Act 1 : Sit & Be Still. Listen.

I didn't expect the last three months. I didn't expect the change of storyline, the new character, the themes developed. The curtain opened on a new year, and no one had handed me the script. So I stood center stage - blank, with no idea what words I was to speak. I searched the wings looking for a cue card, something to begin with.

I received a direction - Sit & Be Still. Listen.

So I sat. Right there in the middle of my life, my play. On the stage that had seen so much action, my own bustling about. This new scene went against those before. The transition was swift, almost non-existent. Once a stage full of characters and ever-changing scenes and props. Then, everything removed, a blanket laid out, I walk to the center, and I'm prompted to sit.

In that new space, my heart breathed deep. The sigh of No Expectation, because frankly there wasn't any energy.

Quickly though, the tug of the old drama came. After sitting still and listening long my character was drawn to the rhythm of the scenes gone by. I stood. Feet attempting to run back and forth to reconstruct the set, stage the characters, and muster up a script. My body grew tired faster and then a glance to the wing - there was the cue card again.

Sit & Be Still. Listen.

There was a struggle. To listen to the direction given or push through to manufacture the drama that had already taken place once before.

I walked to the blanket, and sat.

...and sat some more. Craning my neck to the sides of the stage, looking out in to the crowd, I sought an answer - certainly there Should be more than this. What kind of play is this if I'm just sitting. I should be running around - doing, doing, doing. Then I saw it, far out, way in the back. Squinting, my eyes read a sign - Sit & Be Still. Listen.

Okay, there has to be a mistake. Maybe this is the part where I improv my way through the next few scenes. Certainly, this cannot be what I am suppose to do. Sit? Be Still? Listen?

Those words before were part of the action - Sit while you meet with them. Be still so you don't disrupt. Listen so you know what to do next. But now, what do those words mean? They were always tied to an action, the next step, a transition to the next scene. And there weren't any characters in my place on the stage. My eyes looked, but no one felt this exactly. The moments before the quick transition were full of drama, tears, confusion. Now this deep breath of No Expectation.

Yet there was the pull to seek out a Should. Really, I Should be doing something other than Sitting & Being Still & Listening. I mean, scenes can have moments of those in-actions. But entire scenes and acts? Won't that scream boring and a waste to an audience?

I lay here now. On this blanket, center stage. The curtain is drawing for a change of scene, yet the direction is still being given. Sit & Be Still. Listen. So here I'll stay, waiting for a prompt. A script with the words to say next. I let out another deep breath of No Expectation. How sweet it is to breathe that air.

the dreaming & the doing

Here’s the thing – you can dream all day long, but until you do something - that dreaming just sits on journal pages or in your pretty little head or on that pinterest board you spent hours on. Don’t get me wrong, I am a huge advocate for dreaming. Dreaming is the very thing I believe helps us discover who we are. It’s the place where we can take risks, because we can dream of dying our hair pink without actually doing it. It’s like dress up for your life, and you never grow up and enter middle school and end up not fitting in to your favorite pink, frilly, princess dress. Dreaming is a place where fear is not allowed and being crazy is an asset. So with that, I say DREAM-dream big and wide and crazy, and WRITE IT DOWN. Nothing makes you feel like a real live crazy person than writing down your dreams. Because yes, when you write down “own a unicorn” you will realize how crazy you are. But the first step is admitting it, right?

So there ya go, dreaming. Now that I’ve up-ed my word count trying to convince you of how important and lovely I think dreaming is – let me say this – dreaming needs doing. While yes, writing down your dreams is doing something; I believe it’s only the first step. And yes I do also realize that I can’t do much more than just write down that I want to own a unicorn. (Other than buying myself a horse and strapping a horn on its head – ha solved that one!)

Really though, this is where we (yes - you, me and every other lovely human person) get stuck. We can dream all day, we can make lists; we can talk in pretty descriptions, and spend endless hours on pinterest. Trust me, I know; I’m really good at pinterest. But there has to be a step forward.

For some, that first step is sharing. It’s being bold and sitting with a friend and saying “this is my dream”. And oh my dear, that is huge – because these dreams we hold in us are fragile and sharing them is scary business. Once we’ve shared (and trust me I realize this isn’t the easiest step) we have to allow ourselves to believe it is possible. Now I’m not saying this is going to work for a seventy year old who dreams of having five kids by the age of seventy-seven. I mean there was Sarah..but you know what I mean. There is this thing called “reality” and it’s a real bugger because darn it, I’ve tried jumping off the couch with my bed sheet cape so many times and I still can’t fly.

I’m getting off track here – the point is whether your dream is to fly, have kids, open a business, travel to Ireland, grow a beard – you have to believe that you can and move forward from that place. Grab your bed sheet, tie it up, and perch on the edge of that couch cushion. And then….JUMP!

And yes, you will hit the ground. But remember the rush? That singular moment as you were parallel (not crashing in to) the ground and you felt so light and free. That’s the doing. That’s the rush that comes with jumping in to the unknown of your dreams. And yes, there will be times that you fall. Really though, we all need failure otherwise we would all be superheroes that didn’t need saving. (And hon, we don’t need anymore spandex suits in the world – leave that to Cirque de Soleil) Embrace the failure, just like your face just embraced the carpet you fell in to. Failure doesn’t mean everything is wrong. I’m tired of failure being a negative word. Someone needs to paint a pretty canvas with the word “failure” in calligraphy – because dang it failure teaches you and shapes you.

So let’s give failure a bear hug, let’s dream of unicorns and business and babies and travel, and then – let’s jump. Without fear of the fall, the carpet burn, the fact that we may need help up after. (At least you didn’t have to wear spandex.)

your new name: Not Alone

This world is aching. It has turned black and blue with the abuse of the Genesis decision.
Death comes and lingers, taking it's time. Or it strikes suddenly, unexpected.
Wounds long since forgotten are reopened with a single statement.
Grief washes over. Its tides ebb and flow with tears that fall.
Change lurches forward as nails dig in trying to cling to all that has been, that is known.

Here you are. I see you.
Mascara runs on pale cheeks, eyes avoiding a poignant stare.
Body weak and wrapped in warm layers to comfort externally what is beneath.
Here I am. Do you see me?

Not alone.
My dear, that is the new name I want you to claim - Not Alone.
There are those that walk before you. They call back and sing of what is to come.
There are those that are not here yet. To them you get to reach out a hand in time.
There are those here in this moment. Look in to their eyes. They are not going anywhere.
YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

If that is all you can hear right now amidst the noise and clamor of your own mind, then please focus in and whisper it to yourself. As you drive in the dark and you feel absolutely overcome, defeated - look for the light. Whether it's the flash of headlights drawing near or the glow of a shop window, let that remind you of this.

Sit right there, open your hands. Hold grief in one and this Truth in the other. They can coexist. Don't fear the power of your sadness, but don't underestimate the healing that is possible. Enter in to each moment, whether it be with tears or laughter, and allow yourself to simply be.

and remember you are Not Alone.

to this I cling

There's this Truth I am learning and cling to like a newborn to it's mother. Words that have echoed through the years of my life, yet they still ring loud & crisp & new.

You see - thousands of years ago a man came to this earth. He was born in the dirt of a stable - afterbirth mixed with animal refuse, seasoned with sweet salt of a virgin mother's tears. In that moment the earth sighed with the relief of True Joy. A melody rang of rescue.

A baby, then a boy, adolescent, then a man. Simple, rugged, rough - but heart tender, strong, and free. And not just a man's heart, one bound in Divine Mystery.

This man was God.

Math got flipped on it's head when He came. No longer was 1 + 1 = 2 true. 1 + 1, one man & one God, were One. (that's not to mention their bosom friend Holy Ghost) And so this man, this God, this math rule-breaker, perfect risk-taker came. And He dwelt among us.

The story speeds up when He starts making friends with fishermen
it gets interesting when He heals a lame man,
it gets scandalous when He talks to an outcast woman at a well,
it gets outrageous when He claims He is the One to the religious big-wigs,
it gets foolish when a woman pours perfume on His dirty feet,
but there is more.

This God & man fusion, fully feeling & fully free - is stripped and stoned, mocked and murdered. And it doesn't end there. While His mother watched him hang on wood, bloody & marred - something was happening beyond.

This is where we enter the story. You and I - we were there. Spirit breathed Word gives testimony to us going down with Him in death, swallowed up - with every slaying word, malicious moment, and lustful thought that clings to us. Bruises, evidence of our spirit-less state.

In the depths of the dark, a wedding aisle was laid out. From the black He led us from death to Life in brilliant white.

So on that day, we were brides. And every second of our lives since then we've played the whore that ran around with Hosea's wife - fleeing perfect Love we fear will see all we really are.

But you see, He has. He came and saw all that this world is, and despite the hurt - He bore it all upon Himself. Diving headlong in to the mouth of Death, He snatched our limp drowning bodies from the darkness and breathed in to our lungs New Life. A Divine Life-giving, strong, resuscitating kiss. Sacred lips to sinner mouth. No longer drowning, breathless - we are Alive. Indulging once dry, empty lungs in Holy breath.

We are made New.
And this is only the Beginning.

dear Luke

Luke,

Was it hard to write about our Friend Jesus? Did your words fall short of all you wanted them to say? You recorded His acts & His Love - was it like trying to capture a gust of wind in a net? Like trying to count the stars in one night?

What was it like to sit with Him? Would you be sitting and laughing and speaking and suddenly be stunned in to silence - realizing you were sitting with Your Creator? That you were passing food to the hands that formed you, with delicacy & intense Love.

Did you ever sit and watch - wondering how? How it was possible for the grandness of the King to be contained in a man - a man with rough hands, calloused feet, simple features - yet He was not one of those things. Not one inch of Him was rough, callous, or simple.

Did people ever come to you and ask about "that carpenter friend" of yours? Did they laugh when you said you were leaving? Did they warn you against foolishness and straight up stupidity?

What made you go? Was it the depth in His eyes? Was it the thrill of the unknown? Or was it beyond you? An inner tug - gentle hands undoing the knots of questions that have kept you tangled up inside?

Luke, what was our Friend Jesus like?

your sister,

Kyleigh

in the corner

My new favorite spot is in the corner of my bedroom. I have a little yellow chair with long windows on either side so the clouded sunlight can peek in over my shoulder. I have a new pine scented candle that I take deep breaths of because it reminds me of tall trees and pine needle covered dirt. Here I sit, to read, to write, & to listen. I'm being reminded of the importance of presence and being present and stillness. Topics that circle on the blogs I read and in the conversations I have, yet something I keep as an nice idea. Letting it sit on the surface, rather than allowing it to sink deeper than my skin.

But today, I needed to sit. More than I knew. So as Sleeping at Last played, I sat in my new favorite corner - fingers flipping book pages & hand writing story. Then I stumbled across this blog post, and my heart took a big deep breath and exhale. A Whisper came and said, "It's okay to sit. It's here I speak to you. Just come and be and listen."

My prayer & petition for you & I is that we sit. That you find a corner - in the kitchen by the aprons hanging, outside just beyond that tree, in your bedroom in a yellow chair. Wherever it may be, I pray we learn to sit; to soak in the quiet moments, to pour out our desperate thoughts in writing, to eat up the Truth words of a sister's book. We need this. More than we realize.

I dare you to sit today. Let the sun hit your shoulders as your eyes fall on written word, or simply at the floor below you. Listen here for the Whisper in the stillness.

Much love my beautiful friends,
Ky

an open letter: here we have hope

photocred to http://byemmafaye.com/

"...rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep..." -romans 12:15

Dear friends,

Knowing you has taught me much - much of love, laughter, rest, struggle, authenticity, & trust. I came here unsure about who I would spend my days with, worried about doing life alone. Man did Jesus decide to show off His provision in providing me with you.

As I sat tonight and heard the lines Jesus has been writing in your life lately - I was overcome with this deep feeling of Hope. Hope because I know that You call Him Friend, that you know Him as your Abba Father, and look to Him as Lord of your life. And that all of those titles are true not just in name but in action of who He is. That Savior, that King is pursuing each of you & in this life teaching you what it is to be loved & to love. And as you each face what every day brings, you walk with Him. That is why I have immense Hope as I hear the story He is writing with you.

Over the past months I've had the privilege of reading those lines as I walk alongside you all. I've been absolutely blown away to witness the redemptive, abundant work of the Father in your lives. The refining has been bright & bold for some of you, in others it's been uncomfortable & shaking. No matter the feelings, emotions, circumstances surrounding each - I have seen ashes turned to beauty in each of your lives. I am so grateful to walk on this holy ground, brought to my knees at the redemptive power of our Father as He reveals His plan for your life & leads you in Life Everlasting.

Thank you. Thank you each for simply being - for returning to your Father & reminding me daily that it is only in His arms that we are fully satisfied. Thank you for laughing long & loud & many times without any "good" reason - you've deepened my understanding of Joy Unexplainable. Thank you for listening & speaking Truth to me and those you brush shoulders with everyday - you are a mouthpiece for the Kingdom. Thank you for being real - for sitting in silence, for allowing the tears to fall, for asking the hard questions - you remind of what it is to be human & that we couldn't do this alone.

I love you all. Deep & wide. Thank you for living life with me, for embracing each other's messy, & being the hands & feet of our Friend Jesus. I love reading what He is writing with you, thanks for keeping an open book & letting me read.

Love,
Ky