Sunday, January 18, 2015

Because I'm a little long winded

I've created a new blog as a companion to Sweetbriar's because I tend to be a little long winded when it comes to the things of God, and I enjoy it. There is no end to His beauty and wisdom, and I could go on forever about everything I find in Him - but I have no outlet for that.

....and you can read the rest of it here.

Saturday, January 17, 2015

The Saturday tradition

And then there are other dreams.

Yeah, I know I just said I couldn't sleep for the terrors in the night, but those are my brain vomiting out what has poisoned it, the daily housekeeping of the mind that I might live. Thankfully, there is a sleep just before the alarm sounds that is both the deepest and the most interesting, usually with dreams I wish I could record in every dimension.  I can't count the number of times I've had ones that were just peculiar until I described them to myself, and then translating them from images to words made everything sensible, like the one where the guy broke off from doing something and went over to pick up the telephone. He was just "phoning it in." Get it? Oh, well...

So, anyway, yesterday morning I had a very cool one, the last bit is the only part I still remember today, although the whole thing was good. There were maybe about 15 women sitting around talking casually about their lives and the things of God, all to one another, and I suspect they were all parts of me even though they were very different in appearance and natures. A young woman perched on the chesterfield turned to me and asked, "So how do you keep your 'verve' ?" I can still see her lively concern, speaking with her hands, trying to stir the word up into the very air. And I answered her. "You have to pray in tongues every day."

And about there I woke up.

The Lord has been talking to me about this for years, but I just couldn't "get it." Oh, I received the baptism of the Holy Spirit WITH the evidence of speaking in tongues about twenty years ago (yikes! that long ago?!), but I never could quite grasp the recommendation many of my teachers in the faith have made to pray in tongues every day for no other reason than just to edify myself. (I Cor 14:4, Jude 20) It just seemed a bit abusive, or perhaps turning the gift into a rote parlour trick. I just didn't have a handle on that aspect of it yet. But since I had that dream, I understand it and I understand why I need it.

I'll let you know one day how it turns out for me.

Until then, I can still recommend by experience my usual Saturday morning habit, which is to crank up the music and worship God while I clean house. Usually there's more worship than house cleaning, but that's just because it restores my soul worn ragged with a week of work in an unhappy world and the house can wait! I sat down here to fire off only a word about how sweet it is to spend the morning in love with God, but as you can see, I've gone much longer and rather further afield than I had planned. Just the same, here's a link to a great worship song that kept the terrors of real life from overwhelming me one long dark night a few years ago, and a video of another one below.

There's no one like Him, no one anywhere. Seek Him. He's waiting eagerly to be found.  This post needs a full rewrite and a photo, but I can't stay away from Him any longer. 



Tuesday, January 13, 2015

FB is useless

No one is ever around for the nightmares, and you wouldn't dares ruin someone else's sleep with them if they were. I wish it would rain, just for a bit. 

Friday, January 9, 2015

Fighting fire with kerosene

I like Miranda Lambert. She can write a honey of a song. I've been liking this one for awhile but I had to play it for awhile to remember why.






Thankfully, the next song on my rotation was Kerosene.







When I posted this photo on FB, the song I linked to there was The House That Built Me. That was about two years ago when I was still collecting family photos and trying to uncover the whys and wherefores. Last year I went to a ship reunion with Dad and his wife, and one day just he and I went to find the house we lived in then, drove by the church I was dedicated in, and tour the base where he was stationed during one of his favorite duty assignments. The street had been renumbered, so we couldn't be exactly sure, but it was a sweet day remembering the things that once had been. 





Because we were a Navy family, all the moving and loss of friends and connections made me think for decades that if only I could go back and find those people and places again, that maybe I could resolve the swells of emotion that would just come up, and for which I had no answer. We never had pictures out or displayed, my parents never maintained contact with anyone from anywhere in the form of letters or visits, family history and personal history always disappeared into a black hole. Like the song, I thought if only I could touch those places again I could find where I disappeared, I could find myself. 

Complex PTSD and Emotional Flashbacks

I guess you could call it a memory issue, but it isn't really unresolved grief, it's unresolved emotions of every kind. Here's a video and a link to a fantastic article about it. Just gotta keep working thru it, but it's been really comforting here lately to begin to recognize it for what it is, instead of just sinking down into it like blindfolded hostage and letting it rule over me. 
"Life ain't hard but it's too long 
livin' like some country song"



Flashback Management in Treatment of Complex PTSD, by Pete Walker







Right thru the heart

This video just caught me off guard. It's beautiful. It's the way it should be, not every day, but some days. I didn't know that until I was in my 40's, and that makes me so ashamed - for my family, for me, for everything that was lost.

It's the voices of the mother and the daughter.






When I was about that little girl's age I chose to stop calling my mother "Mommy." It was the only way I could push back against her constant, consuming encroachment. I only called her Mother from then on.

She never noticed. Ever.

It isn't that I stopped loving her, I never stopped loving her. It's that my love never mattered, she never wanted it. I wasn't important enough to her that my love was desirable and something to be cultivated and earned and rewarded, she was well satisfied just using me.

Living that way at home teaches you to settle for living that way with friends and "lovers." It's no good.

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Passionate? About what?






Since HGTV won't give me a Sarah fix, I went looking for what I could find on the youtubes, and found this little video. If you aren't a Sarah Richardson design fan, don't bother watching, but listening to her talk while I clean house (a very Sarah thing to do,) I finally got why I never went after a particular career goal and why I still have trouble saying I'm "passionate" about anything.

Passion is about having a strong feeling or desire that you will not have denied. No matter how much work it takes to satisfy it, no matter how long the hours and great the effort you have to put into it, if you are passionate about it, you will persist.

If while growing up you are not permitted to feel your own feelings, if you can Never say "I want this and Not that," but must tend to and obey and satisfy and attempt to regulate someone else's feelings for fear of the repercussions if you don't - then you will give up on your own feelings long before they are satisfied. Or, for some people, you'll redirect your feelings into something else just to get to feel something. It could be addiction, or rebellion, or just something other than what the original emotion was all about.

A vocational career that aligns who you are to what you do comes out of experiencing your own feelings and desires as they come and making your own decisions on how you will act in response to them. If you have spent years chasing around someone else's ideas of what is delightful, you may find many of those things truly interesting, but you'll never be passionate about them. It's a nine to five job that never ends. 

I'm in my fifties now. That's a hell of a time to start finding out what I really like and enjoy doing. I'm way past dropping everything and starting over. But I also think that there's no other way to be comfortable in my own skin anymore. Trying to be a fictional character, a mental construct of someone else, is a killer. I really believe I was headed for an early grave, not by suicide, but by the stress of it all.  Apparently who you really are must come out.

“It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for a bird to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.”

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Blooms in winter



A word before sleeping, posting from my iPad from the first time. It's cold tonight and I want to keep my feet tucked under the covers and my words brief. Sometimes speaking ruins the mind. 

Having a bit of a time getting this bunch of flowers to bloom out, but they are lovely as is. I don't even think I retouched the photo, it's just fuzzy from the iPad camera. It's difficult to say if the house is getting more organized, but some things are happening. After I got home from errands this evening, I went looking for some books I promised to send to a friend. I couldn't find one of them, but instead ran across a little paperback of Like Water for Chocolate, and seeing it takes twelve chapters for the twelve months I thought I'd start it and at least do the first one for January.

I've not read any fiction in decades. I used to read loads of it, right up thru my twenties, but I somehow lost the desire for things that just weren't true at 30. It's alright, we all go thru phases. If you've read the book, you'll know it's short, and I finished it in about two hours. If you remember the story, you'll know it's dead on the mark for the things I'm working thru these days.

I'll tell you my little story that's like the book. There's a photograph of me where I'm about two, still in a diaper and it's almost bedtime. Dad has come home and he's eating ice cream out of a glass on the couch and I'm doing my best bird imitation trying to get him to feed me the ice cream instead. It was a good ploy and it worked fairly well. Mother is the one taking the picture. 

I've always remembered that incident, even tho the photograph did not reappear for about 15 years. I remember it from the inside looking out of my eyes, thinking my thoughts, working my little ice cream plan. I remember being irritated that Mother was interrupting my plan by calling attention to it, I was trying to keep it on the down low, just let that ice cream cruise right over into my mouth. I remember her going to get the camera and returning with it, giggling about how cute I was to Dad. I remember thinking, "I'm going to be burdened with her until she dies."

I wasn't saved then.

Having had that thought always bothered me. It was a very strange thought to have, I was always afraid that it was true. And it was. So now you can see how I found that little book of fiction very interesting. If you haven't read it, just read the first five pages standing in the book store. 

Now I'm going to sleep and let the whole book percolate in my dreams. Should be interesting.




Monday, January 5, 2015

On background

First flowers of the January Cure


I've changed the background back to one blogger provides. The tile effect just wasn't working for me. I've always liked this photo, I'm into decorating, but not quite on this scale. Just the same, I wouldn't mind sitting here and meditating on things awhile.

I was thinking the other day on why I post here, I can see that I'm a bit long winded and obscure for most people. You'd really have to have read all the posts from the beginning to have any clue at all to what I'm writing about. I was told by someone a couple of years ago that they thought my ADHD post really nailed it for them, which is fine, but no one really wants to discuss the other issues - including me! It's possible I put these things out there so that, when I'm done with it, it will make a coherent whole that will speak to someone else. This being the internet, it's just hanging out in the 'trons for anyone to find at any time, perhaps at the right time for them.

I've also considered that I can take this into another direction entirely, perhaps decorating, or food, or just a gigantic dump of that plus everything else I might consider interesting along the way. I couldn't seek out traffic, simply because I can't support traffic. The need to post to keep an audience entertained on a regular basis would backfire right into my ADD and I would become resentful and harried in very short order. Not everything is worth writing about and I've never had a care whether strangers much liked me at all.  That sort of attitude is really bad for sales popularity blog traffic.

....

After letting this sit for the night and taking up the world again this morning, I've decided to do "everything" for the month of January. I'm doing Apartment Therapy's January Cure for my house and I rather suspect that will be fodder for quite a few things that would be relevant to the ADD, codependency, life, and "fashion, beauty, and decorating" (said in my best Elsa Klensch voice.) I'm reading both Codependent No More and Facing Love Addiction at the same time and feeling the need for some serious C.S. Lewis, perhaps A Grief Observed, definitely The Weight of Glory (essay), and at some point The Silver Chair.

Until then, here's a bit of Elsa on decorating. Would that HGTV would put one hour per week of programming of this quality. It would make the channel worthwhile. Except for Sarah, I love Sarah.


















Sunday, December 28, 2014

It's still Christmas Day!



Did you know there are twelve days of Christmas, it isn't just a song? My job sucks up my entire life between Thanksgiving and Christmas, so I don't turn my attention to celebrating until I drive home on Christmas Eve. Of course, by then, all the shops are closed and the family gatherings are set and nearly over, within hours to be ended in a rush of wrapping paper and table full of coma inducing wonderfulness. I have a turkey breast still in the fridge that should have been cooked two weeks ago and my tree is still in the basement closet. 

But there is still time! Christmas lasts thru January 5th! 

One of the most persistent frustrations of my life has been promises made and never kept, the willingness to wait for something Good (Goodness being a divine attribute) yet finding that my experience has always been "not yet," "not you," "not now," "not what you asked for," and "your opportunity was then, it's too late now."  One of the core experiences of being under the control of a Narcissist is that they promise whatever you need and, even rarely, something you want - but they never deliver more than a scant ounce of it, and then only under intense pressure. Their object is control, they seek no other goal, even though being actually competent, kind, or pleasant would gain them far more love and admiration. A narcissistic parent does not keep promises, nor do they supply the basic needs of life to the child. 

My sister and I used to marvel that Mother gave us underwear and socks for Christmas, wrapped separately and with thanks expected. As the years passed, I realised that she did not supply us with underwear and socks at other times of the year without our begging and humiliation. Girls need proper undergarments, girls need pretty clothes that fit and make them feel beautiful, girls NEED tender love and care. Children need holidays and some of their dreams to come true. Promises must be made AND kept. Joy MUST come, for living is not for tomorrow, life is what is happening right now.

I love Pauline Baynes' Christmas card above and I love that part of the story in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. Look at the card. Father Christmas is afoot, the great angel is turning the key in the lock and boundaries are being breached, what had been locked out is entering and the hunted has room for escape that the hunters have never seen.





Somewhere, somehow in the past few weeks I've understood that this next year is for me. I am the only one I will consider when making decisions, my needs and my care and my future are the only good I will pursue. I don't mean the thin, whiny sort of care that results in shopping sprees and vacations on the beach either, both things I enjoy and have employed as respite care for myself in the last fifteen years, but I'm on the lookout for more long term efforts and choices that will create the life that is right for me, the life I'm good at and the life that makes my life valuable to me.

Not only was I raised to put aside my needs in favor of a parent who genuinely believed my existence was to take care of them, I am part of a religious tradition that places great emphasis on giving to others as a fundamental exercise of faith. However, any abuser can be revealed when they require the destruction of the giver. God is well able to take care of His interests, the whole of humanity, and the world, with infinite resources left over idle. God does not NEED me to accomplish His work for him. He is, however, a GOOD Father to me, and I believe this year is His idea - time for me to recover myself, invest in myself, understand that I am Very valuable, and learn to require respect, time, and affection from people who would be my friends or family.

Somewhere before Thanksgiving I came across a receipt I had saved from Mother's burial arrangements. It was for flowers, one spray for her casket, another for a basket to sit at graveside. I couldn't figure out at the moment if it was something  I should require reimbursement for from the Estate, but in time I knew the flowers should be just from me, as a final and honored gift to her. The thing that killed me was that no one else sent flowers, either to honor her or to me.

No flowers came from my workplace, although the company has a fund for that, no flowers came from my father or brother or niece or nephews or her sister or from any of my friends from anywhere. No one else visited her at the Alzheimer's unit, no one else sat with her in her final weeks, and no one else sent flowers. It sounds like I'm angry for her, but this is actually about me. No one anywhere had the care for me to see I needed relief, no one anywhere stepped up to take a shift, and it didn't occur to anyone anywhere that I was in pain and I needed to be shown that the love I had poured out for her all those years was valuable and beautiful - and was worth honoring with a bouquet of flowers.

You see, flowers are sent for two reasons upon someone's demise. Either it's a final gift to honor the deceased whom you loved, or it's a gift of beauty and love to the family members whom you wish to support in their grief. No one else but me saw fit to send her flowers. No one saw fit to send me flowers at all. That kind of statement from all your relatives and friends deserves a deep reassessment of your life and serious measures taken as to how you spend your life. You only have the one.

I've been a human doing for a long, long time. I'd like to become something more of a human being, not only to myself but to other people. It's time to repair and restore not only my damaged leg, but my damaged life. I'm not resilient like I used to be, I don't take a beating and just keep marching on like I always used to do. This limp in my leg has pointed out how many other elements of my life are broken and splinted, so many years waiting for the tender care that lets strength grow from the inside instead. 

I've never required respect and time and displays of affection from friends, or even from lovers. I've always diminished myself as much as possible, asked for nothing, and pretty much gotten it.  Somehow the way I do business is going to change, and that means I change, not everyone else. Of course, if I do it right and well, who everyone else is will change, too. 

Speaking of change, following the Twelve Days of Christmas is the Feast of Epiphany on January 6th, the celebration of the revealing to the world that the Word of God had become a human being in a little, helpless baby - Jesus. The feast commemorates the visit of the Wise Men to Jesus after his birth, bearing gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. It also celebrates Jesus' baptism by John in the River Jordan, revealing Jesus as the Son of God to the world. May this year's end reveal all manner of change in me, and may I respond when others see that change with at least some of Christ's grace and power.


***








Monday, November 17, 2014

How can He wait?






How can He wait? How can the Lord delay coming to be with us, how can He stand to put off cleansing this earth of cruelty and murder and every evil thing and come and dance with us? 

If He had done it from the very beginning, we wouldn't be the multitude of multiverses we are now, but if the Father hadn't specified the day and the hour, and if the Son hadn't fully committed Himself to obedience, I don't know how He could hold Himself back. It is His very nature, love, and He wants to be found and seen and rejoiced and danced and loved with us. How can we hardly wait?

Monday, November 10, 2014

Wright on rapture and rascally belief



This makes the second video I've seen where Wright alludes to our care or stewardship of the Earth as it is now having some sort of direct relation to Jesus' return and direct rule as King. It's as if he thinks that we should spiff things up a bit now so as to somehow impress our soon coming King, and perhaps He will give us some sort of civic appointment in his divine Kingdom. I'm not sure if Wright is enjoining this behaviour because he thinks believers will be vying for the post of Dog Catcher or 1000 year tenured seats on the city council, or he's giving a gentle sop to the Gaian Save the Earth movement. 

I agree with his point that eternity is not spent on a cloud in the mystic heavens. Scriptures are quite plain that God has created materiality as a good thing and He intends to reign over it with His family forever, particularly evidenced by His eternal union with creation in the person of Jesus, who is the divine Word in the flesh. However, the way Jesus cleanses this planet and installs His rule is miraculous and without our personal contributions at every turn - the waters of the earth are made clean from a fountain that springs from His throne in Jerusalem, disease is cured from the leaves of particular trees that are not yet in evidence, and evil people are rounded up and separated at His judgement alone. There is no evidence that believers redeem the world in any way, although believers are given positions to rule directly under His appointment and methodology - after Jesus has established His authority directly Himself.


I will also say this about the  "evangelical" tradition of eternity in the sweet bye and bye, forever singing praises to God in the company of the faithful. Evangelicalism in America (and that is the strain Wright likes to dig at - those common, unlearned, unwashed masses) grew up from the 19th century poor who had no one to call upon for help other than God. For a people who could see no farther than this year's harvest or past the losses of business downturns and family taken by disease, it was comfort enough to know that the troubles of this life would be overcome by the joy in the Presence of God for all eternity. Details about resurrections and kingdoms could not be bothered with when faith in God's promises was its own miracle in the presence of this troubled life.  That Wright and the green movement alike can enjoin "care" for the planet is a 21st century First World concern, and can easily be overturned wholesale should famine, drought, pestilence, and plague return to the West.


All is not lost, however, as to our treatment of Earth should you be feeling God does not care about it all. The whole of our behaviour on this planet falls under the mandate of stewardship given to Adam in the garden of Eden. Although he lived for only a time in that garden, his stewardship appointment was worldwide and for all his descendents. We are not in service to the Earth, but we have been directed to cultivate and replenish the planet in service to God. We draw from the Earth for our physical needs, but we also maintain and reshape it so that the whole of it might become an abundant garden, more filled with life of every kind that it might ever have been had it been left to progress without us. The idea that humans are a pestilence upon the planet is a direct accusation that God's authority (and His appointed representatives of His authority - humans who walk in obedience to Him,)  is Itself the prime source of degradation and woe. Leave it to the devil to call good evil, the truth a lie, and the cultivation of life death, and so appoint himself as ruler. Some things never change. 

[Note: the other video]

Thursday, October 30, 2014

A shake and a wave goodbye

A long planned for miracle got off without a hitch yesterday. No weddings, just a big pickup of household items by Habitat Restore. I get a tax write off and a bunch of people are going to find some Great furniture for sale this weekend. In the haul were two gorgeous cherry bookcases I had built when I finally started to have enough money to decorate, four Couristan and Karistan rugs that Mother always swore were my inheritance and she just LOVED, and a little white metal porch table of my sister's.

That little table was the Only personal item left in her room after she died. She had gotten rid of everything else she could, literally wiping herself out before she killed herself. I could tell you tales for hours about the histories and meanings of some of the things that have gone out of my house, but the point is that they are going out of me as well. There have been car loads of books to Friends of the Library, dozens of large plastic storage boxes to charities all over the city, so many office and art supplies donated to a school that the office lady had fear in her eyes that I was bringing in yet another cart full, and there will be more given yet. 

I only give good, useful things, the trash is thrown away. Sometimes, for some of us, the most difficult thing is distinguishing between the use of the things for others and how it's used in us. We blink at all that stuff with our fuzzy blue eyes and see how that's really a fine carpet and how maybe we could taking up sewing with some of those twenty five crates of fabric, and with the same glance we are consciously and determinedly Not looking at how those things are not a part of who we are or where we want to be. The illusion of value coats every surface, after all, look at how much it cost and we may never have the chance to own something like that again, but grief and lost affections are the intoxicating perfume they release, every whiff a trigger of memory and a flashback of what could have been. With every load that I've given away, I've felt - physically sensed - the things being lifted out and carried away from me. 

Now, I'm not so foolish as to think that I can alter who I am by refining my possessions, but when I woke up this morning my back felt like it had been to the chiropractor. Knots and tension released all the way to my tailbone and the stress in my muscles properly aligned so I could carry my own weight lightly once again.  Happy fall mornings call for happy dance music, so I dialed up a bunch of music to bake by, especially my new theme song Shake It Off.



 
I decided I was not a whole wheat person, even tho I'm supposed to like it, so I've thrown out the whole wheat bread I made last weak and have my soft buttermilk bread in the oven. There is much to be done and it's a glorious, colorful, sunshiny day to do it in. 

Up in the music queue came For Good.  Although I would have loved to be haunted by my sister after she died, there was never a moment where I felt her presence again. She and I were battle buddies in the trench war that was our family, and I was devastated. As I sang in the kitchen this morning, somehow though, she and I sang that song to each other. It was only a moment, completely unexpected and never to be longed for again, but we were two friends once more with only joy and love and peace and pride at having been sisters, no burdens to carry anymore.


For Good


I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes the sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...

Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
Because I knew you
(Both):
I have been changed for good

And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the things I've done you blame me for
But then, I guess we know
There's blame to share
(Both)
And none of it seems to matter anymore

Because I knew you...
I have been changed for good...
 



Sunday, October 12, 2014

Last time on this road

"Gonna burn my map, I'm tired of travelin', I've been more miles than I know..."




I've been plowing thru Pia Mellody, thankful I was excited enough to order CDs of lectures she did some years ago about codependence and various things that it screws up. She's much more interesting to listen to that way, she is livelier and younger and has some funny stories to tell that help me relate. Six down, ordered eight more, that should be enough to meditate on for a few weeks.

Have you ever noticed how getting free is exhilarating AND exhausting? I mean, I learn some new stuff, discover things I had no idea were happening, get relieved that now I know what foolishness I've been caught up in - and then I have to take a nap and just black out for a couple of hours. It's not unlike the healing process my leg is doing - I get a little progress and discover I have a bit more strength, walk a little longer and a little farther for a couple of days, then my leg says, "Nope. We sittin' this one out." And it's swelling and pain for a day or two, then... "Hey, let's do Walmart AND go walk the track this morning!" 

Nothing is happening according to plan, but it is progressing. That's why I enjoyed finding that song above by accident yesterday. I'm a big time map reader and route planner. I've always got a list and and a plan about how things are going to work, if I just work it hard enough, if I can just catch myself and the universe at the right moment and make it all work out until I get where I want to go! Well, not only has that never actually worked more than a few months at a time, but the methodology itself is a symptom of codependence and maybe an addiction or two. 

"Seen a lot of days at a highway's pace, and they take their toll on me.
There's a lot of things I've left behind I might have never seen.
Gonna burn my map, I'm tired of traveling,
I've been more miles than I know.
I'm feeling happy and I'm feeling sad
It's my last time on the road."

At the beginning of this past week I heard this song from the Booth Brothers bubbling up in my spirit as I woke one morning. I didn't know the song well enough to know what the lyrics were and I had to search thru the songs I had to find which one it was, but when I did I was almost frightened me that I already had a song hidden away that spoke to recovery. I can't stress this enough - the more I require relief and salvation from the Lord, the more He gives it. That's His name, it is the very thing He wants to be known for all over the world - Jesus, Yeshua, God is my salvation. 



WHEN YOU BOW AT JESUS' FEET

Jim Brady

We’ve all done things that we’re not proud of
Made mistakes along the way
Walked the path of least resistance
Traveled roads that led to shame
But there’s no need to be held captive
Beneath the weight that blame can bring
Just pour your heart out to the Savior
He alone can break the chains

There is freedom and forgiveness
There is peace and sweet relief
Grace and mercy now are waiting
When you bow at Jesus’ feet

So bring your cares and every burden
Lay them down and walk away
Say “Goodbye” to all that haunts you
Leave your guilt to yesterday
Hope will dawn with each tomorrow
The grip of fear will lose its hold
Defined no longer by your failures
You’ll find strength in letting go

There is freedom and forgiveness
There is peace and sweet relief
Grace and mercy now are waiting
When you bow at Jesus’ feet


(h/t christiansongoftheday.blogspot.com)

WHEN YOU BOW AT JESUS' FEET

Jim Brady

We’ve all done things that we’re not proud of
Made mistakes along the way
Walked the path of least resistance
Traveled roads that led to shame
But there’s no need to be held captive
Beneath the weight that blame can bring
Just pour your heart out to the Savior
He alone can break the chains

There is freedom and forgiveness
There is peace and sweet relief
Grace and mercy now are waiting
When you bow at Jesus’ feet

So bring your cares and every burden
Lay them down and walk away
Say “Goodbye” to all that haunts you
Leave your guilt to yesterday
Hope will dawn with each tomorrow
The grip of fear will lose its hold
Defined no longer by your failures
You’ll find strength in letting go

There is freedom and forgiveness
There is peace and sweet relief
Grace and mercy now are waiting
When you bow at Jesus’ feet
- See more at: http://christiansongoftheday.blogspot.com/2012/05/when-you-bow-at-jesus-feet.html#sthash.NeKJpkew.dpuf


So, in the spirit of happy and freedom, here's a link to a concert the Nashville Bluegrass Band did Durham, NC in 1996. It's high quality and it will make your body move in that strange rhythm and light that is mountain bluegrass music, just let it shoot thru your veins and rewire your brain. Ain't nothin' like what those high creeks can brew.