Life Here In My Brain

Fast or slow life is going to happen. Big time or tent city you have to do this thing called life. Sharing my steps, sorrows, and joy is my goal. For you to bust out of ruts, think differently. My story is being written every day by grace and so is yours. Thank you for reading be blessed. 



It has been a year of up and downs, mostly downs to be frank. I want to have this year imprinted on my brain so that the lessons God is throwing at me I will remember almost as much as I wish I could forget it like a bad dream. My walk through the valley of the shadow of death takes me home to this place on the threshing floor. A threshing floor is a place where the chaff was separated from the wheat by beating the ever lovin hell out of it. Only what was left was the good stuff, stuff that could be beneficial. That's why I am here to be that.

Oh come on Pam is it really that bad? Cut with the drama. 
People, I am so not kidding it really has been that hard. You could think that a person in grief over the death of her father and of her marriage would be exempt from correction from above, not so. Apparently, the Lord thinks I have this insane capacity for pain, he's right. Only for Him though. Only a God size love can take me through death valley and the threshing floor experience. 

In the past, I could have said this and that season was the hardest, this is profoundly different. Here at the place where the weight of life makes me question the ease of breathing I am fully given to the Lord. 

Lessons of late are learning that when I feel that waves of loneliness and hope deferred are threatening to take over God's word in Psalm 117 is freaking for real. That His big love has taken over our lives, God's faithful ways are freaking eternal. (Pam paraphrase from the message paraphrase) Manna and quail, fishes and loaves really happen here in 2017 and I have to appreciate that my propensity to lose it is in check mostly about the last minute timing of the Lord. 

Brene Brown vulnerability requires a supernatural level of authenticity that I have only been dreaming of but unable to attain because of my high confidence in self and low trust in the creator. Saying this is just a statement of fact. We suck at letting go, we suck at letting God take over the ugly parts. God is really interested in me being the bride who knows how to be when I hit heavens streets someday. The real bare ass truth of it is that I have for years wanted to be real. For you all to know me. The name of this blog is reckless authenticity, I have been super safe not prone to authenticity blogger because I am scared. What the hell happens when my heart is exposed? When the ugly parts shine? Well either God is real and loves me too much to leave me and he will give me the strength here in this place or he isn't.

Grateful to God for a bestie from heaven, an Ezekiel grandson who gives me hope that the dry places in our home can come to life and daughters who remind me I am their world. Thankful to God for provision from heaven not just money stuff. The heart desires too, Africa to my doorstep, teaching world changes, creating beauty, sharing out of need and abundance. 

Joy in the hard places is still just joy but it definitely tastes sweeter here. 

This is it going after blood.

There are so much unusual to me thoughts swirling in my brain.
Cray cray thoughts that are grounded in my truths.
What the f*** is truth anyway.
What can we really see anyway?
Love is a mirage thirsty wanderers long for.

I have fought so hard for so long for something that I thought was grounded .... and true...... turns out that what folks say about fighting for your rights it is true.  Most of the time your gut don't lie.
No one fights like you fight for yourself.  Stand up and fight. Fight smarter. Get your ducks in a row. Cry on the inside like a winner. All of it necessary and true.

Also, want to know what else is true? My mom was right, so redemptively completely right about there being givers and takers in this world.
What am I? What are you? Why could we not get that straight?
I am so over crying over being sorry for asking for love. For asking to be treated humanely. For wanting to have my value acknowledged. To not be the taker when it feeds your unhealthy giving. To not be the giver when you are so content to take.
To be honest, if you don't want to give and/or take what is mine with and exchange with dignity then f*** you.

What am I sorry for?
What am I telling the world by apologizing for everything?
Questions are so free to swirl with the cyclone of thoughts. I wish that the solutions would come as fast and furious as the committee in control of my brain spits out the questions.

Yeah, this is a mess of mess of a mess with a side of mess.
Here is where the Christian platitude hope is supposed to be inserted and to be quite honest I don't have it.

I need the real, authentic kick ass hope that is found in the power of blood. Feeling like this week where the pain of skin getting ripped, flesh mangled for my sin, for my pain is really only the way redemption could be accomplished. Here is the power in the blood of Jesus. Straight to the source from the source. I have a mafia boss who was out for blood to reclaim the parts of my heart that are covered in the mess.

Jesus, I need you, forever in a chasm with depths unknown sort of way, more than I thought possible way, I need you.  You are absolute truth and absolute hope that does not fail. You are the one who deserves my sorry.

Never can I repay you.
Grace and Mercy I am sorry we haven't been close lately.