My brain is [over] filled with words strung together as statements, swirling and twirling around, hurling lies and false beliefs about myself like needle pins into my heart. My heart has become a pin-cushion. When did I stop letting His Truth reside as my protective layer? The guard around my heart has halted to exist; the beautiful tension of soft and moldable yet protected, keeping lies from penetrating? I wonder if we aren't too different, you and I.
It's Monday. I spend the morning in my journal of prayers. The leather bound book with more empty pages than inked ones, wrapped tightly and secured by a strand of more leather. The pages are yellowed and worn, aged even at new. Is that how we are as humans? Worn and aged, battered and broken, even when we are brand new? I don't know. I don't think so.
We meet some friends for coffee at 7 am. It's a good way to start our Sabbath. Talking about Jesus and His way and His heart and the way He stirs us up inside. Stirs us up, spurring us on, giving birth to fresh dreams. I observe a fresh sense of joy coming today. A joy accompanied with many other things; but JOY. Joy.
I am landed at The Writing Desk. The Writing Desk has had so many words written on its solid slab of wood. It has had so many prayers whispered and cried, so many dreams scrawled, so many books read, so many blue candles lit. The Writing Desk was an inheritance from my Great Grandfather, Don. I sit here and I wonder why I have allowed words to penetrate that are not allowed; words that imprison and trap, ambush and constrain, as they string themselves into statements. Statements to make my dignity flee, my hopes, banish, my work appear failed.
I do not believe those statements are from Him. I know they aren't. And yet I have lived by them. Why do I believe the lies about where my value stems from? Where my identity resides? Who I am to my core?
I open the Book to the page I have been reading daily. Isaiah 29:13, 17-19, 30. I read the words over and over again, raking them through the potholes of my brain; I take a pin from my heart and weave the words in and 
through my soul.
"Soon - and it will not be very long - the wilderness of Lebanon will be a fertile field once again. And the fertile fields will become a lush and fertile forest. In that day deaf people will hear words read from a book and blind people will see through the gloom and darkness. The humble will be filled with fresh joy from the Lord."
The infertile will become fertile. The barren, the desolate, the broken and unworking that should be bringing life and goodness and fruit...will become lush. Soon. My soon is so much different than this soon. But soon. Through gloom and darkness, through mire and damaged-ness, through desolate broken barrenness, the blind will see and the deaf will hear. He will bring beauty from death and barrenness; even barrenness of the soul. A fresh joy will fill the humble. Humility is derived from brokenness, a broken spirit. Psalm 51 says that the sacrifice He wants from me is a broken spirit.
I feel so broken.
It is almost noon, it is still Monday, I am still processing so many words. I find my way back to Him because I know that He always holds the truest answer about who I am...because who I am is held in who He is. And He is steady and sure, faithful and true, trustworthy. He is my truest Dad.
He is so trustworthy.
The heat of the day melts me like a popsicle from outside as I sit at The Writing Desk. I decide to scrawl out big dream and goals into my journal. I realize that He is beckoning me to live, live fully and boldly, because He creates with such potential. Such greatness. He destines us for greatness. 1. Writer; bringing many closer to who He is, through honesty. 2. Wife to Loren + Momma to many. Those were my Top Two Dreams, in no particular order. They settle into my bones like sand, making me feel foolish. But as I prayed bold and specifically over these two Dreams, I feel Him drawing out faith. Renewing faith. A few hours later I read a sentence from a book: "Faith is often the willingness to look foolish."
Faith is often the willingness to look foolish.
I take the pins out, one by one, leaving fresh wounds. The salve to these wounds is His truth, His promises, my faith in Him for those unbelievably impossible dreams that have been etched into my heart.
I wonder if I am not much different than you - if you have secret scary dreams, that seem too big and daunting and unreal, lies keeping you from voicing them even to yourself. If you would appear foolish if your goals and dreams were stated.
But faith is often the willingness to look foolish. I bet Jesus looked foolish, hanging on the cross with a crown of thorns. And yet, He was crowned King of Kings. I bet Moses felt foolish when he held his staff at the Red Sea...and yet it parted. They pursued what they were made to do. They lived their purpose and mission, both beyond their resources.
What are the lies preventing you from chasing what you were made to do? What is a dream, a vision, beyond your resources?