Unsorted

Unfilled

All things were returned to their rightful place. Parts of self matured naturally with the unconditional presence held by those who had endured brokenness and the intimate process of putting the pieces back — having taken care to leave a tender space unfilled where it would have been easier to attempt to fill it up. What was once desperate attempts at survival became wisdom and loving self-restraint.

Quieting, Unsorted

A Quiet Prayer

For a time,

everything reflected back

a sense of disconnection,

but there was a faded memory

of a deeper truth

just beneath the surface —

a quiet prayer that,

when held just lightly enough,

began the gentle task

of transformation.

Life was returned

to the sacred prayer

it was meant to be.

All things were held safely

within this transformation

into tenderness.

Quieting, Unsorted

A New Kind of Thought

Sometimes there were no words. And then somehow, mysteriously, worlds began to well up from somewhere beyond. A new kind of thought from a gentler place began to transform all that seemed unreachable. Gentle prayers began to take form out of the resolve to surrender everything  — just to remember this place for a moment.

There came a desire to remain in this place within — just a little longer — no matter what appeared on the surface or how big the challenges seemed.

Unsorted

Transformation into Tenderness

I found it worked best

to connect with parts of me

that needed attention.

I learned I could hold these parts

without needing them to change.

The first time I noticed I could, in fact,

affect my experience in the world

in a gentle way —

without analyzing or retraumatizing —

without a desperate search,

I had no more need for

less effective ways of coping

that had served to carry me

to a safer place.

Whatever appeared as a reflection

to this safe place within

would be enough.

And when the the outer experience

didn’t match what was felt in my heart,

I held my ground.

It wasn’t always comfortable,

but it was a continuous,

delicate and sacred transformation

into tenderness.

Continuing On

Always

Sometimes the only thing

I knew to do

was to keep going,

which undoubtedly meant

surrendering to the creative flow

of life.

And so there was the

painful dropping of pieces

I had held so carefully

and an understanding

I seemed to have with God

that I would sometimes

hold on a little longer,

push ahead,

lose my center,

and struggle to find any

resemblance of grace.

But I would always keep going.