So, "what do you believe Stacie" PART 3

If you are just joining this blog series, let me give a brief detail of what you will discover. I have written this multi-part series called, "So, "what do you believe Stacie", as a way to share some of my thoughts that have led me to today, for the purpose of helping those who travel and seek as I have, and still do. My reasons for sharing what I believe are not to defend a position; but to instead, awaken further, those who are starting to open their eyes to who they really are.

I came out of an evangelical faith culture, and have now deconstructed and continue to re-construct my faith, leaving the world of fundamentalist thinking and evangelical living aside. I left that world for many reasons, one being, the huge restrictions and boundaries around EVERYTHING, which caused a great divide between me and other hearts, as well as an inability to speak a language that many could hear.

My book is touching so many people, and they are all in such different places on the path of this journey we call life. Different races, faiths, and cultures . . . there are many who are travelling "INTO THE FOREST" to find rest and they are from opposite ends of the spiritual spectrum. If I were still in an evangelical faith based system, I can guarantee none of this would be the case. No one except those inside the church would have read my words and even then, only a select group. The reason? I was taught to only speak one language; division.

LANGUAGE was very important to me as I wrote the book. I wanted ANYONE to be able to read the book and make a connection to where they were in life. And that leads to one of my main beliefs; that ALL peoples are held in the love of Papa God regardless of their place on the path. I hold no division in my beliefs now. We are ALL loved in this life and the next; we are ALL being ministered to by Love Himself now and in the forever.

I wrote my new book (www.therestingtraveller.com) in an open language; a vernacular, that is inclusive and understandable by all walks of life, because I believe that more hearts on this globe need to realize that Love is with them. To me, it matters not what you believe, because Love does not have boundaries, and thus, I wanted my words and pictures to be open that even if you don't believe in the same God I do . . . that you could still see the message of His love on every page.

I speak broadly, leaving the messages to be found by you the reader as a tour guide in a gallery, instead of a teacher giving a lecture in a classroom. That is the beauty of writing in allegory and metaphor: the mind and heart unite to interpret and decipher and connect without the words ever speaking directly or firmly. I didn't want to be the sound of someone giving a theology, but instead someone speaking of an adventure and inviting you to come along.

An example of that, is how I speak of "God". Though I speak of God; whom I also call Papa, He is written in terms of him/her and he/she, and is found to be speaking as characters such as "Raven", "Earth Mother", "The Great Season", and "JR" to name a few. A divine being is presented in broad terms and recognizable images, making it easy for many hearts to connect with the concepts and messages, the main one being that Love is with us at all times, and His mission is to show us who we are.

This Divine Being described in many ways throughout the book, is for ALL of humanity and comes in many forms to reach us in our suffering. This God has no boundaries to stop generous love from finding us. That concept was foreign to me in my years of evangelical church. The God I knew had so many restrictions and boundaries holding back His love, that love itself became almost unrecognizable.

I wanted the Universal Father whom I call Papa, to be seen for who He really is: a Being who is found in all things, able to hold us and care for us—found in the fullness of love and never with any wrath or anger, no matter the situation. I desired to project the image of His greatness aside from the stories that portrayed Him as a monster and have told lies about His kindness. My book was an attempt at unveiling the truth of GOD'S being, to be found as fully and ever loving with no if's, and's, or but's. And that picture; I wanted it to be seen by the groups of people who would otherwise never see Him as such, or who have never known Him to be so good.

I see how varied the path are of those who are connecting with my book, how beautiful each one is in their unique way, with wonder in their unique stories. My ability to speak in larger more open terms has allowed many people to be touched by Love and open up their own story to be furthered along in the forest. My language of openness and care, has allowed for healing to occur and THAT is more than I could ever ask for with paper and ink.

But here's something interesting that has and is occurring as I reach out to those beyond the traditional church: I am becoming blacklisted.

I am followed by people of multiple faiths, varied "gods", and countless beliefs. I have relationships with people from around the world who have wide perspectives on theologies and I engage in their conversation; even learning from them and finding truths and rest within.

And because I converse, commune, and speak to many, because I am followed by people outside of the evangelical circles, and because I share in much of the wisdom given by the tribes around the world; evangelicals and those in a fundamentalist faith systems find that disturbing—they do not like that I am not confined to the box built by them.

Because I can connect with people who follow the teachings of Buddha and even agree with them!, or because I see the wonder in crystals and other amenities from the earth; I am deemed dangerous. They see my unmarked boundaries or rather, no boundaries at all, as a sign to them to put up the defences. Because I do not live in fear anymore of the unknown, and because I am willing to erase all I know to learn more than I have, this scares many in western evangelical circles.

How do I know this? How come I can speak this so clearly and with such confidence?? Because I have been there, I have felt the same things and said the same rhetoric. I have been afraid of things and people I did not understand and I have followed the "rules" simply because I was told to by someone. And so I recognize that fear and the halt in how they now treat me as I emerge as my true self, because I have stood in the same shoes they do. And aside from that, I deal with their divisions each day as they unfriend me, unfollow me, and tell others to do the same. I have lived that world, I understand it very clearly.

Yet, here's the thing; I don't care. :)
To me, my life and the believe I have in Love is that I am hear to show love to ALL whom I meet. Not for purpose of "converting them", but for purpose of showing them a cup of cool water on a journey that can be dry and unforgiving at times. You don't need to be in a special club, or follow certain rules for that to happen with me.

I believe that it doesn't matter what you name God, if you even believe in a god at all . . . Love Himself is big enough to speak to you wherever you are, in whatever you believe, on whatever part of the path you walk. I believe that Love, as I call Him Papa, is big enough to hold you in this temporal life AND the next . . . even if you never say a magical prayer or turn your life towards anything marked faith, hope, or love. I believe God is bigger than death; period. Love breaks every boundary that we as men and women try to erect and He cracks open every prison we put ourselves in.

I believe God manifests on this earth as LOVE, and ONLY love. It is man who has turned His name into a weapon and a tool of fear. I believe that Jesus was the fullness in form of Love, sent to show us how big God was; sent to show us that everything we humans believed about God was inaccurate. Jesus was trying to tell us that the god of Moses they had been following was not the image of His Father at all. Jesus was trying to say, "Look at how forgiving we are, even your hate is met with our Love. We do not return anger for anger, but instead love that covers all things."

I grew up to believe that God was to be feared, that He sent plagues and desired sacrifice from the Old Testament on, until Jesus came and changed Gods mind. . . how absurd. Jesus was sent to show us the very opposite. Jesus was the manifest form of WHO and WHAT love was; completely giving of even His own life for the love of His fellow man; His brothers and sisters. Jesus was what God had to say. He was the image of God; someone who did NOT demand sacrifice, who loved those who were outside of the house of laws; Jesus was someone who held the hands of those that society cast to the side. Basically . . . Jesus came to say "YOU GUYS HAVE BEEN BELIEVING A LIE."

And in those bold words that He proclaimed, He stood for the breaking of all the divisions of religion, and still does today. And YET . . . it is in religion itself; (I speak in broad terms here) that people say Jesus lives. How sad.

I want to show people that Jesus isn't who they think He is. That even if you don't understand who He is, or you want to follow another being and learn from another teacher . . . He doesn't shun you or cast you from His presence. He holds you and embraces you, and His love is SO large, that He can speak to you EVEN if you don't know He is near. He can speak to you in any religion, any path, and any faith; because all He needs is an open heart and open mind.

People are reading my words and though they do not always find their own journey the same in the finite details; they are resonating with the love that is found in each word and the overall understanding of the journey itself. THAT right there; that is success. If more people in this world can travel rested and discover that Papa is with them, that Love embraces them no matter what the journey brings . . . then I have done a job well done. I will continue to erase the boundaries drawn by man for me, and speak openly of the constant molecule of Love that permeates everything around us—and I will do it in a language that appeals to many and is heard by the masses, even if that doesn't draw me favour from the church.

Let us unite and feel the beating of our hearts.
Let us put our hands upon the chest and understand that we are the same; we bleed the same blood.
Let us hold one another close and hear the breath that is constant for us both; in and out.
May we find ourselves in peace no matter the symbol upon our hands.
For we are one. We are the same. Let religion no longer separate our union.

So, "what do you believe Stacie?" PART 2

I began this blog series to express my beliefs, not for those who are asking—for need of seeing if I am worthy, or if I fit into their boxes and expectations. But instead, I want to explain pieces of my faith for those who are in places of seeking a journey beyond what they have been told to believe. I want to speak to those who are questioning everything and perhaps just need to know that someone else is out there and can hear them—that someone else has had the same questions and thoughts and walked the same stones along the path.

Today, I want to share a bit about my past, and how I have chosen a new translation of that language to my future.

One of the biggest regrets I have in my life, are not only some of my previous beliefs, but the actions that I followed through on with those beliefs. Specifically, the judgement I cast on others in all sorts of ways because of the theologies I was being taught and was acting out.

I grew up in an evangelical tradition with very fundamentalist views. A byproduct of that culture, is an "us and them" mentality. A belief that you are somehow better than others, and you have a right to judge the actions and beliefs of others based on your specific theology and "priority" in God's world. There were great big lines of "right and wrong" that were drawn throughout all that I believed.

Though I know my friends still in that world may disagree, I can say these things confidently as someone who lived those beliefs for many, many years. I say it with humility and repentance to those whom I had wounded time and time again—I say these things in wide open examination in hope of change and movement towards greater love and inclusion.

To be fair, that judgement isn't just in church culture, it is in the world as a whole; absolutely. However, the world outside of western evangelicalism in many ways, tends to me much more accepting and tolerant, and a hell of a lot less judgemental when it comes to how they see and treat others who are indifferent to them. Something the western church could learn from the world around them.

You will find on my social media, and in conversations with me, that I have a wide variety of hearts in my life, who in turn, have a wide variety of belief systems. I associate with many different kinds of people and am willing to engage in conversations about what they believe and how it translates to who they are. I have learned much from those who follow the teachings of Buddha, those who use stones to calm their anxieties, and from those who walk without an attachment to a divine being at all.

One of the greatest things I have learned as I deconstruct my beliefs, is how to see more of the beautiful people on this earth as simply that; beautiful. To not tell them they are wrong according to what I believe, but to instead listen and learn a new way to see the world, and perhaps even apply some goodness and truth to my own life; things that I had not previously seen.

This open door, this lack of lines to be drawn in my life . . . it gets me in hot water all the time with certain groups. Some people need for me to affirm specific things to them in order for them to find me acceptable to be "friends" with. They want me to identify as "their" group or "their belief" before they will agree to listen, speak, or have relationship with me. For all of my open doors—there are countless closed and slammed doors I also receive. Being open comes with consequences.

That quick judgement we apply to people, it has a ragged way of dividing and killing. Every time I am judged because I choose to celebrate love and accept ALL in this world, it is a ragged line tearing in-between the relationship of myself and the one who is casting their opinions over me. Every time I share the wisdom of Lao Tzu, Buddha, Rumi, and others, certain people assume I must be "following" those belief systems and have abandoned a particular "truth." If I share a photo that has images other than those deemed "sacred" by some, I am unfollowed and become branded with labels instantly—I become umbrellaed with assumptions . . . and I hate that.

My core belief and truth, that which I use as a guiding light in terms of how I live life, how I treat others and myself; how I look at situations and problem solve—it is love. Four letters with huge implications. I live with a constant mantra that LOVE WINS. Everything is filtered through divine love, and NOT the kind that is pawned off as "justice" or "holiness." There is no wrath, anger, or rejection in the love of the Papa that I have come to know.

I am able to see "God", whom as you can see, I affectionately call Papa, in ALL things; even other belief systems. I believe that He/She can be found in ALL peoples, despite what their situation, their beliefs, their hope and dreams, or even their sexual orientation is. I believe that in ALL religions, Love Himself can and will find us, that His love is big enough to cross all boundaries and all conceptions of who God is—the conceptions that we as man have created and evolved.

Who am I to judge not only WHERE someone is on the path of life, but also HOW Papa can find them? We are all so unique!! We are born into different cultures with different traditions. We have upbringings that include unique histories and stories that shape our minds and spiritual beliefs. The Papa that I have come to know; He is big enough to be seen REGARDLESS of what that looks like.

I have friends in all walks of life, with all kinds of pasts and presents; with beauty in the uniqueness of their beliefs. Diverse faiths, diverse races, diverse identifications of sexuality. I have people near my heart who have opposing beliefs to me, and yet they are beautiful and we find wisdom in each other and can see Love in each of our lives. That diversity is what makes Papa even more appealing to me; because He made that person, and He is with that person in their unique places.

So when I speak of Papa, I speak of a God with no religious boundaries or denominations. I speak of a divine being who has carefully and thoughtfully crafted each of us, and walks with us on our unique path; even those that we as humans do not personally understand. I speak of a God who has no division of groups—those who belong and those who are cast aside. When I speak of Love Himself, I speak of a Universal being who created each who has ever and will ever live; not to judge us, but to hold us and embrace our indifference and our unique way of thinking and living life.

Just as judgement tears away at the fabric of relationships here on earth; the evidence of that in EVERY city and on EVERY newscast, so would judgement tear away at the relationship of the divine to the humanity if it was applied. Papa cannot hold judgement in His character and His actions towards us, for it would rip apart our relationship. The teachings that many religions tout sadly, is that exactly! That God has or is going to judge us, and in that, we are brought to a place in the divine/human relationship that is not deep and wide, and instead flat and fearful.

By seeing and knowing Papa as fully embracing to me, that He is not counting anything against me just as the world does; I am able to in turn, see my fellow man in the same light—fully accepting and honouring each, no matter what path they walk.

Judgement against man for simply finding their way in a world that is harsh and cold, for being lost in suffering at times and doing all that we can to find rest; even things that are not good for us, that is not something Papa carries within Him. He desires that we find rest and happiness, daily working for our best interest, that His love would be seen fuller and brighter for each step we take. He walks with us in the dirty stuff we bring upon ourselves and that which is poured over us by others. Yet He does not pick up a stone and cast it along side; He instead draws near and holds us, telling us, "I stand here with you."

If you need to judge, judge only your own thoughts and actions, for those are the only things you are in charge of. And if you need a friend, then here I am. I will embrace you no matter what you believe, I will stand with you when stones are thrown at you. But please know, I expect that you too will embrace me as well, with no labels or boxes that I must fit in. May you see me the same way Papa does; just as I am . . . beautiful and wonderfully made.

So, "what do you believe Stacie" PART 1

I fit no boxes. I can't be slapped with a certain label. I hold fast to no theology in full. I take no stance in one belief. And yet . . . I do have a solid belief and understanding in certain things. How is that for a "position". LOL

But people still ask, "what do you believe Stacie?" And I am forced to somehow explain my thoughts. 99% of the time the people who ask me this are those from within western Christianity. They want a map, an outline; a division of my beliefs. My answers always boil down to one word; Love, but that one word to many, is just not good enough. They want to know the lines and the borders. I don't have a lot of those anymore, I left that way of thinking when I left religion.

I thought perhaps I should write this series to explain my faith not to those who ask the question for need of seeing if I am worthy and if I fit in their boxes, but instead, I want to explain my faith for those who are still in religious boxes and are peeking out, beginning to see that Love Himself is beyond the box. I want to speak to those who are questioning everything and perhaps just need to know someone else out there can hear them and been where they are.

I grew up in evangelical teachings and that had been my whole life. I have a story. One that I share pieces with here and there. You can listen to part one of a podcast called MINDSHIFT where I share some of my thoughts. I wrote a book called, "The Resting Traveller, Into The Forest" where in poetry, allegory, metaphors, and stories, you see some of my beliefs and how I see "God" now. (I will touch on this a bit further down as well.)

But my thoughts are constantly evolving, as our my beliefs, EXCEPT for the largest and CORE belief; the one that I learned when leaving religion:  God is fully love with no exceptions, no loopholes, no divisions or segregations. He embraces ALL, not just some—with no rules of how that happens.

As my book is finding its way into more and more hands and hearts, as I am stepping out into the world of media and being interviewed, there is need for me to dive in further and share more behind the book and the backstory of my faith. There is need to share "what I believe" not for MY benefit, and honestly, not for the benefit of most people who are reading this. It is for the benefit of all those who are thinking of getting wet and leaving religion, KNOWING deep down there is more than what they have been seeing.

I don't need to defend my position because really, I just don't care anymore. :)  But I do need to share so that anyone out there who is where I have been . . . might be brave enough to come along and travel beyond religion into a deep, beautiful relationship that is actually free of yokes; not just in word but in deed.

Those who want the divisions and the boundaries of my beliefs, in order that they can decide if they should "follow me" . . . this that I write isn't for them. Though I am sure it will help them stay clear and tell everyone what a heretic I am. LOL

Some of my beliefs are found in my book. The Resting Traveller is about identity; of ones self and the God of love. It begins outside a forest where the character finds herself in deep suffering facing rejection, abandonment, loss, and loneliness. Great love begins to show Himself to her; allegorical writings that are open to the heart and mind to speak of the wonder of Love Himself.

The character is invited to travel into a mystical forest to discover the truth of her being; by first unveiling the truth of GODS being. It is a healing journey; it is a raw journey. The book ends with chapters that point her towards picking up old dreams and dusting off the treasures she left behind as religion told her they weren't for her. She finds her destiny . . . she is completely unveiled and transformed captured by a new love without the laws of man found in religion.

I have lived in fear for a long time. One of those fears were of the consequences of being my true self in a religion that was so easily judgemental and in rejection of those not found holy and in line with their "truths". My journey Into The Forest was a wandering through my fears to be faced with my beauty. I saw how marvellous the depths of me was, and I am learning to stand in the freedom of just living in the perfection of who we are and in the love that a divine Creator pours over us. I am learning that I need to be more ME, so that more people will see their own beauty.

Part of that, is this blog post and those that will follow. It is time for me to unleash more of my beauty; unleash words that reflect love and ONLY love.

I have this picture of a swimming pool in my head, and I stand on the edge of the diving board. I am scared to dive in, because once I do . . . there is no going back. Diving in, means fully releasing what I see and who I am—diving in means making a big splash that many will feel. Diving in means that I rise from the deep to find faces staring at me; either in applause and gratitude or display and rejection. It means that once I begin to share the depths of my understanding of who God is, I will certainly face harsh criticism and abandonment from certain communities.

Prior to this; I cared a lot about that. Now . . . not so much. It is time to dive in and share the stories of how religion twisted the great message of Love given by Papa God. I can't just write the book and leave it there. I am going to slowly unveil more and more here in the blog.

I now take the leap off the diving board and I choose to dive in speaking my beliefs outright and forthcoming. Not to defend; but to enlighten. To stir the waters; to do a cannon ball into the deep end and know that people are going to get wet.

I am going to show you the core of who I am and what I believe and you as the reader . . . you can take it or leave it. You can stand there as I jump off the board and take the splash with welcome and a desire to get fully wet too, OR . . . you can be disgusted that you got your garments wet with my beliefs and walk away cursing. Either way; I will dive. No matter what; I will rise and breathe in good clean life to my lungs and go under the waters of great Love for all, found in the name of Jesus and Papa. Regardless, I care for you and will not hold ill your decisions in my heart.

So, this is PART 1 of many. Stay tuned, only if you want to get wet.
Stacie Rae

My Own #metoo

I have my own #metoo story. A small one compared to the tragedy of many other stories yes, but a big consequence in telling it, a large ripple when I dropped my rock into the pool.

People don't always know how to handle it when you tell them that someone growing in the family tree has been inappropriate with you in a sexual manner. It brings feelings of defence, shame, confusion and anger. Natural emotions that unfortunately too often become directed at the victim instead of the abuser—natural emotions that cloud the lines of right and wrong.

An elderly woman I know, recalls her own journey through sexual abuse at the hands of her father. She iterates to me the painful memories of telling her mother about the abuse she was enduring; to find herself punished, shamed, scorned, and left in even more situations with her father . . . and effort to prove that this young girl was making it all up.

When rumours of other children being molested at the hands of her father surfaced, even having an enraged member of the community confront her father, this woman's mother still did not step in to protect and defend. Instead, she ignored the problem further by pretending not to hear her daughter cries when father would grab her in the kitchen as mother folded laundry on the line. Her mother even blaming her daughter for the abuse, it was her looks and young appearance that was an evil temptation.

To this day, this woman finds it difficult to have healthy relationships with men, for the model of a true man who was kind, respectful, and honouring was never something she was witness and participant to in her lifetime. Even in her marriage, she was physically abused and treated as an object. She suffers from identity issues and self worth, no concept of the truth of who she is as a valued, treasured being.

I can totally relate to the shame and the scorning as I came out with my story of being touched inappropriately. A man with place at the family table had repeatedly, and ever so casually, touched me in the backside and on the breasts. Just enough to not cause suspicion and to still be considered innocent—just enough to make the hairs on my entire body stiff as I felt helpless and backed into an awkward corner made of family obligation.

I decided to share of this event with a member of the family tree looking for an ear to hear and also a warning of what was occurring. . . my plea was dismissed, my story and my personhood were vilified. In circles of gossip and underground talks, I became the abuser somehow. My story became the knife to the family and I was cast with all kinds of labels including liar, trouble maker, and untrustworthy. People began to look at ME strangely. People began to hover around this branch on the family tree to protect him from me . . . it was the most upside down behaviour.

"It's simply not possible, he is this in the community and he has done all that for so many!" No one would look at this man in any other light than perfect and holy, it was me who was dirty and in need of reprimand. It was me who was inappropriate, for how dare I say such a thing.

From that moment, I had to stand taller than ever before, because I had to be part of a family tree who were speaking behind my back and ignoring my truths . . . I had to be on guard as one lonely warrior, brave enough to say "No, your hands do not belong there" and still sit at the family table and eat with my oppressors and my abuser.

But then a friend said something I will never forget. She said, "Even though they are ignoring this and refuse to believe you, you can bet your last dollar that they are going to watch their little girls closer, and eye ball his hands when they are near."  It was a small comfort that at least a seed had been planted that could potentially stop any further abuse, however great or small.

And that was the key for me. That was my #metoo right there. The movement is all about encouraging others to stand up and say "NO. You will not do that" because someone dared to say, "#metoo."

So for every little girl and each elderly woman, and all the tender hearts in between, to those who have found themselves in situations where another human has asserted their own sexual desires over the boundaries and barriers of love and decency . . . this is my #metoo.

For my own truth and the trauma of being innocent and yet devised as guilty, to my bravery and my strength to stand amid shadows . . . to me I write this and I say #metoo.

I Will Travel Rested Now

A roaring traveller. That has been me for far too many seasons.

A crazed, overdriven, tight rope walking maniac, knowing that much was at my fingertips, yet madly unable to feel it regardless of the pressure or the pushing I applied.

No matter where I looked, no mirror could reflect the me I knew to be inside, thick dense shadow marred the view, skewed the reflection. I was lost in suffering and sorrow.

That same mirror gave tragic distinction to the image of God as well, what I have been told about his nature is the wrong shape for the hole he has in his hands and his heart. He is more than they say, he cannot be who they claim...

I walked the paths before me, I explored the caves below me.

I even climbed the heights that I may soar the skies above me.

And yet, I have been unable to find that which I searched for:

Me, the me beyond the veil... him, the God behind the stories.
I roar in frustration, for when will I find that which I seek?

Let fear find me; for I will face it with desperation, it is time to know my truths.

Let pain rain down; I will embrace it, it is time to understand my every place.

Let lack be released; I will invite it, for the lower I lay, the higher I have to rise.

I am ready, not to be transformed, but to be unveiled; the layers to be removed, layers that only reflect shadows. The haze found in fire, fire that burns images that hold heaviness of lies and lack endless love.

I journey towards IDENTITY, of my maker and my self.

His heartbeat is a song that I once knew; I will learn the tune again, and I will sing in my own voice.

His face a taste of kindness; I will discover how sweet.
His hands a blanket I am warmed by; I will allow Love to hold me, and share love in my own stitches.
I will find me... as I find him.

Shackled to Answers

Growing up, education was about being drilled with the information at hand, an expectancy to reiterate and duplicate the process was high priority. Memorize, conform, and follow. If you asked a question as to "why", or "how", you would be looked upon as disobedient and unwilling to follow directions. The teachers were always right, it was up to us to only listen and regurgitate when prompted; prompted to give the "right" answer and be praised, or give the "wrong" answer and be disciplined. 

The culture of religion I was raised in was basically the same; listen and obey. If you asked a question that put the system and their leaders into a position of feeling unsure or challenged, you were labeled as "rebellious". Questions of "why" or "what about" were quickly brushed under the carpet, or blanketed with confident, yet rust destroyed statements that did nothing but enforce a strict "do not ask, only believe" society. The establishment was also always right, just as my school educators were, and it was up to us within the four walls of "church" to listen and regurgitate when prompted. The "right" answer brought you further up the ladder, while the "wrong" answer had you standing on the ground looking up feeling very alone. Those who made it to the ladder, well, we fondly and oh so humbly looked down to those not yet as "spiritual" as us. Wow, what an idiot I was.

I learned quickly as a child that my questions and desire to look beyond the box brought heartache, that my curiosity and childlike faith was dangerous to my survival. I frequently became chastised by my queries and concerns and found myself feeling torn and confused. In order to lessen the pain, I devised that I would follow blindly—follow wholly, be the white sheep necessary in order to fool the gatekeepers into still feeding and caring for me, even though I was clearly black on the inside. And to be honest, I think it worked. For years I convinced myself that I was doing the "right" things, that I was on the "right" side of the fence, that I was being taught and teaching the "right" messages. There were times when my black wool would show through and I would roar like a lion at the injustice and the foolishness of it all, only to have to zip up my coat quickly and go back to pretending my true colours were really pure and that I belonged in the pen with everyone else.

As I reflect now, I do think I chose the wrong way back then... I should have stood up more to the stick of staunch rhetoric and the whip of expected obedience and suffered more of the consequence than I did. I should have said, "Screw you" more often in protecting myself and looked deeper into the things I thought about, rather than indulge in the sick rotten food being placed before me. I let my stomach be fed with what I knew deep down were lies; I knew that love didn't really look as it was being presented.

I lost my true self somewhere along the way in the attempt to fit in and be accepted, in the attempt to not be beaten by the cruel taskmaster of conformity. Perhaps, had I made my bed differently, I would not have been such a jerk to people in my younger more foolish days—blind as to the depth and realities of life beyond the shadows of authority that haunted me. And perhaps even more, I would have been able to live a life of greater peace and understanding for more than just a few years now.

The lack of freedom to explore my faith, my spirituality, and my whole self, all stemmed from fear. It was fear of a generation that was at the time, being exposed to a lot of new ideas all at once. Fear cultured within a religion that was being taught to fear God; that fear trickled into all the cracks about God and about ourselves. I grew up in fear.

Humanity’s questions that roar like a lion and cower like a lamb within the soul will never go away. Throughout time we have had this innate desire to learn and grow. We have searched to know more, see more, do more, be more... it is in our very nature to adventure and discover. Our eduction systems have changed and we now pursue true understanding, we strive to teach our children to think critically and outside of the any box that tries to grow around them. And yet for some reason, in religions that claim to follow The Christ, too many are still trying to side-step the greatness of questions. Traditional evangelicalism is still dragging its feet and fearing everything that comes to the light. Too many Christians are being led to fear the questions about their beginnings and their ends, to fear the middle middle of their lives; the heart and beautiful depth of why we live.

This is why I broke a few years ago, because the questions took over, the balance of discovery and query were not in sync, and fear was holding each side captive. My middle, my living of life was dying because I was not free to search for what held me here.

Questions lead to knowledge. Knowledge leads to wisdom. Wisdom leads to understanding. Understanding leads to love, and all the qualities that burst from love's bosom. This was a truth I had to understand in order to begin the quest to start thinking for myself, the quest towards rest within.

The journey towards seeing my true self as I see the true heart of God, has created a landslide inside me. I have broken apart everything I thought I knew, deconstructed everything I was taught and was told was right. Turns out, nothing is right. Because "right" doesn't mean anything when you search for truth and freedom in love. Being "right" is just a weapon of mass destruction for a soul on this earth. Love is a healing salve that frees the soul and expands its ability to live in rest. 

I don't need to have an answer to a question, as long as there is freedom to ask it and explore its boundaries. I realized, that it's never been about the answers, its been about the shackles. 

We all want to understand who we are, where did we come from, and what does the Creator look like. We want to know why we have tragedy and sorrow and why we must endure death. We ask these things and many others because it is in our nature to do so. We were created to be searchers; created to explore. 

I am not alone in my attempt to break these things down and solve the universal mysteries that lie within the human heart; nor am I alone in failing. The Buddhist, the Islamic, the Christian nor the Jew, none can answer the fundamental queries that lie within. But one big difference is, some of us are willing to ask the hard stuff, even being ok to not receive the answers, while others will never dare whisper a sentence that ends with a question mark.

Come-Passion

Compassion is a prayer that my heart is drawn to pray.

There is simplicity in compassion; kindness is not complex.

“Come” - “Passion”

Compassion

Compassion is a choice, it is a desire, and She is a being that can fill our souls.

When we call upon her, we are inviting her to come and stir our hearts,

to become passionate about the requests that sit in heavens files.

We are inviting peace and love to be the meal that we partake of.

We are invited to share in the burden of sorrow and bear the weight of pain.

When we have compassion on the least,

on the weary and fragile pilgrims;

we are feeding them life bread and serving them the finest aged wine.

Let generosity and kindness always be served at our table,

let us cry out for passion to come to our feast!

Let us resolve that our very lives will be a bounty that many can partake in;

our Father so freely gives, may we follow his footsteps and give passion a seat.

Lead us to the hem of Compassions garment, that we may touch her fringe 

and begin to taste the generosity she has to offer.

I Will Not Cast My Presence From You

Sometimes to become a Resting Traveller on the journey of life, we must allow afford the embrace of difficult things. Questions that have no answers, theologies that don't align with the heart; we have to dare to look upon them—we have to be brave enough to consider value might be within them. Today I challenge the heart in order to walk further in rest. I want to travel with eyes to see all angles and be open to learn that which may be difficult.

I begin with a little story for today...

Once upon a time, for that is how all stories begin, there was a young woman. Only age of 16, she delivered a baby boy. No one knows for sure how that young woman became pregnant; the boy next door perhaps took advantage of her, her own father abusing his role in her life... or was she just lonely and found comfort in the physical nature of a man. Yet, we know that a child was born from her young womb. One could imagine she was scared and full of fear, so young and about to bring life into the world; life she was barely understanding at such a young age.

One could wonder if she didn't want that child, he remained nameless for weeks; why was no founding statement of his identity given quickly? Was he not worthy of a title to bear? Well, it is a wonder, not fact here in this story... let us continue.

The young woman married shortly after the birth of this child to a man who worked as a labourer. It is hard to tell how that relationship was, but knowing how hard it is to raise a child and be a wife and mother; one could say times were stressful, especially for such a young soul.

The boy-child was not safe within a home at all times, not raised in the boundaries of consistent love and contentment, no... this boy was passed to foster homes, given away, and sent to group homes over and over. His mother found guilty from a string of unlawful behaviour, he was put into situations repeatedly that no child should be found in. And in each place he lay his head to sleep, I have to wonder if he himself was taken advantage of, if he was abused or found without the nourishment of food, water, and love? Children who are transferred in foster homes find themselves with severe mental illness a great majority of the time, the trauma of abandonment and rejection bears deep wounds to their souls... I bet this child would be no different.

This sad little boy, being sent away over and over, decided one day to break away from the group home and run back to his mother; run away in order to find the heart who birthed him, for she was out of jail and could receive him! ... He was rejected by that heart, his mother refused to allow him access to her heart or her life. She tried to release him to the courts and into their possession; he was devastated as any young soul would be.

No home, no sense of belonging; this little lonely boy began to take care of himself in the only means he had; theft and the secrets of the night. But what about his heart? How did he take care of the deepening wounds of the heart, soul, and mind? Was there anyone for him? Was anyone there to show him he mattered in a world that told him he didn't?

Darkness covered his eyes and heart, he began to live a life in the shadows in order to survive. Stealing the wealth of others to buy food for his belly, robbing from the innocent to provide shelter for his body. Darkness grew and hatred interrupted his innocence daily as he had to care for himself; alone. Soon, he was not just taking what was not his; he was killing lives that were not his. His anger and sadness grew so large it overtook his innocence and became a thief to his own life.

The little lost boy just needed to be loved. He needed to be valued enough to be given a name in jubilation of his birth; not necessity of the courts. He was just a little boy who wanted to ride his bike down the street and learn to spell his name in school. A small child who liked to play toy cars and desired to run into his mothers arms and be found in her warm embrace... a child; a baby.

This child; this was Charles Manson. In the story he was so humanized; that was his story, his life. He may have grown to be a monster, but he was born a prince. Everyone comes from somewhere. We all are born in the innocence of life, yet life is not always innocent to us.

We have no right to condemn him to hell, for he already lived it here, and in a world where faith trumps darkness, where we proclaim God to be big enough to save; we must also agree that even the darkest of hearts has a child within, and perhaps it is because of those around that child, that he became dark as he did. We too are responsible for the shadI wiows of this world, we contribute to the madness when we do not love the least of these, as Jesus said. And I believe that God is big enough to handle the mess of Charles' life, that God is loving enough to hold his darkness and peel away the layers to hold the once small child and say, "I am here. You are not alone. I will not cast my presence from you."

Wildly Frazzled

Have you ever felt as though some force beyond your vision and control is pushing against you away from peace? That you are fighting a battle and losing?  Today... that is my today.

Just when I thought my book was smoothly on its way at the publisher, just when I was making all the decisions for my book and seeing the hope of my words becoming a physical entity—all was removed, all has crumbled.

Circumstances beyond my control have changed the course of my publishing journey; I am left to begin again. And I am wildly frustrated, I am wildly angered and frazzled.

Yet, in the middle of the chaos that circles me like a tiger in the amazon, though I feel as prey who sits in a puddle of cold fear just trying to guard my every emotion and move forward... I make choices in this moment—I choose to rest.

Rest isn't easy. Peace isn't simple. You cannot just purchase or acquire these things as one does when picking up milk from the grocery store. Rest is a process, a culmination of choices that leads to confidence, understanding; a release of the things that bog us down through the process of surrendering to moments like this, instead of fighting them.

I don't want to feel frustrated, instead, I want to push away my anger, worry, and stress. And the only way to accomplish those goals is to agree to walk forward within them. To experience them in proper measure and then set them down on the ground for their purpose is completed, they no longer need to be held by me. 

I think that too often we run from the feelings and the moments, which leaves them attached to us longer. Its almost as if they are unable to be freed from us until we acknowledge them. The question then arises, "What if we embrace the pain and give it boundaries... could we perhaps learn from those sufferings, learn from the frustration and fear?" If I agree to use those times to learn about myself, I am willing to bet that the next time I am faced with the same kind of moments—they won't be so hard.

So today, as I sit here wondering how in the world my book is going to come alive with all this opposition, I choose to remain for a while in this yucky feeling, that I may grow and be changed, that I would learn about me and uncover new layers of myself in the process. And I choose to trust in the process, allowing this time to benefit me; to become a stepping stone that takes me higher.

The Heart Leads

There is a calling and a challenge, a hope that all travellers will hear upon their trail.
This call will sound off and ring true in the deep places that lay dormant within,
awakening ones true self from slumber.

The way to find all that you seek is to wander where your heart will lead.
Your pain cannot lead... your sorrow cannot navigate.
Only your heart, which in its wisdom will use pain and sorrow not for its direction, but for its fuel.

You must listen to the heart as it ushers you through suffering.
You must agree with your feet as they tread through the pain of memory's past.
For if you do, there will be rest from the weariness, solace in the searching, truth in the reflection.

Relax, Enter, Surrender, and Trust the journey... REST in the places the heart leads you to.
Follow the call, awaken from sleep, rest in what you journey in.

The Harbour

"Let down your sail, and anchor within the safety of the harbour."

There may be a storm inside, it may feel as though everything is raging and your ship may soon be found at the bottom of the sea. Destruction surrounds, the great swells of life are ready to swallow you, their powers feel greater than you.

It is a signal to look for the lighthouse and find your way to shore,

it is a signal to find the safety of the harbour.

We can't always run from the chaos, sailing away forever is not possible on the seas of life. There is a time we must learn to let down the sail, throw the anchor overboard, and wait for the calm waters; we must be alone in the boat with our own breath, our own thoughts, our own suffering.

When the heart is overwhelmed with anger and sorrow, confusion and illusion, the sea around us will rage, our trouble fierce in magnitude. If we cannot let go of control and face our darkness, if we cannot embrace our pain and allow the sufferings of life to heal and nourish us; they will instead destroy us. The storm will still rage, our boat will break, our sails will tear.

If we do not find our way to rest, towards the light that leads to the harbour where our sails will safely lower and our anchor firmly fall, then we may find ourselves lost at sea, or perhaps, our ship badly damaged and sunk to the bottom of the deep.

Let us embrace our suffering, facing it with courage.

Let us settle in the harbour and spend time with the Lighthouse; that the light of LOVE would not only lead us to the shore, but shine truth upon our darkness and lead us to peace within, lead us to calm waters.

Let us remain anchored in the weight of this one deep truth, that we ARE NOT ALONE.

We are held safe in the hands of Papa no matter the suffering storm that rages around us.

Let down your sail, and anchor within the safety of the harbour.

My Urban Peasant

Food... I'm not the kind of person who is all over food, I basically eat because I have to... but I love to make fabulous food for my family and others to enjoy, because I love them, and they love food! I don't use recipes, I find them restricting and stifling, so instead I use a little INSPIRATION.

Though my mother cooked supper each night and I grew up with family all around who make everything from scratch, though I had a Grandmother who was a chef and catered many events and I was given many skills through each of these beautiful people... I didn't learn the majority of my abilities from any of them; I learned my cooking skills and passion for the kitchen from a man named James Barber - The Urban Peasant.

Everyday I would watch his TV show that aired on CBC, and that same day I would use his techniques, his confidence and his inspiration as my own, experimenting on my family and friends. I can even remember pretending I had my own cooking show, talking to an invisible camera, feeding an invisible TV audience. James had me sitting in complete attention each day ready to absorb all that he gave.

This man was simple and humble, living as himself with no mask or fake TV personality. He was the real deal, I felt so comfortable with him in our home every day through the television, I felt that if I ever were to meet him, he would give me a giant hug and say, "Lets go make something great".
He lived from 1923-2007, a truly great Canadian influence with his passion to show the world how easy it was to dine like a king with only pennies in the pocket; hence the name, Urban Peasant.

James Barber taught me the easiest way to crush garlic, chop an onion and fix a mistake by being quick to remove the barriers of what you are supposed to do and instead do what your gut tells you to do. Start where you are, use what you have, do what you can. He gave me the tools to blend flavours using common sense and enlightened me to the beauty in everyday ingredients all with his carefree charm and big bold smile.

He would take something like chicken and say, "Now, what are we going to do with this chicken?" He would then look around his cupboards and fridge and pull out a whole barrage of items and begin the magic of being inspired. And for me, it was as though he was handing me a key for a lifetime of dreaming through the simplicity of food. I am able to make something from nothing not only in my kitchen, but in my life, and that is in great part because of his true self that he showed on camera and shared with the world.

Something he didn't know, and could never have known, is that I not only learned how to cook because of him, but I learned how to live because of him. He taught me one of the best ingredients that can be found today; an ingredient that is readily available but not always used... INSPIRATION. There's that word again. I walked away from his show everyday with confidence to be inspired by all that surrounded, to create no matter how little I had to work with, to be inspired by the ordinary. With a sprinkle of lessons in humble living that he exuded with each waddle he took to the fridge, each smile he gave to the camera, and the idea that anything can be made extraordinary with inspiration... he changed me.

Something that I recently found out had me giggling and smiling in a sense of wonder. James Barber, The Urban Peasant, was born on March 23... the same day I was. It was another little connection of the soul with the intricate threads woven in my life's tapestry. I am willing to bet that Papa has shared a picture of me with James, to show James the depth his life had on the world; my world. To know we had the same birthday makes me feel I am part of a greater thing, the strands of my life really do add up to become a whole picture.

Besides being gifted with inspiration, and besides being able to see beauty in the little things and make kingdoms out of coal, I can say that the way I see humanity has also been changed in great part because of James, because of my Urban Peasant.

The same way James would see simple oranges, or common garlic, the way he would vivaciously exclaim that they were not ordinary but instead full of robust flavour just waiting to be paired with the right companion, this is the way I see us, the beautiful humans who roam this earth today. Though there are unfortunate hierarchy systems and status levels of poor and rich, skinny and overweight, ugly and pretty, gay or straight... (the list of division just rages rampant)... I am choosing to live with eyes that do not see anyone as greater or different, but instead as equal and unique.  I don't want to see some people as common and others as more valuable, I want to see all of us as unique ingredients that when inspiration meets us, we can create exquisite flavours that bring joy to the world around us, creating an environment that more people will want to experience; perhaps they will want to sit at our table and dine with us.

I desire a world where we can each see the true self within and outwardly, and becomes inspired to live that out fully. That we would live simply and humbly together, all hearts united to create a better place for those who will follow us for generations to come. Those who are homeless, those who are ill, the ones who are struggling with mental illness... they are part of this beautiful world, they are family and they are no different than those of us who do not carry those burdens... those of us who have our own burdens to bear, burdens of different natures but with the same heavy weight. There is no us and them, we are the same, only different in our sufferings.

Each of us is a unique ingredient within the great kitchen of life and we need unite on the kitchen counter, out of the cupboard and blend together in harmony with the understanding that inspiration will absolutely without a doubt... create a beautiful thing upon the metaphorical table.

Thank you James. Thank you for sharing your true self with us, with me. Our world is a better place because of you.

James Barber 1923-2007

Life Does Not Fear Death

We have a choice as to how our sufferings are used,
will they define us or refine us?

Our pain can become a transforming organic material used to graft us into new life,
it can be used to create a rich bed for our seeds to grow... or,
our pain can further bury us in the darkness we face, becoming a snare that binds us in sorrows and halts us from becoming who we, we become trapped deep underneath our suffering.

Suffering may be feared as an enemy of this life...
let us be reminded, the life that rises from the ash is far greater in strength and more ferocious than sorrow we face.
Life does not fear death; it welcomes it.

Yet something we forget far too often,
which allows fear to enter our mind and suffering to show its shadow larger than its bite...
We do not venture in our sufferings alone,
our pain is not felt only by our secret places...

Alongside us walks a gentle companion who bears all that we do.
We are not travellers abandoned to journey alone.
We are embraced, comforted, joined, and enjoyed along the journey we embark upon.

Papa God, The Mystery; he walks with us... Earth mother hears and she comforts us.

I choose for today to embrace my pain knowing it will heal me,
the sour death I taste will bring me life, will ferment into a fine wine.

I walk not alone, but surrounded; I am held, safe.

The Broken Way

This particular picture, it speaks as a trumpet to the silence for me.

Things may look broken, the pathway crumbling and the foundation possibly unable to hold the weight of that which passes; but possibility holds the chance of success. For with care in their steps, one could still proceed, with gentle whispers one could still cross safely.

With wisdom and courage, we can cross the hard times and find ourselves upon the dock, ready to be picked up by the vessel of change that will carry us over calm and even treacherous waters, the ship of change will carry us wherever we choose to go.

But first, we must reach the dock, the point where the vessel of change can reach us; away from the shore, away from the comfort we are surrounded by. Embrace the pain, embrace the suffering, take a step upon the broken and find your way to the ship.

Visit pinterest for the original article this photo came from.

https://www.pinterest.ca/therestingtraveller/embracing-pain/

The road from EXPANSION

How about some insight into where I am heading now that the first book is written, and some perspective into the back closet of conversations had within myself and to others. I invite you to sit at the table with me and a few other guests to see what is prepared for me the author, and you the reader in this next year. Its a bit long, but I ask for more than the tradition 20 seconds of interest found in our world today before you move on to the next webpage.

Here is a conversation I had with some close friends, wound between my thoughts today. Its part of the journey I walk, and I know you do too.


"Something really scary happened today" I said. "Something I knew was coming but didn't want to admit...here it is...
I continued, "The next book I write in The Resting Traveller series is NOT about the topic I had previously thought and had been preparing for, though that one is coming someday soon I am sure... instead, the next book is to be released SHORTLY AFTER my first book.... as a self guided, reflective study guide to be paired with, Into The Forest, the book I just wrote".

Welcome to my table reader, currently seated alongside us, you will find fear, shock, honour, excitement and dilemma, though fear is hogging most of the seats at this point. During the beta testing period of my publishing journey, comments were increasingly made that there was need for a study guide, though I was choosing to be deaf to those suggestions. I wanted my book to just provide a framework for personal reflection that could be found within their own closets of contemplation, for my readers to use my book as a way to see their own story and walk accordingly. I felt, that if I were to draw the lines of what I personally interpret and see with any type of study or devotion or guide, that I would be doing a great dis-service to the artwork painted upon each page. Art is meant to be studied uniquely, to personally prompt discussion of the heart, promptings that will be different to each one who stands before the canvas. That is when Papa reminded me, that a good tour guide within the gallery, will bring the audience to the piece upon the wall or the stand, and point out the important factors while alluring the crowd with questions that invoke further possibility within the soul. I need to be a good tour guide of the book within my hands. I hold a gallery, I must not let anyone wander through without the possibility for a hand to hold.

I continued to tell my friends,
"Since the completion of the book, I am continually meeting people in need of what Papa God had shared with me, I give them a copy of the manuscript because their sorrow is now, they are in need of medicine now, unable to wait for the printer to complete its work upon the press. I invite them to become yet another "beta reader" thinking my task was complete as I handed out my gift to them. I was unaware that what I had shared with them was also a map to a journey that some of them didn't know how to take alone. They were in the art gallery without a tour guide, they were about to wander around with no idea where to start, no suggestions of how to see the portraits and sculptures and poetry within the walls. I am irresponsible to share with the world this gift without also giving them the tools to unwrap it".

I have no choice, I must follow the leading of Papa and write the study, my journey in the forest is not yet complete. Have I introduced you to fear? It is seated right next to me now, and it smells. Fear is a shadow I have walked with for many years, and here it sits next to me at my table, among highly honoured guests stinking up the place. My apologies to you all.

"You see" I say, "If write the study, I am no longer just an artist painting a picture that you the reader can interpret, no longer just an artist with her works upon the wall for anyone to visit and walk away with their thoughts...if I write the study I would then become; A TEACHER."
Why does that scare me?? Because writing a piece that allows the reader to come to their own conclusions and guiding them with insight is an entirely different thing. One holds me accountable only to the level you the reader interpret, the other, holds me in a position directly, for I am leading you directly to certain conclusions, pointing out specific colours and shapes within the pages. It brings possible increase to the name calling I already anticipate. Names that could hurt, wounds created with ignorant voices that prefer to speak rather than listen. And that is not really what I would choose if I had a choice. Pain is something I would prefer not to invite upon myself, I just walked through a large chunk of suffering and the break from it has been nice.

"I am asking for MORE trouble by agreeing to this, agreeing to become a further "trouble maker" as I have been so firmly labeled many times. And yet here today, I hear those audible promptings from Papa, it is time to OBEY, which in latin means to: hear, listen, follow. It is time to OBEY, and BEGIN." At the start of this year, a close friend asked me what my word for the year was, what word did I hear from Papa that I could lean on and be encouraged by all year. When I told her my word she said without hesitation, "I think we need to pray about that, because it doesn't sound right for someone who is trying to learn rest". LOL. I had been in a season of learning to rest. A time of discovering how to calm the mind, body and spirit during times of chaos, and the word I heard was a little opposite sounding to the nature of rest.

The word given to me? The word I journaled and pondered with deep intensity for my understanding of it was in severe lack: EXPANSION. EXPANSION defined is: becoming larger or more extensive. Growth, increase in size. Broadening. All things that to me are shocking, as I had no idea one could find such growth in a time of rest. I felt shocked at the new places I would be moving for the year, and excited to see the reality of such a word. Oh there you are shock and excitement, are you enjoying the wine? Shock, maybe if you sit beside fear you could invoke your own kind of shadow upon it, give it a good shake. Im sure excitement would like to see that too!
I continued to tell my friends deeper details of this new word and promise, laying out a map of where I had been with it, and where Papa was taking me. "You all know I like to art journal, its my place every now and then to release what I feel, and document the journey through art and text, colour and design. Looking at the day I journaled about EXPANSION, there was an obvious message that continued in the pages to follow.
After EXPANSION, I wrote a simple expression of 3 words, an explosive message directly after the call to expand: FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS."

I unknowingly was creating a page that reflected the plans of Papa, reflected the plans of my true self. Part of the expansion was the step of dreaming, awakening those parts of me and following them. My journal was becoming a place for my soul to be unleashed, my true self unveiled.

Turning the pages I began to walk forward to clear understanding that at the time I had no idea was even woven within. I continued to share with my support team, "Turn the page again and you will find the word RETURN. I wrote about being a child and I drew childlike pictures. I was RETURNING to my true self, RETURNING to the child Stacie and the gifts and beauty I was given as a that child."
Here I sit absorbing what God is sharing and all I can think is... I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING. I have written a book, a book that was simply me pouring out what was inside in a transparent way. I just let the words be vulnerable, the love be free, the passion be true, and here those same words are being used to do the very thing I have longed to see happen in my life... they are healing people... they are healing me. EXPANSION, DREAM, RETURN. Three words that are driving me, changing me, unveiling me.

But of course, I cannot just simply accept those words, no, my heavy humanity calls out for doubt and shame to take the last seats at the table and I am filled with sour aroma, the only words now upon my tongue are "For who I am?? What little that I have could anyone want? You are nothing, no one will want this book, your words are powerless, YOU are powerless." This table is overcrowded now, this wine is so sour.

I know you, my reader have been right where I am. You have had the darkness pulled away and seen the marvellous light, you've walked forward to find the lost story of your heart... to only cover yourself back up, the feelings of unworthiness shrouding you, convincing you to cower to a position of retreat.

It was this part of my story that I was reminded by a friend of mine to look at my true reflection once again, her words piercing me like arrows, halting the ill mannered dinner guests with three words... WHY NOT YOU?

She began her shots from the quiver with this: "In prayer this morning, God told me your heart is the heart of a genius... misunderstood often, as most genius' are. Your book will allow others, depending on their relationship with God, to hear him at different levels, just as a church will offer "milk and meat". The masses will be able to digest your words at their own pace, skim over what seems complex, maybe one day go back to it when they are ready"

I read her words and yet still, I felt as though perhaps, God had chosen the wrong person to deliver the book I wrote, the wrong person to continue teaching people. I felt inadequate that I would be able to write a study book to accompany my novel, too small to shelter myself from the backlash I feared. I kept thinking, "There must be someone else. How can I be the one to do this?"

In perfect fashion of the love of God, he spelled it out through the lips of my dear friend. "It is no surprise that you are feeling unworthiness saying who am I? All the people in the bible that made impacts for generations felt unworthy and said who am I? Moses asked God if there was someone else, Mary did, disciples did. That is exactly why it is YOU. You are his humble servant. Confused still as to why it is you? Let me help further. This is the Father using his sweet, willing, unsure daughter, just like Mary, to share his love."

WHY NOT YOU?

We do not understand the gravity of who we are and what we hold within out hands. We do not grasp the nature of goodness within us, the power of love and offerings of healing balm we hold just by being the we that we are. We do not understand that it is not about transformation but a removal of things in our way. Fear, shame, doubt... they are merely in my way as I journey to see the true picture of me! And innocent child does not fear, a child races beyond fear to discover the impossible possible! An innocent naive child has no hesitation, looking five steps ahead before creating and building and forming with that which is found in their hands...NO! They fashion effortlessly, without care, without counting any cost.

It is not arrogant to recognize the gifts we have or the treasures we are, it is a step of understanding who we are. And when that is paired with love and humility, combined with the desires of Gods heart to see the broken repaired and the lost found, it is a combination that is UNSTOPPABLE.

Under my childlike drawing I wrote BREAK OUT. Because once there is EXPANSION and we DREAM the desires we were born with, we not only can RETURN to the things woven in our DNA, in our childlike nature, we can BREAK OUT of the shell and discover what it looks like to live it all out.

It is time to let the innocence of being a child break out, break loose from the heavy fabrics of labels and the devastation of fear. Don't let these unwanted and smelly dinner guests steal anymore of your fine foods or break the crystal dishes that you treasure. Cast them away and replace their seats with confidence, authority, truth of your being, and courage to press on. If you let those features set your table, they will provide such lavish feast, you will be sustained through anything Papa God requests of you; even writing a study guide such as I, teaching such as I, sharing my vulnerable heart with the world such as I.

"My heart will beat as a childs, I love my innocence.

I see the world through simple eyes, and it is good.

I will plant my seeds and they will grow... unstoppable."

EXPANSION...FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS...RETURN...BREAK OUT

UNSTOPPABLE