Category Archives: Uncategorized

When You Go to Save An Orca…

Several weeks ago, I had a dream. In this dream my younger brother, older sister, and her four children went to Sea World with the intention of stealing an orca and returning him to the ocean. We had the orca loaded for transport when we realized one of my nieces was missing. I was worried sick that we would never find her, because I knew she would be too shy to ask for help. Eventually, we found her, but it took us forever to get her to speak, even to any of us.

The orca died in transit. I told my siblings and nephews he’d at least died on his way to freedom, but I had failed. I was relieved we’d found my niece, but I had failed in what I had set out to do.

I dream of this niece often. Distressingly enough, I once dreamed she died in my arms not long after she was born. Then, shortly after I moved to Oklahoma, I dreamed we were camping on a fireless, starless night, and she said, “When I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light unto me.” People say she is a lot like me, this niece, and in these dreams, I think she symbolizes me.

I’ve said this here before: I don’t believe in lost causes. The more impossible a situation, the greater I believe its potential to be saved. And restored. And redeemed.

If someone is going to kidnap an orca and return him to his rightful habitat, it’s going to be me.

And that’s how I came to be here in Oklahoma: trying to restore a metaphorical orca.

It’s also how I lost myself.

I don’t write much anymore.

Don’t sing much anymore.

Don’t teach kids anymore.

Don’t build community anymore.

Add to that, the one thing I came here to see through is not going to happen.

I’ve been told (semi-jokingly) lately that I’m becoming a workaholic, but my job is the one thing I have going for me right now.

I am starting to miss the other parts of myself, though. Maybe it’s time to go looking for them. Coax them out into the open.

I guess we’ll see.

No more rescue missions, though.


My Unpublishing Testimony

It’s been almost a year since I became an unpublished author. Almost a year since I dismantled my online author platform. Almost a year since I left behind the world of striving to be seen.


God gave me this song from Lauren Daigle in that season; this song about laying things down and kingdoms falling. God gave me verses; verses about seeds falling to the ground and having to decay and die before they could live, verses about not knowing what form the seeds would take once resurrected (John 12 and 1 Corinthians 15).


And so I buried my book, my platform, my greed to be seen, and sang this song over and over.


Once And for All

Lauren Daigle


God I give You all I can today

These scattered ashes that I hid away

I lay them all at Your feet

From the corners of my deepest shame

The empty places where I’ve worn Your name

Show me the love I say I believe

Oh Help me to lay it down

Oh Lord I lay it down

Oh let this be where I die

My lord with thee crucified

Be lifted high as my Kingdom’s fall

Once and for all, once and for all

There is victory in my Saviors loss

And In the crimson flowing from the cross

Pour over me, pour over me yes

Oh let this be where I die

My lord with thee crucified

Be lifted high as my Kingdom’s fall

Once and for all, once and for all

Oh Lord I lay it down

Oh Lord I lay it down

Help me to lay it down

Oh Lord I lay it down

Oh let this be where I die

My Lord with thee crucified

Be lifted high as my Kingdom’s fall

Once and for all

Once and for all

Oh once and for all

Once and for all


Resurrected, the platform-burying looks like freedom. Freedom to write exactly what’s on my heart – nothing more, nothing less. Freedom to write and not worry about who’s reading, if anyone. Freedom to write when things have matured in me, not on a schedule.


Because the need to be seen is slavery to whatever post length is vogue at the time, slavery to what people want to read, slavery to whatever posting time on whatever platform is likely to make me more visible. Slavery when it all changes again and again. And again.


On Saturday, I attended a literary conference, my first event of that nature. One of the publishers stressed enjoying the unpublished time – the time when writers can take their time – because once published, much of your time belongs to your publisher.


Ah, yes. Freedom.


There is freedom when the kingdoms fall, and dreams and goals are laid down, buried to die and be resurrected at a later time, perhaps in a much different way than we ever would have imagined.

Last Day Reflections

Last day at Bob Moore Subaru.

Where I learned the phrase, “Love ya like a head cold,” and now find myself repeating it and getting strange looks from people.

Where I have been more than a job description; I’ve been a person.

Where I learned to be more generous, simply by working with such radically generous people.

Where I grew in customer service and teamwork – the most important aspects of any job.

Where I expanded my virtually nonexistent knowledge of what goes into car sales and service, because people were willing to explain it to me.

And while I’m going to miss my people here, it’s time to learn and parrot new cheesy phrases, grow in a new role while maintaining and building on a solid service-oriented foundation, and learn even more about car sales, knowing that everything I’ve learned in this job has given me confidence about moving forward.


Your Resident Walking, Talking Dictionary and Writer’s Manual,

Sometimes Cook, Sometimes Baker, Sometimes Bringer of Pre-Made Food and the Good Candy,

Mostly Ray of Sunshine, but Occasionally Sarcastic and Irritable,

Always Willing to Help When Asked,


Things Happening Saturday

Two things are happening on Saturday: one, I am starting a new job, and the other, my five-year-old niece is having a celebration of being cancer-free after a battle with retinoblastoma (in which she lost an eye) and chemo.

Both are answers to prayer.

One, a response to an intense and (relatively) short season of prayer, and the other, a response to prayers over many years.

All I can say is that God hears every sigh and collects every tear, and that has been the most precious thing to me in these seasons of prayer. Because answers to life-changing requests take time, and the hope in a moment of loss and waiting and uncertainty is not looking at what might eventually be, but when God is there in it with you – in the sighing, in the groaning, in the melting down – listening and holding your hand and grieving it with you. And in those moments, God recalibrates your hope, your prayers, your faith. And you what you end up with may or may not be what you desire and when and how, but you will be more keenly aware of God in your life, and that, for me, has been the ultimate thing.

But it is life-giving to see the things you pray for realized, and the things you pray against defeated, so this week, I am celebrating.

Celebrate with me!


I had a dream about you the other night.

You weren’t in it, but it was about you.

They say a dream about losing teeth is about the dreamer feeling powerless, but in my dream, I yanked out my own tooth. It hurt as I pulled it, and I was sure it was going to leave a bloody, gaping hole in my jaw, but it only left a gap between teeth.  Anyway, it ended up being a misunderstanding: I hadn’t needed to pull the tooth, but, of course, by the time I realized that, it was too late. There I was, an unattractive gap in my teeth.

Yes, I can see how lost teeth would symbolize a sense of powerlessness and vulnerability.

Why am I feeling powerless and vulnerable?

It’s you.

When you’re around, I don’t even try to hold on to my power. I tear and throw it away, leaving myself defenseless, and you with dozens of new ways to hurt me if that’s what you decided to do.

Problem is, I don’t know what you’ll decide.

It’s not like I can decide for you. (I wouldn’t even if I could.)

Problem is, this isn’t pretty – me, asking for what I want. It isn’t pretty – me, showing all my cards.


It’s not like I have anything significant to lose.

So maybe I’m feeling powerless and vulnerable, but I’m not.

“And she threw down the scarf” – she jabs at the air – “and stormed out.”

I had actually taken the scarf off, set it on the pew beside me, excused myself, and walked swiftly to the rest room. Because I was crying. Because, in spite of being a major crybaby, I actually hate letting people see me cry.

But that morning wasn’t about truth. It was about peace.

So I kept my mouth shut, and listened to people tell me about my temper, and my pride, and everything wrong with me. And wished I could just go home, back to my family.

That was over a burgundy scarf. But it happened again and again and again. The dismissiveness. The lack of compassion. The putting me in my place. Over spiritual wrestling. Over facing eviction. Over health issues. Over a dead car battery.

I couldn’t do anything right. Couldn’t feel anything right. Couldn’t express anything right.


I remember this one time in college, my friend and I miscommunicated, and I reacted poorly. I mean, so poorly, I was sure she wouldn’t want to spend any more time with me, and that nobody else would either.

Later that night, she stopped by my dorm room, knocked on my door, and said, “Hey, I’m running to McDonald’s. Can I get you a Coke?”

I expected to be given a sort of time out, so I would learn my place, and I was met with grace instead.


I was huddled in front of a tiny space heater. Numb. Aching. Knots in my stomach Thinking about the dozens of things I still needed to get done. Anxious about all of the people who might have seen me that morning and discovered how vulnerable I am.

I did what I do. I wrote about it.

There were good things about that morning (so many good things), but when you’re feeling weak, and weaker still for having your weakness exposed, sometimes, you just have to get it out of your head.

And there it was again. The accusation about who I am and what I’m going through (as if the two are the same). The dismissal of my feelings, the dismissal of even expressing my feelings. The absolute lack of anything resembling grace or compassion.

Only, quite abruptly, it wasn’t acceptable to me anymore.


I am every bit as in need of grace and worthy of compassion as anyone else.

So that’s how I’m going to act.

That’s the kind of treatment I’m going to accept.

If you can’t give it, that’s your loss, not mine.

I spread the corner of my garment over you and covered your naked body. I gave you my solemn oath and entered into a covenant with you, declares the Sovereign Lord, and you became mine … the splendor I had given you made your beauty perfect.

But you trusted in your beauty and used your fame to become a prostitute. You lavished your favors on anyone who passed by and your beauty became his.

All prostitutes receive gifts, but you give gifts to all your lovers, bribing them to come to you from everywhere for your illicit favors. So in your prostitution you are the opposite of others; no one runs after you for your favors. You are the very opposite, for you give payment and none is given to you.

I will put a stop to your prostitution, and you will no longer pay your lovers.  Then my wrath against you will subside and my jealous anger will turn away from you; I will be calm and no longer angry.

~ excerpts from Ezekiel 16 NIV

This is for me.

Not that I’m a literal prostitute. Not that Israel was a literal prostitute, either.


I have made the gifts God has given me available to anyone passing by, and so have devalued His gifts. I have poured these gifts into leaky vessels, expended them on dead things. I have provided costly seats to God’s grace in my life at no charge.

I have been dealt with for it.

Of course, I have been dealt with for it; it was never going to be allowed to continue.

Now, there is a new mode of operation.

If you want to find me, you’re going to have to find Him first.

If you want a place in my life, it’s going to cost you something.

If you want the power and grace God has given me in your life, you’re going to have to ask Him for me. Whether or not He agrees to your request is up to Him.

I am not free anymore, for people to use me up and toss me aside.

A place in my life is not free anymore, for people to come and observe the easy things and turn their heads and leave when things become challenging.

The power and grace I’ve been given are not free anymore, for people to accept when it strokes their ego and reject when it does not.

I am going to become unknowable, inaccessible, and unusable, but for the seekers, but for the brave, but for the ones with ears to hear.