• I am focused and fully committed
• I am focused and fully committed
• Iam focused and fully committed
• I am focused and fully committed
• I am focused and fully committed

My ADHD brain tries to hi-jack my life at every turn. Like a zombie, I roam about chanting “brains, brains, brains,” because my own brain has gone on vacation without me. My heart beats. I’m still breathing. A full diagnostic check reveals nothing; and yet the “check engine light” remains lit. I must be missing something. My whole life, I’ve felt as though I must be missing something. I don’t get the joke. Maybe that’s because I am the joke. Keep the people laughing with how empty-headed I seem to be so no one ever guesses how empty I really am. Close my eyes. Turn off the lights. Let sleep embrace me forever, and I never have to worry about feeling lonely ever again. Temptations of all sorts steamroll me continuously; and yet, I press on. I press on toward the prize of hearing “well done good and faithful servant.” Regardless of my circumstances, and definitely in spite of how I feel, I might have to continuously re-adjust my focus, but I keep at it and continue on.

• I am spectacular
• I am spectacular
• I am spectacular
• I am spectacular
• I am spectacular

The word “spectacular” has been stuck in my brain all day as I pondered the seeming redundancy of its meaning. “Spectate” means to watch, and “ocular” is relating to the eyes. So, does spectacular mean watching the eyes or having double-vision? No, it means “large-scale display.” I’ve spent my whole life shrinking back, withdrawing, and playing small. Other kids put me down when I was younger, as young kids tend to do, but it wasn’t long before others didn’t need to say anything at all. I expected to be rejected and did my best to remain invisible to prevent giving anyone fodder for making fun of me. My height, at 5’11”, already ensures I stand out. My ADHD causes me to seem like a goofball space cadet. My singing and dancing in public spaces as though no one is watching makes my sanity suspect. These are the negative ways I’ve learned to view my individuality. To be spectacular, however, requires me to allow myself to be seen. A large-scale display can be seen; that’s kind of the point.

• My lips speak words of life
• My lips speak words of life
• My lips speak words of life
• My lips speak words of life
• My lips speak words of life

The power of life and death really are in the tongue, not only in the words we say but also in the attitude and tone with which they are said. I’ve encountered many strangers over these past several days, and I’ve noticed the impact that our words, those spoken and those merely appearing as thoughts, have had upon each other. Hearing the sorrow, the joy, the pride, and the self-consciousness behind what was said came unexpectedly as I noticed myself paying more attention. Breaking free from our usual routines and automated patterns causes the colors of our ordinary world, which we often taken for granted, to suddenly pop with new brilliance and meaning. All I said was, “You’re a life saver,” as she handed me a small foam cup of coffee, and I meant it. My few words were met by a gleam in her eye and the quick flash of a grin. It’s nice to know that the seemingly minute, insignificance of daily living can bring life to another in unimaginable ways.

• I can accept what I cannot change
• I can accept what I cannot change
• I can accept what I cannot change
• I can accept what I cannot change
• I can accept what I cannot change

Posting on my blog was supposed to be a morning ritual, a way for me to wake up and begin my day with a positive framework, and affirmative state of mind. And yet, since I’ve been on the road, I’ve been driven, driven by fear and the tightness I get in my chest and throat when the fact that 99% of my life is utter and completely beyond my control gets thrown into my face with a devastating impact. During times such as these, the Serenity Prayer is the only thing that helps me get through the day. I usually don’t make it past the first line when I pray it out of necessity, but that’s okay because acceptance is really all I need to pray for.

• I am a kind and caring person
• I am a kind and caring person
• I am a kind and caring person
• I am a kind and caring person
• I am a kind and caring person

Of course other people are going to like me; I’m a kind and caring person. I like other people who are kind and caring, so other people who are kind and caring will like me too. Like attracts like, right? Okay, so, I actually really like people who are wise-asses and smartalics but only in a fun, humorous way. I like people who can be vulnerable and authentic with me. I have four daughters, and, of course, I love my girls, but I actually like them too. And, the things I like most about them are the qualities that I like the most in myself. I guess I already believe I’m a kind and caring person. I just don’t believe other people are going to like me as a result. That’s messed up.

• I am sweet, silly, and smart
• I am sweet, silly, and smart
• I am sweet, silly, and smart
• I am sweet, silly, and smart
• I am sweet, silly, and smart

When there’s nothing you can do and there’s nothing you can say to alleviate the hurt or make the problem go away, when you feel completely helpless and you’re sure you have been wronged, then you need to gather courage, read these words, and sing along.

The world will keep on turning. It spins too fast to stop. It’s a ball in space orbiting with no bottom and no top. The poles are just an axis around which the planet spins as each day provides us practice and a chance to start again.

I’m smart enough to know that I don’t need to know any of the answers in order to enjoy the journey. I’m silly enough go with the flow, even through the rough patches, without taking myself too seriously. I’m sweet enough to send blessings and wish others well, even those who don’t deserve it, and, truth be told, none of us deserve it.

• I am sufficient in Christ’s sufficiency
• I am sufficient in Christ’s sufficiency
• I am sufficient in Christ’s sufficiency
• I am sufficient in Christ’s sufficiency
• I am sufficient in Christ’s sufficiency

Maybe my mother is to blame. She didn’t have to tell me that she named me after Christ. What a heavy burden to lay upon a child. I feel as though I have to live up to my namesake somehow, to suffer as he suffered or to save as he saved. It’s ridiculous, I know. I know I’m not God. I’m not all or even partial God. I’m human. I’m only human. There’s nothing particularly brilliant and special about me aside from that of any other human. I’m weak. I’m frail. Even for a human, I’m pathetically weak and frail. Delicate, as I like to say. Don’t be too harsh with me; I’m delicate, as though my body were composed of fine porcelain. Maybe my body is composed of fine porcelain or was at some point. It’s as though my body has been shattered upon a slate tile, and I’ve spent the entirety of my life searching for the teeny-tiny missing bits in a vain attempt at reassembly. Only Christ can reassemble me and make me whole again. Until then, I bathe in the droplets of gold dripped upon my surfaces as my heart of stone is gradually purified in his blazing fire.

• I am an artist
• I am an artist
• I am an artist
• I am an artist
• I am an artist

I’ve spent decades telling myself that I am a wannabe. It could take decades for me to reverse the damage by behaving as though I am a real artist. How does a real artist behave? A real artist produces art. I’ve been producing art for several years now. I have four poetry books compiled and self-published on Amazon. I’ve taken incredible photos. I’ve drawn amazing pictures, pictures I look at and still can hardly believe I drew it. I’ve painted paintings. I might not be too thrilled about any of the paintings I’ve completed as of yet, but I have completed them. I am an artist. I write. I dance. I draw. I sing. I allow the creative voice of Spirit to speak through my voice, to impact the world in fresh and new ways through my hands. It would be nice if I could look at everything I create and say, “It is good,” but I’m not God. I’m going to make a lot of mediocre stuff. I’m going to make crap, fire fodder, recycling. The point is that I make. I am an artist, and every time I allow my artistry to flow through me, even if the final product is ridiculous, the process is pure delight.

• I am going to survive my drive across the country
• I am going to survive my drive across the country
• I am going to survive my drive across the country
• I am going to survive my drive across the country
• I am going to survive my drive across the country

I haven’t been able to figure out how to post pictures on my blog yet. If anyone out there has a quick cheat sheet you can share with me, I’d be most appreciative. I know, videos on how to use WordPress abound, but between driving from Arlington, WA to Arlington, VA via Arlington, OR and Pensacola, FL, reading four books and writing four book reviews, I’m stretched a little thin this next couple of weeks. And I’ve been taking so many pretty pictures along my trip so far. They’re not all water features, but I do have a photo of Multnomah Falls, the Columbia River, and the creek along the crest of Cabbage Hill. I don’t know what its name is. I was so hoping to share my journey here in real time, ish. I’m a rookie blogger with a lot to learn, but we’ll get there.

• I am alive and well
• I am alive and well
• I am alive and well
• I am alive and well
• I am alive and well

It may seem obvious that I’m alive, but, for me, it’s not necessarily a given. I’ve struggled with depression my whole live. I’ve been suicidal most of that time. I’m finally on medications that help, but I still tend to feel empty and dead inside. I want to sing. I want to dance. I want to be happy, joyous, and free. And yet, the creeping darkness threatens to overtake me. According to the Christian tradition, Jesus died on good Friday and rose to new life on Easter morning. He died once for all, and, though I’m not masochistic enough to wish an actual crucifixion upon myself, I certainly am jealous of the physical death that puts an end to the daily death I endure. I die daily on the inside, sometimes much more frequently than that, and each time, I know I can look forward to a resurrection. Death is always required prior to a resurrection. I’m grateful that each day, I get to choose to focus on the resurrection part of life rather than the dying. It can be a difficult choice to make, but it is my choice non the less.