Kissed by God

I have been well acquainted with death this year. I have had two friends pass away in the span of a couple months, and am currently watching the dying process occur with my aunt.

I remember wondering if it would be better to have someone die all of the sudden without any sense of closure, or whether to have someone die slowly so that moments could be had with them.

I’ve experienced both this year. Neither is better. They both end the same way.

My aunt is currently paralyzed except for her left arm, and has Stage Four cancer lingering within. She is trapped in a body. She has had two strokes in a short amount of time and is not able to talk. The only word that she can muster is “wants”. What an interesting last word to utter from dying lips.

She was sent home to die with hospice care. She is 47. Sometimes life doesn’t seem fair.

I rushed home to be with her during her last days. When I first walked in, the family was all gathered around her bed. Just waiting. They took turns gazing into her eyes and kissing her head.  

I approached her bed, but grief met gravity and my legs could no longer hold me. She took my hand and pulled me to her bed.

All I could muster was, “I’m here”.

And she brought my hand to her lips and kissed them ever so gently. Sometimes a kiss is better than words.

Immediately, gravity began taking hold of my tears as well. Not wanting her to see, I looked away, placing my head on her knee. I don’t think I was fooling her because she squeezed my hand as if saying “it’s alright, me too”.

I got up from her bed and made my way to the couch to join the rest of the family. To join the rest of the grieved. I thought that it was good that she couldn’t talk because in these moments words are useless anyway.  What can one possibly say with their mouth that they couldn’t say with their eyes?

I remember thinking that I only had moments. And how though this was the most difficult place for me to be, there was nowhere else I’d rather be. Though my heart could barely stand the touch of her now death ridden fingers, I found myself not being able to let them go. They had the appearance of death, but were alive, had a pulse, communicated a heart, a person, my aunt. Therefore, in some ways, they felt like they belonged to me. Flesh of my flesh. Bone of my bone. Heart of my heart.

Later that night, there were moments again. She had fallen asleep. Hopefully, dreaming of heaven. I had rested my head on her bed, and held her hand until she woke up. That’s what God does with us. He holds and waits.

When she awoke she looked at me and her face spoke. It was moved that I hadn’t moved since she had fallen.

Asleep.

I returned to her bed, as I had sat moments before. When facing death, time is based solely on moments.

With her one left arm, she cupped my face. Looking back, I think it was so that I couldn’t look back. The longer I stared into her, the more weight my heart began to hold. Through the blurring of my water-stained eyes, I took her in. I realized that I have seen many people in my lifetime, but never really saw. With her hand pressed up against my face, my heart became vulnerable to her. Her one limb of free will was soaked with my tears. I used my hair to dry them. I wondered if this was how the woman at Jesus’ feet felt when she wiped them with her hair, grateful to see and be seen.

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

And I saw.

I saw the Beauty of her. The heart. The soul. The piece of her with Eternal value that was residing within a mortal body. I saw the piece of her that had been kissed by God, and was meant to bless others. I saw a glimpse of the Divine in her eyes because eyes are the window to the Soul. This is Holy.

I was standing on Holy ground.

We were meant for holy moments. I was meant for this one. Kissed by God.

Sometimes a kiss is better than words.

The Heart Keeps Widening for Change

Death has a way of coming
So many means resulting in end.
We hold, grasp, plead, and beg
But when it is finished, we bury and bend.

Spend the entirety of our lives
Seeking to prove our worth
At the last exhale of breath
We once again return to Earth

The questions linger with all that is left
Was their life worth more than bones and skin?
Will the empty chair be filled or always exist?
And how does one contain all which was within?

Perhaps the end is the means to begin
Perhaps to die is to truly live
Maybe the expanding of lungs concludes
We are gifts that eternally give.

24 Hours.... the Time Between Heaven and Hell

January 30^th, 2013.

This day, this 24 hour period, changed me. It continues to change me. I remember it vividly, while simultaneously trying to dim its memory. For it is painful, a pain ridden day. I am baffled how one day can shape the course of your life. How it can leave you white faced, airless, and so close to what I imagine being hell. Even putting this day on paper shakes me. But life is all about redemption and the process of overcoming, or letting Him overcome.

The day started off like any other. I woke up, got dressed, and headed to work. The battle had already begun for me. It had begun about a month ago. I struggled. This is after all the human condition – the struggle for one’s soul. I didn’t think much of myself at the time. I focused mainly on my mistakes, forgetting who I was. I needed to be reminded. I sought to remember people’s words who knew my heart. I remembered Jay’s words first. He really believed that I was something special. I clung to those words as I stepped out of my car for work. Perhaps his words could drown out the other voices.

I sat at my office desk and realized that I had nothing on my schedule for the day. One thing Jay always told me was to seek wisdom from the Lord, and that He WILL provide me the direction to go. So when I needed words, I went to the Word. I read James. That was Jay’s favorite book.

An hour later, I received a phone call from my father. I didn’t answer. I was at work and typically didn’t take personal calls unless of course it was an emergency. It was out of character for my dad to call me mid-day because he also was at work. I expected a voicemail, but none came. I thought, “how sweet, he just wanted to call and talk to me during his lunch break that he must have taken an hour later than usual.” But shortly after, I received a text message. It said, “You need to call me”.  Immediately, I left my office to prepare for the worst possible news my dad could give me. I walked to the printer while simultaneously thinking about all the family members that could have passed in order to prepare myself emotionally. How would I respond? Would I tell anyone? Can I take time off to go to a funeral?  What am I going to feel when he tells me? Why am I immediately jumping to the conclusion that someone has died?!?

God created our bodies to naturally tense before the blow. He knew the words that were going to be spoken.

I returned to my office and closed the door behind me. No sense in burdening anyone else with whatever news I was about to hear. I sat down at my desk and returned my dad’s call.

“Hello”

“Hey dad…… what’s wrong?”

“Where are you at?”

“I’m in my office with the door closed….. what happened?”

“Jay Lavender had a heart attack today and died”

(silence)…… then the breaking…….

I hadn’t prepared myself. My body hadn’t tensed for that news.

I tried standing up….. maybe pacing would help…… maybe that would help my mind grasp the words that my father was saying.

But I couldn’t stand.

How can one hold the weight of the world when it is falling apart?

I dropped to my knees.

I acquainted myself with the patterned carpet of my office, held my heart in my hands, and broke.

“I’m so sorry baby”

My dad always calls me baby when he senses my fragility. He knew my fragile heart was a gift, but that today it would be my curse.

My dad’s words were coming from his own broken heart. He knew that I had been struggling. He knew that my mistakes and shortcoming were constantly at the forefront of my mind and that relief was what I was waiting for. He knew that I needed a miracle, but that what he had to give me was loss.

“There are people that settle within your heart, and leave holes there when they leave” he said to me.

I had already been filling holes.  But this one was gaping.

“I wish I were there”

“Me too” I replied.

But deep inside, I knew that if he saw me in the state I was in, his heart would break. And I didn’t want anymore hearts to break.

There were many long silences and heavy sighs left to our conversation. Then we said our goodbyes.

I wondered if my father was next. Would that be the last time I spoke with him?

“I love you dad”

Just in case.

I spent the remaining hour taking phone calls from friends who had just heard the news from their loved ones. 

The conversations were similar….

Neither of us could believe it.

Neither knew what to do.

Neither knew what it meant.

Death was never meant to be grasped.

I left the office. I didn’t tell anyone what had just occurred moments before only walls away. I didn’t know what to say. And part of me didn’t know if they would care. Or maybe I didn’t want them to care. Too much concern would make it real.

I walked to my car trying to grasp what my world now meant with Jay no longer a part of it. What did I mean now that Jay wasn’t a part of it?

I got in my car and started on my way home. I shouldn’t have been driving, but my phone had just died and I had left my charger at home.

I didn’t want to be without my phone…… just in case.

I came to a stop sign and stopped. But was too ambitious to get home and pulled out too early.

Everything was just too much.

I hit another car and sent it spinning 180% from where it started.

Immediately, I jumped out of the car and ran towards the other vehicle. It was an elderly woman. She was holding her heart, asking me to call 9-1-1 because she was having a heart attack.

Why so many broken hearts today?

My phone was dead…… so was Jay.

She’s having a heart attack…… so did Jay.

I put on my brave face….. one that I had worn far too long. I got in her purse, found her phone, called the 

police, and held her hand…. Her name was Katherine. I had wished someone would have held my hand. 

Maybe Katherine was a gift.

I held her hand, and did breathing techniques until the police came. The police checked her out while I repeatedly told her how sorry I was.

How much more sorrow?

Katherine was having a panic attack.

She lived.

Praise God.

I completed my way home. When I walked into the house, I saw two faces. But they were strangers to me in that moment. For over the past two hours, I had changed. And they no longer knew me.

I went back out to my car and drove away. I parked at a church.

Isn’t that where broken people are supposed to go?

Sometimes when there is unspeakable pain, people do unspeakable things. Mine was committed that day.

I wondered what Jay would think. I wondered what the Lord thought. I wondered if others would forgive my waywardness. I wondered if they could ever see me as having worth again. I wondered if there would ever be a day where I could forgive myself for choosing other than God in a moment of weakness.

That was January 30^th, 2013.

Started off like any other day. But ended in tragedy, accidents, and failure.

There is this child. Her name is Eleanor. And she has won my heart.

Eleanor was born January 29^th, 2013.

One day before my worst day.

24 hours before my breaking.

Eleanor’s name means “light”. And she has been mine. She has taught me what it means to have joy and what it means to be dependent on the Lord. When I walk into a room, her eyes light up and her smile makes my heart melt.  

Doesn’t everyone wish to be looked at like that? With such love and acceptance?

I met Nora about a month ago. And I have since fallen in love.

I was told her birthday was January 29^th and I froze. For since January 30^th, all days have seemed to exist in relation to that day. I did not understand how something so Divine as Nora could exist so close to a day that I had deemed cursed.

24 hours.

Is 24 hours the distance of time that exists between someone’s Heaven and another’s Hell?

One day.

I love that God can bring life into the world as quickly as He allows it to cease. How He gives life and takes it away. And how both point to Him.

For in Jay’s death, and my own self-destruction, in the darkness, I found Him. But I have also found Him in the Eyes of Light, in the eyes of a Babe. He is found in Heaven, but also in the Depths. Nowhere can I escape His love.

Nora paved the way. God gave me Light so that I could see in the coming darkness.

I see now.

And isn’t everything Beautiful in Time.

Falling for Dust

Fearlessly I breathe.

The air I inhale is different. Its texture is different, its purpose.

This air once suffocated me – taking my life slowly.

I fell, and I fought.

I fought the lies and I fought back tears.

I fought to mend broken hearts, mine included.

I fought pain and heartache.

I fought God on grace, whether I was worthy of receiving it.

After a fall, one often tries to stand.

But sometimes embracing gravity is the best medicine

And I had made my home in the depths.

And He bent down to write in the sand – to be close.

He didn’t ask me to stand, but joined me - the dust.

And He wrote: “Be still, I will fight for you”

He then reformed skin around this raw soul.

This skin I once saw as a cage, something to break free of, He formed to protect.

The skin I clawed, He kissed.

The skin I disowned, He gave a name - Beautiful.

He didn’t lift my chin, but bent lower.

Made Himself One with the Dust.

To meet my eyes.

For eyes speak wordlessly.

Because sometimes words aren’t enough.

He had fallen to His knees to fight for a glimpse of my Eyes.

And I stayed close to the ground,

Wondering why One would fight so fearlessly for dust-filled eyes.

Why One would fight so fear-less for one who has always been so fear-full.

Eyes are a glimpse of the Soul.

And this soul was found – lifeless.

Then came the air - the breath that brings life.

“The Lord formed a man from the dust of the ground

and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life,

and the man became a living being.”

He makes Living, the Dead.

He makes Living, the Dust.

His breath filled my lungs and this Dust became Divine.

And I became His.

Fearlessly.

 

The Beginning in the End

There is pain that runs so deep, words become muffled.

Only heavy sighs and groans can attempt to stifle the unutterable afflictions.

It’s the caving of hearts, the quaking of breaths, the heaving…….

All vain attempts to try to release the wound, to give it a Name, to speak it.

But it’s the silence between the heaves that speaks words raw, words unknown.

It’s loss. And we all lose.

But are we lost though we lose?

I describe the art of grief, and we all cringe.

I describe the lack of air, the caving of lungs, the infinite stream of salt water dripping onto surfaces that absorb its heartbreak, the eyes that can no longer open because they can’t bear to remember the reality of their grief, the racing heart beat seeking to pump blood through a seemingly lifeless being.

The images of ourselves in those states flash in our memories and are burned there.

The fire is consuming.

And we cringe.

Because we remember.

We remember our own grief, our own loss.

And we remember that it was too close.

It was on the edge. It wasn’t safe. It couldn’t be reached.

Too close.

Too close to Hopelessness?

Too close to a place avoided?

Too close to an end with no means?

Too close to Death?

We remember that state of closeness and our chests tighten, our bodies become stiff shells of protection, and our minds frantically seek to rectify how one could have possibly gotten so close and why anyOne would allow it.

Be still.

Know your God.

Remember that Death has no sting. No solution. No power.

Look closer.

Could it be life? Could it be Him?

Could our Monster be our Savior?

Look deeply.

Trust.

Could we be too close to life?

Could these moments of sheer end be our Salvation?

Because it is only in our “end” when He is awake-end in us.

In the Beginning was the Word and in the “end” His Word remains: “that he who believes in me will live even though he dies.”

It is in these close moments that we are closest to Him.

Only Divinity can touch these scars because only the Divine can know them.  

These pains are Divine because there is an end in mind – ours.

And a beginning to be found – Him.

And when He is found in our end, life begins.

And we are no longer too close, but close.

A Life Lived, Continues.

I can still see your eyes
When I choose to go blind
There's a fire within
It burns through my lies

You left me in winter
I still hear your voice
You remind me who I am
And that I'm left with a choice

Then came the spring
When all is made new
My heart found a home
I was invited by you

The snow may fall again
And hell may rise
But my choice still remains
To live or to die

Though you are gone
You remain in me
Your death reminds me of life
And I choose to be free.

Named

To belong... to have a Name.

I have searched for this, hoped for this – this sense of belonging, this name.

I have looked into the eyes of those I thought would name me right.

I have pleaded with those eyes to give me a home.

So they spoke.

I hear the name and cringe.

My hopes for belonging led me to believe the very name I was given.

I now had a name, but I didn’t belong.

The name didn’t reflect my heart.

And my heart must be known to belong.

There are moments in life when Truth cuts deep, when one experiences the One who names.

When one feels the engulfment of His love and are Known.

When past names are blotted out in the midst of His overwhelming understanding of the depths of our hearts, and where they’ve been.

Where have they been? What were their names?

He knows. 

And there is such grace.

We enjoy the act of naming. Makes us feel like gods.

As though we Know hearts, as though we formed them.

But we are forming them.

If we name wrong, we crucify hearts. 

We crucified His.

I have been wrongly named, and I wrongly name.

I don’t take time to look and see the Beauty - to find The Name, not name.

For we have already been named.

Choose to search for Names – to invite belonging.

For I have found His eyes in the eyes of those who find mine.

He speaks my Name.

And I am Home.

Known

I love how willingly close He gets to me – how He doesn’t fear - how He Knows.

I hadn’t known His closeness because I wasn’t willing to draw near to myself.

I was afraid of what I might find.

I only drew close to myself when air became rationed, when my lungs felt as though they were caving in, as though I were the only one left who could bear to know me - When I knew my pain.

He knew.

It was then, that I found Him waiting. Not coming, but waiting. For He had already arrived.

He was waiting for me in my pain.  He knew it, and He wanted me to know.

The very essence of myself that I sought to avoid, He had made His home. And He invited me to join Him on the journey of knowing me.

Because He already knew.

Pain has this mysterious ability to unveil, to uncover, to reveal– to make all things new.

For He knew.

The touch of a stranger in the midst of terrible suffering becomes an “angel of the Lord”.

The Words of a Writer whom we have never met suddenly becomes the “Word of God”.

The “crumbs from the table” become to us as manna –“bread from heaven”.

Everything Transforms - becomes Divinely Inspired, though it always was.

And He knew.

What is it about Pain that makes the commonplace Divine?

Or perhaps the better question would be” why does the absence of Pain make the Divine commonplace?”

It’s prophesied that ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

Pain points us to the new order, but He has met us in the old.

Pain reminds us that all things are Divine because He is “making everything new”.

And He knew.

Pain gives birth to Life because it reminds us that we are alive in Him.

Pain breaks us so we can be found in our brokenness.

We become weak in Pain. We become sick in Pain.

And He becomes strong - our Healer in the midst of Pain.

As hunger points us to food so Pain points us to the Bread of Life.

And we are Truly fed.

And He knew.

He knew from before the beginning of time that our gluttony would entice us to “eat the fruit”, but that our starvation would bring us back to the Table.

“When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them.”

He knew that in order for us to Know Him, He must Know Pain.

So He knew it.

“He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.”

He became Pain in order to be with us in ours that we might be reconciled to Him through Pain.

He beautifies Pain. And He is the only One.

For Pain cannot be redeemed unless it is Known.

Pain misunderstood becomes burdensome. But Pain Known becomes Intimate.

And when I am found in my Pain, I find myself, and myself in Him, and Him in me, and the “two become 

One”.

And Pain, placed in the Hands of the One who Knows, is Known.

And I am Known.

 “He has made everything beautiful in its time. Yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to 

end.” – How He has made all things new.

And Pain made New is Pain Known.

And He knew.

He knows.

Grace Received is Grace Given

Sin is deceptive. And we have all been deceived.

Sin is a sickness. And we all need a cure.

“It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”

I have been raised in the Church, have sat in the pews, sang the songs, recited the verses, said the prayers……. But I have not known sin……… until recently.

Was I a sinner? Of course. “Aren’t we all”… or at least, that is what I was told.

One thing that I have learned while counseling is that we can only accept others as far as we have accepted ourselves. We cannot love others, unless we accept love. We cannot trust others, unless we can be trusted. We cannot truly give what we do not truly have.

So what are we lacking?

As I watch the Church deal with sin, as I watch myself deal with sin, I sense fear.

We default to condemnation and avoidance.

We push away rather than draw close. We step back rather than forward. We pass the individual on to others rather than invite them into our lives.

What does this say about the Church?

What does this say about me?

What are we so afraid of?

What am I so afraid of?

Honestly….. I am afraid of the Church.

This is the bind we have been caught in.

We have all become “healthy”.

We have all become “righteous”.

But Christ came for the sick.

For the prone to depravity.

For the weak.

For me.

And when I am confronted with the opportunity to join the sick, I am afraid. I’m not afraid of getting the sickness, but of being considered sick.

We have forsaken our need in the name of “righteousness”.

We have forsaken grace in order to claim “holiness”

We have forsaken our brother in order to remain “clean”.

And I believe this to be our Ultimate Deception.

Righteousness is a gift, not earned. Therefore, we cannot lose it.

Holiness is being “set apart”. Not from each other, but for God.

And cleanliness is what comes out of a man, not what goes in.

Perhaps our biggest fear isn’t the individual’s sin, but the depravity of our own hearts – to know the depravity of our own hearts.

For only by knowing the extent of our own depravity, can we truly arrive at accepting the  Doctor’s cure.

Grace.

Divine Meeting Dust

The month of January.

My own form of hell.

The closest I’ve been.  

What I would suppose it would be like: without God. I couldn’t, however, fully reach the extent of hell because I had God. He followed me to the depths.

“Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.”

I had/have tremendous need. I have learned that people do unspeakable things when they are undergoing unspeakable pain. I have also learned that the purest intentions can be guided towards destruction solely because we are born in human skin. But destruction is, at times, a means of grace. For one cannot truly know Light if they have not known darkness.

And there is such grace.

And the unspeakable pain that leads to unspeakable things is covered by unspeakable grace. The depth of sin is made beautiful as Grace in the form of Man bends low to touch scars. And He shows us His.

And I am met. For His scars on Holy skin give my scars meaning. They point to His. They remind me of Him. And I am assured that they are beautiful because of Him. He gives them a name. He kisses them deep. And He loves them whole.

Ugliness is beauty starved. And Christ is our bread of life.

And Christ is found in the hearts of His people.

And through the written Word.

And in the paint stroke of Creation.  

So why when we see ugliness, do we cower? Why do we avoid? Why do we turn our face away when it is our face (the faces of God) that must be seen for Beauty to find its Home. We say we avoid sin, but aren’t we really avoiding starvation? Starving people?

“And you experts in the law, woe to you, because you load people down with burdens they can hardly carry, and you yourselves will not lift one finger to help them."

He came to feed the thousands. To break bread. To heal. To dine with.

And doesn’t He ask the same of us:

^“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.”

I have been surrounded by people declaring the gospel, and speaking Truth, and claiming a gracious God while simultaneously shying away from the ugliness of humanity. Disregarding it. Ignoring it. Belittling it. Punishing it. I have been the ashamed. I have shied away. Not because of the other’s ugliness, but because it reminded me of my own. The ugliness must be embraced, tended to, comforted. But this kind of healing requires humility and others. And the deep soul cries for intimacy muffle the inner whisperings of Truth. I have known this soul cry. I cling and grasp and plead. Forgive me Lord for not trusting in Your provision, for I have known starving. I fear it.

Forgive me for my shame, when it is another’s means of Salvation.

Forgive me for my pride, when it is my fallenness that points others to You.

Forgive me, Father, for being so content in my happiness, that I become unwilling to join another in their despair.

And forgive me for looking upon a fellow sinner, and choosing to be clean, rather than choosing to be with.

And praise You, Father, for not doing the same. 

I Am Meant

My heart has a pulse
My lungs full of air
I'm reminded of life
And that you're not here

I've done all the rights
I've committed the wrongs
I've prayed for my sight
I've sung all your songs

But the vacancy persists
The pain without a name
You promise the filling
But I still feel the same

I've questioned all your words
I've loathed my own
I've embraced the hurt
My faults all along

Relief you do not promise
Are my prayers in vain?
You promise Your presence
And to fulfill Your ways

My heart continues beating
My lungs, empty and fill
Reminding me of life
And that I've always been Your will.

My first poem

So I found this poem that I wrote when I was 13. It was my very first one!

Fading Beauty

Oh how the years have gone by.

Hence, first looking at the world with innocent eyes not yet wounded  by the painful scars that are to come.

Oh how the years have gone by

Flipping through the transparent photos that were so vacant yet now are everything that I hold dear,

Oh how the years have gone by

Sitting absentminded toward spiritual values, instead taking on the world's standards of immorality

Oh how long will the years go by

Until beauty fades and the earth's marvels turn to dust, until the intelect of  human beings is taken advantage of

Oh how long,......

How long will we trust it

So my first thought when I read this.... Geez Keely.... take a chill pill!

Second thought.... how many years have really gone by for you?!?..... 13!

Third..... wow! HA

The Two Become One

I know I'm prone to darkness
But was made for the light
Know I'm prone to breaking
To losing the fight

It's in my faults I find You
When I'm brought to my knees
It's in the versus of my vice
That grace is made complete

It's the emptiness that fills
And parts that make a whole
It's You inside of me
That's when I find my home

My heart was made for You
Created out of Yours
There is nothing that could separate
Like the sea and the shore.

Human Condition

My heart, caving in
It cracks and bends like limbs
It reaches high above
Only to fall again

There is a fallacy at work
Between what I am and what I was
It starts inside of me
An imposter masking love

A hypocrite at birth
Crying for relief
I must have known it then
What I was meant to be

I see my reflection
But I don't see myself
I'm looking for direction
To save me from my hell

I hold the mirror so close
Trying to see my flaws
It's going to take a miracle love
To rebuild these walls

I can't lose you now
But I've already lost myself
I can feel it creeping in
The fears I've always felt

Heaven bears my heart
It waits for my return
It knows of my deception
And for whom I truly yearn

Grief in Love

My heart aches and seeks relief
My eyes glisten, but will not release
Tears would prove your absence is true
Yet water from eyes draws me closer to you

I'm safe within You. I know this my God.
Can you wrap me in light so i can see in the dark?
My heart has a home it has never known.
It searches for resemblance in the ebb and flows.

I've seen a glimpse of the Divine in you.
But only a glimpse cause you're searching too.
Man cannot hold all the image of God.
Reflection in glass proves only our fraud.

I loved You then because You love me still.
Please see my offense as my own form of hell.
I close my eyes and see Your frame.
It's only a shadow, but I'll fix my gaze.

Leave A Legacy

There are individual that enter your life and settle within your heart. They make their homes there for two reasons: first of all because they want to be there, and second, because all of the walls that were built up for protection have surrendered and laid down their arms. This was my relationship with Jay Lavender. I took down my walls, and he settled in my heart.

                My dad told me that there are some people that leave holes in your heart when they leave, and that those holes are never filled. There will never be another Jay Lavender. I feel his vacancy, and it aches.

                There never seems to be enough words: words to give grief meaning, words to speak of the depth of character Jay had, words to give his life the meaning it had to so many. All words seem insufficient because only his presence could do his life justice. But until we experience his presence again with the Father, words have to be sufficient.

It feels inadequate to tell others that “my high school basketball coach” passed away because he was so much more than that. He never just coached basketball while he was coaching. He modeled life. He invested himself. He gave himself. He taught us what it meant to sacrifice, what it meant to love. He spent hours upon hours, dollar upon dollar, grief upon grief to make us, not just better basketball player, but better Christ followers. Better children of God. He taught us what it meant to care for each other, more than ourselves.

                Because I had allowed Jay to settle in my heart, his words had the power to impact me. They changed me because I allowed them to. Just last week, I was discouraged with my season in life. There were many voices shouting in my head speaking of my inadequacy or my failures, but there was one voice that I trusted. I trusted it because I trusted him and his relationship with the Father. He was a man of his word, and walked the faith he proclaimed. I let down my walls, and he let down his. And what I found was that he was the same man behind closed doors. He loved Jesus, claimed Him as his friend, and walked with Him daily encouraging others to do the same.

                I admired the way he would talk about his family. We had many long trips together. We would talk a lot about basketball and what the team needed, but sometimes we would talk about deeper things. I would sit in the front seat and would listen to his stories on our way back from away games. One particular night stands out to me. We were on our way back from a game, and it was late. We got stuck in a snow storm (and Jay has a hard time seeing late at night). I was in the front seat and all of the other girls had fallen asleep in the back. I knew Joy would want me to keep a close eye out for him J so we drove at 35 mph all the way home. We ended up getting home around 3am, but talked the entire time. There were so many stories (and I ask many questions J ) He told me how he met Joy. And how he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He told me how she was always able to put him in his place when necessary. He told me about how he would have Derek stand on his feet when he was little and they would walk together. He told me about how much he cherished his children. He talked about the music they listened to, the way Courtney played basketball, and how smart Derek was, and how beautiful his wife was. And I just sat back and let this man tell his story, because it was such a story to be told. It was a treasure. His family was a treasure to him, and hearing this man’s heart for his family was a treasure to me. We both found gold that night.

                 People that choose to see the good in you, are the ones that truly see you. We are all made in God’s image. Therefore, that is our true self. Jay saw me. And He spoke to that Spirit in me. And I clung to it. I clung to the good that he saw in me and it enabled me to allow God’s Spirit to engulf me. I felt known by Jay. He understood my heart. He understood my love for the Lord and how I desired to please Him. And He taught me how to walk in that faith. I can hear his voice in my head. I can hear him call me “Stinger”, I can hear him say “Our Father in Heaven and friend on Earth”, I can hear Him tell me “You’re a Christian counselor. Christian first, counselor second”, and I can hear him tell me “I love you”. Those were our last words after the alumni basketball game: “I love you”.

            And I believed it.

I believe it.

                 

Finally convinced

 “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

I think that I used to convince myself that this verse was true. I would tell myself “His grace is sufficient for you Keely, you don’t need anything. His grace is all you need.” And I wanted it to be sufficient so badly. But, the issue was, I didn’t know of my own weakness. Therefore, I couldn’t fully accept his grace. In Luke, Jesus refers to a woman who had been forgiven of much:

“Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.”

She understood her depravity. Therefore, grace was devoured and proved to be sufficient. But if we believe that we are short on weakness, grace (which is not based on performance) has no merit in our lives.

I am a sinner. I sin. And my heart breaks for those I hurt in that process and for the breaking of my own heart in that process. Sin deserves consequence. And allowing those consequences to break your heart is a part of the redemptive process. “It’s when you’re breaking down, with your insides coming out….. that’s when you find out what your heart is made of.” I have found that my heart is completely reliant on grace. And that God’s grace is enough. I don’t have to make it be enough. It just covers me behind and before. I am wrapped in the eternal security of God’s grace. I belong to Him…. And nothing can separate me from His love.

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

I think I’m finally convinced as well.