does he love me?

I've been asked many times by friends, "How do I know if he loves me. . . . really loves me?" Well, let me tell you!

Imagine the RED ZONE day . . . your hair is on fire cuz your brain is burning with a million things blazing inside . . . you just got really bad news from a friend . . . you're about to lose it with the ones you love . . . you can't take another item on the "to do" list . . . and you don't have any energy to be "fun" or engaging with your man. You're not cute. You're not fun. You're not sweet, kind or well, quite frankly - not anything a man might want.

Then imagine he shows up with foot creme, tells you to sit down & let him rub your feet while you watch your favorite show (which happens to be one he abhors, cuz it's so "girly") & just unwind for a while. THAT, my friends, is when you know he loves you!

And that's exactly how I knew he loved me the other day. Thanks babe! You rocked my world 9 years ago & continue to rock my world now.

confronting evil

For those who know me - you know I am passionate about dancing. The crazy kind of passionate. I feel alive when I dance. I feel free when I dance. I feel loved when I dance. It brings me the kind of joy that words can't explain. When I've had a crazy day, I can literally dance my way out of it. Dancing takes me from crazy to sane in 1 song.


So when I was assaulted on the dance floor earlier this spring, it was an incredible blow. Not only was I assaulted, but I was assaulted doing the one thing that I feel most alive doing. The details of the assault aren't important, but what happened next, victims of violence can relate to.


First there was shock - all emotion vanished. I told the owner of the club what happened like a math teacher explains an algebra equation. Then came the tears & the flood of emotion - like hurricane Katrina hitting the neighborhood - unprepared & vulnerable. Then there was fear. Would I see him again? Would I get hurt again? Then there was anger. Why did this happen to me? Why didn't anyone stop it? How come the police won't take a report? Then there was grief. Something innocent was taken away - something beautiful. Then came terror. I began looking over my shoulder everywhere I went - hyper vigilant at every turn.


But then that faint, small voice spoke to my heart . . . and whispered, "don't let him steal your joy." I leaned into the voice & let it continue to speak. It said, "he can do evil to your physical body, but he can't break your spirit. Don't let him steal your joy."


So I started to wonder . . . and waffle. Was I willing to take the risk of going back out? Would I risk going back out to the very place where I had been violated? Would I continue to look over my shoulder in fear? Would I risk confronting evil again?

For everyone who has been a victim of violence, it's a tough choice. The reality of evil is real, and it's effects are devastating.


But on Easter Sunday (which happens to be my favorite holiday), it became clear. Choose life. Choose freedom. Choose joy. DANCE!

inspiration

Today I had my final inspiration to start blogging . . . it came to me - the title, that is.

Over a year ago, my sister (a young, but wise, sage) was telling me about creating a "park bench of the soul" where you invite people into a sacred space. It's a space where striving stops and rest begins. It's a space where crazy ends & peace takes over. It's a space we all long for . . . that place where someone invites you into a safe place where you can share your soul. It's an intimate place that you can only arrive at through things that might not make sense at first glance - pain, suffering, loss. But it softens you. It makes you more gentle & kind. It's counter-intuitive. It doesn't require much - in fact, the more you "do" to arrive at the park bench, the less likely you are to actually get there.

Over the last year, I have been attempting to clear the decks - remove the "crazy" from my life - whatever (& whoever) that is. It's been a beautiful, difficult, humbling, courage-building journey. I've had to let go of many things - job, friends that kept me stuck, ideas about how my life "should" be, and old ways of thinking, convenient habits etc.

God has been speaking to me, as I've allowed him to sit with me on the park bench of my soul. We, along with a few trusted friends, have journeyed to the dark, but hopeful places. I hope that as I begin to blog, you might join me in creating space on the park bench of our souls.