, I cried out to God as to how I may stretch and grow so I can rectify pain I may have caused others?

God clearly spoke to me through two wise women. My mentor and dear friend,  my mom in Nevada both voiced that I needed to humble myself and do what we all hate to do when we realize we were infinitely wrong.  Apologize for my wrong doings and forgive the pain forged upon me.

Ugh, really?  Yeah, um no thanks, God.  They hurt me, I didn’t ask for any of this!

“Yes you did, the moment you decided to come back to me.  This is how I heal, how I move.  Through Truth.”  God declared in my time of deep reflection.

Finally, I may be catching on.  This fast isn’t only for me to stop posting dinner plates on Instagram.  It is an outlet for me to heal, prosper, and feel pain I need to embrace in order to forgive.

Week three found me sicker than a dog (whatever that means) with a head cold that fogged my mind, and weakened my body.  As I laid in bed, departed from my usual routine of phone in hand, I answered God,  Fine, I’ll do it.  I’ll say I’m sorry.

After crying out to my mentor for guidance as to how to navigate such an arduous venture she insisted we meet in the prayer room at church after service.  In this still, dim lit, cozy room hung a painting of Jesus that escaped my breath at the mere beauty of it.  Jesus’ eyes were fixated on me in a telling way, as if He could see right past all of my turmoil and the disobedience of the past.  I prayed with my friend, felt His anointing in my life, and left through the narrow door believing that where I am, is where I am supposed to be.  

Days later my pastor told me that the life size painting in the prayer room of Jesus was painted upside down by an artist during a church service years ago.

UPSIDE DOWN?

How on earth did a painter create such an awe striking canvas filled with a divine view of Jesus looking upon up us, from the wrong side up?

As I sat in that very room on the last day of my 21 day fast with my husband, God revealed to me how He used the artist to create something so far reaching, upturned.  It is how He works.  While we are dizzy from seeing the world from our own point of view, the reality we chose to live in, Jesus craves for us to see it from His perspective.  

The church onlookers must have been in awe as the canvas was flipped right side up, thus showcasing the compassionate, loving, and sacrificing eyes of Jesus staring back at them.  Who knew such a possibility of greatness, could be formed from the bottom up?  God does and that is often how He works miracles in our lives.

For that is how He cries out for us to live our whole lives.  Having no clue what will come of it, except burying deep in our hearts that if we trust, obey, are faithful, and submit we can be turned around and displayed as His perfect masterpiece.

His Price Was Paid, Twice as Much

I did it twice yesterday, and I don’t want to do it anymore. I really don’t.

Compulsion screams at me the need to get rid of it all, but deep inside I ask of what more I could be if I didn’t want to do it anymore?

Looking out at the perfect sea, on a sunset meant for me to see, I beg for redemption from the white caps that beacon me home. Into the white foam of perfection that the world screams that I must be.

My stomach rolls.

Fullness takes over. A need to rid. To be done with all the turmoil, takes over.

Why, oh why do I feel this way, I ask, finding my way to the closest bathroom. Where is it., where is my reprieve? Where can I give back what was given to me in vain? The replenishment that I do not deserve, I must give it back to the sea that somehow brought it to me.

I don’t want to do it. It hurts, and makes my eyes water like when I cry so deeply my heart feels as if it could combust.

Yet I find myself at the brinks of the floor, cold and alone, as if my knees were bleeding on the sterile cold tile.

Full and alone.

Feeling as if I need to be empty because that is the the way I need to be. Stripped of goodness and life.

I grab the steel cold toilet seat to turn it up so I can meet my destiny. Tears prickle at the forefront of my barrier even though they aren’t supposed to come yet. Not just yet.

A sound comes from nowhere, from across the sea. Far from this land calling out. A cast that needs me more than I need to flow from my pain.

Wind blows, and somehow a truth makes way, from burden into my being. \

The whisper says, “cry no more. Bleed not, for I have done so in your name. Take your hand and lift it up instead of putting it down your throat. I suffered so you can see the light not the darkness you are pledging for in this hour.”

Wind blows. Faith beacons, and I have no choice but to take His hand instead of using it to hurt myself further.

Grace saved me tonight. I don’t want to do it anymore, across the sea, into forever my pain is His and His faithfulness is my greatest prize.

This is where I decide. The rising tide forging its anger, or the Promise of forever that He paid on my behalf, a choice that I have to make.

Feelings are fleeting and are easy to rid of in the turmoil of the water of the chrome oval object in front of me. Do I want an easy way out, or the way to redemption?

Take my hand.

I take HIs hand and come with Him…past the rough of the sea and feelings of abandon.

Off my knees I stand, perfect in His love and sacrifice. Knowing I don’t have to give myself the punishment I feel I deserve as His price was paid twice enough.

His punishment was paid twice enough.

The Passion of My Creator

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My wonderful readers, this is in fact, the shortest blog post I will ever publish.  I’m fully aware  I am that person who rambles on and on. I often lose people with the words that flood me like a tidal wave, yet prayerfully, am used to captivate you with even one sentence you may recall.  If you have the uncanny gift to follow a conversation with me, you deserve an award!  I say this with light humor because I feel it is important to sometimes slow down in life…To:

Not say as much.

Listen more.

Care deeply.

When I was sixteen years old, I faced an extremely intense dilemma for someone of my young life.  It consisted of a choice.  Do I leave a deeply toxic and damaging situation and run into the arms of God’s purpose for my life?  Or do I stay stuck in the barrel of the gun that was shot in my face each and every day, because as we all know eventually a bullseye can happen when we are living outside of God’s purpose?  Therefore putting ourselves in the fire of total destruction.

During my lunch hour today, in the midst of a rather stressful day at work, I sat next to a big pine tree enjoying the unseasonal warm Wisconsin weather.  Jamming out to my Spotify playlists, God brought me a memory of a poem I wrote in the throws of past turmoil.  One that propelled me to eventually chose Him, and take the risk of a lifetime, leaving severe dysfunction to heal from abuse no one should ever have to face.

I sat on the murky grass and took in the sunshine that will soon turn to a gray cold that will blanket my state for months on end, and found myself, at forty-two faced with a similar dilemma I did when I was a teenager.

What choice do I make, one that God is showing me will transpire, one of healing, peace, acceptance, and unconditional love?  Or will I stay intoxicated by a habit that I now give myself?  Sadly children who have suffered severe abuse at a young age, deliver the same level of destruction that was placed upon them as children into adulthood.  When abusive behavior was forced upon a child in the delicate formation of emotional budding the consequences can be dire.

God gave me the provision through the sun beaming down on the fall trees in all of their red and gold glory today…To…

Chose Him.

Choose Life.

Choose the Passion of My Creator.

This poem was one of the first pieces of literature that I wrote that helped give me confidence as an author.  It won awards, scholarships, and His words that flowed through me helped me cling to His love through my suffering.  It was later published in a book of a New York Times Bestseller’s collection of poetry and prose, filled with stories of overcoming odds and fulfilling…my  very own destiny!

My life has always been, during the peaks and valleys about turning to the Love that won’t be undone.  I promise you, at forty-two it will be no different than in the adolescence of a very young version of…me.

Here is my short yet deeply powerful poem I wrote in the fall of 1989, and my friends, no matter how difficult your situation may seem, follow the Passion of your Creator.

The Passion of my Creator  ~Ami George 1989
I search for security
In the essence of a risk.
Slipping into the hollow chamber of change
My hands in torment can no longer hold on.
Feeling faced with the impossible
Expectations of strength,
His blood trickles down my arm,
As I scream out,
“Declare the passion of my Creator”

My identity is captured
In the culmination of my morality,
Through the ambivalence of my existence
the journey of my poignant youth is discovered.

Perplexed as how to quench the desire
His blood flows into the tears of my wounds.
I look beyond the fears ahead
and once again
the dichotomy is reborn.

Suddenly, the blood on my hands,
And the tears proving the sorrow of life
become transparent.
I reach out to the power of Salvation
Touching, feeling, and holding the love with no pain.

His resilient hand, I cling
And His Passion is Declared Through My Life.