Where I find a place to belong

Welcome to another Five Minute Friday writing exercise where we spill forth words in 5 minutes flat and watch them fall with no worry about perfection, over-thinking or marinading.

Today's prompt is:'Belong'

START...

Where I belong

Childhood didn't fit

 with illegitimate

writ large across my life

until they did the decent thing

 and became husband and wife

Mind and body abused,

unwanted, neglected and

used, so I escaped

into words

wrote out my heart

longing to belong 

Somewhere

as friends proved fickle

to this extrovert-shy 

child heart looking 

to be a part

one of the crowd

not stand-out alone

when face and form didn't fit

selection for a sporting team

and being accepted

remained a distant dream

I gave all I had

yet secret things

remained locked up

with feeling sad 

and bad in my own

and others' eyes

no athletic glory

nor academic prize

and yet I yearned

to be accepted

just as I am

Then a Voice 

whispered close

drew me in 

with cords of love

compassion

 and forgiveness 

for my sin

full acceptance

and understanding 

of everything

my life of pain 

and mess

Now unfurling 

as plant to sun

with tendrils of trust

leaning close 

to Father's heart

the One True Place

where I belong

in His embrace

lifted and held

each day by 

fresh outpourings

of love and grace

with fears 

of being an outsider

no longer holding sway

©JoyLenton2013

STOP.

Linking here with Lisa-Jo Baker for Five Minute Friday. You are very welcome to join in.

To stay in touch with my posts, poetic and otherwise, you can subscribe by e-mail, join with Google Friend Connect or like my Facebook page.

Why silence can speak volumes

Silence is anathema to many. 

Living in a continual buzz of noise and wall of sound have become the norm.

Many people cannot read or study without at least some music on to accompany it.

Having continual beeping technological machinery around us has become so commonplace it barely registers.

We can almost fear silence

It feels alien. Uncomfortable. Weird.

I used to feel that way. Any distraction was welcome. 

Anything to drown out the thoughts in my head that reminded me of a past I longed to escape from.

Keeping busy, busy, busy, was life to me.

Attention to spiritual things was perfunctory at best. God lived in a box marked 'Sundays only' and my bible sat gathering dust like the mould in my mind.

My inner life remained dry, empty and sterile, but the outer one was as full as I could make it...at least on the surface

All was brought to an abrupt halt when I succumbed to M.E and life as I knew it came crashing down.

Now there was time and quiet space to focus on what really mattered - knowing God intimately and addressing the painful issues from my past - and nothing else to hide in.

These days, I crave quiet (and dark) as welcome companions to ease stimulation on an overloaded, weary brain and nervous system that can only tolerate a fraction of what is perceived to be 'normal' noise and interaction.

Though we all need space just to be rather than to do so that we can rest fully in mind, body and spirit.

Sometimes we just have to deliberately switch off for our sanity's sake

You may ask:What happens when we do? Doesn't the silence itself drive you mad?

Actually, because of the general hub-bub of life going on around us, silence is far from free of sounds.

Our own hamster wheel of thoughts also tends to keep whirring round regardless.

Choosing to focus on hearing from God in the silence is rather like seeking the right radio wave frequency to listen to the station of our choice instead of the ones we don't want to hear.

And in exploring silence, we come to a place where one thing speaks loud and clear as we come face to face with ourselves and all that we are.

Which is quite an uncomfortable feeling.

"Silence is the discipline that helps us go beyond the entertainment quality of our lives" ~ Henri Nouwen 'Can You Drink the Cup?'

Without words, entertainment or other distractions, there is nothing to hide behind and we are left alone with our true selves:our raw, wounded, vulnerable humanity.

Although that feels scary, we can still breathe easy, feel safe, and rest secure in the fact that God knows us inside out and loves us just the same. He longs for us to reach out to Him.

We cannot linger in the light of God's presence and come away unchanged, whether we perceive it or not


As we spend time with God, His words and thoughts seep in, refresh, cleanse, wash over our mind and bring the peace and strength we need to be helped, healed and made whole.

Even our creativity is enhanced by silence or quiet, meditative spells.

Idea are allowed space to surface and spill into the conscious mind once we relax enough to let them flow freely.

And God has so much He desires us to hear if only we allow Him space to talk with us and listen for His still, small voice

Silence (or simply being quiet for a spell) is as much for our sakes as God's.

It enables us to more easily tap into who we are and what makes us tick.

We create a clearing for deeper questioning, thinking and dreaming.

We start becoming more fully human and fully alive as we begin to notice both our interior and exterior world and hold them in equal measure without one drowning out the other

I have to confess that I have found it hard to balance all the various elements in my life and successfully carve out a sacred space in a busier environment since returning from my retreat.

Sinking back into routine is all too easy. 

Reassuringly, God waits to meet with us in the mess and mayhem of our normal existence, right where we are in muddle and busyness, noise and distractions.

He knows our schedules, the ways in which we feel stretched and harassed and how hard it can be to snatch quiet moments in the day, and He longs for us to surrender it all to Him.

And as we practice His presence, in tiny moments or longer, it signals our awareness of His provision and our need of Him

The benefits far outweigh any potential disadvantages.

May I encourage you to have a go? It could become a new habit.

You, too, may find that you begin to crave peaceful times alone with God and that silence does, in fact, speak volumes.

******

Here are a few books that I've found helpful. You may like to try them too. They're all available from Amazon. Just click on the links to find out more.

'Jesus Calling' by Sarah Young

'Listening to God:Hearing His Voice' by Joyce Huggett

'Into God's Presence' by Liz Babbs

'Out of Solitude:Three Meditations on the Christian Life' by Henri Nouwen

'The Practice of the Presence of God' by Brother Lawrence

Over to you:

Have you ever deliberately pulled back from your usual activities and sought quiet/silence?

How did it impact your life and walk with God?

Or maybe you are considering doing so. 

I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below. Thank you.

Linking here with the lovely Ruth Povey for the 'Letter to' series. This week's prompt is:'Letter to explain'. You are very welcome to join in. 

To stay in touch with my posts you can subscribe by e-mail, join with Google Friend Connect or like my Facebook page.

Celebrating a man and a marriage

Nobody really knows the inside story of a relationship apart from the two people involved in it.

Our marriage certainly didn't look like a marriage made in heaven from the outset.

I had a troubled, dysfunctional childhood, my parents were divorced and my future mother-in-law clearly disapproved of her son's choice.

We had only been dating for a few months when he proposed to me.

The look of shock-horror on her face when we announced our engagement was testimony to her feelings and a deep concern to me and my fragile self-esteem.

For I came from the wrong side of the tracks and was not the wife she'd envisaged for her youngest son. My background was predominantly working class and impoverished. I was also a loose canon spiritually  as I came to faith in a Pentecostal church - horrors for a staunch Evangelical such as she was.

And I was a young woman carrying far too much baggage from her past. Altogether an unsuitable choice, apart from the fact he clearly adored me ....foolish boy.

Plus, we married in indecent haste (in her eyes) and really should have waited until I'd completed my nurse training and he had secured gainful employment after leaving university.

But we were young, deeply in love, full of optimism and enthusiasm and committed to making this work.

As we said our vows (the old-fashioned kind), little did we know how taking one another 'in sickness and in health' would lead to far more years with the latter than the former.

So my mother-in-law was probably right to be at least a little bit doubtful that this union would go the distance.

Even though she was basing her reservations on the knowledge she had then, not on what would happen in the months and years to come.

My Philosopher husband would have to call upon supernatural reserves of patience, perseverance and endurance to cope with the life we had waiting ahead of us.

Not one that either of us signed up for.

But our reality, nevertheless.

Fortunately, my mother-in-law and I became close over time and genuine love and trust eventually bloomed between us. She was a tremendous help and support when our first son was born and she absolutely doted on both grandsons, as they did on her.

Now, as my husband and I celebrate our 38th wedding anniversary, I do so with a tribute to the wonderful man I am so privileged to be married to.

For I wouldn't be half the woman I am today if he hadn't stuck by me and continued to pour his love into my heart and life - as he still does every single day.

Here's to you, sweetheart, beloved husband and greatest friend....

My beloved

My beloved is like no other

He is chief confidant, encourager,

best friend, counsellor and lover

He has become house-husband

carer, chef, chauffeur, gardener,

joy bringer, helper and life sharer

My beloved is like no other

He takes broken confidence

trust and low self-esteem,

tenderly gathers the pieces

and patiently reveals

a scene, picture of wholeness

the best I can be in God's eyes

though pain and sickness conceal it

Laid out before him

my fractured heart, body and life

are now objects of beauty

become companion and wife

as he looks at me with Christ-eyes

of compassion, understanding and patience

enough to cover all trouble and strife

My beloved is like no other

in his desire to see me healed

from the chains of the past

and the part he has played

in bringing to pass the day

when a new me is revealed

Meanwhile, he gives and loves

unselfishly, requiring only

that I respond with the best

of my limited ability

as body, mind, every part

gladly submits to his love

which fills and overflows my heart

©JoyLenton2013

And if our marriage didn't look as if it was a match made in heaven, we have relied heavily on heaven's resources to keep it going.

There have always been three people in our relationship. It has been greatly enhanced and strengthened by placing our lives, faith and trust in God. 

He never leaves us nor forsakes us and a cord of three strands is not quickly broken (Ecclesiastes 4:12).

Without God's presence, input, enabling and equipping we wouldn't have made it past the first year, never mind get this far

He gives us love for one another every day, plus a continual outpouring of grace to cope with tough times.

I know I have been amazingly blessed in the husband that was chosen for me. I am eternally grateful to him for sticking with me and to God for giving him the faithfulness and patient endurance to do so.

And, just as a closing thought, I'd like to encourage you to be aware of the important relationships in your life and consider how much God has blessed you too. 

It may not be a life partner or children, but each of us usually has someone influencing and impacting our lives in a positive way.

If you do, then it is good to tell them how much you care about and appreciate them being there for you. You don't have to wait until it's an anniversary or special occasion.

How about today? 

PS:Just in case you were wondering:

• The rings pictured are a replica of our own wedding rings when shiny and new
• My beloved's photograph was taken on our wedding day
• This post is one of the "here's one I made earlier" variety prepared in advance, left to marinade, stirred, seasoned and served up on the appropriate occasion
• A printed copy of the poem made its way into my husband's card this morning

Linking here with Missional Women Faith Filled Friday. You are very welcome to join in.

To stay in touch with my posts you can subscribe by e-mail, connect with me on Twitter or like my Facebook page

Journey of life and creativity

As we travel through life we also make a spiritual and creative journey that alters over time with our own growth in knowledge and experience.

My life and creativity have been inextricably linked; there have been brief seasons of plenty, overshadowed by many fallow times too.

As I reflect back, I can see surprisingly rich pickings in experience as gold glints all the brighter through the murky detritus of dark places.

If you had suggested to me, only a few years ago, that good things would come out of bad, then I would have found it hard to believe you. All seemed lost and hopeless as I battled demons from my past.

But here I am now:sharing my story, hopes, dreams, lessons learnt in the dark nights of the soul, and revealing grace glimmers shining brightly throughout it all.

And I share, as always, with the objective of encouraging you to believe that you too can walk through painful times and come out the other side  - not necessarily unscathed, but able to trace God's hand at work keeping you safe, loving and protecting you,  and never leaving or forsaking you, no matter how it may feel.

Today, I am sharing some of my life and creative journey by participating in the writing contest 'You Are A Writer'  held by 'Positive Writer', Bryan Hutchinson - you can click on the link to find out more.

"Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart" ~ William Wordsworth

Becoming a Writer

As an eager child offering art or verse, my parents were indifferent, cold or worse

so I hid my work from prying eyes, indoctrinated as I was to secrets and lies.

And hidden they largely remained, with nothing ventured and nothing gained.

Though I scribbled in diaries, on paper and card, I had to try really hard

to believe anything good of myself at all when writing was seen 

as time-wasting scrawl in the minds of parents, siblings et al.

Senior school English gave me a thrill as the only subject I felt capable

of nailing down or succeeding at will. So I wrote stories

shared on the grass during lunchtime soirees as time passed 

with giggles, unwrapping of sandwiches and teenage yearnings of love

 voices hushed and stilled, and content lapped up by friends

 eagerly listening to each instalment from me.

Taking courage from true love's embrace

no longer feeling so shy or shame-faced

my poetry was shared and aired in a minor public place -

a church magazine, a lover's gaze - while I blushed grateful

to be on the page. Accepted at last as a writer of sorts

with words flowing freely amongst my cohorts.

More years of hiding the light and turning away 

as my dysfunctional past began to hold sway

in my life and my head, leaving no space

for creativity to flourish, be expressed, or embraced.

Too much pain needing addressing lie close at hand 

and no more years hiding my head in the sand.

Now older and wiser - at least I hope so -

I've experienced healing of emotions from letting go

and releasing everything I can be into God's hands

as the best for me - just as He planned.

And thanks to Jeff Goins, for his inspiring book 'You are a writer..' 

stirred deep, made me pause, reflect, take a second look.

Reviewing juvenile scribblings and poems penned

unleashed desire to start over again with writing and publishing 

my work on a blog, though much of it's written through an M.E fog.

Learning to let go of perfection, learning to love the craft

daring to believe and say (in wonder), "I am a writer"  

  even before compiling my first book draft!
©JoyLenton2013

The words, "I am a writer" do not sit easy yet or roll blithely off the tongue. Rather, I tread warily in this brave new world, aware that they could be sharp stones to catch myself on, trip me up, stumble over and cut me open - revealing the full raw vulnerability within.

I also tread secure in my small corner invisibility, daring to speak with such audacity only because the One who beckoned me on this journey also accompanies, encourages, anoints and equips every step of the way.

He leads and I follow with hesitant, tentative step, knowing in my heart that this is an act of faith as I walk Ezekiel - like, marvelling at how God breathes life into dead things. He calls those things which are not as if they were, and wants me to believe it too.

So I take His hand, strengthened by His voice of wisdom directing, leading and guiding my creative journey as He does the rest of my life.

If you are wondering whether or not you are a writer, may I encourage you to just do it? Pour your heart and soul out in words, in offering, and dare to share them

One day, we will read and be thankful that you did. And so will you. Writing is cathartic, releasing and freeing, as well as a valuable contribution to life's rich tapestry of experiences.

The world needs to hear and receive your creative voice too:in words, poetry, prose, through art, music, craft-making, home-keeping, sewing, baking - however you want to express it, the sky is the limit -  simply enjoy creating as you were created to do.

You may have been seriously discouraged, derailed and disappointed by other people's responses, your own low self-esteem or lack of confidence. 

But you don't have to stay stuck there.

I am living proof, in the Autumn of my life, that it's never too late to start again.

Your reach may be large or small, with an appreciative audience or none at all.

Once you recognise you have the spirit and soul of a writer then you need to write,  regardless of who pays attention or not

So do have a go.

Resurrect those dust-laden drawings, painting, poetry, prose, that creative urge; give them a good shake down and tell yourself, "Yes, I am a writer/poet/artist/creative person", and go create, my friend!

*******

Photo credit:.freedigitalphotos.net

What hinders or helps the expression of your creativity?

How can you begin to enjoy being creative once more?

Please feel free to join in with the comments below. I love to read and reply to them. Thank you.

This post is also part of the 'Journeying' series that started here. There will be more on that topic to follow soon.

To stay in touch with my posts you can link up via Google Friend Connect or subscribe by e-mail. I would also love to connect with you on Facebook  or Twitter

I've looked at clouds from both sides now

Welcome to another foray into Five Minute Friday where we write free flowing with words poured forth just as they come and no worrying about perfection. 

It's scary, challenging and exhilarating all at the same time.

Today's prompt is:'Beautiful'

START...

Clouds

Photo credit:Image courtesy of freedigitalimages.net

Clouds have fascinated me over the last few months. Since I have no scenic view from my window, eyes naturally veer upwards to drink in sky and trees.

They speak of unlimited horizons, open vista, potential cloaked in mystery and unknowing. 

Changing hours and seasons are mirrored there. Dawn and sunset set skies ablaze with suggestion of God's glory.

I am reminded of the Israelites being led by a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night.

God hides his glory from us or eyes and frame would be seared by the sight.

Being housebound has meant that the relatively few times I exit the house are pregnant with possibility, cause for celebration.

I breathe in air like I've forgotten how to. I gaze longingly at flowers, leaves, trees and sky.

I want the freedom of a bird to soar high above the circumstances of my life.

Yet I remain rooted to the earth with all its attendant joys and sorrows.

God has made everything beautiful in its time and place, if only we have eyes to see and appreciate it.

I want eyes to see. I don't want to miss a thing of my internal or external world.

All is gift. All is beauty. Even if much lies concealed.

STOP

Linking here with Lisa-Jo Baker for Five Minute Friday. You are very welcome to join in.

To stay in touch with my posts you can subscribe by e-mail, join with Google Friend Connect or like my Facebook page.

Cultivating courage:Letter to the brave

Letter to the brave

Hello, my brave friend,

Yes you, with head low and furrowed brow, eyes averted, looking to disappear and hide in the corner. Attention is usually unwelcome in your life. Too much of the wrong kind has sensitised you to being singled out.

How can I call you brave? Isn't that reserved for real life heroes and heroines:the fire fighters, fight stoppers, adrenaline-fuelled, rescue mission, have-a-go type who scorns peril and leaps in regardless to save lives and save the day?

Or maybe those who avoid attention but find it seeks them out anyway when God and others notice how they face up to adversity, hardship, pain, struggle and shame with gritted teeth, steely-eyed endurance and patient perseverance.

*********

It is true that courage is found in many places:

In a garden called Gethsemane where Jesus sweat blood for you and me. On a cross becoming sin our Lord hung dying so we could live free.

In a hospital bed, laying gasping for breath. On a cancer ward facing fear and death. 

On a blood-stained street facing an angry, knife-laden horde.

With the chronically sick, disabled and poor fighting stigma and shame as politicians fleece them once more.

Through the daily grind, weary rise of body, feeling wretched inside with all we try to hide that corrupts our mind.

Hunched low over laptop or PC, with fingers hesitating to press the 'publish' key, fearing ridicule, being ignored, or how we may be received and perceived.

And courage wears many faces:

A thorn-pierced brow, bleeding limbs and spittle-stained face as our Saviour offers a gift of grace.

Wives and mothers with sons and lovers sent out to fight, brave for the battle, tears in the night.

Those who mourn, grief-stricken, bereaved. 

Those who are prisoners of their past seeking release at last, longing to be free.

Wearing masks of indifference, masks of scorn, while on the inside, hidden so deep, we're  lonely, lost and forlorn.

Single parents despairing over whether they are able to somehow keep house and home together, never mind put food on the table.

Finally, courage will embrace us

Arms of love reaching out in nail-pierced agony, then a brief desolation cry as Jesus dies; His resurrection setting us free to be the people we're intended to be.

********

My friend, you and I don't have to feel brave at all. God sees our daily battles, tears on pillow, body slumped over in sorrow, pervading pain and distress, and He has the ability to cover everything we may encounter.

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust" ~ Psalm 91:1-2

God holds us all in His tender embrace, not expecting us to be brave (or pretend to save face) for He has provided the solution in love by His grace, and all the courage we need to get through our days.

Bring Him your surrendered life and He will erase (over time) the ache in your heart, the pain you endure, those awful days when life feels far from secure and you don't know how to go on.

For God wants us to take hold of His courage today and wear it instead of letting our fears hold sway

So come out of your corner, my friend, lift up your head, take hold of God's hand, and together with Him we will stand strong in this battle. For we are not relying on human power, but walking by faith in His unlimited resources hour by hour.

Courage is faith that has said a prayer and goes out boldly relying on God's grace

Believe you can make it through this one day..and the next...and so on...until fears subside.

For many have trod this path we are on and found God's strength the only reliable thing to lean upon as they cultivate courage in the face of life's storms.

Dear Father,

We are so thankful that we do not have to rely on our own limited abilities, strength or resources. 

As we look to you and receive from your unlimited, overflowing supply, 

we are able to face and handle situations that seem impossible to cope with alone.

For it is not your intention for us to journey through life without relying on your 

guidance, help, strength and equipping for everything. 

And as we lean on you, you infuse us with grace 

and peace to face life with hope and purpose, 

to stand strong in your strength when we feel weak, to have your courage to live 

without fear and anxiety making us paralysed and hesitant to do the right thing, 

to face another day and to make it through tough times.

May we continue to seek your help as we go through our days,

staying aware and thankful for the many ways 

in which you care for and protect us.

Amen

"I can do everything through him who gives me strength" ~ Philippians 4:13

********

Linking here with Sabrina Fowles at Just keep singing as part of the 'Letter to' series. This week's prompt is: 'Letter to the brave' and with Anita Hunt at Scattering the Stones Ministry for Thankful Thursday You are very welcome to join in.

To stay in touch with my posts you can link via Google Friend Connect, subscribe by e-mail, or like my Facebook page.

Why a tainted past doesn't have to define the present

It began with heart hammering, dry mouth, sickening dread and a turning away as feet chose to flee rather than face the path they should tread.

Days had passed when conscience, duty and a deep sense of commitment had pressed reluctance aside and forced me forward.

Days spent sink standing while bowls filled to overflowing as thoughts and any sense of time took flight.

Days drenched in sweat-panic, zombie-like trance of automatic responses, care-giving, making conversation of sorts, face and limb washing, giving the appearance of being present while stealing longing glances out the window. Let me escape this place.

For each pallid face and limb of the dead or near dying I washed was a stark reminder of another body laying cold on slab. Out of reach, out of sight, but never out of mind. Grief intruding rudely everywhere as if life is no respecter of it.

Voices giggling, whispering in the vicinity, or are they just in my head? Never mind which, I attend to my patients with all the dignity I can muster.

But I became lost to my surroundings as they pressed heavy with demands I could no longer fulfil.

I sought refuge. A coffee house, library, city centre. Hidden in plain sight. Yet plainly visible (had I been aware) in my nurse's uniform as I often was after running away again.

Soon, my absences were noted. Soon, I would be unable to move out the front door. My room, my world; my head another world more real to me than any other.

Lost to loved ones. Unreachable. Just as dead as the person whose death sparked my breakdown. 

My abuser - a person I loved and trusted as well as hating the things he did - was no longer here to be held accountable and memories rose up to haunt my days and cause me to fall apart.

Months sped by in the real world, yet days stayed the same where I now dwelt in virtual catatonic state.

My beloved kept guard. Refused to allow the men in white coats to take me away. Compromising only in making sure I was seen as a day patient, duly sedated, medicated, assisted, counselled and advised.

For just a few short weeks beforehand we were happy honeymooners. Newly married with life and potential spanning out before us in a glorious vista on the horizon.

Now I was foetal-curled, withdrawn, shut into myself as a way to shut out a hostile world as fear held me tight in its tentacles. 

Our marriage clouded with distance and misunderstanding, coloured with pain, tainted for years to come as the stains of shame lingered on.

I remember little of those days. Just the searing shame and stink of failure that haunted thereafter when I began to recover. Confirmation of things I already felt deep down. Tainted already as damaged goods, unwanted and abused child. Tainted further by disgrace (as I perceived it then) of mental health collapse and failure.

God did not cast me off or forsake me. In His eyes, I was worth dying for.

But I forsook God. Stumbled under the weight of my own cross for years. Felt unworthy of love. Hugged the stain and reproach closer as it became my identity.

More years would pass before I could look at the woman in the mirror with anything less than contempt. The image repugnant. The reminder of all I despised, with 'failure' stamped indelibly on heart and mind.

The one who God saw as beautiful in His sight, the apple of His eye, dearly beloved - as He sees each and every one of us.

It would take much time, healing and renewal of my mind by Holy Spirit before I could begin to accept that there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus and He came to set me free from shame and disgrace.

My friend, you may have suffered (or are suffering) similarly with mental or physical health problems that have left you feeling stigmatised, less of a person in your own or society's eyes.

A mind and a life can be overshadowed and purple-patched by pain. Yet when God's light shines on it, like flowers pushing up to catch the sun's rays, there is always hope of healing, new life to come as a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendour.

Where we see darkness and strangling weeds God sees light and new growth.

And there are no failures in His kingdom, only works in progress by His grace. 

Remembering that "God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise...the weak things..to shame the strong...the lowly..and the despised things...so that no-one may boast before him" (1 Corinthians 1:27-29)

I'd love to share that my life has been one long success story since, but that's not the case. I am being redeemed and renewed bit by bit, day by day - and some days more evidently than others.

It can take a lot of time, much grace, and the perseverance of saturating ourselves in God's word for a mind to be transformed in its thinking. 

But I am living a life where the stains from my past that tainted mind and heart no longer get the final say in who I am and the same can be true for you too. 

*******

Linking here with the lovely Ruth Povey as she hosts #concretewords over at sixinthesticks. We attempt to describe the abstract with a concrete word prompt. This week's prompt is:'Tainted' You are very welcome to join in.

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