Metaphor

by Terrica Joy in


(The past several days have been transformative.  Though I wish I could spell it all out, I simply can’t.  What I can do however is paint a metaphorical picture that clearly illustrates the nature, if not the specific details, of what’s occurred.  Without saying anything, I’m saying a lot, and encouraging you to hear me on a deeper, unspeakable level.  On a personal level suffice it to say we’ve had a vivid, necessary encounter with God that has literally changed us… mind, body, and spirit.)

“Paradigm shift.  A paradigm shift is happening in your life,” she looks at me calmly, knowingly, with a kind of confidence I can only describe as otherworldly.

I didn’t know what she meant.  In fact, I had no idea so I gave it little thought.  The words rolled around in my head, but not beyond.  The never reached my heart.

3 days later. 

Things begin to shift.  Like a quiet tremor rumbling deep within the earth as an earthquake brews beneath the surface.  I feel it, I close my eyes and sense it, but it still seems too distant to declare real.  I shake it off, keep going thru the motions of every day. 

4 days later.

The rumbling is nearer, louder, and growing.  I awake to it at dawn.  I sit up, swing my legs off the bed still sleepy-eyed, freeze, listen.  It’s real.  I feel a growing anticipation in my gut.  It’s coming.  I look at my husband, still sleeping.  I think of Aaron in the next room, also sleeping.  They feel it, too.  We don’t discuss it, but we glance at each other throughout the day, smile knowingly, raise our eyebrows silently as if to say, “Are you ready for this?” 

5 days later.

It arrives swiftly.  The earth beneath our feet begins to tremble.  We all lock eyes.  Josh doesn’t move, holds his ground, entirely calm.  Aaron begins to laugh, quietly at first, then louder, falling to his knees to steady himself.  I reach for the wall, my pulse racing faster and faster.  I close my eyes.  As the shaking intensifies panic starts to grip me.  Open your eyes.  Open your eyes.  Look at them.  I force my eyes open.  One, still calm, the other, still celebrating.  Deep breaths.  Everything is fine.  The panic and the trembling both begin to subside.  Keep your eyes open.  Don’t look away.

6 days later.

Quiet, but everything is different.  There’s a calm, a resolve I can’t quite put into words.  I keep looking around at everything that’s shifted.  Dishes, picture frames, furniture…  It crosses my mind to shift things back, out of compulsion to put things back the way they were, back to what I know, what’s familiar.  But then I stop, realizing I like this so much better.  This is richer, authentic, real.  This provokes me to live differently, more intentionally.  I don’t want to put things back the way they were.  I won’t allow myself to ignore that something’s different, drastically different.  And better.

7 days later.

Josh goes back to work.  Aaron leaves on a 7am flight.  I come home to a quiet house, a profound joy, and an almost tangible truth in the air.  Things will never be the same again.

And then suddenly I remember.  I hear her words again, spoken in love and confidence, “Paradigm shift.  A paradigm shift is happening in your life.”  But this time, the words don’t just roll around inside my head…they pierce and penetrate my heart. 

If we so desire, God will intersect our lives in such a way that we’ll never see this life through the same lens again, never struggle with the same issues, same burdens, never walk powerless.  If we so desire, He will do the miraculous in our lives.  If we tune our ears to hear, open our eyes to see, if we set our hearts to expect and understand and believe…He’ll show up.  Every.  Single.  Time.  He isn’t a God who’s capable of disappointing us.  It simply isn’t His character.  Ask, and you’ll receive.  Seek, and you’ll find.  Knock, and the door will be opened. 

It is estimated that there are 500,000 detectable earthquakes in the world each year, 100,000 of which can be felt.  (www.usgs.gov)  Those who are watching see them, those who are looking know when and where they’re happening, even when they can’t be physically felt. 

Whenever anything occurs or transpires in the natural, there’s a direct parallel in the supernatural.  We must tune our ears to hear.  Something is happening in the earth.  A shaking.  A shifting.  If you let it, it will change you. 

Do you feel it?  Do you sense it?  Can you feel the tremors?


Hope

by Terrica Joy in


A couple of years ago one of my dearest friends, Kristen, walked thru our door after a meeting, guitar case in hand. She crossed to the kitchen, stood there, pensive.  Something was obviously weighing on her, "Are you okay?"

She didn't look up, "Yes."  I waited.  Silence.  "Are you sure?  You seem... bothered."

She stood for a moment longer staring at the floor.  "Yes, I'm fine. Disappointed, but fine."  She shook her head slowly, sitting her guitar on the floor, "This happens every time."  

I waited.  She looked up, at me for the first time, locking her eyes piercingly on mine, "Every single time I place my hope anywhere other than the Lord, I end up disappointed."  Her words struck my heart like a deafening gong, resonating with perpetual vibrations of truth.

Still I pressed, "What do you mean exactly?"

Kristen, Greek Isles, 2009

"I mean, every time I put my hope in some one or some thing believing that they'll fulfill me in some way, I end up disappointed.  It might not happen immediately, but eventually I find myself analyzing the why's and how's of another broken heart.  It happens every time I dare put my hope anywhere other than God.  If I keep my heart safely with Him the other things can be fulfilling, immensely at times, but when I don't..." she shook her head again slumping forward onto the counter, staring off into space, again pensive. 

We didn’t talk about it a lot after that, but her words have never left me.  When I find myself struggling with fear, insecurity, rejection… her words find me.  When I question whether or not the person I’ve confided my secrets in really is trustworthy or loyal… her words find me.  When I worry I’m not really capable… her words find me.  As if the gong still reverberates somewhere in the distance, I close my eyes, still my heart, and I hear it.

The past several days have been entirely bittersweet, filled with rich, divine moments and conversation, tainted with the sharpness of a provoking whisper that stirs me to the core, echoing from room to room, inescapable.  The small handful of people who have arrived to surround me are the ones I trust most in all the world.  Artists.  Prophets.  Teachers.  Truth-speakers.  Covenant-keepers.  Pillars of belief and truth, oracles, ushering me onward, upward. To purpose.  To life.  To Him.

Their words, though I trust them with everything in me... cause me to tremble.  A deep trembling that starts in my soul and expands to my fingertips, causes me to bury my face in my hands and weep, with secret hope, yes, but also unspeakablefear.

I.  Can't.  Do.  This.  I can't.  I'm terrified.  Don't you understand I'm terrified?

They do.  Their eyes are filled with compassion and understanding. But they are unwavering, filled with the fire of truth, refusing to concede, refusing to give up on me.  Divine mandate brought them here, keeps them here.

My trembling intensifies, realizing this is real.  Could this be real?  I lie awake late into the night, pleading.  I stare at the ceiling before dawn. I hide behind closed doors.  I wrestle.  With Him.  With them.  I snap at them, in moments of disbelief, moments of fear.  I argue.  I hesitate. I doubt.  I reason.  I question.

But they stay.  They stay near.  He stays.  They believe, they intercede.  The look at me over and over and over with eyes that say silently again and again, this is your finest hour.  This is why you were placed on this earth.  Don't miss it.  Don't dare miss it.

What if I believe it?  What if I allow all of the doubt and fear and insecurities to melt away until only truth remains?  What if I actually believe that His ways are not my ways?  What then? 

Suddenly it dawns on me.  I've placed my hope somewhere other than God.  Again.  But this time, perhaps more ignorantly than any time before, I've placed it in myself.  I’ve let the shadows of belief in what I can and can’t do dictate my position, my faith.

My very soul is wrought with fear.  Though I know fear isn't in Him. My heart is breaking with pride and insecurity.  But those aren't in Him either.  I hear Him speaking soothingly as if to a child sobbing, wailing, cowering in a corner, "Look up. Look up.  Shhh...  I'm here.  You are not alone.  I know.  I understand.  I won't leave you. Do you understand?  I won't leave you.  You were never expected to do this alone.  I'm not leaving."

He isn't leaving.  Deep breaths.  He isn't leaving.  I allow the words to penetrate.  I gasp sharply for air, still trembling, but a glowing warmth begins to replace the tremble...hope.  Hope, this time, in the right place. Hope, this time, in Him.

We.  Can.  Do this.  We can.  We must.  I don’t believe just yet that I can do this, but He can.  And I can do it with Him, I think.  I hope.  And the thing I know about hope when it’s placed where it’s supposed to be, is that it’s unrelenting.  Unyielding.  Given the chance, all-consuming, morphing into something more substantial, something empowering, something that has the power to change hearts and lives, for eternity. 

We cannot believe that our lives are small.  We cannot buy into the lie that we carry no purpose, have no voice.   Rise up. Believe. Call in reinforcements, intercessors, believers.  The hour is now.  Don't believe your life is small.  You are the voice of thousands who cannot speak for themselves. You are the hand of hope in places where there is none.  You are love and healing and power to those who need it most.  Don't believe your life is small.  That's a lie.  Your purpose is great, your time is now, your voice is desperately needed.  Your life, your purpose, is bigger than you.  Much, much bigger than you can even imagine. Believe it, it's truth.


Honesty

by Terrica Joy in


My blog has been a little quiet this week.  

Without going into great detail suffice it to say...I've been wrestling with some things:  relationship dynamics, stretching myself too thin, not giving the best of myself to the things and people that matter most in my life, fear, insecurity, etc.  

And you know what?  ALL of those issues boil down to one little subtle secret: I've been believing lies. Lies about myself, about other people, about what I'm capable of and what I'm not.  Lies about what others think of me, what they don't.  Lies about what I know to be truth.  The list goes on.  And on. And on.

So today, I stopped myself.  In my kitchen, in the midst of cooking and getting Josh out the door and getting myself ready and checking boxes off my to-do list, I literally stopped.  I sat down in front of my computer.  And I began to type the words you're reading this instant.

Why?

Because I need to tell the truth.  I need to bring the shadows and darkness slinking around inside my heart, out into the light.  To expel them.  I need to be honest.  I need to dispel the lies.

When I started this blog I vowed to myself to always, no matter what, tell the truth.  The real, raw, sometimes even painful truth.  Today is one of those days.  I had to stop to remind myself not to withdraw and sneak away to a quiet corner to lick my wounds and analyze my issues endlessly, although I do it well and the option is always tempting.  But rather, to write, create, confess, bring lies into the light of day, render them powerless.

And so I have, or, at least I've begun the process, the process which always begins with me stepping into the light.  I can turn my focus to myself, or I can turn it to others.  I can allow myself to be robbed, or I can enrich the lives of the people around me.  I can sit and sulk, or I can offer hope.  I can take from the world, or I can give.

So I choose to give.  I choose to write, to create, to be honest.  It may seem a small feat, but oh I assure you it is not.  For any kind of artist, the work of sitting and actually doing is hardest of all, especially when it requires the great risk of vulnerability.  

I simply won't believe lies today.  I choose instead to step into, to step towards, the Light.

"The world doesn't need another band, per se.  It doesn't, strictly speaking, need another book or another photograph or another album. The general world population will survive without one more stage production or one more gallery showing.

This is the thing, though: you might not.  We create because we were made to create, having been made in the image of God, whose first role was Creator.  He was and is a million different things, but in the beginning, he was a creator. That means something for us, I think.  We were made to be the things that he is: forgivers, redeemers, second-chance givers, truth-tellers, hope-bringers. And we were certainly, absolutely, made to be creators.

If you were made to create, you won't feel whole and healthy and alive until you do." -Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet

Do you struggle with believing lies?  About yourself? About others? About God?


Mantle

by Terrica Joy in


Pottery Barn's latest catalog inspired me:

So I gathered a few blossom stems and random decanters and vases I've collected from estate sales and thrift stores, old books from the library sale, a few candles and a 50-pound mirror I found on a curb treasure-hunting with my mom last Spring...and arranged it all on our mantle.

Just guessing, but I think mine was probably cheaper ;-)

Do you have a favorite blog or catalog you imitate?  Cooking, home decor, etc?


Weekend

by Terrica Joy in


Saturday

A lovely, sunny drive to Mineral Wells.  Visiting the Crazy Water storefront, filling containers with No. 3 and No. 4.

Mineral Wells State Park.  Hiking.  A picnic on a boulder overlooking the lake.  Tons of sunshine.  

Tommy looking like a tree frog.  Josh looking like a monkey.  Linda just looking cute.  And me taking photos because, well, because I don't really DO boulder scaling.

Tommy scared to jump from a rock.  Me and Linda giggling quietly.  Josh falling off a rock.  Me and Linda laughing hysterically. 

 Josh and I posing in a rock crevice, cause that's kind of fun and all.  Linda saying, "Good job hiding behind that rock, you look really skinny!"  Me bursting into hysterics.

Full day.  Full hearts.  Full life.

Sunday

A Sunday morning brunch with Kyle.  Browsing thru shops in Bishop Arts.  A long afternoon walk down Swiss, me and Josh, hand in hand.  An evening meal with Steven and Christine, marveling at their newly planted fig and persimmon trees, sharing laughter and stories late into the night.

Monday

Bonus day.  Grateful hearts.  Breakfast in the reading room, flipping thru stacks of books, staying in pajamas far longer than necessary.  Packing a picnic and books and journals, heading to the Arboretum, finding the perfect spot in the sun.  Friends coming and going, blankets and books, a baby with an orange for the very first time...certain bliss.

So, what did YOU do this weekend???