Loving Me In Repentance

Loving Me In Repentance

Somewhere in the deep confines of my / our heart is this belief that if we want to experience the release of holy grace then we need to be holy. That we need to walk blameless before man and God. 

Although in simplistic terms of be good, and God will reward you; makes sense in light that the terms that the world lives by. Like, if you work hard you will be wealthy. But, the ladder seems to fall so short from the heart of God. 

But he said to me, My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. (2 Cor 12:9)

There are countless times in which I have fallen short of the Glory of God. It seems in my good doing there is a flavor lingering that taste of selfishness, pride and most often fear, you might as well through in jealousy. I am the least deserving of His sufficient grace. At each and every time of repentance it's taste is so bitter. I have spent and believe I will continue be  on my knees in repentance. I know that this is a sure sign of his love for me, but the experience differers from what my flesh expects. 

We fall in love or lust and both feel good. Lust withers away and dies by the way sides of our heart while love brings comfort to your bones even in the desert. The same is in repentance, and being sorry. Sorry is a generally painless apology where repentance brings you to a level of humiliation with the hope that God will restore you to good standing. For me sorry comes to easily. I not long ago was telling my husband that there is a part of me that wishes I could stand before the world and ask everyone how is it that I'v hurt, or disappointed. Then offer a blanket apology. I know as efficient as this sounds  my heart would be removed and in the end I would be left unchanged and hard hearted.  This is what I could not bear. My heart unchanged. It is my hearts cry that He would carry me to the table and bleed me to see the depth of his love will not leave in me all that He has intended to complete. 

I used to think that I was so lucky to read a book or listen to some story and learn the biggest lessons in life as to avoid uncomfortable aches of humility. God in His commitment to the romancing of my heart takes me through this journey not unscathed but limping so that I can remember that all the while it was him that sustained me, that it was Him who carried me through. All the stories and books have been the journeys of those that have walk this road before me, not in the place of me. 

Lord to you this I pray I lay it all down 

pour over me your merciful hand

Find me at the cross each day 

my God this I pray 

Guard my mouth and the words that stray

silence my flesh as all I want to here

Is only what you would say

Set this Absalom free, I am pleading to be

like you lord in all that I say and do

Lord take my pride and crucify it 

till none remain

Then my God my Lord and Holy Spirit

takes its place in me

That I may be a blessing to you

a sweet smelling sacrifice worthy of my blessed King

~Amen~ 

A Lepers Heart

A Lepers Heart

My heart lay feverish on the cold damp floor with my exiled body. It was as if my heart bore the sore of a leper sickened late in the decease. Shriveled, dismembered and infected. Years of abuse lay waste to what barely felt human. Hollow lonely with scarily a heart beat. There's not much that has really changed from that long ago, where the better would be desired to live alone untouched. To where ever I'd go I would not have to be seen as unclean. Even though dressed in my best all the world could see that my heart was leprous indeed.

This heart broken beyond repair to the world. Put her in FairFax said some medical professionals, she's just a whore and always will be, she deserves to be mistreated, look at her she's worthless said family. Before attending here you must rid yourself of some sin were the words of a church. For me there was not much difference of that then the lepers of old. There was this sick perception to die alone seemed easier then to live with the shame of others. 

Then with out a reason known to me the gaze of God rested on me. It trickled in as silent and warm and the comfort of a warm blanket lay crossed cold shoulders in sleep. For this momentary glimpse was as heaven sent as that of an infant invading earth while the earth made ready for a man, a king. Drawing me out in front the crowd. You could almost here the scoffers murmuring amongst them selves. She is unworthy, God has no use for her. Then as if the very sovereignty of God shout their mouths silence fell like a silk sheets on the wind as Jesus reaches out and touches my diseased heart. Just the worth of his embrace brought me to my knees where my tears soaked the souls of my mockers feet. She is my beloved he spoke as his gentle voice, yet so commanding it rippled and quaked the strongest of mountains. To day this day I have healed her and set her free. No longer will you ever be seen as the world has believed you to be. You are my beloved who I am in love with.

There God reached out his mighty hand lifted me up so that I could stand. He wrapped is royal garments about me and whispered so tenderly would you my beloved come and walk with me. As if my feet could not contain each step was freeing. It was my Lord that called me forth for it was not that anyone wanted to do or seen in me. But that God called and made me according to his plan. My blessed redeemer, my loving friend, my only father, my saviour till the end. ~ I love the way you love me

To The Shore And Back Again

To The Shore and Back Again

It's at the shore of the river where our dreams seem just out of our grasp where the rivers rage in high season. There I stand again on the rocks that once my feet cradled each stone perfectly but this time with my little girl. Well, she is hardly little; the argument for this weighs on the her beautiful shoulders at fourteen. The waters slap our feet and it is as if light has filled in her eyes. For on the other side of this winding river is our dream daddies  where their love knows no bounds. It really has not been that long where I my self dreamed of what my heart so desperately longed for. I was curtain that it lay behind the dense woods where the sunlight danced on the ancient oaks and whispered of treasures untold. 

Today I find myself along this shore again, but this time I am not alone No, next to me with eyes as big as can be my daughter has spotted what could be her daddy. Her quest although incomplete began 14 years ago where I lay under the oaks trees loosing hope that there would be a day to cross into freedom. It was then I was given my beloved darling. Not a day would go by for years where she asked for a daddy and why did all the other girls have daddies. My words at the start were stifled in rich tenderness for her broken world that she was born into. Quaint and flat was my reply as I felt so alone near the shore was, there are no daddies for us. Time seem to skip moons and sunrises and that battle for desire raged on in the hearts of two broken girls who knew no daddy.  

For the last 8 years this treasure this gift, my beloved seemed to know of this secret joy, this secret spender. It was everyday that she would ask is my daddy over there? Can we go look for him over there? I would cringe at the grinding in my soul of a little lost me longing for my home. Yet for years all I could see is her studying the shore in waiting for her father to be. As time went on the roles shifted, not entirely one can hope. But, to any little girl 14 years is a long time and for her mom I have returned from the other side. I could see her turn away and gaze at other things. So I pray, Lord come let her see your face those daddy eyes every girl needs to embrace the truer her today. The tears shed on that shore to the canopy echos can't endure and He arranges things to bring us to our knees for my little girl is pleading with me. Singing my familiar song it will never be. 

Then like a shot in the dark. A daddy voice penetrates to the heart. Like living water on a dreary soul running over to more. She, my beloved hears a fathers voice. There she runs to the waters edge where hope has stirred. There I found my self to be hand in hand waiting with time coming. Tis, the day come soon He said where she will take this trip from the waters edge. Will I bid her good bye from the shore of my desires. Then with just a glimpse she sees daddies eyes and I have lost her to the other side. It was my prayer you see, but nearly all I can bare to grieve. It is no longer just my daughter on the shore with me. 

Could I not come to those of us who wait for those enduring eyes where we are the beauty for a life. Where our daddy is happy just sitting by our side, where there is not need for more, but it is all that you are that is just what hung the moon. All I can say to those who are weary and long for life, is this. You daddy is coming for just you and he will call you by a new name like darling that he gave to my daughter not many days from today. 

Like the lilly among thorns

is my darling among maidens

Song of Song 2:2

He Calls He Saves

He Calls He Saves

From the time I was a little girl I dreamed of being an author. At first the dream started with the day dreams of a lonely little girl that wrote and delivered messages for the king that lived across the Willamette River. To spinning the globe in our home telling all the world about a message that was waiting for them. It was all the danger this little girl missionary could could handle. As I got older my imagination was more of a reality that I wanted to believe in. so I would constantly tell the stories that I dream as if they were real with my family. The stories never were received as innocently as they were imagined up. The negative responses began to stifle my courage to share my desires outside of my imagination.  

As I fell clumsily into my teen years that carried the stench of pain and remorse, I began to write poetry. They were dark and would send chills up the spine of the strongest of souls. They sang the songs of a deeply broken girl who had lived to much life for her age. My ability to articulate all that I needed to was frozen in time and writing became in it's twisted form my ability to free my bloodied soul.

In my early twenties I could barley utter a word. I did not know what I liked, or what I wanted. The very idea of living one more day was suffocating to the core and I was loosing my ability to function. I know longer could write and I was reduced to cutting out pictures and placing them on my wall. It was then that the owner of a halfway house I was bunked up in, decided that I needed some help beyond what they understood. It was there the long journey of learning to talk again began through the form of writing. For three months I could not speak, for all that I had become and went through had built it's walls and it all was killing me. It was through patches of brokenness spilling out through the ink of my pin that began to etch in my heart an ancient call of day dreams before. There hope began to grow as though it was in ti's most tender form. Writing although through soggy tears and broken dreams I began to write life as I understood it to be. 

In my late twenties I went through the most life changing God ordained freedom know to any heart in prisoned by the damage of depravity of a fallen world. I started to talk about what I once could only write about. Through the power of both spoken and written words I began to with the bravest of souls unpack the graveyard that become my home for many long years. Through tremendous healing power and sovereignty of God and the goodness of the Holy Spirit, I began to write my process of healing and restoration. For the first time in my life I had felt utter freedom and it was as if those fairy tales that beat so constant on my heart, began the song to a melody of redemption.

Not long ago I found myself on my way to a writers retreat where I am working on my first book. I almost felt as if I was in the wrong body. I was feeling fearful of my ability of doing that which God has called up in me to do. I felt on a heart level that I do not have what it will take to live this life. It all is go God size. I opened up my bible and read in Isaiah 52:2 ~ Shake off your dust; sit enthroned, O Jerusalem. Free yourself from the chains on your neck, O captive daughter of Zion.~ God spoke to my heart. You are free and with my you can do anything that is called according to my purpose for you! There is no greater joy then that , that come from our God. I had a picture of believers sitting in chains around there necks convinced that this is as good as it gets. That the feeling of freedom in the heart is all that God met by life to the full. When not only did God intend for us to feel but, to live, stand free, because his Son has set us free. 

All my life God was calling me to a bigger story then that which I understand. My story although feels larger then life at times in the kingdom's story it is one in a million that has been called according to His purpose. God is taking this story rewriting it to sing the song of a Saviour so in love with me that He moved heaven and earth to save me. Not just from sin, but from life in the remounts of its remains.

Today I am nearly finished with my first book. I am taking one baby step at a time into the life God has planned for me from the start. Thank God for freedom, thank God for mercy, thank God for calling me to live free, thank God for those who believe in me, who support me and who have and will help me along the way...Amen!

Redeeming Love

Redeeming Love

Hanging our in righteousness 

barely avoiding my flesh 

The whispers from my broken glory 

seem to near a breast 

What will it take to stand in who I am 

for Gods fullness and glory that 

He so longs to share 

Though the battle for my heart rages 

I remember it is in your righteousness 

I am Praying for the courage 

to finally get up and stand. 

There is nothing  I can do alone 

for on Him is every breath 

The melody calls me to sing 

redeeming love again.

Loving Me In Repentance

Loving Me In Repentance

Somewhere in the deep confines of my / our heart is this belief that if we want to experience the release of holy grace then we need to be holy. That we need to walk blameless before man and God. 

Although in simplistic terms of be good, and God will reward you; makes sense in light that the terms that the world lives by. Like, if you work hard you will be wealthy. But, the ladder seems to fall so short from the heart of God. 

But he said to me, My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. (2 Cor 12:9)

There are countless times in which I have fallen short of the Glory of God. It seems in my good doing there is a flavor lingering that taste of selfishness, pride and most often fear, you might as well through in jealousy. I am the least deserving of His sufficient grace. At each and every time of repentance it's taste is so bitter. I have spent and believe I will continue be  on my knees in repentance. I know that this is a sure sign of his love for me, but the experience differers from what my flesh expects. 

We fall in love or lust and both feel good. Lust withers away and dies by the way sides of our heart while love brings comfort to your bones even in the desert. The same is in repentance, and being sorry. Sorry is a generally painless apology where repentance brings you to a level of humiliation with the hope that God will restore you to good standing. For me sorry comes to easily. I not long ago was telling my husband that there is a part of me that wishes I could stand before the world and ask everyone how is it that I'v hurt, or disappointed. Then offer a blanket apology. I know as efficient as this sounds  my heart would be removed and in the end I would be left unchanged and hard hearted.  This is what I could not bear. My heart unchanged. It is my hearts cry that He would carry me to the table and bleed me to see the depth of his love will not leave in me all that He has intended to complete. 

I used to think that I was so lucky to read a book or listen to some story and learn the biggest lessons in life as to avoid uncomfortable aches of humility. God in His commitment to the romancing of my heart takes me through this journey not unscathed but limping so that I can remember that all the while it was him that sustained me, that it was Him who carried me through. All the stories and books have been the journeys of those that have walk this road before me, not in the place of me. 

Lord to you this I pray I lay it all down 

pour over me your merciful hand

Find me at the cross each day 

my God this I pray 

Guard my mouth and the words that stray

silence my flesh as all I want to here

Is only what you would say

Set this Absalom free, I am pleading to be

like you lord in all that I say and do

Lord take my pride and crucify it 

till none remain

Then my God my Lord and Holy Spirit

takes its place in me

That I may be a blessing to you

a sweet smelling sacrifice worthy of my blessed King

~Amen~ 

Sometimes small is not small enough

You know that little girl dream? You cannot wait to meet your knight and shining armor, you begin planning you're wedding when you are nearly eight. You start drawing princesses and dreaming of what might possibly what will make you the the most beautiful p. There are echos of a fairy tale in almost every game that is played. 

  I began walking with God and my life change was sudden and drastic, and nothing short of glorious. It was as if God took his big God hand and scooped me up out of sickest pit and set me on top a mountain where my lover Lord began to teach me to most beautiful dance and loved me the way I never dream of. I wanted to serve God with every part of me. I would serve where ever I could. I would face every battle that I needed to fight and in my eyes it was between life and death. I can tell you that every bit of it is worth it. Yet I found my self at this place where I wanted more. I have believed that God had a bigger purpose for me than just being a church going serving girl. 

I began seeking God with all my heart. What was my purpose? What did my purpose have to do with my story? I could not wait to be called into a bigger story than my own, and then one day He did. I thought it would be nothing short of glorious. Yet it has been the hardest thing we have ever done. Things that go wrong make no sense. There seems to be drama after drama and it totally is distracting from what were called to do. I feel like I am spending more time doing damage control than walking with God. The fight for the hearts of others and your own feels at times shredding me to the marrow of my bones.

Have you ever felt like your enemy has a barrel pressed to your helmet while your back is pressed against a wall and he is screaming surrender? With ever bit of strength I can muster I am screaming back NO. Then thoughts start to creek in my mind, should I have been more patient and not wanted to be so eager to serve God with my whole life? Am I a little girl in a woman's world? Did I have a unrealistic idea of what the real world is like? "perhaps" I think I feel like a girl who has moved away from home for the first time and I have know idea how to do laundry, cook or even vacuum. I am looking for a phone for a mom to come and show me but there is no one to call. 

There is this part of me that says these feelings are just whispers from the enemy and I am pretty much confident that this is true. Still, there is a small part of me that believes that I have no place in this battle. Perhaps it is just because the sword is feeling really heavy, or maybe it is because Satan is pushing on it. I will choose to believe the latter is true. I need room to scream out to my bigger stronger God.... WAR FARE...

Just One Thing I Ask

Just One Thing I Ask

It was cold and damp as I stood outside this train station. I had not wanted to come, but this was to be a gift and perhaps one of the best gift of my life. I stood outside the would be train station make shift chapel. I was sure that I was the only smoker, and was dismally overly dressed to hide how I felt. I had nearly a months worth of supplies for a weekend.  I tried desperately to blend in, but I sorely stuck out. It was clear from head to toe, from my mouth to my heart that I had not been accustom to this kind of setting. A Woman's retreat!

My life had been dark up this point. The idea of spending a weekend with what I considered to be overly happy people who want to pray for everyone, was lets say far from my bucket list. For I had not known true joy, and to see that there were so many people experiencing happiness something I had not been privilege to my whole life was like flashing all the more what I was missing; and I hated them for it. 

I was a forgotten child in a huge way.  In the middle of 9 kids is enough sometimes in its self to cause an quake in the fabric of the heart. But, my home was one of brokenness and wickedness. The stings of life had taken its toll on my heart and I was deeply angry, and profoundly broken. My words  were brass and hard to the ears. They often landed in cold sarcasm that a hurting world could so relate with. I was mean and forceful and defied every point of authority in my life. After countless attempts of suicide and being a failure at that as well, I had a dalima with God. Yet I was to far exhausted to fight him anymore. I had to die on the inside, I was empty. 

I sat in the far back of the train station near to the door as to not disrupt anyone if I wanted to run far away. Then the words of the most transparent speaker penitrated the hardness of my heart. She spoke of her deeply broken heart, and how she tried to cover it up with anything she; herself couldn't see through. I knew in that moment this woman understood something that in which I had felt for all my life.  We were asked to think about a few questions that were regarding what she spoke about. I read over and over the paper that was no bigger then a napkin and I felt as if I dare not began to answer these questions. Looking over the question I camped on just one that I felt I could possible began to answere.  "What are some of the ways you cover up, or hide what is going on?" I ran to my bunk where I was alone and there with a mixture of lead and tears I began to feel and see different ways I began to cover up. I poured out my heart on that paper. 

Some time later woman began to trickle in. I closed up as if I had been seen unveiled. They gathered in chairs in a half circle where my bed closed it. I was on the top bunk and as far away as I could get. I was delightfully invited to participate with them. With red swollen eyes heavy with fresh fallen tears I declined. I laid there listen to each woman share her answers. As they shared anger seared up in me. I felt profoundly shameful. For if they only understood what life could have been like. Then the room when quiet and I looked over the bed and I was asked to share at least one of the answers to the question. I panicked! I only could answer one and I had no idea I was going to share this. So for the next 30 min and through broken tears I read my veils that I could see that have covered my shattered heart. My words landed like a heavy blanket on the woman below me. Nearly crushing the room. 

Then with a word the silence was broken a woman voiced her understanding of my anger, and offered to pray for me. I shut down as if I realized I was naked in a room of people who were starring at me. No I said sternly I am not angry and besides I have had lots of counseling for these kinds of things in my life. There was one more request to pray for me and I bluntly said no. 

The next day during a skit a woman was covered in rags and chained to her tool box that was very heavy. She sat at table with four other woman who also had rags some more then others but they were not chained to a tool box. I new before a word spoken that the woman with the box was me and my heart just broke with what would be the first time I had sadness for the woman I was becoming. In the skit the woman could not partake in fellowship because her box and rags was a cause of constant adjusting. With a day of requesting her to open her box I pleaded for her not to. But, it was the Lord talking to me. He gently whispered to me, all I want today is your anger. With tears falling down my face I spoke out Lord who am I with out my sin. You take that from me and I am a tomb. I promise to fill you up if your just give me your anger. I listened as he has a few times with such love and tenderness, the kind I had never known before. With out even thinking about where in the service we were I got up and broke bread for the first time ever and offered God my anger. There on my face in the train station in the foot heals of Mountaineer I was filled to over flowing.

This Hearts Cry

This Hearts Cry

It is my hearts cry 

that He would carry me to the table 

and bleed me to see 

the depth of his love will not leave in me 

all that He has intended to complete. 

Allow my soul to breath 

to shine your holy light as is should sing. 

Lay me prostate before you my glorious God 

my gracious King. 

Only raise me with your gentile hand 

in your awesome way. 

Bring my heart in beat with yours my beloved God. 

Use this sacrifice to bring you glory 

not through my name. 

Shatter my selfish pride my jealous heart. 

Be my table, my breath. 

For God you are my refuge and my hiding place. 

Cause me to take flight on the wind 

where your spirit carries me. 

~Oh My Beloved King~

Could This Be Love

Could This Be Love

It isn't that I go back to the same old closet to put on cloaks of shame, rage or the most common obvious sins. It is the coats that no longer fit. Rather I am beginning to shed the ones I had never removed. I had no idea, and now I'm completely lost with words in understanding the complexity in which I have made the process of redemption.

I have battled all my life with pride. It is amazing that this nasty beast was not the first of my broken heart that God asked me to release. The process of pride I have found comes from a much deeper wounding than a human can inflict. It is the thumb print of our enemies seal of death.  He places it on us like a birth mark and it nearly becomes part of our being.  This redeeming process has felt much more like the removal of a tattoo. A burning of flesh. 

For so so long I have believed that if I were truly submitted I would feel like doing it all the time, or if I hated my fleshy pride then to set it down would feel more like clean water lapping on my tired feet. But, every act of redemption has been a conscience choice. None of which has felt most refreshing in the moment. In-fact; quite often it has left me bare naked and exposed. Left to the elements of public exposer, of a more humble me. Somewhere along the way of the journey of my heart I have stumbled along the lie that I am more beautiful if I have got things all together, and I believed it. But, the journey that God has had me on for a what seems a lot longer than it really is; is one of on my face in complete humility.

The more I walk with God, He ever so gently makes known hidden cloths under my new garments. He invites me to remove them. The process seems to be shorter in what it takes for me to hate them so much that I allow the almighty God to cut away the old remnants of a fallen Eve, a fallen glory. The most enchanting and hope laden truths is that God of all creation loves me so much that He is willing to walk with me while I have coats of pride, while all the while telling me who I am with out them. The way that His very God being dances with the longing of what has been His holy design. Community with the very beauty of Him. The utter commitment of His complete knowing that we have fallen from such a high place. The place that is seated next to Him in His heavenly realms . How he hates sin so much that He is willing to love me as if it were not the issue. Where He loves me for who He created me to be, and not for why or where I have fallen. An absolute refusal to believe that I am anything other than He created in the face of his despicable enemy. 

Oh my God make this an offering to you that I would give anything to be all that you desire of me to be. What a beautiful Saviour beautiful father and a magnificent friend. You have cradled my ever shattered heart with the patients that seemed to have no bound that cannot be extinguish even when death calls. Oh God my delight my joy. You have  brought me out of shackles and chains. Would you make my feet light so that I may run to you, and only you for the rest of my life.  Give my fingers flight in the removal of all veils that keep your glory from shining through. Let my life be a refection of you, your endowed splendor, your gracious love. 

"You have captured my heart, dear friend.

 You looked at me and I fell in love. 

One look my way and I was hopelessly in love!"

~Song of Solomon~

(The Message)

And We Dance

And We Dance

The air smelt of dirt and pine needles as me feet slapped the ground of our gravel drive way. I was on my way to an enchanting secret garden. I knew  that my new family was looking for a little girl like me. It was there, in the most secret places that I would dance under the giant arms of the evergreens while the rhododendron  blossoms garland my head. I just knew that my daddy was watching me be-hind the next big tree. 

Where do the daddies go for the girls who dream of daddies that really love them? My biggest desire was to be rescued by a new family a new daddy, and I was curtain he'd find me under the canopy and amongst the flowers. It was here that He'd want me too! Little did I know that my father was watching me all along. 

I was not that different from most little girls that have beliefs or understandings that our daddies are supposed to make our dreams come true. The dreams of beauty, and the dream of being the darling of his life. My daddy like most daddies was given a blessing, me; but, failed to see all that my little girl heart needed or could be. It withered away till one day I looked into the mirror at the age of 5 and did not like what I seen. It was clear far to young that I could not get anyone to see me. I was nearly always seen as to much. I was never seen as enough. So through out life I went from person to person looking to be seen. There my heart broke year after year, man after man, daddy after daddy, desperately trying to find someone who would want to dance with me. 

I let go of the beaconing of enchanting truths that caused me to run to the secret places. Where I would run through our garden cutting a crossed the neighbors back yard to the path that lead to my hiding place. My fingers lazily lingered on the towering reeds that shielded me from every view. My heart would be leaping with joy at every thought that I was going to the thrown room  where I would be crowned with jewels so I could meet my daddy king. My thrown room was a make shift willow tree that skirts danced with the wind on the reeds. It was under the canopy of my thrown room that we were going to dance with the crickets and water dragons. But, like a pounding rain disrupts a pool of still waters. My fair tale ended and the dream of dancing disappeared with the wind leaving the reeds, as I bore the screaming reality what the enemy so forcefully penetrated and shredded my heart for was accomplished. It was along time after that where my heart would dance again for Him. I would be eighteen and a new mommy. It was there in my dream that he etched in me the beautiful dance, an enchanting melody. It was in this dream that he saw me in my filth in my brokenness and shame then with tender daddy hand he held my face wiped my tears and we danced on the mountain top under the canopy of the willow tree where I was dressed with beauty, with flowers in my hair. It was the Lord who had been calling me to dance all these years.

It is only now where I get to dance with my father where he has given me my identity and where His shoulders have been big enough to carry my broken heart and who hands have been constant in drying my tears. It is just in the last few years where God my daddy has been teaching me the steps to the melody he started 32 years ago.