Mining Memories

www.spiritualglasses.posterous.com

New Stories...

New story is up on www.spiritualglasses.posterous.com about the newest treasure to find me on my journey. You can also read if you like a blog post about why I am deleting some of my Facebook "Friends" on www.spiritualglasses.tumblr.com . Hope all is well on your journey, Jenn

New Post

New Post "Letter To My Nanaw" can be found at www.spiritualglasses.posterous.com

New Post

New post can be found at www.spiritualglasses.posterous.com

Praying For Peace

Please visit my new blog home to read my latest post "Praying For Peace." www.spiritualglasses.posterous.com I also have a Tumblr space for photos, quotes & whatever else greets me on my artistic path www.spiritualglasses.tumblr.com. I have relied on Facebook to express myself to the world since 2008, but have decided to only use it as a space of leading to the place my heart truly resides and that can be found in my writing. Thank you for our many travels together and I look forward to the next leg of our journey together. If you choose not to come along then that is okay too. You will forever be part of my story and I part of yours. Please know that I do not expect you to visit me in each of the spaces I reside. I have more that one because I understand that in each place I go I am bound to meet another weary traveler searching for more just like the rest of us.

New Location

After using Blog Spot for the past few years I have decided to begin using Posterous. This blog site allows me much more freedom in laying out my stories as I see them to be. I will continue to post in this location when I have placed a new story on Posterous. The website address is www.spiritualglasses.posterous.com

A Story Lost

I told my love yesterday as we were getting ready for our Goodwill & gym excursion that there was a story in my head I had not had time to get onto paper. I shared with him that I hoped not to loose it, but I think I did just that. I should have written the story as tears ran down my face as it was relived in my mind and as God revealed new pieces to me. Where did she go this story of mine? How could I loose a story that I lived in the flesh? She spoke so beautifully in my mind and in a way I had prayed many years for her to. I cannot pen a sentence or paragraph well enough to do my experience in that room justice without the words of yesterday, so I will simply list a handful of words that describe a piece of that day for me: Peaceful, Exhausted, Deep, Restless, Tearful, Amazed, Joyful, Scared, Nervous, Doubtful, Fearful, Proud, Focused, Determined, Humbled, Rejected, Naked, Ashamed, Accepted, Broken, Alive, Captured, Distracted, Chosen, Scented, Honored, Weak, just to name a few. Looking back I don't think any of these words could ever completely describe what those final moments were like. But for now I shall leave you, my reader, broken words in hand until those beautiful sentences of yesterday return to me..............

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.

For The Love of Transparency

Today John Piper's God Is Gospel spoke to my fear of writing based on the fact that I am not a professional writer. “What is written must of course be intelligible, but grammar is not the point. Love is the point.” My two desires for the stories I write is for them to serve the one whose feet are bruised and beautiful and for this collection of writings to read as love letters. Stories of my life penned only because of Love Himself whom pursues me daily and in this pursuit I find myself compelled to pour out that in which has been poured into me. I am not my own therefore what I share I am not the main character nor author of. If you so choose to read this blog, read knowing that you will find grammatical errors and words out of place, but what you won't find is anything short of transparency. I will not hide myself from you. I believe that hiding myself would only serve to keep you in hiding as well. This act benefits no one. I will never forget the day sitting in our first church membership class having the man across from Tony and I look at his wife and say “I want a marriage like theirs. I want you to place your hand on my back the way she places hers upon his.” Even as a young believer I knew I had to respond to his assumption of our marriage in truth. It would have been easy for pride to have his way, but would only have kept their fantasy of marriage alive. I knew the only way to love this couple was to expose the fantasy for what it was which in turn would give them hope. They sat with somewhat deflated faces as the realization hit them that our marriage journeys had traveled the same dusty road. It was in that moment that I became a lover of transparency.

Hello Traveling Companions

This week begins the journey to write again. Stay tuned!

Transparently Yours,
JennU

Fragrant Vessel

Anxiousness tapping at every part of my flesh. Mind quiet. Stirring, Stirring. Time to write. Most often unaware of the words my fingers will form. Gazing, Gazing around the room. The scent next to me capturing my attention rising from the fragrant vessel next to my bed. Reaching over lured in by the smell. Transported back to the birth place of my tiny treasure.
Stepped into Paradise Sweets where my love affair with the caramel macchiato was rekindled. Out the door paradise in hand being captured by notes floating upon the ocean air. Carried to a sandy sanctuary where steel drums offered up sounds of praise and worship. Eyes becoming fixed upon tiny clay vessels. Not one resembling the other. Each complimented by tall clear bottles filled with oil. Inviting smile requesting I come closer. A dab on his left arm and a dab on the right. Frankincense on one Myrrh on the other. Senses becoming clothed in richness. Carefully choosing a turquoise vessel. Pouring two together within the clay making them one. Most assuredly I carry in my vessel the aroma of Proverbs 31.


I must share with you a bit about Lenzer, the artist behind those tiny fragrant vessels. He works with Youth Arts Corp. in Tampa walking hand and hand in the studio with his students. He said of his students that they have such strong aesthetic ability that needs to be caught before it turns into something else. He teaches them how to make a living selling their art. He also teaches them to recognize and take to the heights the ability God has given them. Listening to Lenzer speak on the beach that Sunday morning as steel drums played behind us, we were taught that everything has been touched by an artist.

A Sweet Encounter

She did not see me standing outside watching her take orders at The Florida Cracker Cafe on St. George Street in St. Augustine. I knew immediately that it was her, Jamie my best friend that I had not seen in seventeen years. Her face and movement still so familiar. As teenagers we shared a love for long naps, peanut butter & marshmallow sandwiches, extra gum and apple Boone's Farm. I remember in sixth grade she told me that she did not want to be my b/f/f anymore. I was devastated because I had written on my shoes “Jamie and Jennifer B/F/F.” I loved those shoes, so we officially became “Jamie and Jennifer X/B/F/F!”

I entered the restaurant with my family with much anticipation as she was coming in from the patio. I could see her customers requests swirling through her head until she looked up and our eyes met. “I thought I was seeing a ghost! Jenny you look exactly the same!” Both of us now momma's in our 30's each dawning a woman figure. We sat in her section, I taking the isle chair so I could touch her each time she'd walk by. Our eyes continuing to meet accompanied by teenage grins.

I have such an infinity in my heart for her. I can see in her eyes that she has cried many tears. Each of us having that in common. It was strange having her be our waitress! She did not mind tho. She flowed effortlessly table to table with such grace. My friend works hard. We did not engage in profound conversation during lunch. Our eyes spoke plenty penetrating the heart of one another. She and I hugged tightly as I exited back onto St. George Street as I had arrived. She kissed my right hand and traveled back to the patio where I first saw her. Our short encounter coming to an end announcing the beginning of the next chapter.

God, I pray that you are in pursuit of my precious x/b/f/f/. I want her to experience you enveloping and seeping into her as I have. I desire to be a pure and clean vessel with your aroma flowing through me onto her. A fragrant vessel captivating the senses. Lead her to your still waters where refuge is found beneath the cover of your protective wings. Draw her into your presence never letting her go.

2 Corinthians 2:14-16 14But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him. 15For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing.

My Friend James

What I anticipate more than anything when we travel is the wonder of who we will cross paths with. We always seem to meet someone along the way and at the point of destination willing to share a piece of their story with us. I am a firm believer that stories are manifested to be poured into one another. Walking along the shoreline looking out upon the sheer vastness of water I began to ponder this very thing. I imagined the ocean to be a collection of words...trillions of words floating along with others not their own. What a magnificent sight to behold! I have poured a few in there myself and those of people I've met along my journey. Some would say I am quite talkative, and I would say yes they are correct. My father has placed much in me, too much to contain within the bounds of myself. I have learned enough to know that they are not my own.

A slender man in his 50's carefully approached my love and I Sunday night along the Tampa Bay Riverwalk. He spoke to us from a distance, his posture that of someone who is not a stranger to rejection. The first words to come out of his mouth were “Excuse me.” It was obvious that he needed something from us. Most people would say that he wanted something, but one look through a clear lens and you would know right off that he was in need. We stopped and listened to him give us his rehearsed story I'm sure had been given more times than one can count. It only took a second for us to invite him along with us.

Walking slowly side by side engaged in conversation as new friends do he began to share with drive pieces of himself with us. We learned that Tampa has been his home for twenty years, Queen Elizabeth had visited there, his mother had fourteen siblings, and he was an only child. My heart smiled when I asked him if he worked and he said that he loves to use his hands doing odd jobs, but he really wanted a job that was straight. I asked what that job would entail and he unashamedly said that he aspired to be a garbage man...to Mr. James that would be a straight job!

Approaching Starbucks he hurried in front of us to open the door motioning us in first as any gentleman would do. I could see the faces of those sitting in their summer evening wear embracing Venti Lattes. What were we doing that was so strange? They too had brought friends for refreshment. Upon entering the tiny store Mr. James carefully inspected his sandwich and drink choices in detail. He settled on a turkey sandwich, organic green tea and a slice of lemon pound cake. I myself was quite impressed with his choice to go organic.

What I will remember most about my new friend is that he engaged us in the eye when speaking and gripped our hands firmly when thanking us repeatedly. He had more ambition than most, striving for stability in an unstable world. No one would charge him for curling up in a box, but to him that just isn't good enough. Staring into his eyes I could see much life left to behold. A rare gem of unmeasurable value in our midst.

I must admit that I do carry some what of regret now that I will probably not see him again. I regret not asking him to sit down with us so we could learn more about his journey. I would venture to assume that he isn't asked to sit and partake of meals on a regular basis. I just have to pray that his encounter with us was as special as ours with him. I am now pouring this story into others, but only after I swim in it a bit longer. The story of Mr. James offers me much needed refreshment. If you are ever in Tampa and see my slender friend please take him to our favorite spot Starbucks. I am proud to say that he is not just any homeless man. My friend has good taste buds and should not have to compromise just because he does not have a roof. Maybe he knows something we don't.

James 2:15-16 If a brother or sister is naked and destitute of daily food and one of you says to them, "Depart in peace, be warmed and filled." but you do not give them the things which are needed for the body, what does that profit?

Inspiration or Contradiction?

I remember my sons imaginary friend Rudy, the rodeo clown from Ft. Worth that came home with us after a trip to the rodeo. Rudy did not live inside of Austin's heart, but he kept him protected in his pocket. Rudy went everywhere with him. We would be in the car and all of a sudden a conversation would begin between Austin and his friend. Of course we could not hear what was on the other end of the conversation, but Austin obviously could and shared with us what was being said. What I remember most is that Austin would not change when Rudy “appeared” he would be himself as would Rudy. Austin remained that vivacious and funny little boy unique in all his ways, while Rudy continued to be his friend the rodeo clown whom inspired him. If I were to ask him today at fifteen who stuck closer than anyone he would certainly recall his days w/ Rudy.

Unlike childhood imaginary friends, the friend Jesus left with all who would believe is truly inside of us and will never leave. This friend, The Holy Spirit, moves and motivates. I personally say he is the breathe within me. Never putting me into a trance or turning me into a temporary robot just so he can speak. He allows me to be who I am yet flows through me. This is who Jesus spoke of that would come after his death speaking nothing but truth in and through us.

The Holy Spirit inspires us today, breathing into us just as he did with those chosen to write the bible. You nor I can make everyone believe this supernatural power, but as believers we must do as our name says and BELIEVE. Not just the parts our family and friends will understand, nor for the sake of our own mind. To truly believe in God is to believe that he cannot fail, and error cannot come from him. I have found that for me this belief came after experiencing God for myself.

God, Jesus and The Holy Spirit are one and from them comes inspiration, fully breathed truth that guides without dictation. This is Gods chosen method to communicate exactly what he needed us to know. Sharing with us what was and what was to become. Scripture clearly confirms this, “All scripture is given by inspiration of God (God Breathed)” as stated in 2 Timothy; “They were moved by the Holy Spirit” as stated in 2 Peter. The writers wrote from their own context, yet were breathed into by God and moved by The Spirit.

We all will meet people that will challenge us when we say that the bible is without error given to us by God himself through man. This is not a if it happens statement, but when it happens! I would like to tell you that what I am about to say came from my own mind, but it didn't. In researching I came across an article about contradictions in the bible and now feel quite armed. The article read, “There is only a contradiction if there is no possible way for both to be true. Only if it is impossible for both to be true do we have a contradiction.”