Tag Archives: Grace

Thank you!

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Dear Cassandra…

Your kindness and acceptance has been Eternal Gold to me.

You wear your heart on your sleeve…definitely a Woman after my own heart, and I have learned so much from you as I watch how you negotiate the space of being an older child with so many young ones, the eldest sister of three pretty powerful girls, and your own seething yearning heart that longs so for that…beyond.

May you ever be blessed with clear vision, and the courage to let your muse sing at the top of her ever-livin’ lungs!

Much Love!!!
Ms Charissa

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“Your Best Friend”

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I rolled into work early, comme toujours, and bustled down to the kitchbah to get things prepared for the day.  There were ranges to light, ovens to turn on, dishwashers to prep, and food to coax.

*You realize that…don’t you?  You must coax food to “join the party”…usually with letting it warm a bit, and then liberal application of olive oil if it is something that must come together.*tumblr_muo6bsyfhO1qzleu4o1_500

What do you know, when I got there, and spied on the counter an 8 1/2 x 11 sized package, wrapped in light yellow tissue paper and green yarn holding it together.  On top of it was a folded piece of paper…

“Only for Mrs. Charissa
🙂
Your Best Friend”

The paper had been drawn on to make it appear as if it were an envelope…it was soo touching and adorable, and from the handwriting, I was certain it was from one of the children that I help care for.

Have you ever had the experience of finding out unexpectedly that someone considers them self “your best friend”?  I have not…until that day.  (No…DDH, when I discovered that you considered yourself my bestie, it was delightful beyond belief but not unexpected! lol)tumblr_mug8bcrC3A1qkjpslo1_1280

Inside the folded paper (special stationary type paper) it was laid out like an email with a “to” section and a “from” section.

It was from “Cassandra” (name changed to protect my angel lil friend’s privacy)…this young lady is one of the most amazing people I have ever had the good fortune to encounter in my entire life…and she has 2 sisters who are equally amazing, accepting, friendly and loving.  Her youngest sister was the bold child on my first day at the center when I was doing my “try-out” classroom test…she walked straight up to me, her dark eyes like limitless pools, and so solemnly asked me if I was a boy or a girl…I told her I was like an oreo cookie:  one thing on the outside, something different on the inside, and all together I was me, and sweet.  She thought about it, smiled, and nodded.  I then simply explained to her what happened to me as I was created, and the insight and look of knowing that happened in those eyes was an eternal gift.

Since then she has been one of my biggest fans.tumblr_mt637dVtd31r4hhzeo2_500

But Cassandra…well, she also was kind, caught on right away, but she hung around a bit, listening, watching, feeling the experiences I have everyday in living.  She paid attention to my true heart, and not the things I spin outta my kitchbah to feed the kids.  She is the one who was walking beside me, talking, on the way into the center from the bus parking lot…and these people who live across the street decided to verbally and loudly tell me what I was, in the lowest and most crude slang imaginable.

I ignored it, like always…sigh…and just kept talking with Cassandra, but her face went white, and still.  Her eyes widened in shock, horror, and then…something else:  she realized that this was my life.  Every day.  Just because I am…and she began to cry.  She was horrified at what was said, and I think even mildly traumatized, so we of course talked a bit about it.

It was a true teachable moment on the meaning of forgiveness and a lifestyle of Grace.tumblr_mukhaaFXSI1qd0knjo2_1280

So anyway, Cassandra had written this:

I now you will
like this.  I Made
some Pritty Good
ones for you
I was Thinking of You at
school

🙂

Can you say *Instant melty heart exiting eyes PDQ*???

Okay, first of all…she knew.  She knew I would like it, a priori.  Let that sink in.
Secondly, she judged her own work, and decided it was pretty good (it is, btw), and that it was for me.
And then…the killer love words:  I was thinking of you at school.

When it was time to create, her thoughts turned to me…

Rapture.  Pure.  Rapture.

The next several poems are hers…I am placing them here on Grace Notes as my own weak ineffectual attempt to show I am thankful and grateful for her love and affection…and her friendship. cropped-tumblr_m4t7m7roid1r743s1o1_12801.jpg

To My Heart’s Four Chambers

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“I don’t care what you do to me,
but I don’t want you to hurt me.
I’ve had enough hurt already in my life.
More than enough. Now I want to be happy.”
— Haruki Murakami

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A Couple Of Older Favorite Poems

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Constance, here are a couple of older poems, and these are bookends of sorts.

The first one has a rhythm to it, and you may enjoy reading it outloud.

Deaf Earth’s Denial

If I Could Go Back…

May they bless you in the reading as much as They Blessed me in the writing,
Charissatumblr_np3pf9C4wp1s5neh1o1_1280

What Prints Does YOUR Heart Leave?

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This asks us to do this…but it is a bit incomplete!  It should read this way:

“Everywhere you go, you leave your heart print.  Be sure the marks are kind.”

Above The Carnival Below

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Under this full moon I am crashing
thru clouds of popcorn kernels
shedding their hard shells
and giving up their ghosts in gasps
of heated pleasure and anguish.

I am splashing into pools of people
faces upturned, hands upraised
giving up the ghosts of burdens
long ago swallowed and peaking now
in the heat and the oil of these times

and the cotton candy I ate tastes pink
and blue and orange and tells me
it is really Skittles in my heart

(I know the truth as I fall
down in a rush amidst the screamers
and the ecstasy of a ride certain and sure
in their hearts and minds but oh so
frightening and uncertain to me).

But this moon is full, and true
and makes room for me to rise
up up up faster than gravity
and flush with glory into the night
that hugs the earth like a fierce maiden aunt.

And I am learning to let go and enjoy
the ride under this full moon and high
above the carnival below.

Eternal Continuum (Part Two)

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a central point
lurking somewhere
between nothing
and all—
and infinitely far
from understanding
either…tumblr_nlxdr5BkKB1s2z59jo1_1280blind to nothingness
from which
we flashed
at the call
of Fiery Lips
and numb
to the infinite
glories that engulf
and hold us.

this point unchangeable
this chameleon point
containing all contradiction
and inconsistencytumblr_np01taszo51s5neh1o2_1280

(desire to be a friend
the bent to manipulate friends
the being of a neighbor good
the compulsion to walk away
cold hearted without helping)

this point,
this tipping point
has honour enough
to erect the head
of the poorest bum,
and shame enough
to bow the shoulders
of the greatest king.

that Point,
that Mediator
of Merciful Hope

(drying the tears of a broken world
reviving the Image of the Divine within
overcoming the enemies
of our Death and Sin)___6021929_orig

Sure, grounded
obviating and containing
all contradictions
in this point

that point provides
the only grounding
and offers hope
for the contradictions
within, and more
than mere hope
for escape.

That point redeems the tension this point is.tumblr_njx55hxpLn1sypuuko1_400

We have born
the image of
the man of dust.

We also will
bear the Image
of the One
in Heaven

overflowing
with
thankfulness.tumblr_noy7d6hyuJ1s5neh1o1_1280

Eternal Continuum (Part One)

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“What does it mean to be human?”

That’s like asking
what does it mean
to mean something!

Plumbing depths of humanity
and falling past microscopic random flaws,
thru macroscopic cosmic starbursts,
thru eternity’s barrier of sound and senses,
to find yourself again placed heretumblr_norohiwnQL1sppftyo1_1280in perfect setting

like golden apples in rings of silver pure
between micro and macro verses…
placed intentionally and sure,

well, the implications are far-reaching and intricate,
and I wonder at the cure for

a mind untamed
a soul intellectual
inhabiting together
a body become
an appetitive beast
a divided creature furtive
and creeping corpulent
and crepitating with
crepuscular compassion
and cruelty
all at once.380712_400888633273055_1393352173_n-620x

Is the dividing line
of mind and body
the line dividing
good and evil
that cuts through
the heart of every
human being?

and what is that?
Being human?tumblr_np0l2kYa261qkb10mo1_1280

The Pools of Illusion

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Your bellies drag the ground,
crouched and coiled and waiting,
unsprung and deadly potent,
filled with waters, poison, imbibed,
ingested, indulged,
you lurk and lay in waiting
to pounce on me defenseless,
beside dark pools malignant
with memories, dreams, reflections
that sit off kilter, cracked,
those springs of tales seductive
retold and twisted…clockwise

(remember that we used to live
anti-clock-wise?  You recall?
Remember how that was?
Can you even do it now…
re-member?Your tails lashing hazy air
your tales lashing me in here,
deep inside, they probe and seek
to replicate themselves,
like viruses, contagious
half-truths bitter, poisonous
in decade-long half-lives
hanging like a blade
of time left to be served
in a sentence undeserved.tumblr_nlo1ogBFSk1s2z59jo1_1280But I swim rivers
pure and vital,
waters crashed on
clean stone, shattered
into liquid smithereens,
a million broken rainbow prismstumblr_nb949v0kp41s1vn29o5_1280clinging to the air together
to speak of wholeness
in the broken
gath’ring of them
all together tumblr_nmzdul5Y8W1qbe766o3_1280and I breathe air, drink
the water of life immune
to your off-kilter philter.

So if you see me
(if you even bother
to look) and I am sick?
It is your own infected myth
I drain so you could simply stop,
quit worshipping the twisted past,
old box of pain, and you can join me,
once again beneath the stars,

beneath the moon in the spring rain
in the spring rain beneath the moon
the moon and rain so clean and pure
and free from stagnant pools.tumblr_m67b1gzLlg1qzn4kzo1_1280

Breathtaking Quote!

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tumblr_nnvtyxBU6W1qat5pio1_500This.  My goal when I create poetry.

“We want
to decipher skies
and paintings,
go behind these starry backgrounds
or these painted canvases and,
like kids
trying to find a gap
in a fence,
try to look through the cracks
in the world.”
— Georges Bataille

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On Outing Another Person

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Constance…

You have read here of my evolution and growth, and the reduction as well over the last year and a half since I began writing Grace Notes.

Odds are you have also seen articles and notes that I have posted that are designed to educate you regarding how mindsets influence action…but actions affect heart-sets…and heart-sets inform mindsets.

As you think in your heart, this is how you are…maybe not manifested right away, but it is just a matter of time before that comes out.

Transitioning gender is such a difficult passage.  I am crossing over gulfs that are deemed uncrossable by the patriarchal paradigm of our day, breaking the binary rules that rule minds…and thus offending hearts that have as their central focus and idol what feeds them, sustains them.

Some people simply are repulsed by my transition and write me off in some form or fashion…crazed, demon possessed, or some other judgment of similar ilk, and some people are intrigued enough to draw near with open hearts and minds, and end up at the very least knowing me in a fuller and richer way (and some would say that is a bad thing, those who have judged me as the worst human being on the planet and hold me accountable for every wrong thing in their lives).

But some people would be destroyed by the knowledge of my gender struggles and subsequent journey.  They would hold themselves responsible for my being the way I am, or simply close their minds so completely as to just be caught up in a whirl of panic, fear, and conviction that I am hellbound.  For the rest of their days, there would be a blight cast and a shadow of failure on them (in their minds not mine).

This is the matrix that I consider when I choose who and how I am going to be out.  Now please don’t misunderstand:  I am publicly out, but not ostentatiously so.  I have not yet chosen to come out to my 2 closest immediate family members, or my one closest in-law.  In the case of my in-law, the odds are very heavy that there are only a few more years left here at most, and this person has lived a happy, productive and kind life and is proud of who I am/was in their history and experience.  In the case of my own family members I see each of them so rarely that the news of my transition seems to me to be an unnecessary burden upon them.

I could be wrong…in each case there might be a pleasant surprise of acceptance…but I am not sure about it, and the potential for damage is far greater than the potential for blessing…

…and so silent I remain.

Well…it has become clear that someone intends to out me to these individuals, and all in the name of their own supposed pain and violation, all in the name of “helping others” who grapple with the transition of a loved one.

And it is impossible for me to describe the internal state that this prospect puts me in.

First of all, one of the quickest ways to induce suicide in a transgender person is to rob them of agency regarding who and what they are by outing them.  This is a historical fact and I have posted a lot about that.  Think of the woman who killed herself after Grantland Magazine outed her, just as one very public example.

But second of all, it feels at the core like such a vindictive thing, and full of spite…and worse yet, if I were to protest, well then I would be accused of doing the very thing that this outing will do to me.  I will be accused of being a hypocrite, wearing a mask, living a lie, curtailing the rights and freedom of someone to share their story…etc. etc.

Your right to tell your story ends at the beginning of violating someone else.

Well…Constance, if you go to the beginning post, and make your way thru Grace Notes, you can decide whether or not I am living a lie…

…what I am living is a tragedy.
What I am determined is to be an agent of Redemption, Grace, and Mercy.

Carefully consider how you live…and in all things, be kind.

In sorrow, in hope,
Charissa

Terribly Hard

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I am terribly hard on myself.
Not just too hard.
Terrible.
Hard.tumblr_niy9cbPyuK1sbjyoko1_400I took
a bunch of selfies.
I deleted them.
It was easy.
Too bad I can’t
just delete myself,
right?
Processed with VSCOcamOr…if
not myself
then those
things, each
of them, that
leer in me
lurk in me
rage in me
roar in me
hurt in me
haunt in me
fear in me
fall in me
scream in me
sigh in metumblr_niwvwsMNhV1r20af2o1_1280I could just
point, click, delete
and they would
be goneo-ANXIETY-1-900But then again,
so would I.
Be Gone.

I told you
I am terribly
hard on myself.
Not just too hard.
Terrible.
Hard.tumblr_mws19657NM1t3vrj3o1_540

Octavio Paz: Listen

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Octavio Paz

listen to me as one listens to the rain,
the years go by, the moments return,
do you hear the footsteps in the next room?
not here, not there: you hear them
in another time that is now,
listen to the footsteps of time,
inventor of places with no weight, nowhere,
listen to the rain running over the terrace,
the night is now more night in the grove,
lightning has nestled among the leaves,
a restless garden adrift-go in,
your shadow covers this page.tumblr_nmn59haEjP1qa7gx5o1_1280

The First “Contemporary Christian Music” I Ever Heard

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I didn’t even know there was this genre of music, and shortly after Mama did some miraculous things in my life, I heard about this concert of these dudes called “Lamb”…and I was like “what the heck, let’s go”.

Well, I started to cry about 2 minutes in and wept the entire time, just so moved by their down to earth love of God and love of humans.

If you put this on and let it play, I think you will be glad you did…

 

Bird In A Golden Sky

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Constance…in spite of the betrayal, in spite of the abandonment, the lies and distortions…this.

Just.  This.

This is how I feel, like I just learned how to fly.

I am Charissa Grace, and I finally got here.  I really did.

 

The Truest Transition

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From the book of Job:

But He knows the way that I take;
When He has tested me, I shall come forth as gold.

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Tattooed On My Heart

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I have seen some gawd-awful tattoos
Oh, it isn’t the theme so much…
it is the foolishness of letting
a needle that is marking permanence
and making marks that will last forever

be wielded by a clumsy hand,
a hand unloving, a hand unkind
worse, a hand that simply doesn’t care
or even know to care or have a clue
what Tender Mercy is

(on the wings of a snow white dove…)

I am thankful for Their Needle, Their Words,
Their Implacable Mercies that zing
again and again and again
to render marks eternal
indelible on my soul, forever

and rend my skin irrelevant
because They have become
Tattooed On My Heart

Only A Smidge Lower…

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Constance…I am here today to admit.  OMG there is sooo much I would change about my body if I could.  The more salient question is what would I not change?  So this really hit me…hit me hard.

What am I supposed to do, stuck in this skin of some biological male creature that so many seem to have attached to, and now hate me because that creature has been revealed as who it was all along…and that revelation happening to me at the same time?

Do you have any idea how it feels to be othered so hard that certain people now act like I am dead?  And when I am blessed enough to have communication it is of the harshest, cruelest and most dehumanizing form possible, stripping me of personhood, of being, and reducing me to a verb, or a mask, or a nothing?

I can never remember a time when I did not feel this way…never.  Reading about these children, wow.
So I post this…for your thought.  Likely there is not much we can do now about our own body image issues…but we darn sure can be kind to others now.  We darn sure can touch our children with gentle words…and no matter what we can speak to other human beings cognizent always that they are stamped with Mama’s image, they are riddled with God’s Image, and are thus just a smidge lower than God and are as gods themselves.

Video

In case you weren’t convinced that hating yourself is a learned behavior

Physical shame comes from parents, teachers, media, and peers. It’s not something you’re born with. You were born naked, wonderful, and gorgeous, and no one should make another being feel as if that wasn’t, and isn’t true.

Across the Rolling Plains of Time

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I laugh like summer breezes light and airy
at those cloudy fulminators who, like Old Faithful
blow off sulfurous steam every 75 minutes, or every 75 years,
even every 75 decades (yeah, this tired rant is that old)
and froth and belch all bothered about how Faith
is merely an emotional crutch…(can I LOL in a poem?)Image 002They are clouds who promise rain and then
just blow right on by bone dry, unable to accept
life’s difficulties, they, not I, are needing an escape
to another world, an other-world…it almost breaks my heart
in its sad naivety, foolishly blind and blinking hope in nothing.
Almost.tumblr_nig7g4fiat1r44q44o1_1280They call me blind, my faith blind?  When I am someone marked
by an inability to accept (no, an unwillingness to accept)
the cruelties of this world as status quo…

I have taken my raw courage in hand to declare this life marred
is not the way it is supposed to be!  We must live alert, aware we were
created for something so much more, so glad and so beyond!tumblr_n67g0sLvug1ruhuppo1_500It is the ones who call nothing something, who insist that life
without God is “freeing” and imbibe the fantasy that life
is of no significance and death is even less, who are blind and will
not see…and so they seek to dwell…where…reassured? With no one
there to hear, to answer, to see injustice done and judge accordingly?

(“Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”)

we attempt to dress such naked poor philosophy
in beautiful robes, but in the end we always find
it was all an act upon a barren storefront-stage.tumblr_nnxq6pweYE1sdqemdo1_1280Well, this Christian(neé) does not make her pilgrimage to new abundant life
by way of ambulance, sounding sirens on its merry way to some lost fantasy! 
Quite the contrary!  Golden glimpses of new life can be seen even now…
glorious gifts worth searching for as if for treasure prized and buried
or silver wink of coins lost in a house long needing a great sweeping…

We can live as people gloriously transformed by the Humility of Christ
Who, Grizzled Bison on the banks of those stinky threatening geysers,
rolls in those flats sulphurous, then gallops off unstoppable
Across the rolling plains of time, across the Rolling plains of time,
across the rolling Plains of time, across the rolling plains of Time.tumblr_mveo5s3wRw1qft4nwo4_1280

Those Razors Bloody

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They were laying there on the ground
of my heart, bloody and gore-flecked
and dully glowing with the sheen of life
blood and the thrill of cutting to ribbons
the tenderest places of my heart.

I wrapped them in the ribbons of heart
you left intact, attached at one end
by the tenuous tendrils of flesh that
you either missed, overlooked, or flat out
just didn’t care enough to slash.

I hung those wrapped razors
those razors bloody with me and fading
up on the wall where your picture
used to be, and I straightened them
so they hung just so, and straight…

my mementos remaining of you
and my hopes for a future with you
dripping onto the floor
and then drying out and becoming
a static reminder of a moment
in a dynamic river of our lives.

Untitled

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the way Mama fills the void with light
the way Mama inhabits the space in my friend
the way my friend inhabits the holes in me
the way of Love
tumblr_o6d1vg2bh71qbushvo1_1280

 

Walk On A Spring Evening in May

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I walk the gloaming path,
rain-drips fragrant whispering
to leaves, to rocks and kissing
moss with secret snikkle-nips
of spring flower nectar.tumblr_nn9sazLEZ71rv2dfko1_1280the night rises out
of dusky shadows
grown bold as the sun
shrinks first behind her
cloudy veil and then
sheltered behind hills
she drops her gown
to stand unclothed
hidden and revealed
solid and present          (like me)
in the growing dark

and i think about you there
in boulevards of noise and neon
surrounded by staggering solitude,
aloneness in the conflaxity and klaxxon
streets of phony fire.tumblr_nkgasibdcT1sm8q63o1_500

the ferns bend,
wave in winds
and breathe in
my loneliness
as I pass by,
sort of a
photosynthesis
of the heart, of soul,
of sorrow rebreathed
and transformed
into something
less than

and clean.SONY DSC

what was today?
what are these
days strange and
alien to me,
totally same and
labeled other?
totally different
and called
a mask?

but the path,
fresh and baptised
in the cleansing
of the sky
(become the river)
(become my tears)
(become my steps)
the path beckons

and mirth
tamped, banked
whispers from
under leaves
and rain

and wind

“follow, and be amazed.”

so I walk
in the rain,
in the growing
dark of fading day
and happy nighttumblr_n0hj58ZFAz1rrcicko1_1280stars there
behind clouds
waiting to walk
the runways of
my hurty broken heart
gracing each jagged edge
with the light

behind the Rose
behind the sun.

i cry gentle
and I walk on
to the next rising.tumblr_nhs49zgIcw1qzkm8ro1_1280

burning the insides (For Jane)

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i am burning
the insides, today…
for you i am

burning my cleansings
the insides of my veins
the insides of my organs
the hidden, the deepest,
the most secret
places i burn for you,
for your facetumblr_mmr616a1eU1s77uipo1_500you are core inside core
inside me and the day
i chose to be
tattooed inside
by you inside
with you 

was the day
my life was ever
set on high
and rendered ever
alwaystumblr_nn950h0iqk1s5neh1o1_1280you see
you remember,
rags of past
times torn asunder
from their loom
where they were
so careful woven
to lay precious
ones under

well i have
made a fire of me
my insides (you)
and see the smoke,
how it cleanses
your self-recriminations
from your lungs
and replaces

them with us
my insides
which are you
pulsing thru me
coursing thru metumblr_nlzw1krAlh1trxee1o1_500like wild horses
in spain
(see their flying manes)
under that rainy thunder sky
while torrents plunge
pelt pungent
onto the plains

so dry
and the smell
of hot rock
so dry
of heated flint
so dry
and flying dust
so dry

struck from sky
by fierce waters fallen
from on high

in our house
in us
we are made
clean in our love

forever.tumblr_lrqx0fAn8a1qmr3yeo1_500the best decision
i ever made was you
in all your icy-fire ways
fiery-ice inside and me
ever entranced and held
ever committed to hold
both nurtured

i’d do it over again,
all again
longer than karma

(see her?
cruel imitation
with her puny wheel)tumblr_mfsuzqZBU01rtcvydo1_500

Transgender Today – Avery Jackson – NYTimes.com

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Over 50% of transgender children try to commit suicide by their mid to late teenage years. A large number of them succeed. And the main reason that these children state that they try to harm themselves is the lack of love and support of their family and friends. My wife and I decided that we would much rather have a happy, healthy daughter than a dead son.

via Transgender Today – Avery Jackson – NYTimes.com.

Impossibility Concealed

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I saw this quote just now…and I want to comment on it afterwards.  Read on:

“It annoys me so much when people take advantage of someone’s kindness.”

Please note:  if a person is truly being kind, it is impossible to “take advantage”…you have already been given advantage.  Any “taking” involved is just your mental gymnastics performed to justify something within yourself…the mere propping up of an ego-centered and self-oriented world view that fosters the idea that anything good must be taken.

The humiliation of receiving…it is a huge stumbling block for so many, and yet the privilege of being kind can overcome it.

Because kindness is only kindness if it is given with an open hand and a priori of any sort of reaction by the recipient.

How you respond to kindness given says nothing about me and everything about you.

Why not choose and act in kind?tumblr_nht789CcLX1rcq303o1_1280

Sleeping Easier

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I am sleeping easier these days
though haunted still by each day’s fading light
and dread foreboding in the dead of night
that clutched my bones and left me in a daze,
I’m detoxing from terror’s ghosty ways.tumblr_my5zjoFFgW1rkpi10o1_1280The fear of sleep walks hand in glove with death.
The fear of not being awake is like
that cloying fear, the fear of not-being…
and who can really ever fathom that!
Because to not-be is to not know breath
or fragrance of red roses on the wind
or deep contented sighs at journeys end
or hearts melded forever with a friend.tumblr_nn8kf3TxQa1qat5pio1_400I used to lie awake at night,
too scared to go to sleep
for sleep was so indifferent,
and yet so sinister, so threatening
cus sleep seemed to be no different than death,
you know?  You’re there, awake, aware
and then you’re gone…not there…

Not moving, not talking,
not thinking.
Not aware.
Not aware

(but there were nightmares in the air
and battles with the most horrific enemy
the world has ever known
as I lay there in my bed….
so still and so unable to move
while trying to fight death
and trying to wake up at last
for good)Image 009

Sleep is that disquieting reminder
of that which we try to deny each day.
For how much of our lives and livelihoods
aim at outrunning death’s finality?
We stock pile emails, push for more
make productivity our shield
against the wrinkles, against time itself,
against the aging
against dying

But now I know that sleep is the reminder
that we all need to remember our beauty
and revere life in its brief brevity…
Sleep can wake us up to what comes after
we fall fast into its steadfast grasp
and death uncoils and slithers like an asp
to sting us with its fearsome fang and clasp
us to its chilling breast and putrid rasp
of its reedy voice doing its duty…tumblr_nn6aqcc62Y1tpu005o1_500

and there, buried in slumber’s cotton arms
we wake forever more to heaven’s charms
and smell the fragrance precious in the air
of dreams more real than this harsh life’s cold cares
of riches more true than the wealth of worlds
and these magnificent words at death hurled:

“I Am the Resurrection and the Life
and all who trust in Me, believe in Me
shall live, though that bell toll for thee”tumblr_nnal5jUbT91qat5pio1_500

Someday I’ll sleep for my very last time
I’ll drift into the dark and dread unknowing
and be wrapped in the horror of not knowing
but from this slumber I will finally stir
and death will finally be forced to concur
that I am dancing, finally awake
and yes, the Good Lord came, my soul to take…

See…I am sleeping easier these days
Yes, I am sleeping easier these days.tumblr_nn0gcll5rB1rk1cbbo1_540

The Power of Grieving, The Power of Time

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I’m pretty sure that all of us have experienced sadness, but I really don’t know if all of us have experienced grief.

I’m talking about that helpless rage that is so great it is calm, so empty that you have never felt so full, and so sticky it seems you can never be expiated.

It comes from the loss of something or someone you were not designed to lose.

You do realise that, don’t you?  Human beings were not designed to experience this sort of relational loss.

Loss is the result of something else that happened to creation due to the way free will was/is decided to be used.

But as with all forms of fracture, God is faithful to bring forth creative answers and counter-creations, in all Their faithful infiniteness…They always have a beauty that will come to you and weld with you and in you, and though the fracture is never “not have happened”, it is somehow made beautiful.

This.

This is the hope, and the glory of God.  They are faithful, each and every time, if you will be patient, hold on, and keep your heart open.

  1. All This F-ing Time and I Still Feel Grief.  You think, “All this f-ing time and I still feel this grief?” And your body is saying “Yes. Yes, you do.”

    unconditionedconsciousness:

    I’m going to take this from you
    but give this to you instead:
    more space, cleansing tears,
    better questions, compassion,
    pathways to the center,
    maps to deeper wells,
    less distractions,
    blankets of darkness,
    little pools of light under your skin
    where he touched you
    but will never touch you again,
    and holes in your heart
    that nothing but pure love can fill.

    ~ McCall Erickson

On Purposive Grace

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Dear Constance…

Transition is the most incredible, revealing, testing and purifying crucible I have ever been in.  It has taken every single area and facet of my existence into its cruelly loving, True Arms.  Spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and physically.  It is revealing who I am and always have been, it is consuming who I was not and never was, and it is catalyzing all that I was/am/will be in that growth process that goes on throughout life.swamp or skyThe greatest gift it has given me, though, is the gift of being…and knowing that I am a co-author of this being, in ways that I previously had no arms and legs to embrace and carry.  I also lacked a deeper awareness of just how little the leviathan gravity of the past chains me to itself, and how much that same past grounds me in my choice of who I am today, tomorrow, the next day, and the rest of my days…

I have received the gift of Purposive Grace.  Let me explain.baloons_ii_by_photoyoung-d7eu7gpSo in the last 6 months, it has been shown to me very clearly that my experience of the last 31 years is totally divergent from that of other people in my life during this time.  Words have been spoken to me, around me, about me that were/are very destructive, vitriolic, hateful, angry, cold, sarcastic, condescending, judgmental, derisive, and crushing.

Words from people that I think the world of and have endeavored with all of my might to love, sacrifice for, serve, and encourage.  I had thought that in spite of imperfectness, I had done a faithful job in this…

…I have discovered that their experience was utterly other and that I am perceived as the most abusive, controlling, hateful, distant and absent person in their experience.  I have been named things that hurt so deeply that I just went numb for a few days and then finally the indescribable pain was actually a relief because I knew that I wasn’t dead.

In short, it seems that I have been a complete and utter failure in every way and everything that I had as my guiding vision for how to live, and that is that, game over…see you, wouldn’t wanna be you.

Add in the other experiences come my way since I chose authenticity over mere existence, those wonderful accusations of being demon possessed, in rebellion towards God, back-slidden, a sexual deviant, etc. etc. and you have the sum total of the majority viewpoint of who and what I was and am.tumblr_nbvqn4ihM11r2tlvoo1_500But:

…my own experience of this time was very different than what I am hearing now, and it is in this disconnect that my sanity and my soul was truly tested and put into the fires of refinement.

I have asked myself:  what is my mission in life, my own self-defined, self-desired one true and central throbbing purpose?  Is that changed or different?  The answer is no!  I am still me, and I took the name Charissa Grace because of this vision/purpose/passion!!

Yielded vessel, yielding blessing.Image 002Since I was a young child, I have had a 3-fold prayer that I have never stopped praying, though I have many times had reason to regret it due to the pain and suffering that have followed it in the preparation for its reality.

1.  I freely chose to give up my free will as my one and only true gift of love to God…it is the only thing that I have that is mine and mine alone that no one can control or take, including God…so I reasoned that it was the most valuable thing I had to give Them in order to show Them my love and gratefulness.  That has been since I was about 9 years old or so…

…the choice to have no choice but belonging to Them.tumblr_nnm1y998sv1tzp41vo1_12802.  I asked Them to please let me be a real christian, and what that meant to me was that I wanted to live out the reality of being the most gracious and kind, most tender encouraging, gentle-hearted, faithful and patient person I could be.  I wanted to truly live out loving my enemies, living a sacrificial life in joy (not that supercilious martyr-spirit sanctimony), being enthusiastic, being kind…always kind, and giving grace out as if it were as plentiful as the sands of the Sahara rather than so rare and precious as the most valuable pearls.  I wanted to truly forgive everything and do so with the power to enable grace preeminent in a person’s life afterward.

“With the measure you use to measure out, so shall it be measured out to you.”
“You will be forgiven in the same manner that you yourself forgive.”

Those words haunted me then…and do so now as well.  God knows how badly I screw up…everything.

*Sick, rueful chuckle*…God knows, and so do I, now…it seems that I have totally and completely utterly destroyed the lives of those whom I would die for without even a flinch…

…so you can see my deep awareness of the need to be forgiven, the utter necessity of grace for me…

…that is what my prayer to be a real christian meant/means.tumblr_nnor8qCfSC1qas1mto6_12803.  I asked if I could know a true death to self and alive-ness to God.  I took Philippians 3:8-14 as my life verses, understanding the “fellowship of His Suffering” to be that daily embrace of death to self, so that one day I could honestly say “it is no longer I who live, but Jesus who lives in me!”tumblr_nmunmqYryk1s4uwt4o2_r1_540So, all that…and now today, in the ashes of the reports about who and what I was, am and was thought to be…

Has anything changed, regarding my future?
Is there anything I can do to change the past?
Most important, do the experiences and judgments of others define me? Or do I retain the power to define myself and determine my own being in the midst of the future’s yet to be revealed manifestation?

The answer, of course, is that the words and deeds of others ultimately have no bearing on who I want to be.tumblr_mv7vftNPCz1qa7ch8o1_1280Thus:  there are 2 different possibilities:

A.  I was completely guilty of every last accusation.  I was an utter failure.
B.  I was essentially who and what I thought I was, and given the fact that no one is without error and flaw I am not guilty of what I am indicted of.

I am confronted with a choice of what to do…how to respond, how to live, how to not respond and not live…and it is clear to me that my original 3-fold prayer and my current life mission statement are still viable and legitimate!tumblr_nfgcg51qPS1rktvico1_1280

If  “A” is true, then my daily quest is to learn from that bankrupt experience and use it as a platform to be a different person:  to be

“the most gracious and kind, most tender encouraging, gentle hearted, faithful and patient person….truly live out loving my enemies, living a sacrificial life in joy (not that supercilious martyr-spirit sanctimony), being enthusiastic, being kind…always kind, and giving grace out as if it were as plentiful as the sands of the Sahara rather than so rare and precious as the most valuable pearls…truly forgive everything, and do so with power to make grace preeminent in a person’s life afterwards.”

If “A” is true, I have lost for the rest of my days in the earth the most important and truest treasures of my very marrow…and so that loss and pain shall become fuel to purpose to forever be better to others and give to them what I failed to give in spite of my highest and best efforts to my deepest hearts…that loss and pain shall make me tender and kind, and utterly forgiving of all wrongs, for God knows how deeply I stand in need of forgiveness.tumblr_nnnwmhw1rz1sooy9go1_500If “B” is true, then I am dealing with the complex combination of intersecting vectors involved with the becoming of other people and their lives chosen and lived out daily…and I have the greatest opportunity any human being can be given:  the power to disappear wrong and hurt and cold love!  I have the chance to “bear all things, believe all things, hope all things, endure all things…”.  The chance to discover a true love, and live out the fulfilment of my 3-fold prayer.tumblr_nf52qzXAV11r7huino1_500

Constance, have you noticed anything yet?

In either case, the past is past and has no power to keep me from the future I choose for myself!!

There is nothing…nothing…that I can do to change, undo, redo, do the first time when it comes to the past!

But there is everything I can do in terms of going forward.

This is Purposive Grace.  The things others think or say do not define who I am and want to be.  I do.

And thus I chose to be…Charissa Grace.tumblr_nnofle8uAU1r4or01o1_1280May everyone who reads this understand this is the true meaning of my name:  it is a promise of a hope and a future, and an undying commitment to choose God always, die to myself, and be a real christian who looks like Jesus.

My love always and ever, Heart, if you ever read here…ever.

Just know there is already forgiveness and welcoming heart, and utter commitment to giving what is in my power to give.  Of course I am aware of your “aught against me” and I am utterly committed to taking responsibility for every wrong action, every action undone that should have been.  But should it ever come to it, you never ever need to revisit any word spoken that you may later regret.  It is already heard, received for what its heart cry was, sucked dry of all that is good and discarded into the seas of forgiveness for all that was other than good.

I love you always, and remain the one who treasures you for you and you alone, not anything you have done or did or not done or did.tumblr_ni39czWKdg1r1arpmo1_1280

Constance…how about you?

How do you choose to live?  What hold will you allow the past on you?  What vision will you grip and be gripped by?  Please join me in this quest towards a life lived in Purposive Grace…ya never know:  there could be miracles ahead!tumblr_mtt54zi0Kp1s873vmo1_500

Do justice.  Love mercy.  Walk humbly.
Charissa Grace

The Forest Dark Is Full of Grace

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“dark is the forest and full of grace”
I read this line and it made me pause
as I recalled spanish moss lace
concealing all the oak tree’s flaws

and how the path did twist and flit
around the thickets dark and deep
to clearings where light does acquit
the night as my soul’s love will keep

you, in the brambles, in the brush
and lost in deepest forest glen
and blind to dusky quiet hush
or if not lost, well……wandering, then.

Full of grace…oh grace so sweet
and falling soft as snow on leaf
to wash and bless your tired feet
and lead you home healed of all grief,

this is the cry of my soft heart
cut from the velvet cloth of night
and covering every broken part
with grace like stars dancing so bright.tumblr_n2vydq86xI1t2po5ao1_1280

Trellis of A Future

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Hush, Angel…
what?  Oh, that…
yes, you are my angel
and always with that stardust
brushed on your heart’s eyelids
like Heaven’s mascara decorative and blessed.

I know you
built the walls
(you used my flesh
and blood as brick and
board and stone and mortar)
and your hands are covered in the stain and effort.

Never mind,
do not try to tear
it down, or dismantle
what you did not see you built.
I HAVE A PLAN!  See, Ima grow
up and down and in my Lady’s Chambers

and cling
to divisive bricks
and cursing stones
and hangman boards
and bloody bones, in beauty
and covering all with fragrance

the fragrance of forgiveness
and love forevermore.

I Will NEVER Not Believe

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I will never not believe,
my dearest one, who, sitting there
in lashings out and shifting blames
and broken memory
and cursed names…tumblr_nmxsy40oMQ1tp8egbo1_1280you hate me for most everything
and hate the things I hold most dear,
the only Things that kept me here,
for that you hate the most, I fear
for I did by Them to Life cling
and midst death’s horrors tune and sing.tumblr_mxvhxcDh2c1qadx22o1_1280There is nothing I can say
I have no avenue or road
though if I could I would,
and time thus slowed
to return to each and every time
to lay me down and pray the Lord
my soul to take in payment there
to give you wholeness now, my dear.tumblr_nlais89Dc31upmhfmo1_1280but to not believe? Never…
it’s not that I would not give you
the gift you think you need, I would
but I cannot, because They can
in “my life”, this dead woeful run.tumblr_mxg4a0SSTf1shqs68o1_500No matter what is said or sung,
no matter every fist that shakes
or heated voice above the fray
I always wait for coming day
to shatter this long “marish night”
oh this is me, Childe of the Lighttumblr_n10ceb4aZy1rxq5upo1_500and I ever will believe
that Jesus will my pain relieve
and heal the wrongness of my hands
and gather all the scattered sands
and run them back into the glass
and help you regain memories
of glad joy, life, of you-and-me’s…tumblr_ndqdibPKdN1skelofo1_500I will never not believe
I will ever just believe
while ravens pull my innards out
may this restore something in you
if there is anything called grace
may it give you back your face
and everything that got ripped offtumblr_nn65aprWoq1tbs5tuo1_1280restoring everything to you…
mostly I wish you had your history true
and shared together with us but

I will never not believe.

Nevertumblr_n2vydq86xI1t2po5ao1_1280

Give me Ayin Tovah!

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Give me Ayin Tovah!
Please oh LORD!
I need that “good eye bright”
to see clearly in that glad light
the world and all that lives therein
more clearly than my dull blind sin!tumblr_n2iappSj2j1r0f8s4o1_1280I choose that which is most dear,
that which is higher than the rest,
that which is pregnant with the best of best,
OH!  Give me river sight like waters
that rive out canyons deep and great
and beautiful in what has quick
been seen and then removed!tumblr_nk3x02fyaf1txde3xo1_1280yeah, I admit it’s true, that siege
of heart and soul by warring sides
with all opinion to the south
and every thought discordant lurking
dead north in sly quick ambush!

But it’s okay, I’ll use this pain
to myself remind to keep my eyes
wide open, kind and wider still
than the mouth of Jonah’s whale
and my heart here open wider in this gale.tumblr_nn0hrrh4u11r2zs3eo1_400This is the key to our city on the dungheap
our city of ruins and all about is strewn
our cut off-ness from rich gold transcendence!
Because there is always persistence
of good, of beauty, and truth shines bright
and its pure light is all around us!

All I have to do is rest my naked eyes
on the most mundane things and not
blindly ignore that jarring exhibition
of our propensity for estrangement!tumblr_n58agq7P2R1qg4kx9o1_1280If I can manage to keep my eyes stripped
of fear and fig leaves, then I can manage
the gentle gifts and unveiled grace implied
in every true glimpse of beauty and wisdom!

“All human nature vigorously resists
grace because grace changes us
and the change is painful,”
wrote Flannery O’Connor, lost
in one of those times when God woos
slowly with beauty, grace, and grandeur, woes
like seeing evulsive rivers woe and woo
the earth, moving in a manner
that is missed so easily by busy lives
or critical lives so readily distracted
in a focused pointing elsewhere
(or any other where, for that matter).tumblr_n58alvXEN21qg4kx9o1_1280In those mad times we are the mere
commuters between here and there
in Metro stations oblivious
to the works of Art before us, and
our estranged stony faces
miss the manifold displays
of a many-splendored God’s great graces
in such singular eternal entirety!

But other times, alas
it is we who find ourselves
moved nearly to blindness,
as we labor to take in
the glory of this God
in every startling moment,
like Moses or Isaiah lost
in deserts or in visions…

…Give me Ayin Tovah!
Please oh LORD!
I need that “good eye bright”
to see clearly in that glad light
the world and all that lives therein
more clearly than my dull blind sin!tumblr_m5z0ntTwTe1qa6xujo1_1280

Spring Grey Me

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here…coffee and cats, warm and sweet
and the window thin and clear
between me and out there
clouds close and quiet
and laying soft, snuggling over rainy earth

and you, thoughts of your life
snuggling in the base of my throat
sweet and thick, hurty-hearty present
and I morosely serene…staring
out the window at this grey new
spring morning.

thinking of beach bright you,
spring grey mesgm

Kánte Dikaiosýni̱s.  Agápi̱ Éleos.  Perpatí̱ste Tapeiná.
Charissa

Never Ending Irish Rain

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You still look cold.
You should probably
come closer
to the fire before
it burns out.

I know you don’t remember,
no, you can’t remember,
can you?
But you love this
Never Ending Irish Raintumblr_nn3cvkEnbH1sooy9go1_500pouring down so green 
and soft all cloaked around us
no matter where we are
in all of the whole earth
or time from the beginning blue…

you have jamais vu, my darling:  
not remembering something
you always see each day, but
you forget as soon as
it is out of sight,tumblr_nn2a2lpnUY1thfeewo1_1280and then you turn your head
your beautiful estrangéd face
to the other side of midnight
and behold that silky rain
(as if for the first time)

that Never Ending Irish Rain
fell green across the golden waters
and washing down those greying sands,
quiet, themselves ablaze, a-falling
like stars straight thru the night
tumblr_m8vyav6kyj1qdnleko1_1280your eyes glow with delight
your heart goes green with grace
and all time is this moment
on your estrangéd face so wet
til you forget again

this sweet and spicy curtain
this velvet mist refreshing
…this cry of your true Celtic Heart…
Never Ending Irish Rain…
your Never Ending Irish Rain
tumblr_nmnxhtV2Lj1thfeewo1_540

3 Lies We Need to Stop Telling About ‘Negative People’ — Everyday Feminism

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3 Lies We Need to Stop Telling About ‘Negative People’ — Everyday Feminism.

Very good article, and it addresses yet another binary prison.

Constance, your pursuit of happiness is not going to be actualised in the elimination of people you think of as negative…

…and this is largely because true happiness is something that has everything to do with who you are or are not, not others.  Haven’t you noticed yet that every single “rilly rilly kewl” person you meet eventually does something or says something or is something that is unpleasant or (gasp) *negative*?

And I will say this, but speak for myself alone:  I take a certain pride and joy in interacting with “Eeyore” people, and then bringing joy to them.

How in the world is anyone ever going to influence anyone anywhere for joy?

People who are toxic and will destroy you if you let them?  Okay, those people you would be wise to avoid if possible, or if not then be suited and booted around.

But people who are simply “negative” are likely reminding you of something about yourself that needs changing, and so Charissa says keep them around, and learn to grow!  Give them some grace.

Someday you’re gonna need some for yourself.

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly.
Charissa

My Stance Regarding The Past, and The Distortions That Are Clung To

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“Just because your pain is understandable, doesn’t mean your behavior is acceptable.”
— Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience

Keep this one in your back pocket for the next time someone acts like an ass and then tells you they’ve been through a lot of stuff. Respectful and yet still firmly keeping respect for yourself.

Respect for myself…this is new to me, for I have not really ever been aware of a “self” to respect!  The self I knew was more a naught than a presence.  What I was not plus who I was not added up to me equalling naught, and thus I never respected myself.

I do now…and taking responsibility for shortcomings does not make me responsible for the distortions and poor choices of others in reaction to them.  I can joyfully embrace my opportunity to express my true remorse in not being the perfect person I desired to be and not being “the best (fill in the blank)” I could be…

…but then letting someone add cruelty to this?  Allowing them to dehumanize me, devalue me?  Diminish me?

Nah, I don’t think so…not going there anymore.  Respect for myself means that I own my behavior and let everything else go, and oddly, I think this sets other people free by placing them in accountability for their own choices in how to respond to my shortcomings and places a responsibility to respect themselves by acknowledging their own failures.

Hey, if Victor Frankl can overcome what he did, choose a proactive life in spite of those grave horrors?  So can I…and so can you.

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly.
Charissa Gracetumblr_nn05mm9MLU1slipiho1_500

Disconnected Fists

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they’re visible, don’t worry, it’s now clear.
you’ve made them known to us, you’ve brought them near.
you’ve parted the black night to show their flurry
you’ve pierced the darkness with them, they are here
in front of me, swinging in violent sphere
and they connected judgement with rank fear.

those hard bones writhe, they crawl beneath your skin,
those bones now brittle with the pain within
and become sharp-edged, cutting thru the din
with angles, planes, indictments of old sin
imagined, perceived lurking deep within
and cloaked beneath your tattooed skin so thin…

and seeing those determined self wounds glare,
those prison house tattoos inflicted…where?
haha!  where not is more the likely question!
those long years harboring the things you think
and living with that historical stink
to birth your athenaeum of hot ink.

I see them hanging, disconnected fists
I see the ritual mutilating notes
written on you, canvas once so soft
and now a record of your fists aloft
and shaking clenched, like Charon’s fated boats
attempting to defeat the smothering mists…

I beg you…let your hands let go of you
and let the ink run backwards up your arms
and let forgiveness work her healing charms
and let your face be wet with grace’s dew
whatever…regardless, I love you
Image 003

If You Are A New Reader…

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…I want to invite you to look back thru the months to dip into prior posts.  There is a plethora of plenty there!  Poetry, posts about a wide range of the issues faced in life that are poignantly illustrated by gender orientation, theological musings and spiritual experiences recounted.

You can discover who “Constance” is…and you are invited to join her if you wish.

You can definitely see growth and development in me, as I live and breathe in transition from a not-out but self-aware very dysphoric transgender woman who is perceived as a white male of power, position, and privilege to a more congruent and out transgender woman who is now regularly othered, policed, and yes occasionally even perceived as who I actually am and received in joy.

You will see the journey of nearly every transgender person who endures the loss of so many things, so many people, in the desperate quest to gain themselves.  You will witness how this quest is defined by the defenders of the paradigm as selfish and self-centered…when it is far more about finding a fort of safety from suicidal ideation and death.

But above all…hopefully…you will find a person who is making the transition that every single human being must find a way to make:  that transition from death to life…from works to grace…from self-centered ego-oriented pursuits to other-oriented sacrificial service.

And maybe, just maybe?  That life motto of mine can at the end of it all be found true:

Yielded Vessel Yielding Blessingtumblr_nlflo6rI7y1rrvadyo1_1280

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly.
Much Love, 
Charissa Grace

PS:  The best way to investigate the archives of Grace Notes is to use the calendar at the bottom of the blog page…or utilize the search function in the right hand margin.

this lil artichoke

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gawd, that sharp glinty knife
coming at me quick (again)

that edge, sliding softly and then
slipping in past that tender push back

and then into me, and the skin splits
and the layers melt side-side

like butter giving way easy and quick
before that silver edge honed true.

and the top of me falls away
and there below gapes the rest of me

me, of the rest, prickly and pokey
and all artichokey…and another stroke

of the blade downward-sweeping
and turning, graceful curving

to scrape my sides and scour them
of all those chokes, every mis-spoke…

and then into hot water, steamy
scourging, softening, sweetening…

and edible at last…
a tender Heart-not-choked

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Chewing On That Stone

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Prelude
I’m still caught on teeth, those yellow jagged teeth
surrounded by liver-lips drawn up and back
in such a snarl (or is it a sneer?),
such a scream (or is it a moan?)…those teeth broken
from chewing on that Stone.

You’ve been infected with Ginsberg disease
and you howl at Allen-moons for no reason at all
(No, I don’t say there’s no reason that you howl,
I said you howl for no reason), and that is why
you snarl and sneer, scream and moan
and gnash your teeth on Living Stone.tumblr_nl27dcz2QY1s2clnyo1_1280One
And me, writhing there and twisting, twixt your chewing jaws?
How does my blood taste? Like pusillanimous payback?
Like silver times 30? Like bright copper pennies
that make no sense…or something different?
Like strawberries in summer, cranberries in winter,
grapes in autumn…flowers in Spring?

Alas, you do not see those chosen chains that hold me there,
left wrist shackled, right hand extended,
left hand open in laughter, right wrist bound in life..
for there is room—and reason—for life and laughter…
and this you have not noticed, in your imitation howl,
in your false heroic snarl, your wild and bulging eyes
fixed ever on the chains you think hold me in jail
but are those bonds against which you strain and flail!tumblr_mw23k85lli1sdmbk5o1_1280Two
Even in the air besotted by your breath,
your breath befouled by hurt and haunted by revenge,
there is Joy beneath that pain, a presence that is Present,
a winsome invitation all around us constantly that beckons
“Come participate, in spite of buried questions, be honest in conclusions
and philosophies you claim explain the past, present and future.”

You chained in pain, me in pain and chained, and rooted
by choices to remain…deep rooted, ever-grounded
in joy, in life, in laughter, wonder-imagination
as a child who can be startled by the One I’m looking for…

…and I stumble there, across it, flickering on rainbows,
on the razor’s edge and caught between the past and future…
and then it disappears as present becomes Brilliant Present
and then fades…into the next one (the next present into Present
it’s apparent as a parent and it’s hidden to a child),
this stark stripping of the clothes of coming future,
this discarding of the grave-cloth of the past.tumblr_n9qr7dB8d31rtp2uuo1_1280Three
There is Wonder in this world, there is Laughter hidden here
deep within the very marrow of the dry bones long laid tender
in the ground to decompose, it remains, it ever-lingers
in the beauty, in the humor, in the unexpected joy,
in the child at play enraptured and delighted in each breath!
And it has a source, origin! Just as we do, there is meaning
to these fickle days that bob and weave
from logic unto laughter and then back again to wonder!

It’s the Image…and your railings and your rantings can’t deface it!
It will ever-shine so clearly, silver-startling against sunset!
It is resident inside you and it calls out to beginnings
in a loving Present maker who gives us immortal worth
in the image…in the image…in the Word become the Image…tumblr_n0hj58ZFAz1rrcicko1_1280Four
You are haunted by what’s happened, I am haunted by what’s coming!
You are chained by your distortions, I am chained by this great Hope
that if we lay our burdens by the streams of Babylon,
by waters dark with mystery, with nothing left to gain or lose
then merriment will come again, hauntingly…to waken us
and we will play again, at last, and make merry our hearts alive.

And so we come to where we started,
gnashing teeth and heroes chained
and villains caught on points of light
and the central Player in the drama,
Resurrected Son of God, fully human fully God,
and the ringing Invitation sounding in our desolation!tumblr_nm3svlx2JH1qat5pio1_500Five
We can set each other free, I set you free, you set me,
if we take the invitation of the Author of our story
and live full in our encounters, present in the desolation
drinking of the consolation that our present becomes Present
and the Gift is greater than the bitter rancid agony
of hope deferred and love-sick hearts.

And that door on which we knock?  It will someday open for us,
swing wide and receive us Inside…Inside…where we will be Present…
So please come back from those fevered flights of fancy so infected
by the greatest poison ever known, the venom of a fallen Self…
seek and play, find and live, and be noble in the giving
of ourselves to one another new in every radiant dawn.tumblr_nm9m0lxplx1sko9cso1_500

Inarticulations Articulate

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“Why is it so hard to articulate love yet so easy to express disappointment?”
— Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

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My Only Response, Ever

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Constance…the timing of God never ceases to amaze.  Events of Holy Week this year…events of great import and significance took place.

And on In The Grave Day, I heard a missive written about me, a little to me, or maybe indirectly all to me, I don’t know.

It was the worst thing I have ever heard in my life, and as such it chokes my heart.  I guess what was ultimately most sorrowful was to see how deeply broken and in pain the writer was in spite of what were my best and highest efforts and intentions…and obviously woefully short of the mark in every single facet, bar none.

It cut off response, for it declared all of who I was null and void and all of who I am pathetic and weak.

Well, I left that missive in the grave on Sunday, and simply have no choice but to go on, forgetting what lies behind and pressing on to be more yielded, more surrendered, taking hold of Them Who have taken hold of me.

But I will comment in this one way:

“Always Ever Treasured“

I love you with inexpressible beyond understanding love.
I miss you terribly.
I am so sorry that so much of what I desired, intended, was received and twisted into this present snarl.

I get it now, Papa…why Your one and only answer to every question hurled in Your Face by Your creatures was to take on our form, and come to our existence, and be crucified horribly suffering all things in Yourself.

Oh Love…if I could do that, and give you back yourself I would do so and gladly.tumblr_n76owu13M41rktvico1_1280

As You Are Writing (Easter Heart For Someone Special)

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As you are writing, pouring out heart
onto the pages in fits and in starts
I am right there, so quiet and soft
and Heart is the flag that we unfurl aloft.

I know to be still and just rest there in peace
while furious storms you capture and release
transformed by your spinning skills, straw into gold,
while I look on in wonder and glory behold.

You shift in your seat and blow that wisp of hair
that falls crost your brow towards your face ever fair.
But I keep my balance with liquidy frame
and wait til you’re done and you call out my name.

I am so happy to sit there and pour
out my glad joy to a friend I adore
and warm up the cold places in your deep core
and follow our Mama Who goes on Before.

All my love…your Sis

In Hell’s Hollow Halls

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I heard it, from the deep dark
rank with such fright
and masked in mean menace.

It woke me, from a sound sleep,
straight into stiff silent
screams bouncing off deaf night.

I listened, to the slow gait
shuffle shuffle slip late
and pondered what shade shambled there.

Then I heard, the slap of warm flesh,
bloody feet bare on stone,
cold stone worn slick and smooth

by great passing multitudes,
captives grim and without hope
bound for dungeons black and deep,

the sound of dancing holy feet
holey, bare, stepping light
stomping on a serpent’s head

as they walked down, down, down, down
over every cold hard stone
to the bottom to atone…

throwing open every door
shouting to all captive there
get you up into God’s Air!

And then the shuffle of a host
led forth from captivity
by a King in death alive

heaven inside death’s dark maw
plundering every taken treasure
sowing grace there without measure.

And I rested in this sound,
my heart echoed with each pound
on this day that He is crowned

with my past, successes, fails,
every sorrow past the pale
every shipwreck in the gale,

and I knew that at first light
I would place a tombstone bright
graven names there, writ just right

to show that I am me, not him
and that his life of sorrow grim
is laid to rest, its power dim

And in that grave I’d also place
the hateful words, a three-fold face
of judgement, lies and lack of grace…

and then tomorrow, when the stone
is rolled away with rocky moan
my forward path of grace is shown

and I will walk free without guilt
from that hovel judgment built
and live this life full, to the hilt!

I do not owe God anymore,
I do not owe you in your core,
I don’t owe 1, 2, 3, or 4

Because I am bought by that sound
of bloody feet on hell’s cold ground
So liberty in me abounds…

and thus I walk in grace
I’m free within my place
Delivered from the race.

Amen and Happy Easter tomorrow.

Scars

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Here on this side? See our scars.
Our wounds (both bloody and bloodless),
slashes (from sword-edge and word),
stand here stark, and they testify
in agonized aching hushed voices
of terrified troubling stories…

we hear them tell extreme tales
of widespread violence, of rape
of torture, and we the lost subjects
imprisoned in darkness and sadness
bear these wounds in our bodies, how long?
Permanent markings of violence?

These black tattoos left by oppression,
calligrified by sorrow’s stylus
that’s gripped in grief’s bony cold hand
to engrave deep its ravenous history
on our lonely hearts, carved here for…how long?
we’re identified by these curt scars.tumblr_n9ivwxEsoW1rvi7nzo1_400

Standing so quiet and still,
solitary smack dab
in the middle
of all that was, is,
and will be

the broken body of Jesus
the gushing stink of His spilled blood
but present with us now (like scars)
in the bread and the wine understood
to be broken and shed for our Good.

Jesus bore wounds of violent oppression
in His very own body forever!
Even after that morning so wrenching
that tilted this world on its axis
Heaven’s ringing eternal endorsement!

In that glorious bright resurrection
He stood there…just bearing those scars
in His hands, in His feet, in His side
and He showed them to all who would look…
He identified with us…in Scars.crown_of_love_by_phatpuppyart_studios-d8mgo73

There, on that side?  New Creation
began with Resurrected Jesus
and included those scars that He suffered
by nail and by spear and by word
and the wounds of the Glad Risen Lord,
the reminders of the crucifixion
take on new light and meaning and joy.

They shout of the Power and Glory
Of God dirty with History’s story
and triumphing now and forever
over evil and death, over sorrow
and a work of redemption that’s reigning
now begun in us, marked by our scars
here with us now in our wounded world.

So the present time is streaked with mercy
acts of justice, creation of beauty,
celebration of truth kissing grace on the lips
deeds of love and forgiveness and kindness
and such generous Grace over all!
Resurrection gives us such relevance
and a future where meaning is possible!tumblr_nahvy3d0Lf1t091kco1_1280

meaning made possible in resurrection
of a torn body still marked by the scars
like diadems, medals
adorning the Sacred Heart
Faithful forever and ever…

That’s the reality of resurrection
as displayed by the scars that He bears
as our Hope, as our Joy and our Glory
that shines in our darkest lost places
giving us reason to live.

We work and we toil, perhaps
even pour out our blood, sweat, and tears
to tend to the woundings of others,
and our labor is far from in vain
for Christ has gone on ahead

and He beckons with smile that is glinting
with towering majesty cloaked
in such Kindness, such glad jubilation
He scarce can contain His good will
He is on His Throne, Alive and Well.tumblr_nlqo0aoI0k1thfeewo1_1280

12 Transgender Christians Share Their Journey… | Believe Out Loud

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12 Transgender Christians Share Their Journey… | Believe Out Loud.

I think I will go ahead and press this.  Constance, I haven’t read these links yet…but Ima take that small risk and put them up here for your perusal.

Let me know how it goes?

❤

Charissa

On Level Ground, too, for taking two

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“It always takes two. For relationships to work, for them to break apart, for them to be fixed.”
— Emily Giffin, Heart of the Matter

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