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Showing posts from February, 2013

A Woman's Manifesto with a Post Script

I watched a documentary on the misrepresentation of women through media just the other night. There's so much I want to teach the girls in my classroom. And when I look into the future, so much I want to teach my daughters. I want to teach them to chase their dreams and never, ever stop. And that it takes bravery and courage to always be kind and loving. It's not easy, but no good thing comes easy. And that there is only One who is faithful to the end and will carry us through, and for Him and with Him we can bust out of the mold and carve a new path. As I read through my blogger dashboard of recent blog posts I came across this inspiring entry from Emily T. Weirenga:


A Woman's Manifesto (and launching A Dare to Love Yourself)
As a woman living in the 21st century I will live as though I have a thousand daughters, even though I have none, because every girl is my daughter and when she sees me, or engages with me, she's looking to me for how to live. So I will live, I wi…

I believe

There are so many things about you I don't understand, but I believe. I keep moving forward when I'm holding your hand. I believe. The truest things I know are those I cannot see. From my birth to my dying day I believe.

When I'm old I'll talk about the things that you have done. I believe. Brokenness made beautiful, the wars that you have won, and the storms you've calmed in me. The truest things I know are those I cannot see. From my birth to my dying day I believe.


I'd rather have Jesus than houses or land. I'd rather be led by his nail-pierced hand. I'd rather have Jesus than anything. The truest things I know are those I cannot see. From my birth to my dying day I believe.


- JJ Heller's new album "Loved" releases March 12



Sometimes it happens like this

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I love it when words start boiling in my heart. There's so much to be said, yet only so many words in my compacted vocabulary. Words come when I run without worrying who's watching, how much time I have or what my pace is. This morning was like that. The crystalized fields were reflecting the sun at 7:30AM, and seemed to be for my eyes only. In moments like that I'm reminded of the words from a TED talk by Elizabeth Gilbert ...
the American Poet Ruth Stone told me once that when she was growing up in rural Virginia, she would be out working in the fields, and she said she would feel and hear a poem coming at her from over the landscape. And she said it was like a thunderous train of air. And it would come barreling down at her over the landscape. And she felt it coming, because it would shake the earth under her feet. She knew that she had only one thing to do at that point, and that was to, in her words, “run like hell.” And she would run like hell to the house and she wo…

An offering

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Somewhere in the middle is a trap of the succulent blackberry bushes that smell of freshly pressed wine. The thorn spread wall is a harsh barrier, and the leaves shadowing above keep the light from piercing into the darkness. The blackened berries offer a lip-smaking season abundant with friendly children and children-now-grown-up unable to resist the visible temptation of the bite size treasures while strolling by. Gone are the days of amity and youthfulness, when the heavy clouds settle over the valley like a blanket of drought and abandonment. No longer the buckets clank together near the edge of the woodland flora where hands pluck for the sweet fruit. Instead they complain that the ugly gray underbrush is barren and worthless. Now its offering is forgotten until the next season when again it will offer more than enough.