Trust

When do we have it?  When do we give it away?  Who may possess it?

Are you trustworthy enough to receive it? 
Am I?

What a gift trust is.  When one person chooses to give it to another, it's risky.  It’s vulnerable. 

I have realized that I am privileged in getting it.  So many trust me with their pain, their heart, their past.  What a gift to have a glimpse into a person’s beautiful mess of a heart.

I am honored.

Humbled, to be trusted.

Then the question arises: “Who do I trust?” 
Have I been withholding my most sacred possession?  My heart.  

I just willingly withheld some of my trust.

Why?

Fear of rejection?

Not being accepted?

Losing control over their response?

Why do we hide behind our things?

Clothes, friends, cars, jobs, shoes, phones, stuff…  We hide our hearts.

Why do I hide? 

Ministry, doing good things, serving, and giving.. I hide my true self.  I clutter my heart with many things not realizing that what I want most, I now can’t fit.

There is no room – because of things we never use, useless little things take space that’s meant for so much more.

As God began to strip me of these earthly things, its scary.  Because that leaves me with nothing.  Nothing to hide behind.  Nothing to distract myself or others with.  All that is left is me. 

What I carry around is a mere reflection. It’s a body, a soul – that is in transformation.  It's work in progress.  It is not done.  There is much to do, much to fix, to mend, to clean and restore. I want the earthly to be gone.  A lot has already been done, yet more awaits.  The work continues.  The Carpenter is at His best, remodeling my heart – a mess. I am under construction.  God has the blue prints, of what he intends.  The ground is broken.  The work begins... 

As I trust Him more, as I deposit my heart into His care, the fear of rejection has to flee because I am accepted by the King of Kings.  The One who matters most of all, and in His hands my heart is whole. It’s safe.  And so I can show it to all.  Well, for others to really see “ME” they must come with me to Him, for the true core of Who I am - is in His Hand.

My 29.5 Birthday Party

The FACEBOOK event invitation stated:

I am selling all my things and Following Jesus where He leads!!

Come for this Special Event in my LiFE!

Find out what God is up to, and celebrate my “almost 30 birthday!”

This will be Informative/Fundraiser/GoodBye & Celebration Party!

-          Big Birthday Cake & Tea Provided!! (no food)

Please DON”T bring any presents (since I am Truly Getting rid of ALL my things) bring some $$ though – cuz you might want to ‘purchase’ something.. ;) or to Ble$$ me for where God takes me!!

There will be things to buy, cake and chai, good ol’ songs, and time to say good bye!

May 13^th, 2011 (exact date of my 29.5)

So, the party!

What a blessing!

God is continuing to do Miracles, through provisions, and blessed presence of friends in my life. 

Stasik & Irchik have opened their home, their yard, for me to clutter it with all my stuff. 

My sweet sister was in the heat of the day sorting and prepping all the things out for display.  And it was Great FuN! J

Like Stasik said: “These are not just things, this is ‘LIFE’.”  And True That! 

 I could not recognize myself at how easy it was for me to offer the things for FREE to anyone who wanted them. All little things that used to represent me, that were part of my ‘identity’ were now being given away, or thrown away. 

Only GOD alone can do such a miracle!

It was the sweetest time with friends.  As most know by now, Quality Time is my heart language, and we all spoke it well through the evening.  Sitting around having tea, being surrounded by people that have somehow impacted my life, was the bestest gift I could have ever received. 

Fire pit was lit in the middle, and we migrated from the table to sit around it, like at a camp fire, or a worship night during college years and sang all the songs molodosti –of our youth years. 

Sweet memories were being replaced by the present moment, that quickly became a memory.

I am loved.

That was the conclusion of the evening from the Lord to me. 

And I am loved regardless of the things I have, for I have nothing to bring. Nothing to offer to the King of Kings. 

I was reminded that something we all possess, can not be sold, bought, or stolen.  

Can not be stripped, ripped, or broken.

Can not be moved. 

Will not be replaced.

Ever. 

For all I can bring to the King of Kings, is all I have within me. 

Wherever He will lead, I will always bring with me, and generously offer to those I encounter, the most prized possession to Him – ME. 

....with all the donations, and congratulations... God provided $1300 through your generosity, my friends! Thank you! :)

next morning.... ...

...........the afterparty...

...

Mist

“you are a MIST that appears for a little while and then vanishes”   james 4:14

Mist is here and then it is gone. 

I am a MIST. 

A mist appears in the night.  When it is dark and cold, and others are a sleep.  It’s sent by the Creator to fulfill a specific purpose.  To refresh and nourish – and prep for the heat of the day.  How sweet is the freshness that the mist leaves behind. 

Only those who wake up early, might be able to catch a glimpse of it.  Those in the day, going about their business, the business of life, do not even stop to ponder that what they have – the way they have it is due to work being done unseen. 

It’s partly due to the gentle mist.  The air they breath and the food they eat, the trees and flowers they see, partly because of the work that’s done that they never notice.

May my life fulfill its purpose – refresh and nourish, bring oxygen and life.  May it fulfill its vital role with crowds not noticing that it was my presence, that it was my quite prayer in the wee hours of morning for them, for others, for LiFE. 

…until the Mist of my existence disappears. 

Playing Cars

Today I played with my nephew.

My brothers son.

I can’t believe the life we live. 

When we were kids my brother would refuse to play dolls with me, so I spent my childhood playing cars with him.  Today I was reminded of that, when my brothers son, took my face in his little hands, and with his baby accent said: “davai igrat’ v bibiki!”(lets play cars). 

Childs touch.  O, it means so much.  God speaks to me thru kids.  Well, through all things, by any means.  But Kids have a special way to portray His love, or better yet, the love He has for me, His kid, the child of the King of Kings.

Sometimes children disobey.  Sometimes they refuse to play.  At times, David, cries, or screams.  At times runs and breaks some things.  He doesn’t listen always. 
Do I?
He does his thing, without realizing the consequences that it might bring.  Today he took a little pin, and right there in front of me, began to poke it at a plug. 
Yet all day today I am reminded of love.  Thru him, of HiS sweet love.

The Love of God.  So gentle, strong and longing.  Longing to behold my heart.  My God wants me to sit with him.  To simply lean and stay in His embrace.  When David comes, and simply hugs, or leans and lingers cuddled close -the world stops.  The errands fade.  The tasks, the stress, all disappear.  The power of a dear child.

When will I learn?  When will I know, that all my heart longs for, I run from.  God wants for me to stay awhile, yet I run without realizing the consequences of what I’ve done. 

 I want to stop. 

 Stop being ‘mature’. I want to simply be a kid again. 

To trust.

To play.

To stay.

To laugh.

To love. 

To simply be.

To simply be – me.

Like our Davidka.

There is no place I’d rather have him be,

Than right here, on the floor,

Playing cars with me.

my Mr. Handsomeness

The Candle Bearer

This story must begin, “Once upon a time” (for all important stories do).  Though the story began many years ago, it is still alive today.

Imagine a small home in the center of a town.  Many men and women come--all whose hearts are willing bring to the King their offerings of gold for the preservation of the home. Dancers, artists, craftsmen, singers, those who spin the goat’s hair into yarn, and they that sew, musicians, engravers, designers, embroiderers, builders.  Those who are eager to help in the work of the home bring their gifts and give them freely.

This humble home is rich in laughter for in it dwell sisters, virgins all—pure in spirit, because their King has made them so.

The sister who leads with wisdom and sincerity

The sister who listens, and laughs, and loves

The sister who is pregnant with life

The sister who sits with the women and mourns, and rejoices

The sister whose hands feed a number of great knights

The sister who oversees,and dances

The sister who manages the treasure

The gentle sisters who live on the hill

The sisterswhose handssee and words heal

The sisters who speak for those who cannot

Warrior sisters whotravel from afar to take precious messages to the King.

The city itself is dark.  No ground is stirred.  No seeds are planted.  There is no water for the thirsty; no light for the bud.

The home, in contrast, is lit from within by the King.  Each sister carries with her a measure of light—the portion allotted to her for her specific task.  She takes part in making the home a reflection of the King and his Comfort to all who enter its gates.

For some of the injured who travel there, the light throws a shadow.  For others, the light burns the eyes.  And for still others, the light gives clarity and warmth. 

And in this simplehome, dwells a humble sister who carries the candle from room to room, and patiently waits for thePrince, her groom.  This sister is of great repute, and a merry heart.

She who carries the candle has no easy task, for many people come to the home poor in spirit, lacking in hope, and weary of mind.  Each burdened soul is welcomed, ushered into the heart of the home and, further, into an inner chamber.  The Candle Bearer greets each wanderer with peace on her face and in her mouth.  As the weary soul speaks, the Candle Bearer lifts the flickering light gently to their war-torn heart, and warms it.

Sometimes, the King gives a measure of light that may seem too much to bear in this tiny home.  Sometimes, He gives many lights—points of light like stars.  Bright, bright, brilliant lights.

The one who carries the candle holds this great burden.  So much light!  Bursting!  Bursting like the night sky!  She must place her starry lights in her pockets.  Too bright are they! When she walks, they jingle and tling heavenly songs that make the sisters sing. 

Yet…her pockets

grow

heavy

from

the weight.

Light is not truly heavy unless it is withheld.  To whom much is given much is required and this bearer of light sits quiet in her room and in the quiet feels the tug of darkness from beyond in need of her light.  With each tug she hears the Prince in His own voice saying “come.”

“Go.”

“Come.”

“Go.”

And the sisters know.  They know.

So she skipped.  She danced.  She ran.

She felt

Light.

And the sisters mourn.  And they rejoice.

Not the end.

Grace like Sex

Grace is Like Sex.  And I don’t know what it is.

I know its free. 

I know its giving.

And Only God knows its true meaning.

I know it has no strings attached.

I know it comes out of true Love.

It is distorted by the world.  Contaminated.  Dirty.  False.

 Sex? Grace? 

In our day and world, they both lost its purposeful course. 

Recently during a bible study, God has clearly showed me that I try and make things happen on my own.  I know the truth, but for some reason it just can’t sink down from my head into my heart.  I know that I need to surrender, but I don’t even know HOW.  I know what I SHOULD do, but I don’t know HOW to.  How long will this battle be?  I don’t even know how to STOP.  I want to.  I want to just STOP.  Not to DO, not to THINK, not RATIONALIZE, NOT find any answers, NOT KNOW… but I can’t do even that.  I just don’t know HOW.  I hate the fact that it is true, that I believe the lie that I must WORK to gain something good.  That I do not deserve it free. That I am blessed because I’ve earned it. 

 I don’t get grace.

I know all about it.  But my heart just does not understand it.  Have I not experienced it?   And then I heard it in my heart:

“Grace is like sex.”  (it made me laugh)

I talk about it.  I know SO much about it, the depth of what it means, and its intent.  I teach the youth, I speak Gods truth about Sex, but I have not experienced it.  Do I even have a right to talk about it? 

And what about grace?  Am I just talking theory?  Am I just speaking out of knowledge and not the heart?  This makes me sick.  How do I stop?  How to surrender?  I know there is nothing I can do to earn Gods love. But my whole being just doesn’t know what it's like to “BE” and not to “DO”. Oh this is hard.  This is hard truth.  I hate this fact about me, and yet, I don’t know how to simply "Be."

A week went by.  I stopped pretending. I quit the usual routine.  One morning I kept hearing in my head: “Grace is like sex.”

And then it clicked.  There are a lot of people who do sex, but do not grasp the full intend of what it was designed to be.  They don’t understand what God meant.  Even Christian married people can relish in the act, but lack the intimacy fact.

Same with Grace.

We can experience some of it.  Portion of it, but not know what it really meant, its true intent.  We try, we practice. Attempt to grasp full measure of what it is. 
What is it? Why do some people experience more of it?
Are happier in it? Truly. Really.  Are they?  Do we? Am I?

So although I have not had sex.  I HAVE experienced some grace.  I still don’t get it.

And there are many who have sex, but just don’t get it.  They just don’t get it!

Its not an act. It’s all about the Heart. 

little feet

Mark 10:15
"Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receieve the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it."






My Sweet Nieces.         
                 

Sometimes I think that God gave me nieces to experience the joy & ache of parenting, before I become one.

Once I had to leave the country for 3 months, and for the first time in my short existence on the planet, I felt a physical ACHE of MISSING someone.  She has not even invested much in our relationship (she was 1) but the hurt I felt being so far away, drove me not only to open a MYSPACE account (much more popular back then) so I can see the pictures of her growth, but also to write her a letter, that I will give her when she is older. 

How odd is that, writing a letter to a 1 year old.  Then again, maybe not odd at all.  God has written me a letter, before I was even conceived.  He has loved me so much, before I could comprehend any of it.  Not that I can fully understand His love towards me now..
..............

Babies, toddlers, they are just adorable.                       

They are so huggable, kissable, eatable.


I especially love their little feet.

Their feet are unstained by the world. Clean.

Their feet are innocent.  Very Soft.

They go only where their parents lead.  Dependent.  Trusting.

 

The soul inside the little person is eternal.

They say things as they are, they don’t pretend.  And when they do, it’s clear – they’re bluffing! 

They cry and scream, they throw a fit, and then they come and climb on your lap. Their little arms around your neck,

and your response is one – you melt. 

What happens when we grow older?

Our feet change. 
Now they have been places…

The little child inside each one of us remains, yet thru the years we perfect the skill. 

Performing.  Putting on an act. 
An act that we have it all together. We act the fact. 

We perform in family, work, ministry…. Practice makes perfect – right?  And often, because of so much practice, we are perfect at being someone, something else.  We lose ourselves.  We disconnect.  Dissociate, from the God created child inside.

That child, precious little soul, abandoned, living on its own.  

We’re orphans.  Lost.  Forgotten.  Scared.

Yet we… continue to pretend. 

Pretending has become my home. It’s who I am.

Pretending I am so strong.

And so I come, before the Throne. 

The One that spoke me into being,

The One that gives to all its meaning.

He looks at me, like at a child. 

He knows... I am clearly LYING.