Biker Church

We went to this biker church here in Albuquerque once, there were people there wearing thier cuts. If you're not familiar with that term it means the vests with the logo and name of the motorcycle gang the rider was affiliated with. Once you got your cut you were sure never to ride without displaying it. It was a tradition, a law in this circle.
There was a varied selection represented, but they were all intermingled here.

There was a cross on the wall made of motorcycle tail pipes. There were tatoos, ponytails, leather, blue jeans and beards.

The faces clearly showed a story behind each one but upon making eye contact you could also see a brokenness, and quiet unexpected joy set deep in the spirit if the bearer.

Someone called everyone to their seat, and a tangible sense of reverence blanketed the room. 

This would be the moment, in any other church, when a few beautiful people would head up to the front with instruments and begin singing and playing familiar tunes to create an atmosphere of worship towards God.

At least that would be the intention. 

In those traditional or charismatic churches there would be smiling faces who clapped and enjoyed this warm up exercise for the service.

There may also be those distracted, playing with their phones, talking to their neighbor but still part of that warm up atmosphere. 

This moment in the biker church was unlike any other service I had ever attended. It had so little in common with all of those services.

There was no stage here, there were no instruments, there was no leader no band. 

There was a projection of the lyrics for the song directed to the front from a laptop. The song was familiar, current, beautiful and incredibly meaningful.

Images of water and the ocean layered behind the lyrics to flow with the song.

The most stunning moment was as the music began to play the quietness that settled so heavily on the room - then the lyrics started showing and the voices that came out of these bodies to form a collective whole; attention paid directly to a God that they were in awe of.  It was just completely amazing.

When I say amazing that word is sometimes misused overused and misunderstood, but this was the absolute definition of amazing.

The sound of these voices was angelic because it was so pure and so sincere.

There were no distracted people, there was no fidgeting, there was just this intensely warm and loving melody originating deeply from within a group of people in awe of the realization that they had the opportunity to know the one true almighty God. 

These rough riders who had seen thier share of violence, pain, and suffering, they were now standing in a place if healing, forgiveness, mercy and grace.

They sang as if there was nothing that could force them to hold it in. They were exuberant with peace and submission.

This settled sense seemed to create an eruption of joy and tears of freedom that rolled down their faces, faces which held no shame.

When was the last time you actually saw in another person or you yourself ever felt absolutely no shame.

The facial expression is hard to put in words there's no definitions that do it justice.

I know though that I will never forget those faces, that sound, and that sensation of thickness and heaviness that was so comforting yet brought me to my knees before this God whom I am thrilled to know is most definitely real indeed.

passing away

A friend passed away several years ago, cancer took her from us.
As I type that statement and as I read over these lines I found in a piece I wrote shortly after her death I wonder if this is accurate.  I realize that it wasn't so much that she was taken as she knew it was time to go, and she gently left us.


The shallow breath has no force to mist the mirror, it reveals the pale fragile moment before the breath completely ceases to provide the spirit with life.
The chemicals have attempted to destroy the invasion of thieving monsters.  
The surgeon had attacked the mass and cut away the poisoned flesh. 
The pinpointed burn of the cells with radioactive precision has lessened the strength to carry the remaining portion of what was considered Vicki.

Her name, the original meaning is victorious; this victory is not celebrated with pomp and cheer, this victory only surrenders to a softly spoken peace.

How do those who have loved her, held her, grip her- let her go?  How do we release her into darkness when we are assured by her that she herself is embracing the purest of light?

It is all selfish, this refusal to let go.  It is all due to our craving for her connection to remain tangible, physical, continuous.

Then, when saying farewell, when gathering to mourn- we see her eyes closed, her skin pale, and her form lifeless, thin and hollow- but her mouth...is that actually a subtle curve of a smile?

tonight...

He breathes deeply as his body relaxes,
he is exhausted of all momentum that propelled him through this day.
He snores, a sign of full surrender, he is at rest, as I.
This day has seen both stillness and fluster-
I will allow the thick darkness of the night air to tuck me in on all sides,
as I used to swaddle our children.
We have come to rest here
in this moment of temporary completion,
of succession,
of contentment - tonight.

BettyK
October 1, 2007

Fault Finding

The blame game.  We all can get quite good at that one.  It is an ancient characteristic ingrained in humanity to look for someone to blame other than ourselves.  It has happened in monumental situations that have changed the course of history, and it happens in everyday life as young as those toddler years when we use shifting blame to get out of punishment or responsibility.

I know this quote is from Dave Ramsey; a financial advisor, but it can easily be a quote used to coach someone in most other areas of life as well.

Do we like to search for where we went wrong, for the root cause of a season of struggle we have been in for way too long?  Isn't it easier to just complain about the difficulty and focus on the pain or mess we are in rather than actually do what this quote is saying? How often we like to think we get to the source of our fault in a manner where we deceive ourselves into thinking the fault we have actually stems from another person's action towards us.  We can entirely miss actual reality and create our own version of the story we are living out.  We can run along thinking we are so productive, and so together, yet we could miss the actual point that would change our course and put us in a position to in fact become truly productive and definitely more put together.

Today I write these words wondering where am I at financially, relationally, emotionally and intellectually.   Have I followed a pattern in any of these areas of life that if I take a moment to look over time; I can see some unhealthy choices or mistaken steps that have been my fault and how these actions have created a pattern in my life?

Financially - Can I see spending or saving patterns that I could possibly change?  Do I see an inner view of finances that has actually stunted me from growing in financial security?  Am I taking responsibility for my actions, or lack of action, that may be creating a stagnant financial situation in my life?

Relationally - Are there people in my history that were not the best fit for my life yet I chose to connect or interweave our lives together?  If I look over time can I see a pattern of this type of person repeat itself in my friendships?  In my partnerships?  I my employment choices?

Emotionally - Can I look over my life and see how I have handled events emotionally; have I developed and grown, or have I deteriorated and flailed in the midst of life's bumps and turns?  Who do I turn to for emotional support?  To whom do I give emotional support?  Where do I seek emotional instruction and development?

Intellectually - Do I see the pattern of growth in my intellect over my life?  Have a continued to seek knowledge and understanding as I have grown? Or did I quit a long time ago and wallow in unintelligent circles where there was no challenge to my thoughts or skills?  Do I understand my worth and see my value to others around me and this world in general?


When we were children we were taught to look for patterns in early elementary school. They say understanding how to look for patterns helps a child find a sense of order in everyday life.  Have you continued to look for patterns as you have grown up, or have you become dull and unaware of patterns right before your eyes?  I encourage you to look for current patterns, but as I mentioned earlier, look for those past patterns that may be able to give you insight as to where you may have misdirected your travels.  Be brave and willing to alter your course.

Know that as we see where we have continued in the wrong direction there is still hope to find our way- all we have to do is redirect our steps as we recognize the need to do so.  If your life were a giant maze and you realized going down a certain hall over and over you only hit a wall, then you would chose a different hall to see if you could find the path that led you out to freedom.

Now if you had no idea you were in this maze you may just repeatedly go down that same hall because it was familiar and you felt safe doing so, but you would never get out of the maze and achieve the final freedom.  Today you are aware of the need to reevaluate and steer the course of your life with responsibility. You are aware of the maze.  Embrace this moment to actually gain footing and choose your path.

May these words find you encouraged, and challenged today and in the life-filled days ahead.

BettyK

The Girl in the Shadows

I thought I'd paste a bit of a story I started about 11-12 years ago.  I feel like I have the rough draft set but need to polish it up in order to fully release it.  I'd love to have feedback from this intro.  Does it make you want to read more?  Let me know!
thanks
BettyK


The Girl in the Shadows by BettyK

           There was a shadow of a girl standing in the bushes as we drove by, I turned and looked again and she wasn’t there- was it me?  It’s dark outside and the headlights play against the buildings, the moonlight gives trees and utility poles new form- ghostly form.  

            I see that which isn’t there, I feel unreasonable sensations, and then I am all alone.  At least I can be alone, in this car, while the driver is in his own thoughts.  No radio playing, no conversation exchanged, just the rhythm of the road at night.  Two people traveling together, yet alone.

            I know where I’ve been, where I am going is still a slowly unraveling mystery.  There are places I have visited and returned to.  The place I find myself tonight is far better than some of the hollows of my conscious memories.  I remember pain, I remember fear, I know there was joy and pleasure back there as well-this is pale though.  The vivid colors are in the memories that mar. 

            I’m on the road again.  We are getting close to home.  How did we get here so fast, I didn’t pay attention?   There is that girl again. She is hiding behind a willow tree in a darkened yard.  Why does she look like a scene from a familiar horror movie to me?  I guess the more important question that screams in my thoughts would be – what is she looking at? 

Stories, thoughts and bedtime tales

My husband and I were tossing story ideas around, it got quite amusing when we tossed around the thought of a plot where the people came to realize the flamboyant televangelists were in reality vampires in disguise.  Oh my, the roads you could travel developing a story on this premise.

Yesterday I was thinking of the way I tell my grandchildren some familiar old tales but I give them my own twist, like The Three Bears and how in the end they never wanted to harm Goldilocks.  I actually closed my tale with them all having tea and cakes in front of a cozy fire and the bears giving her a lovely place to live with them.  As I was thinking of these story times with the kids I realized I probably should write some of these stories down to save for as they grow older.  I can't always remember the twists and turns to my versions, and the children often remind me of that, but I would love to give them the best memories in print.

There is one tale I had been musing over with a modern premise, The Three Little Pigs.  I thought what if we modernize it a little with building materials being a pallet house, a container home, and an earth house made of mud and tires built sturdily into a mountainside. The big bad wolf would actually be a building inspector who wanted to ruin the pigs plans of attempting to live off the grid. Then I realized, the tale I had been telling them these past several years would amuse them more and this tale I was spinning was more humorous to me as an adult.

Finally I was attempting to recall a story I made up one night to tell my eldest granddaughter and her brother before bed several years ago.  It was spur of the moment, but it actually held my grandchildren in total silence.  My daughter in law was even captive listening in the hallway as well, unbeknownst to me.  It began as a tale of a young woman who lived in a castle in the clouds, her name was Splendina.  This castle was made of sugar cubes and the clouds of cotton candy, and Splendina loved to sprinkle thoughts of love and joy and sharing over the children below by means of a special pixie dust.  It was quite lengthy and full of things I really wish I could remember because it absolutely mesmerized those kiddos.  I have been asked by my granddaughter if I can remember the story like then and tell it again, and she is now 11 years old already, but much of the colorful details are gone forever.

This is why I must write, there are thoughts in my head, words in my journals over the years, stories I've told that I want to give.  I want to relive the joy, the sorrow, the awakening, the inspiration of those notions I have held.  This is why I am choosing now to veritably write.  I want to pour my heart into the pages.  I want to leave something for our generations to come to read and feel my connection with them, and be inspired.

So today I will take time, I will remember, and I will create fresh new thoughts and put them into paper and cover and produce bits and pieces of me, this is an exciting adventure that has actually been unfolding for quite some time.  And I always enjoy a good adventure!



...with thoughts and words that bring you life,

BettyK