Scars

A deep wound no longer infected, now a tender scar in need of care. I did not create her, nor did I place her within me, yet she is mine to protect. Times I go sit with her in need of my own remembrance, and other times I find her unexpectedly standing upon my doorstep aching from outside irritation. I gently approach her, cleansing her with my tears while whispering softly “You, my deepest pain have become my deepest joy. No longer am I ashamed of you. I have been made strong and will protect you, so do not be afraid. I will not let you be opened again. You are healed, now rest in peace my scars, rest in peace.”

My Artist's Date

Out & about I went on a ride my central focus entirely on you. Cherishing you, living for greatness exploring oceans way. It’s hard not to smile. Private chapels, fabulous finds, private spaces: Hymns of air, wood and stone. Tiny spiritual sanctuaries where I prayed in peace asking and being surprised. Inner peace being evoked giving back invaluable graces.

Fear Of Association

We don't want to be associated with subjects that make us uncomfortable drawing attention to our own dark places whether it be dark places of identification, self righteousness, callousness, guilt, anger turned to hate or unforgiveness. They each bring exposure and we work hard not to be exposed even if it means shaming others, or our already wounded selves in the process. I do not expect public comments underneath a blog post about adultery. I don't expect public comments underneath anything that speaks deep rooted truth. I myself remember this past December sitting in Starbucks mortified that someone would see the title of the book I was reading. Written in large font on its cover was one word and that word carried with it the weight of heavy judgment. It did not matter to my senses that this book was altering my life from the inside out exposing the lie that our marriage was the only one going through such devastation. All that mattered was the shame I felt reading it and being associated with such a thing. It was just too real. So each time I got up from the table I would turn the book upside down so no one could see the title. I did not want anyone to know that I, Jennifer Upton, wife, mother, business owner, believer in Christ Jesus, held in my hand “Unfaithful.” Since realizing this about myself I have taken action, and action has grace in it. I am not afraid to illuminate the dark places I've been. I will not deny pain nor ward of vulnerability. Reading or hearing other marriages say “I don't put our marriage out there like that” will not keep me from walking a path of transparency. My call as a writer is to EXPOSE, BRING GLORY, and PROVOKE THOUGHT. “The act of making art exposes society to itself. Art brings things to light. It illuminates us. It sheds light on our lingering darkness. It casts a beam into the heart of our own darkness and says, “See?” (quote taken from The Artist's Way)

A Gift of Words To Me From Tony

A celebration for you and me we have reached. It’s a joy ever so unbelievable how his grace covered us constantly. A year to remember a God kind of way of strengthening. This is our 17th. I stand amazed of the strength you have shown me. The fortress woman that lies beneath. He had made you strong I knew this since fourteen. But never did I know how it would come to rescue our matrimony. We stood in defeat. Found ourselves weak. Laid our past at His feet. Came out undeservingly touched by Him Graciously. You A gift from “I Am."

Precious to me. Now I am Amazed to see Our 17th. Love rules our venture. The enemy Can’t take away our adventure. Only God knows His plan. Prayerfully it involves Distant lands. Our desire to meet Others needs Uniquely He Place these things In you and me. Only time will see What The father Plans for this decree But now this blessing Is true to be This is our 17th.

Birth Announcement

BENT down. BREATHED on. REVIVED. UNCOVERED treasure PLACED within. EXCAVATED. LIFTED out. ALIVE. SHAPED around. LAYING beneath. FOCUS drawn. SIFTING. impending BIRTH. BARREN no more. WORDS brought FORTH. CREATIVITY is BORN.

Dying To Be Loved

Would you have gone there if you knew she needed to be saved? Desiring for you to love her? More than a pair of high heels on a rainy day? How could you not have seen that the woman that lay beneath you was dying? Dying to be loved. She smiled and moaned feeding your pride, but what you heard was the cry of her insides. Insides moaned as scars split open, bleeding, disrupted, aggravated by your touch. Not moaning in passion but moaning in pain. You in a place you weren't created to be. Couldn't you see that she was dying? Dying to be loved. She wanted to be loved and you with your prideful agenda entered into a place your covenant commanded not to go. Inward parts moaned, bled, cried out “I JUST WANT TO BE LOVED!” Emotional pain you inflicted. Pain traveling depths far beyond your exit. You blinded by deceit and darkness stood unable to see that the woman with tears falling reaching one last time for your hand was dying, dying to be loved. A hidden treasure placed within her waiting to be discovered. Treasure inside a secret place you were not designed to reach. Designed only for the one who would appreciate its worth, gently soothing the scars within her. A created treasure all your own waiting at home. Worth unseen past prideful endeavor. She too lay dying, dying to be loved. I will reach deep telling this woman that in which you could not. I will tell her that she is worthy, worthy to be loved. I will tell her of the beautiful treasure she possess within. I will tell her that she is loved, loved by The Creator and loved by me. I will tell her of your transformation, the grace you are now cloaked in. I will tell her that I too walked in her shoes seeking, searching, insides crying out. I will tell her that I no longer lay dying to be loved. I now live and live because I have met The Creator Love.

Clothed In Grace

Laying naked at the alter within the walls that had become my sanctuary, screaming as emotional pain turned physical. It was there between the stark white walls of my shower where my suffering allowed sensitivity to Gods voice. The weight of chains bound around my naked flesh drawing me to the floor, head laying at the drain. Eyes swollen seeing only a shadow through its frosted glass door. He had followed me closely down the dimly lit path to this place of sanctuary both dragging with us chains of revelation. Revelation of our own and of one another. Tongues pulsating in relief after years of being held in submission. Each fearing for many years that in a moment of passion we'd become weak telling the tale of dancing beneath the oceans deep, dark waters of infidelity. Never imagining we'd both swam there. I screamed and I screamed until the shadow disappeared. My husband had looked at me intimately for the last sixteen years, yet I could not bare him looking at me in this moment. I entered as offender and as victim, always knowing I was one, but never imagining the other. I could not speak, only scream wordless screams never imagining them to be answered, but in His mercy God answered my screams. His right hand lifting me, drying my drenched body, clothing me in His Grace. When nothing else could help, Love lifted me. I proclaimed for many years this creator of Love, yet I did not completely give my heart to him until the day I reached out of my madness allowing my hand to be taken into His. So many more layers lay beneath this story of being clothed in grace, so many more layers of this particular day to unfold. More layers I plan on sharing with you over time. The layers are complex and require much sensitivity. I pray that this portion reads to you, the reader as it does to me....God Reveals and God Rescues. In the days and months that followed He showed us that He is also a Restorer. I am anxious to share that part with you...in time, in time.