Call Your Bluff.

It’s been a really long time since I wrote anything, and because of that, this entry will probably be far from elegant or perfect.

I haven’t touched a piece of paper or keyboard, in hopes of sharing my heart, out of fear and hurt for far too long now. No journal entry, not even a note in my phone, and for a little while,  I thought I’d never write again. For a writer, to say, I am done with this, is a form of death. And to leave behind every creative outlet in my soul, felt like a kind of death.

Since my last entry, I lost another baby, this time I was four and a half months pregnant, and gave birth to a little lifeless boy, in tears on my living room floor, before rushing to the hospital.  Nine Months later, I found out my biological Mother had terminal cancer. She lost her battle to the disease, on September first, of this year. At that point, I had come to a total stop. Grief had made its way through me, devouring my hope and faith. I’m not saying I didn’t love Jesus anymore, or that I had taken my life back from Him.  I’m saying, I was not strong enough, to overcome it this time. I had been fighting too long, and too hard, to stand up against it anymore. Take in mind, I was also still healing, from learning that I was horribly abused and molested as child. The repressed memories had pushed themselves through, and surfaced that same year. The battle against the nightmares and hatred still raging strong. I can say, even in the safety of my own home, and the love of my husband and son. this was one of the hardest parts of my life. I guess I can say, I’ve gone though worse. Even if that’s hard to believe. The difference with this time, and the times before it, were that I had become weary in a way I had not before.

I fell into a state of detachment, and because that was so far from natural to me, I felt almost dehumanized. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a joke. When I searched my heart, I felt like a joke. My body, a useless vessel that could not hold life. My heart and soul, unseen, unappreciated, and discarded. My hopes and dreams….garbage that no one but myself cared about. And I didn’t have the strength to fight for them anymore. Every time, I picked myself up again, by the grace of God, something would come and slam me back down to the ground. For while, I felt like I had a target on my back, and I often still feel that way. How can one life hold so much pain? the searing question being…when will this finally stop?

I had cared, and loved, and fought and stood for so long. And because the chaos seemed never-ending, I lost myself. The saddest of it was , even if the urge to feel hope again walked towards me, all the other bullshit pain I carried, ate it up before I could even hold it.  I kept a brave face for my son, but inside, I was terrified I would never be me again.  I knew how pathetic it was, or at least it was pathetic in my opinion. I hated myself for feeling this way. After so many years of climbing the mountain of faith with Jesus, look where it brought me. To a dead-end, and I felt like I was being mocked by my own hope. My feelings and beliefs about my God had not changed, what had changed was the idea that I could follow through with His will for my life. I stopped believing I could, and I think, out of everything, that’s what hurt the most.

As for today, I feel less like a joke, but I still fight with it every day. Because I lost so many people close to me this past year, rejection still burns me on a daily basis. I have to tell myself everyday, that I am seen, even if it’s not by the people I want to be seen by. I don’t feel as pathetic anymore, because I know, I’m a powerful and strong, and wise person. I know, I was being very mean to myself with those thoughts and words, and I need to re learn how to be kind to myself once more. I know that bad things will still happen, and I’m slowly starting to understand, how beautiful it really is, that myself, and my little family, are still standing strong in the name of hope, in the name of Jesus, and in the name of all things good in this universe. Even though, at times, it appears we are all crawling, it means the world that we are still moving. I still cry almost every day, and I’m still very afraid of whats to come. But, for the first time in a while….I’m willing to say,

This WILL NOT take me out.

To the enemy, to the darkness that took over my heart and mind…… I call your bluff. And if you have anything to say, you can take it up with Jesus.

“I will persist until I succeed. I was not delivered into this world in defeat, nor does failure course in my veins. I am not a sheep waiting to be prodded by my shepherd. I am a lion and I refuse to talk, to walk, to sleep with the sheep. The slaughterhouse of failure is not my destiny. I will persist until I succeed.” ~Unknown 


The Day They Paved The Road.

When I left the house this morning, my eyes were already filling up with tears. Closing the front door, flipping my iPod to Jesus Culture, and making sure my sunglasses were masking my tired, puffy eyes.

It’s been a really hard year, and recovering from it has been… an uphill battle.

Last fall, we lost a baby. That December my Grandmother died of Cancer, and the day after her passing, a close friend of the family was shot three times, sticking the knife of grief even further into our bellies. Two weeks ago, we lost a very close member of Biker’s Church, a husband and father, laying to rest another piece of our family. That same week, my biological mother, “texted” me to tell me she wants nothing to do with me, only days before I would go with her to bury my Grandmother’s ashes. Somewhere in between all this, I had repressed memories of sexual abuse surface, leaving me a mess. Trying to accept that you were molested, is uh…heavy, to say the least.

So, like I said I was already crying when I opened the door this morning. Hoping that a walk alone, would give me enough space to feel something and let go. I did feel something. I felt God. I walked, my music turned up loud enough to drown out the panic of my mind. Have you ever felt trapped in grief? of course you have, you’re human. And if you haven’t yet, you will.We all do, and we all have to learn, to call on hope and power, when there’s nothing but pain and fear. I know that Jesus was walking with me this morning, telling me, He’s here with me. I see Him in my mind, bare feet next to mine. Step by step, walking through life with me. And it’s in those moments, I have to choose to believe Him. And just LET HIM walk next to me. My tears didn’t stop, if anything they flowed harder.Just because God is with you, doesn’t mean the pain goes away. If anything, He draws it out of you, and it’s you’re choice to leave it in His hands, and commit to letting Him work things out for you. The only thing I’m ever called to do is…trust Him. So as I walked, I just listened for His voice. Crying still. Letting Him draw out of me, the anger, the fear, the pain, I had bottled up inside my chest. That thing I do, that happens so fast, I hardly notice it. Until one day, I just break…and everyone’s just kind of staring at me. But I know God sees me, because He kept telling me that this morning. Even if my own Mother doesn’t see me, after all I’ve overcome….trying so hard…to finally be noticed by her…..God sees me.That God notices everything I feel, and understands…always and ever understanding and good, and kind.

The day we lost the baby, it was because I fell. I feel, jogging in the rain. And on my walk this morning, I found myself on that road. When I realized, I was almost at the corner where I fell, my heart started racing. I noticed they were re-paving the road this morning…the spot where I had hit the ground running, smashing my knee into the rough concrete…was covered by black stinky concrete. I cried. If there had been any trace of the blood from my knee, it was gone. The deep cracks in the road, where I had tripped, they were filled. It’s sounds crazy, to cry at this right?! It’s a good thing they fixed it. But I was pissed. To me, this spot, is like a memorial. I felt like someone had stomped on the flowers I had left at her grave. And the rest of the walk home, I remembered that day. How I had limped home bleeding, the cramps radiating through my body. The robotic numbing daze I was in. Because the moment I hit the ground, I knew. She was gone.Maybe next time, I’ll walk another route…or maybe I’ll always go the same way…because the last time I held her inside me, it was at that spot.

Anyway, I don’t know if any of this makes sense, and in all honesty, I just needed to write it out, because for the rest of the day, I will be entertaining my three year old son, and putting a smile across this sad face. I just have to say that, just because I’m sad, doesn’t mean I don’t have hope. For the first time, in a while, I have hope through the tears. I wish my Mom would stop being a selfish and sick woman, but she won’t. I wish that my Grandma was still alive, but she’s home now instead. I wish we had our little girl in our arms, but I will one day in heaven. I wish I hadn’t been molested, but I was. And I’m a powerful and brave person because of it. I wish that I could just hug Jesus every day, but instead, I’ll just have to trust that He’s walking next me in His bare feet with his hands around my heart. I wish that people didn’t have to die, but they do, and one day…I’ll be with each of them for  eternity. So until then, you’ll find me….ever fighting.

Because I promised…I’d never give up.





Today, I’m Paying It Forward.

This is re-blog by Diary Of Wayward Girl…not only one of the raddest chicks I know, but also my beautiful room mate whom I adore. It’s such a blessing to watch her grow, and mature in God..and I’m super proud of her, and the emotions that fuelled this post. To read some of her previous posts (which are all equally as amazing) just simply click the link as follows!!

This Christmas was different.
Usually, I trim my tree on Decembers 1st, marking the start of the holidays and celebrating my birthday.
Usually, I throw parties at my apartment, cramming as many people I can possibly fit into a less-than-spacious 2 bedroom unit.
Usually, all my Christmas shopping is done by the 15th, and my “wish list” has been made since November.
Usually, my kitchen becomes more like an industrial cookie-factory, as opposed to another room in a residential dwelling.

This year was different.

This year, I didn’t even decorate my own tree. Or anything, really.
This year, I didn’t throw a single party, not because I don’t live in my own apartment, but because I simply couldn’t find the motivation to do it. Instead of spending over $100 on food and alcohol to feed my friends with, I took that money and bought toys for Toy Mountain, food for the food bank, and dropped cash off in various charity boxes.
This year, I dragged myself out to the mall on December 24th to complete the rest of my shopping. And my “wish list” was something along the lines of “Buy me new glasses? My prescription has changed”, instead of “Hey, buy me some electronic that I really don’t need and can seriously make due without!”
And this year, as for those cookies, I sadly didn’t even bake a single one.

Something was different about this year. Somewhere between December 26th 2010 and December 25th 2011, I lost the ability to get consumed by the season. Even my birthday wasn’t a big deal, asking for the year’s supply of contact lenses and my yearly car license registration as presents, instead of the typical consumer product.

Things were difficult for my family this year, and awkward. I didn’t want to see them and get presents, I wanted to see them and give them hugs. Exchanging “I love you”’s instead of neatly wrapped parcels.

So this year, my Mom gave me $100 cash to put towards a new pair of glasses. She handed me the envelope, and said “I just didn’t know what to get you…”. I took the crisp $100 bill, and tucked it away in my antique desk. Something felt off about this, since I didn’t go running to the store to spend it. I know, me not spending money…what a concept. There must be something wrong with me.

I kept the money, not sure what to do with it until today. I even resented the holidays, until today. Do I really need a new pair of glasses? Not really. The ones I have are a few years old, and the prescription is a little weak, but they make due. So this morning, I woke up and was checking my facebook while still in bed. There was a status update that caught my eye, since it wasn’t the typical drunken ramblings you find on Facebook after a Saturday night. It was written by the pastor at my church, Rob Dale.

      “I hesitate to do this on such a public place, but feel it’s a worthy cause …
 As many of you know, Scott has been in Calgary at his daughter’s side since the shooting more than three weeks ago.
 While there has been some wonderful support giving to Shayna’s trust fund, Scott is not using that money for his personal needs. As a result, his funds are depleted. He had one credit card denied yesterday.
 He has not shared any of this with me, but I am aware of the need.
  So, if you would like to help Scott with his stay in Calgary, please see me today at church. I will pass any donations along to him through Heather, who is still in Calgary…”

Today, I figured out what to do with that $100 bill.
Today, I have realized the blessings that God has provided for me, and that I can only grow more if I share more.
Today, I am paying it forward.

Tear Them From The Sky.

I pray for courage … to stand on truth, even when lies envelope my heart.

These black winged birds have stalked me.

Vultures circling inside my mind.

My soul lays sleeping in a desert…my mouth has dined on bullshit. Dry sand, and waste.

I want to open my eyes Father, it’s nothing but a storm. Wind whipping my face. Dust in my eyes.

I’m so tired. This fire tipped arrow shoved through my chest.

Give me the strength to RISE, despite it…weak knees, shaking hands covered in soil.

Some things are too hard to feel, a bleeding heart, replaced by steel.

Send Your fire.

Brand words of hope into my skin. Deep and visible scars to remind me who I am.

I need your air. Clean breath to replace black tar.

I want to fight, even if my skin is soft. Even if my wounds are still red.

Broken human, full of power.

Tear these black winged birds from the sky, and drop them at my feet.

I’ll bury them in the earth with love..

and find my way back to You.




















Our Miracle in Great Tragedy.









In a matter of 48 hours I was at my Grandmother’s bedside, holding her hand as she took her last breath, and by the next evening receiving a phone call informing me, one of my close friends, and family member of Biker’s Church, Shayna Conway, was the sole survivor of a murder/suicide in Alberta, Canada. Here is the link to  explain~

Writing this is a cathartic mess right now, surreal, and the words just aren’t coming out as they should, I have so much I want to say, but I can’t right now. I truly just wanted to ask for more prayer, because Shayna needs it. Her parents need it. I wanted to let you guys know what’s been going on, and why I haven’t been posting. I wanted to say, that even though, someone I love went home to Jesus this week, He spared us another. He spared us all Shayna..and that is  A HUGE MIRACLE. There are 4 families, who were not given the same gift, and are mourning terrible losses as I type this. I can’t even imagine what the shooter’s family is going through right now. So, I’m asking you all to pray for these families. For the parents who are suffering under the weight of their son’s actions. The consequences they may be living with, and the absolute grief that fills their hearts.

As follower’s of Christ, we must in good faith pray for all the people affected by this, including the one who pulled the trigger, and the family he left behind.

Shayna, we love you so much…and can’t wait until we can see you<3 We are all lifting you up, and fighting at your side. Even if for now, it’s only in heart. I praise God every single day, for keeping His hand on you, and giving you the strength to LIVE through this insanity.

Love you like crazy woman..<3



You Are Not.


You are NOT your mistakes, your thoughts, or your inner dirt. You are NOT your past, you are NOT the things you are ashamed of, or your self image. You are NOT your ego, or the lies people have pushed you into believing about yourself. You are NOT the abuse you’ve suffered, or the addictions that hold you down. You are NOT too far gone.

You are  VALUABLE.

You are BEAUTIFUL  and POWERFUL in your uniqueness.

You are CLEAN, and HOLY, in the eyes of God.

No matter what has been, or where you’ve gone, or what you’ve done.

You are WORTH it.

And, you ALWAYS will be.