Monday, May 28, 2007

Travelblog....Austin, Texas

I've always wanted to do this. And here I am blogging by a hotel pool.
I love the idea of of being in this picture. Dear Child cavorts in the pool. Delighted Husband schmoozes his clients, and I lounge in a chaise, my laptop anchored on a snowy towel in my lap. The technological life of Riley. Right? Except the screen is difficult to see and the keyboard is getting hot! Reality never quite measures up to fantasy does it? What am I talking about? Of course if does sometimes! But I digress. How about I just tell you what I was going to tell you about the fun we're having in Austin?

We initially stayed at Hotel A which promised a suite and gave us a tiny room with a token 1/3 wall separating the bedroom from the living room. The living room where Dear Child is supposed to sleep. Privacy? What a crock. Our bed is about 2 feet from the sofabed. Hello. That's not privacy. It's too bad too, because the bed is a puffy cloud of a bed. With a full length mirror directly across from it. I was *really* looking forward to making and viewing some hot little love scenes in that mirror but it was not to be. Dear Child drank too much caffeine soda pop (cause we're on vacation!) and the beloved little darling could*not* go to sleep. I called in the reinforcements by asking my girlfriend to pray and lo and behold Hotel B presents itself. When Hotel B says suite they mean sweet. A separate bedroom with a wall full of mirrors. Booya!

Sunday, May 13, 2007

We're Busy

storms throw tantrums all around us
sharp rain slaps our faces blends tears
already there
no peace
elusive comfort a bird that can't be caught
we stagger into love
a grass hut made of blended bodies
warm palm cradles my head
soothes me like a child
other hand delights my breast
awakens adores
distracting pleasure
makes rain possible to ignore
pleasure fills my senses
tells pain to wait in line
we're busy.

Friday, May 4, 2007

Real Family Life

Hoo-ee~!(enormous grin)(does Snoopy's Happy Dance)Folks, I am going to sleep freer than I was when I woke up this morning. Lost/gave up/donated/delivered from huge chunk of shrapnel today. Theophostic prayer rocks! Then after reading this timely reminder from Maria, I went home and relaxed and enjoyed my family. After the kiddo was gone to bed, I savored some FUN with Delighted Husband. Just playin' and adoring each other. We ended up tangled in a great big glorious snuggle and I sang him to sleep. Here's the really cool part. The part that shows how integrated and whole my lil' heart is becoming. You know what I sang to my fabulously naked husband as we lay exhausted after thunderous lovemaking? I sang hymns. We worshipped through the afterglow. (cue Dennis Rainey...) "now that's REAL FAMILY LIFE" (fit of giggles)-SW

Wednesday, May 2, 2007

Job's Friends, take a lesson!

This has got to be one of the most beautiful redemptive soul-affirming things I've ever read.
And it wasn't even directed to me.
I'm just warming my hands by the spillover glow.

This comment was written by some dear anonymous man comforting another dear anonymous man who had an affair and got fired from his job at a large Christian ministry. His family is shunned at church and they are in danger from losing their house. Years later.

Call me idealistic.
I have a dream.
I have a dream that there will be a beautiful, redemptive, soul-affirming ministry where every member of the staff has the words "former screw-up" and "child of God" in their title.

I get that you can't have someone actively pursuing a life of sin while they're in ministry leadership. Embezzlement, adultery, abusive temper, whatever flavor of sin. But what about repentance? What about after? What about grace? What about restoration? Whaddya think Jesus died for anyway?

He wasn't wasting his time on the cross, folks. I needed it. We all needed it.

If I never do anything else for God besides love and cherish my family, I pray it could be that I treat a heart in crisis like ol' Theo did instead of like Job's friends did.

Moving toward the Magnet

I could have written this. Not all the details are the same, but yeah. I relate.
It's an odd feeling, this kind of relating. The Alumni club nobody ever wanted to be a part of.
Hi I'm Sensuous Wife and my first experience, hell, my first *era* of sexual experiences was coerced and of an awfully unhealthy nature.
There are places in my heart that are healed.
There are places in my heart that are not.
The whole process has been like removing shrapnel one piece, one sliver, one twisted chunk at a time. Not that I could remove the shrapnel by myself. I just chose to place myself in proximity to the one who could. can. I walked toward the magnet.
Y'see, it's like God is this powerful magnet, drawing the little pieces of metallic shrapnel out of my heart, one by one. Taint easy and by no means painless. There are exit wounds. A little bloody path made by the shrapnel as it's pulled out of my heart. God draws it out, and then sometimes quickly sometimes agonizingly slowly the exit wound heals. And I rejoice over the patch of non-metallic healed flesh. After a respite, the process starts over again. Here's the good hopeful part. After a while, the patch of healed heart has grown larger until a recognizable healthy human sexuality is visible to the naked eye. (More naked and more visible to my eyes and my husband's eyes in particular, but obvious to anyone who knows me fairly well. Impossible to hide this kind of soulsexy aliveness.) And I celebrate it for all it's worth. Cause it's worth a helluva lot. It's glorious.
Will all the shrapnel be pulled out of my heart before Jesus takes me home to Heaven? Prolly not. But I will keep walking toward the Magnet, staying in the painful glorious healing process all my life as an exquisite act of worship. My song.
Oh and I'll celebrate the heck out of the healed de-shrapneled zone in my heart. With whipped cream and a cherry on top and coconut oil and frothy lingerie. Seems like the least I can do. And it's high time this girl had some FUN.
Hunger/filled/hunger/filled/hunger mourning/dancing/mourning/dancing/mourning
This is the rhythm of pre-Heaven exisitence. I'm learning to dance to the rhythm. -SW

Thank you, Adventures in Stepford, for putting your heart out there that way. It empowered me to put my heart out there this way. This little interchange is proof that we become our best selves in community. Peace out.