;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.

The Passion of My Creator

12079575_10207494593232599_2240266360140653721_n

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.

 

 

 

The Vulnarabulity Fire

Who knew that hands placed upon me in a magnitude of grace that I could find so much peace… because when hands have been given in violence the abuse is always expected. But not today…there was only room for love! Join me in finding the acceptance we all desire to let go of the demons that haunt us to our core…

Hands upon hands were placed strategically upon me today at church as Pastor Kevin asked for those who are suffering any kind of turmoil to allow him to pray over them.  After I found the courage to stand up, which is of course somewhat embarrassing in its own right, I mean, who wants to say to the world, I totally suck at life?  No one.  But in admitting that we are in a place of need is when those in our army can truly go to battle for us.  So, I stood, my husband immediately followed as he always does to support and lead me, and then so did all the people around me in a beautiful echo of communion fortifying a will to pray against the forces that want to see me fail on the worst possible world stage possible.

As our pastor’s anointed prayer began I felt a community of touch all over me.  Now not many people know this about me, but if I’m not prepared to be touched I kinda freak out.  For a sparkly-pink loving girl, I knock out punch and a mean handshake.  Basically, I can mess you up, and I wish the reasons were simply because I am totally bad to the bone.  It actually comes from a place of deep sorrow that no person should ever have to endure.  It is a defense mechanism.  It is my survival tool to combat the evil touches that have precluded my youth.  But in this tender moment when the fighters around me took to battle, in prayer and laid hands on me, all I felt was overwhelming peace and love.  This being one of the great moments of my life.

I am a Christian.  A wife.  A mother, An author, A lover of compassion and uprising. I am deeper than most and speak what I feel when I can’t hold back.  I am also, a survivor.  Of sexual assault.

Like all too many women, I’ve been objectified, judged, and received unfair treatment due to my outer appearance.  I also know what it is like to be groped without consent.  Hands on me when I wanted to run, scream, and bellow for a savior from the depths of torrent this kind of situation poses. But…I didn’t.  I just stood still, not sure how to react, contemplate, to retaliate.  Mostly because, it was someone who I trusted, valued and loved deeply.

That is the core horror of my situation.  I trusted, loved and adored someone, and he stripped me of my innate belief principle because of a physical urge that my predictor could not control. Which ultimately drove me, the victim to seek control over my own life in extremely destructive ways.  I have literally lived in a cold, gray, prison for all the life I have memories of.  Despite achieving many astute and lovely things, my abuse has always been there, nagging, digging its claws into my self-esteem and pain point throughout my whole life.

I have starved myself in order to beg to the powers that be that I simply disappear.  For being thin and non-existent felt much better than real, honest and facing the truth of an unthinkable nightmare I was forced to live.

I have stuck a finger down my throat to regurgitate food I forced into my body feeling powerful and filled in a fleeting breeze of pleasure.  Then at the moment of the purge, I felt free of the physical delight of having food.  Free of a burden of plenties I believed that I did not deserve.  

I have drank too much and taken prescription pills to forget the moment I was in.  If I didn’t have to live in the “now” that usually produced images of black and white-hot and cold- with a vivid vision of safety and then ultimately, hell.

I have strived for success at any avenue.  If I commit to something, not only will I win, but I will prevail in the wildest of ways.  Winning, yes I know this well. For if I am perfect I am loved, right?  If i tell you I’m a best-selling author, you smile, If I tell you I’m a figure skater that performed in eight ice shows your eyes glisten, if I share that I’m an award winning public speaker, you accept me even more.  The horror of my core is pushed deeper, and I navigate through pain, lack of sleep, physical torture, so I can prove to you all.  That I am here successfully standing, but mostly that I am not deplorable.  

Because that is really how I feel deep inside.

I tell myself that I deserve the torture that I sentence myself to because ultimately I feel dirty, taken, and abused.  Worthless.  Innocence was taken without being asked and then tossed to the side without a second gaze. Abuse potentates self-harm, which produces insecurity and lofty images of distancing from all the things inside me that cry that I am worthy, loved and bountiful in His image.  God calls me by my name and reaches inside my darkness proclaiming a stake on lightness.  Yet all I see is bleak, darkness, that tells me I should hide my face, body, and reality of abuse.

I was reminded of a funny yet powerful expression of wanting to throw in the towel in the midst of the worst pain imaginable today talking to one of my girlfriends.  When I was in labor with my first son, having never experienced the threshold of pain in the form of every single fiber of my body being squeezed outside of itself, I was a bit despondent.  Unable to feed off of the numbing potion of an epidural due to a rapid first delivery, I was left to feel every single contraction of my introduction of Caleb into the world.  As my body seamlessly engaged what we know as “transitional labor” better known as the fire ring of the worst pain possible, I decided that I was done, I quit, love y’all but I’m out!  I wanted nothing of the impossible expectations of strength that was being expected of my body, spirit, and mind.  After a particularly horrid contraction that I was sure expelled my liver, spleen, and for sure bowels, I gathered my bag and walked out the door.  I was done.  Goodbye, I yelled as i waddled down the hallway of the labor and delivery floor.  “Where are you going?” My husband and the nurses chased after me in a panic.  I dropped to the floor with another one of those earthquake level contractions that cracks the world in half.  Picking myself up off the floor I declare to my audience, “I changed my  mind.  I’m good, I’m going home.  This isn’t at all what I thought it was going to be, and simply I cannot do it.”  I got about two steps down the hall and another blow took my breath away forcing me to realize, too late, sweetie.  You’re committed.  You have to deal.  Minutes later I gave birth to one of the greatest loves I could have ever fathomed possible.  God is so Good!  After we go through the fire we deem impossible is when we reap the greatest possible result.

An ah-ha moment came when I was describing in the throws of my counseling session how I had no idea how difficult it was for me at this time to fight the good fight.  I told counselor dude how I am a WINNER!  I overcome! It’s simply what I do.  But in this season of my life I find it next to impossible to set aside the crutches I’ve utilized my whole adult life, and as much as I am ready to accept the calling that God has CLEARLY placed on my life, I am stuck in the abyss of struggle.

He dug.

I went with him.

He asked me what my process, dealing with my inner child being abused has been like. And I stated what seemingly felt to be the obvious,

First I was in denial. …Nope, this didn’t happen.  It was just a bad dream.  It wasn’t THAT horrible.  I mean, girls have it way worse than me, right???

Then anger met me at her doorstep with hurricane force winds and power.  …I’M SO HOT WITH ANGER THAT I WILL BREAK YOUR HANDS IF YOU COME NEAR ME.  Okay, I still have a little bit of that in me, but the rage brewed, swelled and came out in the worst of times on the ones I love the most.

Now, I’m in the stage of vulnerability.  The denial has been dismissed the anger controlled and now I’m stuck in this boiling pot of reality, memories, and feelings.  No wonder I’m completely and totally stuck in a huge hot mess of yuck, struggle, and agony.

Because, in all reality, who truly wants to be left naked and open to the feelings and memories that haunt us in the deepest caverns in our heart?  Yeah, um, no one.

God will win, He will take the pain and use it to further the kingdom and minister to the countless women and men who have suffered as I, but first I have been called to go through the fire of vulnerability.  The chastise of truth, and the bellows of “why me, take me, free me from this torturous place, this barren land, and bleak future.  God, just come, PLEASE NOW!” That is the inferno justice of honoring our true self and feelings, where we have nowhere to run but into the arms of our Lord and Savior.  For none other has any kind of a shot at healing the brokenness, anger, denial, and raw pain of such an invasion.  Through it all I’m embracing the truth that He knew me before I breathed my first breath, and will take my last.  He has my purpose in the palm of His hand, and all I have to do is take it and run like mad to fulfill it.  

But first my friends, beforehand, I have to fight the fire of my vulnerability, heal, and prosper to the other side.   

I honor and pledge that I will overcome odds, to fulfill His greater destiny for my life, and I encourage you to join me in the same venture.  Because that is truly living, loving, and ministering to the highest of soaring levels.  Healing is imminent we simply have to go through His process to provide His greater purpose on our journey toward complete healing while growing us into the everything He has promised for us to be.

Please be inspired by the song that inspired this blog:

https://open.spotify.com/track/4ajsTrCAjWtUPLU6xCy4u4