The Journey of Self


Becoming
and being true
to one’s Self

Is like a bird
regrowing the wings
that have been cut off completely
left bleeding

It flies away
it takes off and soars
not looking back
Its soul finally coming to life
aflame with a thousand fires
shining in all colors of the rainbow

Being the way we are
the way we were meant to be
and created to be
Is the biggest way to honor
the One who created us

For it is saying
Thank you
for making me,
out of your pure and wonderful Love
shining through me now

And the bird takes flight.

Grace during the Night


God,
where are you,
during the dark night of soul,
during the moments
when the pain eats
at the core
of my very being?

Where are you,
when my feet
seem to lose hold
and moving on becomes a struggle
like walking on a moving dune
of liquid sand?

Where are you
when the senseless emptiness of it all
wants to swallow me,
tempting take
all sense of perspective
leaving behind
only a sense of nothingness?

You are there,
in midst of it all–

lighting a faint light in dark night,
pointing towards a rock onto which to set my foot,
holding out a hand to lead towards new horizons,
new perspectives and fill me with new sense

Starting to once again gently shower me
with your Love everlasting
falling drop by drop,
washing away
what holds me back.

Freedom


To different people, Freedom means different things.

For some, it may be the absence of all rules.

I’ve been going through a lot of changes and thinking recently, so that I can say that for me, at the moment, freedom means to be free to think and believe what I believe to be true and just, without being weighed down by fear of guilt and hell, and to accept myself, love myself, embrace myself and to be (become) who I am.

Now that may sound a whole lot selfish – it is all about me. But in the light of what I’ve been through and have experienced, it is a big step.

I spent 7 years in what I’d qualify as an abusive Christian environment with a manipulative and abusive leadership, and today I find a lot of their teachings questionable. When I left there, I was about 19 years old – today I am 41 years old. It took me many years to heal, and I am still digesting certain issues – I mentioned some of it here #ThingsOnlyChristianWomenHear.

Continue reading “Freedom”

On Loving.


A friend of mine from Pakistan had a bumper sticker on her school bag that read « Love for all, hatred for none ».

That motto kind of is mine as well: as much as possible, I go out of my way to hate nobody –certainly not in actions, but also not in thoughts. Feelings are hard to control, but hatred harms the one who hates as much as the one who is hated. I’m not talking about being angry for the right reason – not to be confused. As much as possible, I try to see the best, the good in each person: everybody was created good, and in the image of God.

Some, throughout my life, have smiled at me, belittled me or even laughed about me: surely, with such an outlook, I haven’t seen much of life, or must have had an extremely easy life, that I am naïve.

For sure, I am aware that compared to a big part of the world’s population, I am rich: I live in a nice house, I have 3 meals every day, my children can go to school, my husband has a job, we have healthcare. I am grateful for those blessings – I am aware that not everybody has that.

But I am not stinking rich.

My life has not been without difficulties, even if I did not grow up in a warzone, and was fortunate to not have to live in one.

Growing up, from day 1 of going to school, I got beaten up almost every day; someday it was only with fists, on other days it was with leather belts and wooden sticks, even a metal bar. Insults were daily, based mostly on my skin color and origins. It went on for years and years, and the fear that went with it.

Add to that being molested, abused and raped several times as a child, teen and young adult – it has something of getting killed slowly, several times.

Finally, there was psychological and spiritual abuse as well.

You don’t leave that behind unscathed, and basically, there are two options: you can flee into something, and/or wall yourself for protection and shut yourself off from everything in the process, or decided to heal and be healed.

I finally chose the latter. It was not an easy process, neither was it a fast one. But walling myself in would leave me missing out on so many wonderful people, things, opportunities and people. And I suddenly find myself overflowing with love, an open heart and open eyes for all the miracles around me. It must be God’s love, for only He could have healed such a broken me.

Even on days where the pain of the chronic illness weighs me down, on those days where I can’t walk again from the pain or can’t even cut a slice of bread, or can hardly remember my name because of the brain fog, I see life as a gift as beautiful miracle, to be cherished and lived to the fullest.

I may be naïve… but a loving naïve.

Beautiful people, everywhere.


The other day, I walked through town.

I live in a village, so I don’t get to town every day, only about once a week. Anyhow, I saw a group of young men standing around a car, and two of them sitting in a car. A couple of them were tattooed, some heavily, most were wearing hoodies and baseball caps.

An elderly lady walked past, visibly annoyed by those foreigners and mumbled something about those “thugs” and “oxygen thiefs” and was just short shaking her walking stick – at least that’s the impression she gave – at the same time, I guess she was too intimidated to do just that.

For a short moment I watched the young men.

However hard I tried, I couldn’t see any thugs there. They were talking, laughing, all had friendly smiles and were shaking hands.

As I continued walking through town, I decided to do a little thought exercice: as I looked at each person I’d come across, I was going to find something positive. And actually, it wasn’t that hard.

One had nice eyes, another a beautiful smile, for someone else it was the way they looked at their child or their partner, or a gesture, for someone else there was something hard to describe that set them apart, or the wrinkles around the eyes… everybody had something.

There are no ugly people. Only beautiful people, so much wonderful diversity.

Everybody is unique.

Everybody is precious.

Everybody is a gift.

It sometimes takes a small effort to look beyond the prejudices, or preconceived ideas we may have (and I have them, too – I have biases against the Paris Hilton style, or rich playboys, and those who seem to be rich people with a better-than-you aura about them, but I’m working on that) – but it is worth it. The only thing that can make someone ugly is their character – and even then, the person is still precious. I’m making it a point in my life to go through life with open eyes and an open heart – it makes life so much richer.

Everywhere – yesterday, today, tomorrow.


When We become
‘I’ versus them

When You become
not the other, but the stranger

odious things happen,
cross the barrier
from mere thoughts
to barbarious acts

It is not
We – Them
I – You
Muslims, Jews, Christians,
Buddhists, Atheists, Pagans

We are ONE human family
holding hands in solidarity
reaching out
to whomever we see

my heart cries out
pained
at so much senseless violence
against my sisters and brothers
mothers and fathers
aunts and uncles

May there be
consolation
comfort
recovery
justice
strength
healing
– this is my prayer

May there be
peace on earth
an end to violence
love for all

May we see only the faces
of brothers and sisters
when we look at those around us.