the thoughts in my head

To one who waits, all things reveal themselves so long as you have the courage not to deny in the darkness what you have seen in the light.
– Coventry Patmore

I was thinking last night about why I am writing my thoughts out like this almost every day. I decided that I live so much in my head that getting words out, even if they are only on digital paper, helps me to think about what goes on in my head and spirit. It helps me solidify my beliefs about everything. If it just stays in my brain then the benefit of seeing words in print, reading them and pondering them is lost. They just stay a jumbled up bunch of phrases and words, never coalescing into a complete thoughts. Sometimes I think about things for months before ever revealing them to outside me. Once I get them outside they seem more real and more revealing than they ever were bouncing around inside.

I used to do this with actual pen to paper. At one time I had more than 20 journal books but I’ve destroyed most of them because I will never go back to look at them – they’re too painful for the most part and who I was then is not who I am now. I don’t need to see how I’ve grown; it is enough to know I have.

Sometimes I don’t know what I think about something until it appears on the screen; the words appear, sentences form and a thought or opinion emerges. I think that’s how it must be for most people who write or journal or keep diaries. We have an inkling of how we think we feel but not really until it emerges for the world (however small or large it may be) to see.

For instance, maybe we don’t realize that we still carry a resentment from years ago until we see it manifested before us. Once released from the subconscious into the conscious part of the brain, this is where God steps in and, if we allow Him, He gives us an epiphany and we see why we act the way we do around particular triggers. And, with that exposure, we can begin to heal and move on to the next one.

With that in mind I see that it is imperative for me to sit down as often as I can and purge my unconscious that I may continue to grow and heal along this spiritual journey.


image courtesy
take the time to get those unwritten diaries, journals, short stories, and novels out of your head.



yes, Lord, i am here

We are not born all at once, but by bits. The body first, and the spirit later. Our mothers are racked with pains of our physical birth; we ourselves suffer the longer pains of our spiritual growth.
– Mary Antin


When is the first time someone hears the voice of God speaking to them? Is it in the womb? Is it in childhood? Or is it way into adulthood when we first hear it? I have no memories of being womb-bound and very few memories of childhood. But the memories I do have stand out like beacons in the darkness and reveal a lot about what my life was like before. Before I became an adult and realized it was okay to retain memories and those I kept couldn’t hurt me.

When I was four, maybe five, we lived in Florida while my father was going to school. Our house was a 2 bedroom brick house on a crawlspace. My sister and I shared a bedroom and we had a dog, a cat that had lots of kittens and two turtles. One afternoon I had been left to my own devices and I crawled under the house. My instinct tells me I was hiding but I don’t know why (but I can imagine it).

Anyway, I was under there and having found a match book from someplace, I was striking match after match, watching it burn down. Fascinating the way fire burns down the cardboard stick waiting until just the right moment to blow it out before the fire licks your fingers. I found some foam rubber and started burning it, watching the way the foam melts and smokes and smells really bad.

Suddenly, I heard my mother call my name. I stopped dead still and listened. Nothing. So I lit another match and put it to the foam. My name again, calling loudly not with anger but with gentleness. I blew out the match, crawled out and replaced the cover over the opening and ran inside to the kitchen. ‘Yes, ma’am?’ I asked my mom. She turned from what she was doing and said something like ‘I didn’t call you’. I said, ‘I thought I heard you call me’. ‘No’ she said. I can still feel the cold chill that ran across my body, standing there trying to figure it out. Who called my name? My sister, father and the neighbor kids weren’t home. It was just mom and me. ‘Oh, well’ I thought and went on to do something else.


That memory was long forgotten until I started actively pursuing a spiritual life many years later. I now recognize that that was the first time I heard the Voice of God. Not that the voice was actually audible. But that it was in my spirit. I was doing something incredibly dangerous to me, let alone to my mother. Without that Voice would I even be here today? Would my mother? I am grateful not to know the answer to those questions.

That day stands as a lighthouse in the midst of a storm, a light that shone into my darkness and showed me a way out. And in my childish innocence I didn’t question it, I just received it. Would that I could be like that now—to hear so clearly the Voice of God in my spirit and heed His call. No questions, no hemming and hawing, just acceptance. Simply, ”Yes, Lord, I am here.”


summer 1966, me not playing with matches
summer 1966, me not playing with matches

what i want is not what i have

I don’t go around trying to measure my own faith. I just keep going. Eugenia Price

Okay, so this was a bad morning to be taking phone calls from customers. It was busy, nothing was working right, people were late, and angry customers filled my line. After only 2 ½ hours at work, I’ve been screamed at 4 times, threatened once, cursed at twice, and stared menacingly at by customers at my window.

What’s a daughter of the Light to do? Just smile and let it go. Breathe in, breathe out and don’t dwell on it. If I stop and think about the people who are mean to me for something that is beyond my control I am in danger of allowing the seeds of anger and resentment to take root. I don’t deny that being called terrible names hurts—it does and that takes a bit longer to let go. But I do try and when those words come back to the front of my brain I round them up like cattle and run them over the edge of the cliff into nothingness.

What I want is a job where I truly enjoy what I do, where I get to help people and people are nice to me all the time. What I need, however, is obviously something else. For reasons known and unknown to me the Universe has chosen a job for me where I am yelled at on a daily basis, called names I don’t even use when I’m super angry and had people tell me they were going to hunt me down. Of course I’m not the only one with this wonderful job; I have co-workers who go through the same thing I do. I haven’t given much thought as to how they handle the madness because I’m so busy trying to figure it out myself. Fortunately, I am not responsible for their in/ability to handle the stress.

Maybe one day I will have the job I really want. Or maybe I will want the job I have. The later is the greater possibility considering the job I really want is to stay home all day, read, create, write, read some more and not have to worry about money. Like that will ever happen. Who knows? I worship a God of Possibilities. Anything can happen – even my dream job! But first, I gotta figure out the one I have now and learn to love it. Hmmm, it’s gonna be tough – but by the grace of God (and a little bit of patience) I can do it!


there go all those bad thoughts!!!
there go all those bad thoughts!!!