Freely Flowing

I did not create the path I am walking, though I do choose to walk it. It doesn't look much like a path I would make. I want to present anything I have to say in its most finished and perfected form. (That way there is no more argument. There is no more pain from fault, error, or disagreement. There is no mess or pain from tripping or slipping or bumping or falling. No weakness.) But the reality is I am far from perfect. My name is more and more a mockery to me; "Tammy" means perfection in some renderings. So how do I let go of ME ? I am coming to believe I must follow The Way, one step at a time. Away from what I was before and into what He IS . I can't really safely know Him beforehand. W riting is in me. I know it is - but I am new. I don't know my own "voice" and I don't know my "filter" and I don't know a lot . Including all the rules . What I do know is that I am in pain. And I, so far, have refused to anesthe

H ere I sit, new home and new location and my heart drips blood. My arrival to this new place was not a wholly welcome one, yet, I think it was provisional at the same time. Here I hope to find more healing - some balm for my battered heart. It isn't what you would think it would be. It was not back-alley life that brought me here. I am a  hometown, church-grown, people-pleasing girl, whose aspirations were to marry, be surrounded by her children, build up a piece of land and have people lovingly flowing in and out of a welcoming home, and be rooted - grounded - deeply, with her family and fellow believers in order to be a help. I didn't know how dark that place could be. I thought I was on track for my life until things started coming apart that I couldn't control. I grew up in a family desperately clinging to God's words to change the sins of the past. A homegrown congregation that my parents were dedicated to nurturing, even when it cost them more than they

I once looked around in a time of great loneliness, heart bleeding, and need and saw people as though they were water. My mind mocked me and said, "Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink*" - because that was how it felt. There are so many people in this world, with their hearts FULL of something. Many with so much to share - the hurt, the scars, the triumphs, the joys, the understandings, and helps. Each could be a gushing place of water for anyone thirsty like me. Do they not know that their hearts can be wellsprings? The more I thought of that the more I thought how "normal" Christianity beckons us to hide all of that and perform. We can not show ALL of that - it is too dangerous. Besides, we have to look like we have it all together so people will be enticed to listen to our message. Who wants to listen to someone who isn't a professional in what they proclaim?  And so - all that water becomes hidden behind a wall. A wall for protection, (f