We are not Lot’s daughters

Hubby and I walked over the bridge today from Jersey to Philly. Bridges have often been portals for me to process. I got to thinking about the bizarro story of Lot’s daughters sleeping with their father in Gen 19. Any time there is a strange scripture that on the surface makes no sense, we can be sure to dive deeper and ask the Holy Spirit to inform us of meaning. Earlier in the day I was contemplating our belly button (see me literally naval-gazing) and it’s connection to our mothers and how once disconnected they are actually scars representing our severing from our earthly parents.

We are children of God.

All of Creation awaits with anticipation for the sons and daughters to be revealed in order to trust the unfolding of the path of Christ’s resurrection life– fueling us and healing us from our traumas. Trauma remained in us as stuck depressive energy for too long– we did not know we could freely grieve and freely express our anger to the Lord, but we are emotionally maturing.

Our father is not of this earthly realm and when we ‘sleep with’ him in cahoots with a powerless parent, we will produce fruit that does not remain. We will see that this father has become our maker and we are bound to the ways of the world– our lusts will drive us, our wounds will cause us to seek success in unhealthy ways and our ties to the lower thoughts of jealousy, comparing, and lack will fill us with despair. We will not see miracles for our children and our grandchildren.

More importantly, We will not see that our Heavenly Father has placed manna all around for our consumption . We will miss that this prana is energy as fuel for our bodies and minds because it is from above– it’s spiritual nourishment in the form of relationship. In the form of remembering who and who’s we are. We will build the door to heaven in any way we see fit for we were created to fight and battle for this union: when we have momentarily forgotten our birthright. We are not fathered by this ‘man’ down here– no, we have an Abba who took on human flesh to win back our souls.

An Abba who did HIS OWN DIRTY WORK in the body of the Son.

One who delights in us and repeats all day every day– You are my sweetie, just My best girl. You hear me? You are mine and I am providing the resurrection life. Lean in. Ask. Seek, then wait on me. Trust the seasons– the living and the dying, yes but this can be in a day or a week or a year. We do not control the chronos time. All we can do is our spiritual disciplines which help us enter the mind body spirit trinity of kairos: where heaven meets earth. “Heaven is here, when the mind is clear” croons MC Yogi.

Abba promises –I will show you that you are cared for and loved. Do not for one moment be anxious. Turn your eyes to Jesus- the one who carries your bricks on his back. And like my friend Jane’s vision from Him, He will hand them to you, to place in the earth as your incarnational career. Yes, your whole job is to simply be you. Be the best most authentic and vulnerable courageous you you can be. You are innocent and you are bold. Be not afraid daughters of our King– love wildly and dance as if all are watching!! They see the life of the Son in you and on you. We are here to display the image of Christ in our lives as we glorify our sweet and sacrificial Father in heaven. Then the whole earth will sing with the assurance that She too is included in the plan. All are included. All get to participate. Arise. I say to you Arise!

A Love that Slays

Sunday morning

I had just sat in the most glorious silence

Bestowing soul rest from the merciful womb of the Divine, my Mama

I arise to use the bathroom and as I cross the threshold I am slain in the spirit

thrown to my knees with the love of my Padre

The night before my friend of over 30 years had spoken of his desire that their daughter- a new, young mother herself,

know of his wish to be a help. Not just any help but a Daddy who would sacrifice. A daddy who would

do whatever is needed (crying again here) to make her load lighter. He said it in such a tender and earnest way that my heart stored it away until this moment to inform me of a deeper, higher truth about our Maker.

Where do we see this depth, this sacrifice? One place is on the cross, another is in the womb of Mary.

I’ve come to call YahWeh Padre of late and I’m bawling now as a stream of ‘thank yous’ pour forth from my lips

On my knees on that tiny gray rectangle of bath mat

Not caring if my husband hears

Thank you, Thank you, Thank you

I see it now Daddy

You are doing everything you can to assist me in my life

Making ways where there was no way

Growing me, my capacity

Humbling me

Softening my once fearful, protective layer

I had a golden statue within, a pillar of salt

Preserved selves, melting now

And OH! the pain of awakening. I was numb, asleep

Not dead though– the best news! If you are reading this I named you from my child’s pose

I asked Padre to shower you in this way

Seize you in this way

Arrest you in this very way

Because whether or not you had/have a natural father who is like my friend, your Soul

longs for this experience of love

Being slain is the release of every fear that we are not enough

The letting go of every story

Resting once again in the womb of our Mama, nursed at the breast of El Shaddai

Manna from Heaven

Just enough for this day