You sit as a silent observer,
And when I look at you listening, patient, processing
The coffee flecks inside your chestnut eyes reflect back to me the darkness of the words you hear
Words like "sexually assaulted" "molested" "raped"
And my heart whispers silent prayers that the shadows of this bleeding broken world would never darken your soul but instead make you a champion of right and of good
A warrior for the weak, the needy, the lovely and the loveless
A real a man

Men, my quiet-soulful son, real men
Don't take, they cherish
They don't take the souls of girls wrapped in skin and use them for their own pleasure
Real men see the soul, the weakness, and the loveliness that lies inside the skin and they choose to cherish - honor the beauty, the need, and the uniqueness.  Real men do dishes and laundry and work hard to provide for their families not because women are incapable but because they are givers who cherish.

Real Men
Don't break, they protect
They don't break bones, bruise hearts, fracture dreams or tear skin in selfishness or anger.
Real men sacrifice to safeguard their sisters, and when you're a real man, you see the women of the world as your sisters.  Real men risk themselves to save hearts, bodies, dreams, and the souls of those they get to love.  Sisters, Mothers, Daughters, Wives.  Love is a great responsibility, and you my son have been gifted with souls to protect.
Real men tell her she's "beautiful" when she needs to hear it most (in sweat pants and stains and when it's least expected), Real men forgive and admit when they're wrong. Real men are selfless when it's easier to be selfish.

Real Men,
Don't use, they encourage
They don't carelessly waste those around them for personal gain, popularity, acceptance, or power.  Real men build walls of hope and encouragement around women with words that are true, honoring and intentional.  Real men see through the temporary and focus that which lasts - righteousness, contentment, hope, love, joy, honesty, truth.  Real mean stand for truth, they don't twist it to suit.
Real men listen, cry, and care when it's easier to be apathetic. 

I know what it's like to align your soul with a boy,
Boys take, and use and break
Boys squander the beauty inside, they steal hope, and trap you inside lies of self-doubt and fear
But I didn't stay there
It was the encompassing arms of a man, his disappointment, heart break and his forgiveness that brought me back to life
I have always been surrounded by good men
Real men
And if you ever wonder what one looks like...
Look to your Papa, your Daddy, your Uncles, your Great Grandpa
Ask them what it means
Ask them what they did right, and what they wish they wish they could change
They'll tell you
And I'll be here

Body Image - A surrendered beauty

She was beautiful,
Long red hair that twisted into curls at the end with a voice that was always soft, controlled and sweet,
She was fun and patient and kind - Mrs. Blackwell
My Sixth grade teacher
And as her student you knew she cared about you
Not just about papers, Greek God projects, and Monster-Mash performances, but about you
She found the beauty in us - awkward, prepubescent, obnoxious, self-absorbed sixth graders
And I'll never forget these words
"You are such a beautiful girl, inside and out"
She was an encourager

What I record next
I blame on insecurity, pre-teen hormones
Or just an attack of darkness I wasn't readily prepared to fight

She said I was beautiful on the inside and out
But my mind twisted and morphed that into
I'm Ugly
Because that's what people say to people who aren't very pretty
- Right?

I was shallow
And insecure
Lost
Listening but not hearing
Looking but not seeing
And I would waste years in that place of void
Longing to be pretty and feel beautiful
Confusing the symmetry of a face and look of a body frame for the honest radiance of the soul
And God's artful design of me

Don't we all have something ugly we're hiding and fighting?
An external blemish, sag, bulge?
An internal battle of imperfection or comparison issue?
A confused understanding of how God pieced us together?

You are A weaving of emotions, talents, weaknesses and strengths that are uniquely yours knit together by the master weaver of the universe
An eclectic collection of colors, and brush strokes painted by the creators hand
One of a kind
The only you
And me, the only me
So why is it we struggle to see ourselves?
To feel talented, worthy, beautiful...more?
We forget
We're Gods masterpiece IN Christ Jesus
And some of us need to move INTO Christ
For the masterpiece your life is intended to be can only be fully realized when lived within the grace of a Savior
Surrender
Surrender our idea of beauty, to the revelation of who He made us to be
Accept He is the artist and master weaver
And He calls us His greatest work of art
Ephesians 2:10

Absolute beauty is found in surrender
Letting the mirror reflect the heart of our Creator
And accepting our self, design and worth in HIM

We all need a Mrs. Blackwell to encourage us
Because, on some level, we're all fighting against ugly
Even better than a Mrs. Blackwell
Is a God who claims you
And calls you beautiful
So
If you don't feel beautiful today - YOU ARE
Don't be like me listening but not hearing
HEAR
Believe
Surrender
Accept
Live
Because You're Beautiful

Words, Honesty, Forgiveness, Scripture, Love -

Words
Good, bad, indifferent
All are open to interpretation
And may be internalized differently by each person that receives them
A word so easily forgotten by one, can cause reflection in another
That's why I wrote Remember - a misinterpretation of forgotten words
Some words are not meant to be interpreted.
Some words are empty and others have weight
Misinterpretation aside my plea was honest
But it may have been just as much for me as anyone
See, I'm great at remembering the crap I put myself through
Inside I know I'm forgiven,
I know I don't deserve to be,
I know how good God is,
I know He's erased it, and yet somehow in his awesomeness He's used it to shape me
So, sometimes I need to be reminded

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man...But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us -- Romans 5:6-8 --
Therefore there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus --Romans 8:1 --

I'm blessed in this life with relationships that are in Christ
With people who are honest
And forgiving
And
No matter how old a little girl gets,
She's never too old for affirmation from her daddy.

Scars

They are both obvious and obscure
An unchanging-blot, marking us both inside and out
A forever reminder;
On the outside...
*of how our belly's stretched to carry and nourish a growing baby.
*of a first bike ride or a clumsy miss-step.
*of the mole that ended up being benign
*of the fence we didn't quite clear or the knife that we shouldn't have been whittling with
*of the belly-button ring dad never wanted us to get anyway
*of how our chin hit the table, how our teeth penetrated our skin, or how the blade shot through our thumb
Our wounds heal from the inside out. It's a patchwork process that begins from within the deepest part of the injury; slowly our outside is knitted back together- protecting our inside from infection, pain and further injury.
And when we're whole again, we're find our whole is different than it once was; changed and marked. By a patch of thick, often numb, pale tissue.

Internal injuries scar us just the same...except it's our heart, or decision-making process that suffers the marked change.
*it's the miscarriage that makes us question, should we try for more children - and although we don't make the final decision because of the loss, the sting of the pain, the numbness that temporarily replaces it until you can eventually cope forever effect you. We can't pretend it didn't happen, We can't forget, so we adapt - take time and let it heal, and as we heal we scar.
*or the poor-choices made in the name of independence as a teen, and the regret of my sinful-hypocritical years age 17 to 19 - yet, as much as I wish I could rewind and delete those two-year, I can't. So, I press-on, in the hope that I will live many more years sanctified by His grace. And I'm humbled when I think of the wounds, the blood and the pain endured so I can be forgiven and right with God. Because of me...He is forever scarred.

And so as we live life; we get our feet dirty, we scrape our knees, we pierce our heart, and we get our feelings crushed. Our wounds slowly close leaving us scarred, and changed, but healed and living.

Reflection of my past...

The events of the past can not be undone.
The effects are sensed in the present, and ultimately shape the future.
My past holds for me some of the ugliest and yet some of the most beautiful pieces of me.
The ugly piece I loathe, it is an ever present reminder of the pain that accompanies sin and poor choices. I was broked and conflicted.
The beautiful piece I cherish, it binds me tightly to my family and draws me closer to God. I was innoncent and sustained.
Without either part I would not be the same me.
The ugly and beautiful alike have molded and chiseled the reflection I now see.
So, I use my past to forge ahead, the stinging reminder of pain triggers better choices, and while lost innoncence can not be regained I can strive to maintain the innoncence of my children.

Philippians 3:13 b : "...forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead..."