Confessing Your Heart

The associate priest at my parish dispenses the sacrament of Reconciliation, or better known as confession every second Saturday. He’s been pastoring at my parish for almost three years, normally it’s two years for the new priests, but sometimes they stay longer like three or four years. I was taught that it’s good to have a regular confessor to regularly hear your sins so the priest might be able to see certain paths that cause you to commit a particular sin. So when I go to confession, I make sure it’s the week that Fr. Bryan is celebrating Mass, which means he will be in the confessional from 4 p.m. to 4:45 p.m., Saturday afternoon.

Becoming acquainted with the language of your heart should be easy…right? Is riding a bicycle easy the first few times, not usually. I am trying to learn the ways of the heart, accepting what is in front of me and go! But sometimes I am left still watching everyone in front of me. Still trying to copy what they do, still not getting that the journey I am on is different. I might be similar, or have something in common with others.

Sometimes I don’t want to know what my heart or what the Lord wants of me. Inside of me, something is not right. Fear has leaked in, mixing in with peace and love. The tips of my toes wobble back and forth as something is played out in my mind. Am I ready to run or am I steady with courage?

What stops me from running the race?

Not knowing the end result even though it’s the depth of the journey that matters the most. In many ways, the destination doesn’t exist outside of a place to rest in His plan. Sometimes, it’s the running that makes me aware that I can talk about, and that I need to talk about why I keep my heart in seclusion. The language of your heart wants to live out loud, not in darkness or in anger.

I kneel on the one side of the grille, and the priest is on the other side. Most won’t look at you, but once I have listed the sins I remember committing, I will pick a ‘sin’ to discuss. There is no life, no fresh air in what I talk about. I am held back by doubts, fears, unknowns, and other people’s judgments on themselves. Maybe it is a judgment on myself, but the other is more likely acting something out that was planted in their life, long before you enter into it. Yes, I need to take responsibility for what is my part, but I also must let go, of my anger to see my part, my place in what is called this present time.

There is no man on the other side of your heart but Jesus. In the secret places of our heart, we render to what is God’s. Nothing that I take is forever. I may stash away what I believe are parts of my heart, but nothing physically can claim the language that takes an area in the place that is only hinted at.

But what if you speak and no one hears you… I mean really hears your heart

Do it anyway. It’s like a dialect with different clicks, nuances, and tones. Keep speaking it until someone, a small group of intelligent individuals nods their heads in appreciation.



Love My Dad

Who you were, who you are and who you will be are three different people –  Author Unknown


Your identity is the most valuable part of you, but most of us, some of us have no idea what it is. Knowing who you are minus all the titles we play day in and day out can blur out the truth of your identity. Confusion is a big deterrent and a likely suspect in losing ourselves to the constant swirl of life.


As a little girl, I loved the feel of the cool green grass under my bare feet. I believe at the time that I had the biggest backyard than anyone I knew. I could hide in our tree house that existed out of weirdly shaped trees that bordered our property. In the summer, I would walk over the cracks in the cement in our backyard because I never knew for sure if stepping on them would break my Mothers back. Clothes hung on the clothesline overhead. I could go visit my (Hebrew for grandmother) Bubi anytime I wanted. I remember the sand stuck between my toes and ants crawling over the big peony buds right before they would bloom.

Fear that no one wanted me

Ever since I started this blog, I have used each post as a place for my healing. It has become a place where I have been able to share who I am without fear of rebuff of any kind. Finding my identity and claiming it has been a long process. From an early age, I have been shy, preferring to stay close to my Mom.  When I met Jesus, I became more aware of myself, and at times it was extremely painful. Slowly, I would surprise myself at how well I would speak to others. Over time, the shyness that I assumed was a part of me disappeared, as I would go to reach for it. It was my protection over what I felt I couldn’t control. From the world that I had a hard time processing through.

Shyness is a reaction to feeling rejection. This was at first confusing because as that little girl with the ash blonde hair I thought knew who I was. I believed that the shyness was a part of the package of my personality.

If we lived in a perfect world, I would be living my dream. I wanted to be loved. I didn’t know if I deserved it but it was this silent, persistent need that over time gave my credence of what I didn’t see as acceptance. You see I wanted my Dad to see me as a lovable little girl, but what I didn’t know at the time was he didn’t have the skills on how to fill my emotional needs.

It wasn’t until I was in my mid-twenties that I learned that daughters’ need their fathers love as much as we need oxygen to breathe. The extreme anxiety and depression that I struggled throughout my childhood through to my early 30’s. spoke volumes of how I tried to teach myself on how to handle my emotions.  I can’t breathe unless I know my father loves me unconditionally. It was the root. I really believed I was a terrible person.  Desperate, I was for my Dad to notice me. To take an active interest in who I was.

Before I go on, this is not a post to bash fathers because they are hurting too. Too many men are being pushed down, or believe it’s not good to be masculine and to be as they have been created.

As I have learned about all my parts, or at least the ones He has chosen to show me, I have had many aha moments. He has brought clarity into my being, and a peace that is everlasting. And get this! People really do like me.

Knowing who I am, the peace can flow into every part of my being

As a little girl, I desired for my Dad to notice me, to see me and pursue me. I wanted him to be interested in who I was, but as time went by, he did none of what of what was in my heart. So I did the only thing I knew and I began shutting down emotionally, mentally and physically. Instead, I sought out my Dad, I asked him about the rules of Canadian football, what and why he washed his car. Nothing I did got the attention I was desperate to have from him.

It took me a long time to realize I couldn’t change him, no matter how many times I initiated something with him. I had finally got it, that it had never been my job in first place. It was his job as my father to delight in me – as his daughter. To show me his love, protection, values, and everything that was important to him. I wanted to know who he was and is, but that part of his heart to me has never been opened to me.

My Dad is without the skills I need. I believe his own father didn’t give him what he needed as a boy growing up. His own feelings about his Dad (my grandfather) aren’t the memories that you hold close to your heart. Rather they are the kind that you push away, and you let everyone else teach you how to be a man. Yes, we need our parents, a mother and a father to show us how to be a man or woman –  learned from their parents. A family is about love, trust and passing it down because it is good to know that there is a place where all of us can truly belong and be accepted. There is no cost to join, we simply need to be the product of our parents love that is between them. I believe how we are brought up determines a lot of who we become. It guides our perception of the world, it certainly leads mine.

I speak with my Dad once a month, we chat for about 15 minutes on the usual things. I would love to go to visit him but that just doesn’t seem to be his thing.  Does my Dad love me? Yes. I have no doubt that he does, he kind of gives it away in the way his eyes shine and sparkle when he first sees me. This could be a whole other post because I know my heavenly father has and is filling me with what I lack.

I’m not the shy, scared, self-hating little girl with ash blond hair anymore. Nor am I am the girl who hid from her peers. I am not the awkward adult who didn’t feel that she was a full-grown adult and just a child in disguise. Don’t get me wrong there are still times, the child in me comes out and gives a sly smile at those around her, and allows some of them into her heart so that they can see for themselves that God still saves.






We’re all connected in some way.

I spoke about isolating myself in my last post, and how easy it is for me to do.  Obviously, that’s the opposite of connecting. It’s in the relationships in our lives that we heal and grow, and connecting is just a link to that. I was scared of having it all wrong. I didn’t see how I fit into the equation. I wanted to be liked for who I was, but I felt awkward. All the girls in my junior high-class had it all together. They wore clothes from stores like Ralph Lauren, Roots, Esprit and Benetton. Their fashion style seemed so effortless, and the best I could hope for was finding a knock-off, or a hand me down from one of these stores.

I know now that they were likely just as scared as I was, but appearances can play all kinds of mind games. I believed that it was easier not to connect, easier to push away relationships because that meant being real but this scared me. Pain can do funny things to you, and out of that pain, you operate differently. So I choose isolation and the loneliness that comes with it.

Just the symptoms

Some of us are better than others at connecting the dots, starting up social clubs, starting up relationships, and allowing ourselves to be seen rather than run away. Being social is a part of who we are as humans, it feeds something that is needed by all of us. Instead of finding a connection, we hide from being relational because at some point it was just easier to not show your heart.

These are all these starting points that block our way that leads the way to our potential, our worth, the beauty struggles inside of us, and trembles at the glimpse of His light. Instinctively, I knew I wasn’t supposed to hide, but fear is very good at pretending to be the problem. Distressed at the thought of being social limits everything that you are.

I still think you need to unearth the memories that your heart holds because we may want the same thing, but that desire will be expressed differently, accordingly to our uniqueness. As long as I isolated myself, I never allowed myself to dream, to wonder out loud about what I would love to do. I kept it inside, but I don’t know if I even knew how to connect with others. There were a couple of things that I think blocked me:

  • I felt rejected because I had first rejected myself
  • I didn’t believe I had anything to give
  • Belief of lies fed through the lack of connection and communication with others

I wanted to give because we all have something to give, but too often the lies from childhood and adolescence take a grip in our hearts. It’s easier than the truth because we’ve told ourselves that we aren’t worth the time, but we give willingly to others who steal what was never theirs in the first place. Don’t ever give up on making the kind of connection that you know you need. Healing can come in many forms.

When you realize that pieces of you are lying on the ground, it is then that connecting becomes a real possibility. When the pieces of your brokenness leave you feeling raw, it becomes more than just a piece of something you hold in the palm of your hand. Connecting with others will always be a fragile process, and it becomes harder as you get older, but it never becomes impossible.





Uncharted Land



More people would walk into the unknown parts of their hearts if fear didn’t hold them back. But most of us don’t even know what holds us back.

What part of your heart have you not yet acknowledged?

The heart could be likened to an uncharted area or a territory of land waiting to be discovered. It’s a barren stretch of fear that limits any access to a part of ourselves that holds pieces that could change the very core of how we approach life. Some of us are waiting for the right moment, or they believe that it has passed them by already. But I think most don’t really know what their heart yearns for. I don’t have anything to prove my theory except that we don’t take the time to explore what really drives us. What is your passion and how do you want to experience it in this life?

Sure there are thousands of quotes and sayings that encourage its readers to take risks: to follow their heart, to live simply. This is a great start, but there’s a problem here. A lot of us don’t know what it is that drives them. They don’t know what is in their heart, AND they don’t know their heart, so they certainly won’t know how to follow [your heart] it. We react distinctly from years of doing just that, reacting to a stimulation that rubs us the wrong way. We complain to anyone who will listen, but did it occur to anyone that their trigger is something more than just being rubbed the wrong way?

Falling Deeper

I remember my doctor telling me that many of his patients when given the opportunity to find out what issue(s) they’re dealing with, don’t want to know. I didn’t really understand it because I am just naturally curious as a person, and I wanted to know what my issues were. Maybe I like suffering, but I don’t think that was the reason why. Learning about myself has been a wonderful journey, and even with the stretches that I would rather forget. Each step I took forward was a step closer to the woman that I longed to be, but I didn’t know what she was like. I had buried myself underneath all that anger, fear, bitterness, etc.

Today, I met with a friend who has been wandering in the desert without a guide for almost seven years. She doesn’t see the point of being positive by saying positive words, she doesn’t really like to journal, and she doesn’t have a list of wants and desires anymore. She just wants a job as a receptionist. I know she wasn’t created for just a receptionist job. The depression shows up more in winter, the lack of sunlight pushes out the negative. Something has died in her, and she admits to this as well.

We can extol all the virtues of being positive, but for some of us, it’s a hard thing to bite. I have in the last few years found myself thinking more on the positive side, and that’s a huge help to my normally melancholy nature. It’s easier to think of all the great things, but all the hurdles are all I can entertain in my mind. I have learned some tricks to take care of my gloomy thoughts, and this is something that helps greatly in the long Canadian cold and damp winter of doom.

Pioneers in a New Land

Camping in the wilderness for a couple weeks is great until you start running out of food. The whole idea of camping is to get away from the city. Proving to ourselves that we can rough it, even though we take for granted all our little gadgets that await us when we arrive home.

We’re walking in the untilled land, and the lack of tools makes our journeys hard. It’s easy to lose sight of your passion when you can’t see how this could possibly lead to anything. Just a light covering of dust sitting on you. Doing something that keeps you from doing what you really want. Wherever you live there is a history underneath you, just as there is one in your heart. It’s time to start digging.





We all have it.

It just depends on how you choose to expand your potential.

At some point, I realized that I didn’t have a detailed plan in my head when I answered the Lord’s call to follow Him. I thought it meant completely giving up any and all writing. I believed I needed to give up everything I thought that was important to me. Wrong, wrong, wrong. All the attempts to not write, only seem to intensify my desire to write. I didn’t think I had a single thread of talent when it came to writing. I didn’t even think in my wildest dreams that He would want me to write. I assumed that God, in the beginning, was a punishing God, so that anything that I wanted would be something that He would probably take away from me.

Yes, I am speaking about that hidden talent or gifting that you think is stupid or someone else years ago made fun of. So you tuck it away and pretend that it doesn’t matter.

But you know it does

It comes out when you don’t want it to. That hidden desire that streaks across your eyes and ignites a firestorm in your heart. A burn that you can’t make up even if you wanted to. It’s different for each of, and unfortunately, most of us aren’t aware of what were fervent about. How can you tell what it is that you’re passionate about, well for the one you don’t talk about it.

Let’s say you love animals, and as a child, you spent more time with them than humans. It wasn’t just interesting, it was your ability to connect with them, and understand them. People could see how awesome you were with animals. It just happens that one of your friend’s parents was a veterinarian, and she let you volunteer at the animal hospital where she worked. It was what helped you decide that you wanted to be a vet. It made so much sense to you, and it brought a joy and peace to your entire being.

Passion isn’t enough

No one told me how it would feel to be an adult, mostly because there are no instructions on how to grow up. It’s a hit and miss. Largely made up of what I like to call experience. Sometimes we use our experiences well, and sometimes we stay stuck in our mistakes. Our mistakes can convince us that our passion isn’t worth it, and what we felt wasn’t real or had no substance to it. In general, everyday living gets in the way, and you don’t take the route you always intended. You had a plan, and it’s not the unfolding way it did in your head. So what’s the point of spending time with what you’re passionate about? Doubt strips away courage that you built up before you were hit with the reality that the choices you make do have consequences in your life. You can’t bottle up your passions, or they’ll disappear if you don’t fight for what remains in your heart.

I believe more people would walk into the unknown parts of their hearts if fear didn’t hold them back.






This is for You


Do you sit and let the silence from within you rise up?
It’s there you know.

His silencephoto-1452723312111-3a7d0db0e024 (1)
that prays,
that heals
that fills you with peace.
The kind that can’t be manufactured in a factory.

He is bigger than our hate of one another and ourselves.

He prays in you and
if you stopped, and listened
to your heart you would hear him

He gives life to what is considered dead.

Do you scorn the solitude
like when you hide from your shadows?

The shadows of regret, hate, fear, guilt, and shame
These burdens push out His peace.
He is not holding back his arms to you,
you are.

He’s not out to get you, he does not have an agenda
He is not trying to punish you
He is the peace you’re striving for.

He knows you so well, and that scares you.
You’re scared he might make you do something you don’t want to do.
Giving up what you don’t want to let go of.

But he has something that you don’t have,
and that is patience,
and mercy, to lavish on you.
It is unlimited to what he can do.

A photo by Austin Schmid. unsplash.com/photos/5Dga0T0x6GY


Deep Beauty – Part 3



A friend of mine believes gender is a social construct. In my disbelief, I kept asking her why she believed in this concept, but she refused to give me an answer. We have lost the truth of who we really are, and replaced them with lies. Whatever makes you feel good. The place I call home is no longer safe; it has become a foreign piece of land. I wait for the bus to pass me by and I feel bombarded by the confusion that lies in the hearts of the people around me. I might not know all of them by name but things changed by the minute, and they don’t question the why’s anymore. In fact, we’re being taught not to question what we see or read. If we don’t have truth then we don’t have justice, you can’t have one without the other.

Fear has delicately found a place in our heart. It masquerades as a friend, media, food, we need to have something to give us vitality. We live unfilled lives, which are vacant of the beauty and abundance that God meant for us to have; we are stuck in the cold darkness of superficiality. We lust after money and power, and step over others when the situation calls for compassion, kindness and love. Oh, and where has common sense gone?  Good old common sense that no doubt our grandparents had in abundance. It’s gone, slipped through the cracks. It’s something that you might get the kind look as if you have three heads instead of just one.

But he who acts in truth comes into the light, to make clear that his deeds are done in God. John 3:19-21

Even in the dark of the night, I cannot see, it is like being blind because I’m not sure of what I am seeing in front of me. Jesus tells me to shy away from those who are evil.

You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemies. But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you   Matthew~ 5:43-44

The early morning dawn has a quality of a flower that is beginning to open up. The dusk that plagued my being vanished, and an exchange of light has restored all that the darkness destroyed.


Our labour here is brief,

but the reward is eternal.

Do not be disturbed

by the clamour of the world,

which passes like a shadow.

St. Clare of Assisi


Stay clear of worldly, idle talk and the contradictions of what is falsely called knowledge. In laying claim to such knowledge some men have missed the goal of faith. 

Timothy 6:20-21