My new tattoo.

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Daily writing prompt
What tattoo do you want and where would you put it?
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The vocabularic duo of Merriam and Webster call it “a mark, figure, design, or word intentionally fixed or placed on the skin.” I think that one is the PG version. Farther down the list, you get “one that is composed of scar tissue intentionally created by cutting, abrading, or burning the skin.” Yikes. Not sure how you rate “burning the skin.”

Either way it seems that they make a statement about the wearer. That being said, I cannot say for sure what I would choose to broadcast something about myself whether through ink, a knife, abrasion or fire.

It does however bring to mind some of the tattoos I might have consented to apply to myself internally over the course of my life. Through poor choices, bad habits and unhealthy behaviors. Like ones of regret and remorse. Self-deceit, – resentment, – destruction and – hatred. Those big bright ones like EGO, PRIDE and some WRATH for good measure. SLOTH from a spiritual side too.

I am not suggesting that any of them are permanant by any means. Or that this is how I go about broadcasting some self pity for the world to partake. I just want to vent some, share alot of myself and promote a healing process. Not just mine, but for anyone else out there that is emblazoned with their own internal tattoos the same way.

I haven’t felt this confident in a very long time. Mostly because many of the things brought to light in the prior paragraphs are slowly – but surely – being defeated. I think that is why God invented prompts.

Ultimately, what it comes down to is that I chose to mark myself in a variety of ways and depths on the inside that have since become worn out. Both in their need and their welcome. It’s not like I can open up and apply a couple new layers of self forgiveness with a paint roller and attend to the deepest scars inside with a shot of Botox or three.

It is just part of a self healing process.

One that brings me great joy to undertake and understand. Through out the course of trying to figure it out, I kept a lot to myself. You can tell it is piled pretty deep inside. The stoic smile on my mug never lies. And pursing the lips like that helps keep it all within. Hidden from a potential, inadvertant broadcast.

So what was this one about?

Oh, yes, tattoos.

It would be fitting to find the one that captures the sense of self-forgiveness, -understanding, -confidence and -love that I am finally starting to feel. The ones I etched and drew on the inside long ago are all but faded out. Something truly different is starting to happen. There is a new artist in town. Soon, this stoic’s lips will no longer need to adhere to a strict pursing regimen.

That cramp is leaving the building.

I know you will never believe it.

But this may happen.

My new tattoo.

The sum of His divine design.

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We all are made to love.  

Part of our divine design. As created by our higher power.  God is the very source of love and we are called to reflect and direct that love to others. Our role in the loop of grace. 

Yet during the course of life’s travails, disappointments and distrust, we may begin to engage in the process of actively obscuring that attribute.  Cordoning off that integral and essential aspect of our being.  Seeking ephemeral pursuits.  Avoiding our true nature.  Evading our responsibility.  And in so doing, creating a false sense of security, safety and wellbeing.  

Despite the fact that we are hardwired for it, and it is destined to be our primary purpose, it hurts to love.  

To give it without condition, guarantee or quid pro quo.  To expose oneself to a seemingly fatal level of self-inflicted pain.  

Sad to say, we tend to give up too early. I do.  Choosing to succumb to a skinned knee, while another within our immediate universe might  be in the throes of a hopeless, lingering, lonely spiral downward.  Choosing process, research and expediency over interaction, intuition and patience.  Focusing on our flaws rather than our inherent capacity to help those about us grow.  Choosing ourselves and our needs first. And others?  When it makes sense for us.  

Dispensing, gifting and asserting love are all arduous tasks. The heaviest lifting imaginable   Missions that can generate more than their fair share of discomfort, disappointment and despair.  

But somewhere along the way, we convince ourselves to capitulate to that illusion.  That we will not survive the giving.  That it will never be received as we intend.  Or more to the point – how we expect it to be taken. Or that we need to be present to witness an ultimate outcome.  

Forgoing  our purpose, ignoring our  design and ignoring our Creator.  Lacerating the loop of grace. 

Fortunately, there are those within our midst that refuse to be deterred.  Fervently remaining on point. Absorbing the pain.  Depleting themselves.  Giving it up.  

Sturdy souls, with an unyielding faith, who have leaned into this mission.  Recognized that their true purpose lay within.  That the  pain is temporary.  Reserves will  be refilled.  That giving it up is who they are meant to be and what we are all intended to do.  

After all, that is how we were  made.  

The sum of His divine design.  

I sure didn’t.

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Daily writing prompt
What was the best compliment you’ve received?
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So just a little bit about me first.

Maybe I share the same boat with some of you. Pulling an oar of low or no self esteem. Little or no awareness of self worth or value. Throw in a modicum of shame to go along with it. Maintaining an unhealthy reliance on others to determine these for me, because after all, they know better than I. Right?

So when you go about things like that, life turns out pretty much circular if you can picture it. Until someone chooses to climb aboard, take up the one on the other side, and row along with you for a bit. New waters. Different view of the horizon. Testing endurance. Working together towards a shared vision. As one. Blessed to say the occupancy on my vessel has grown of late.

You probably can guess what patriarchal pun is destined to follow that last sentence.

To me, compliments take on a different form. They aren’t so much made up of just words. They go far deeper than that. I view them as intention. A truly authentic giving of one into another, residing in trust, compassion and honesty. Putting another’s value and worth on display through thought, word and deed. An intentional proclamation of what another truly means to those about them.

Sorry, getting a little windy out here.

So last night, at our pizza gathering for the basketball season, a young man literally ran across the gym and just about bent me in half with a jumping bear hug. I work with him twice a week as it is and we make things happen together. But he hugged me yesterday like he hadn’t seen me for years. Just because. No words were involved, but that was a compliment I will not soon forget.

Years ago, a pillar of youth sports in our community thought I should hop on board and help steer the football program for the families here. His faith in me and who he saw from afar complimented the person I was desperately searching to find. His compliment changed my life. And to this day, I remain a coach.

A young man asked that I might come to speak to his team in the hopes that they would figure out how to grow closer together in intention, trust, faith and fellowship. I am still giddy about that night and how I still feel about becoming a part of them.

And when she can, my best friend and partner employs her gift of creation to make the best recipes that are good for me for all of the right reasons. Just because.

Others around me just reach out because they have a spot open on their boat. And the circular journey they are on may be a perpetual revisitation to the shores of Depair, Worthlessness, Emptiness and Isolation. A trip I took. Places I know all too well. Destinations they do not deserve if I can help it.

Had I been able to see compliments in this fashion before, I would have taken them more to heart.

Having teammates that wanted me to be their captain, twice.

A business owner picking me out of the blue, literally off the street to represent his company.

A fellowship asking me to help lead.

Being able to have you read my thoughts.

And of late, finally hearing His voice tell me I am worthy and calling me to come aboard.

A compliment isn’t so much “hey, did you lose weight?” Or, “you look good in that car.”

I am coming to realize that they consist of very few or absolutely no words. They are gifts another gives you because you are truly worth it in their heart, mind and soul. They value the genuine connection that exists so they share themselves with you. They see who you truly are, even if you are blind to that view.

They want you in their boat. Or are more than happy to come aboard yours and pick up the one next to you.

Who ever thought wanting to row with another was such a fulfilling compliment.

I sure didn’t.

.

Together.

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About thirteen years ago, I started to carry a pail to football practice. At the time, it was meant to be a lesson for the kids. But ever since then, it has since become a poignant one for me. One about the essence of understanding, moving towards life and being open to true love. 

I shared a story about that pail with the players and parents in our community youth football program. How it held the most fertile soil around. Dark, rich, 100% Lemke Park dirt.  The finest in all of Mequon. How at one time, it had been home to bumper crops of corn, soybeans or perhaps even wheat. 

And as the lesson began to unfold, I shared how it had since grown into the best piece of grass in all of M-T. How even to this day, despite the goal posts, sleds and painted lines, it remained true to its original purpose; a farm. A place where some of the best young men and finest football players around are grown each year. 

I posited that since both grass and football players seem to grow so well on it, there had to be something about that dirt. I touched on its medicinal qualities.  How its composition acted as a salve for the pains and disappointments in life.  “A handful of that soil, when applied to where it hurts”, I said, “would make it all go away.” 

To “rub some dirt on it”, in football and life parlance. 

That tale was penned to buck them up, get them past their self-doubts, move them beyond discomfort, to take on challenging situations and help them overcome fear.  A motivational ploy to help them grow.  Like that dirt was to that old farm. Like football is to life.

But to one, the message resonated in an altogether different manner.  Though she read everything he’d written, this particular offering struck a different chord. This time, she “saw” something else.  Not just what was woven into those words.  But in the fabric of the one carrying that pail. 

She understood the lesson being taught. Its intention. How it was meant to promote growth.  But something at her core became focused on the one carrying the pail. And being that she happened to be made that way also, the connection was obvious.  The pail was part of her being too.

For her, it was not merely a prop. It spoke to her in a far more substantial way.  More than just “rub some dirt on it”. That pail was representative of what their  ultimate mission was to be.  Together. As one.

She  came to realize that he was just like her.  He shared in her life purpose. Vocation.  Yet in his own way.  And at some level, she simply wanted him to know that he was not alone in that.  In time, he began to see her.  To understand and appreciate that she was just like him.  

No longer would she be alone in pursuing her passion. And he now knows within his own core that same “something” she first sensed within hers.  Beyond what is merely woven into words.  But in the very fabric of his being. 

That she is within him. 

Ineinander. 

The seed of what has since become a life-long bond.

Gardeners both. 

Two fully intent on producing healthy, lasting, and abundant growth within one another.  

Within everyone they touch.  

And everywhere they go. 

Two that were always intended to carry that pail of dirt. 

Together.