I have a confession: Sometimes I get impatient and rush ahead. Sometimes I get scared so nothing. 

As I process choices and outcomes, it is not so much the ‘Why’ that matters; it is the ‘What’.

How am I here? I am learning to live free . . .

The warrior of Hope may be brought to its knees, beat down and battered, but Hope is hard to kill. Hope will grasp for breath and spring back to life, even stronger than before.

This upside down way of being grateful is exactly where I want to live. 

I have a confession: Surface living is simply not satisfying.

I have a confession: I am afraid that God has often been sorely misrepresented and I imagine that I have, at times, been the one misrepresenting.

What I am discovering is that in the absolute upside down way of things, the more I come face to face and heart to heart and soul to soul with the utter complexity of being human, and living in brokenness, the wider my lens becomes to see a vision of simplicity

I have the opportunity to dance with a Great Someone and be caught up in a Dance with Something much larger than myself.

I ask in this song, “when will this veil be removed?” This question represents a longing for something more . . . To live completely, without inhibition, in a life fully immersed in God’s Presence . . . For all barriers to be removed, to truly see.

The reality is, the veil has already been removed. Access to the fullness of God’s presence and visions and true seeing is available.

I long for true seeing in the spiritual realm, the thin space where faith becomes sight and all promises are fulfilled.

To surrender to not knowing is actually to truly  Know. 

Surrender before it’s settled. Surrender before all the questions are answered and all the tears are dry.

This beautiful song is haunting my soul in the most beautiful and refreshing way. 

“Lord, you know all my desires and deepest longings. My tears are liquid words and you can read them all.”

Psalm 38:9

In intimacy the line between where I end and another begins nearly ceases to exist.